Obsessed

by Ruchi Kokcha

  It helped to some extent, but the face was so badly scored with scratch marks that it looked as if it had been mutilated by an axe and not a pen. It was frightening to behold. He closed the album with a snap.

  I guess my mind is overcrowded with all sorts of thoughts. I should rest for a while.

  He cleared the bed of Ananki’s belongings, switched off the lights and lay down. As he closed his eyes, the mutilated face of Ananki’s mother flashed through his mind. Keeping his eyes open appeared a better option to him, and he gazed unblinkingly at the empty ceiling in the dark room. Only a ray of street light peeped in through the little gap between the two curtains.

  Avik did not know when the ceiling changed colour from dark grey to pearl white.

  A dreamless sleep always refreshed him. He woke up feeling much better than he had the previous night, ordered tea and breakfast and went for a shower. When he came out of the bathroom, the tea and sandwiches were laid out on the coffee table. He picked up a cup of tea and went to fetch the album, which was lying on the bedside table. He looked at the photos and the captions more carefully. The markings get deeper and darker as Ananki grows older. The last photo had been taken on Ananki’s fourteenth birthday; her father (and mother) were standing on either side of her, kissing her on each cheek. But one could hardly see her mother. She had been blacked out almost completely.

  What could possibly be the cause of such a strong reaction? It appears that Ananki did not want to see her mother’s face, as if seeing her reminded her of something, or brought alive the pain associated with her death.

  After much contemplation, Avik concluded that it could have been the trauma of losing her mother that had made Ananki react in such a manner.

  Losing someone we love can create a great void in the mind and losing someone as important as one’s mother can make the void even deeper. Remembrance can be heart-rending. Memories can become a source of perpetual pain and remind one of the loss. When we lose someone we love, our first reaction is to bury the memories associated with the person so that they do not trouble us. Scratching out her mother’s images may have been Ananki’s way of stopping the pain caused by memories. But can the memories associated with a lost loved one really be erased from our minds? Are memories not a way to keep a loved one alive in our consciousness?

  Contemplating Ananki’s loss, Avik recalled the day when he had lost his father. His father had had a huge circle of friends, unlike Avik. The day he died, people from all spheres of his life—relatives, friends and colleagues—had come to bid him farewell.

  Avik had cried a lot, knowing that the man he had looked up to all his life would no longer be present behind him. The hand that had been placed firmly on his back in times of his failures and on his shoulder when he succeeded would no longer be there for him. The death of a parent can cause a black hole in one’s life. One moment you stand safe between the foundation below and the marquee above you, and the next moment one of them tragically disappears from your life forever. Avik put the album down and closed his glistening eyes as he thought about his father.

  He realized that death is not the source of one’s pain. The memories associated with the person and the fact that the memories can never be brought to life are more tormenting.

  As Avik sat on the chair staring at Ananki’s belongings, he began to feel restless. He realized that he was not content with the conclusion he had jumped to. Something didn’t seem right.

  Could she really have been so aggressive in dealing with her mother’s absence, or was there something else on her mind that made her cross out Kalki’s pictures one after the other?

  He picked up the album once more and looked at the markings. On careful observation he saw that the ink marks were of different colours. The ones in the initial photographs were lighter than the ones in the later pictures. Avik was perplexed.

  Had the act been a device to cope with her mother’s death, all of the ink marks would have been of the same colour, if not the same intensity. It is as if the marks on each photograph are as old as the photograph itself. Avik noticed that the marks on the older photographs had faded over time while those on the more recent photographs appeared fresher.

  They do not appear to be an abrupt reaction caused by Kalki’s death, but a conscious deed performed over a period of time. Maybe they are an expression of a childhood trauma wherein her mother became a source of an unending anguish; perhaps she favoured her sister over her and this was Ananki’s way of erasing the pain, Avik conjectured.

  Lack of love from someone close to you can play havoc in one’s mind. Indeed, Kalki’s behaviour could be the reason behind Ananki’s mental condition.

  Satisfied with the conclusion he had reached, Avik put down the album and picked up the book of sonnets. It was an old book, dated 1609, with a blue hardbound cover.

  Avik opened the book, holding one of the pages between his thumb and index finger, feeling the stiff, yellowish-brown paper. He lifted the book to his nose and inhaled the exotic, earthy fragrance that ensorcelled him. He flipped through the book twice, from cover to cover, and in doing so, discovered that the corner of one of the pages had been folded in. He opened the book to the page and read the heading: ‘Sonnet 142’. He read the first line, ‘Love is my sin and thy dear virtue hate’, and then read the entire sonnet. He could not understand Shakespeare’s language. He had never read much English literature, preferring popular fiction and bestsellers whenever he found the time to read. He resorted to Google to decipher what the sonnet conveyed. After reading a few articles that explained Shakespeare to amateurs like him, he opened Ananki’s book to the page with Sonnet 142.

  Why is this sonnet marked? Is it her favourite sonnet in the collection or is it the last one she read? Questions invaded his mind.

  Avik picked up the chequered scarf and wrapped it around his neck in the classic Dev Anand style. He picked up the mouth organ and went to the mirror to have a look at himself. As he blew into the mouth organ, his lips curved into a smile at his 1960s image.

  Everything about Ananki is so classy. When one has the money to spend on the most desirable of things, why would one not do it? But then these are not things that a rich girl would normally spend her money on. Indeed she is different, very different from most people of her class. Only her own words can throw light on who she really is.

  Lost in thoughts of Ananki, Avik walked towards the bedside table to get the diary but stumbled on the uneven floor and fell. He cut his forehead on the corner of the coffee table, barely sparing his eye. Shaken, he stood up and called the reception to ask for a bandage.

  After washing the wound with cold water, he covered it with the bandage. He cursed himself several times, took a painkiller and lay on the bed.

  Is this a sign that I should step back from this case? Why does it get more and more complicated each day, making me dive deeper and deeper into it? Should I stop and tell Sahay that this unknown ocean will never be fathomed? What if I’m wasting my time on this story? Is it all worth it?

  Avik’s drowsy mind had become a battleground of questions. He did not know when sleep rescued him from the war. He woke up a few hours later to find it was already evening. He checked his mobile. Khyati had called him twice in the afternoon. He called her back and told her about the accident.

  ‘Oh my goodness! Are you all right?’ she sounded worried.

  ‘Yes, I am fine now.’

  ‘But why didn’t you call me? Do you not consider me to be your friend?’

  ‘It is not like that, Khyati. I did not want to bother you for a little bruise. I am man enough to handle things like that.’

  Khyati sensed the agitation in his voice.

  ‘I know you can take care of yourself, but sometimes the presence of a friend helps. I am going to come over. No more discussion,’ she said and hung up.

  On the way, Khyati had some food packed from the dhaba near Avik’s hotel. Avik had many a times praised the aroma that came from the dhaba. She kn
ew good food would help lift his spirits.

  She was right; Avik smiled as soon as he opened the door and smelt the food. He had been dying of hunger ever since he had woken up, but it had not occurred to him to order something to eat. He pounced on the aromatic bag Khyati held in her hand and within no time was gorging on butter chicken and naan. Khyati smiled to see him eating with his hands, not bothering about the mess he made.

  Serenity returned to Avik as he finished his meal and washed his hands. He pulled up a chair beside Khyati’s and directed her attention to the objects on the table.

  Khyati knew immediately who the things belonged to. ‘I see you managed to extort things from the witch’s own warehouse,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t call her a witch. She is just a person, like you and me, only she has excluded herself from our world and made another one for herself. Normal people like you and me who live by reason cannot comprehend what it is like to live like her,’ Avik defended Ananki, surprising Khyati.

  ‘I did not mean it that way. I understand how it is. I am studying psychology, after all. I was only joking. Now forget it and tell me how you were able to get these things.’

  Avik told her how he had met Priyanka and that she had given him Ananki’s things. As Avik was speaking, Khyati realized that he was willing to risk his life and career for this story.

  ‘Why has this become so important for you, Avik?’ she finally asked him.

  ‘I feel that knowing Ananki’s story is crucial to me, as if it’s a quest to know myself,’ Avik replied after a long silence.

  Khyati feared that Avik was trapped in Ananki’s story. He could only disentangle himself once he had cut the cords that bound him, and she would do anything to pull him out of it. Khyati’s thoughts were interrupted by a phone call from Dr Tarun.

  ‘I have to leave now,’ she said.

  ‘I thought you were going to stay tonight,’ he replied.

  ‘No, I forgot I have to complete a case study. Dr Tarun just reminded me about it. I should go.’

  Khyati had lied. She always completed her work before it was due. But although she had initially planned to spend the night at the hotel, after their conversation, she no longer wanted to stay. She thought it would be better to leave Avik alone so that he could contemplate where his life was heading.

  Dr Tarun’s call reminded Avik that Dr Neerja had never responded to his message about meeting Ananki. He asked Khyati to phone the doctor and set up a meeting for the following day. Though Khyati was quite reluctant to call Dr Neerja on Avik’s behalf, he was adamant, saying he would not let her leave until she made the call.

  Khyati gave in and called Dr Neerja. However, although she tried hard to convince her to set up a meeting, Dr Neerja did not agree. Seeing that Khyati was unable to persuade her, Avik took the phone from her and told the doctor about his meeting with Priyanka, and getting Ananki’s belongings. He suspected that Dr Neerja would want to see Ananki’s things. He was right; she could not pass up the opportunity to learn more about Ananki’s background, which she had been looking into with little success. She agreed to meet them at her home the next morning.

  Avik felt more confident after the call. He knew Dr Neerja would be able to piece together the scattered pieces of the jigsaw.

  Little did he know that sometimes the logical, critical eye fails to look beyond a point, a point that marks the end of the realm of reason and the beginning of another world. A world where one has to leave logic at the door before one enters it. Only those who can look beyond reason and common sense can pass the ‘reason extermination’ test, which dismisses all reason, for only they dare to enter the long maze that follows. If there was anyone who could pass the test, it was Avik, though he did not know it yet.

  Khyati picked up her bag to leave but Avik stopped her.

  ‘Tell me honestly, do you really have work pending?’ he asked, blocking her way.

  ‘No. But I can’t stay,’ Khyati replied, trying to go past him.

  ‘You cannot leave me. I want you to help me. You are the one person whom I can talk to about this case. I was not defending Ananki. I was just trying to empathize. I thought you would understand. Please stay with me.’ Avik reached out to hold her hand, melting Khyati’s caring heart.

  Khyati put her bag back on the table, sat down on a chair and looked through Ananki’s belongings one by one, picking up the diary last. Avik lit a cigarette and sat next to her so he could look at the diary with her. It could not be opened, as it was locked by a clasp with a numeric code. Khyati tried a few combinations, followed by Avik, but none of them worked.

  ‘Only Ananki can open the diary and for that to happen, it is necessary that she agrees to meet me,’ Avik said.

  ‘We can break the lock, can’t we?’ Khyati suggested, keeping the diary back on the table.

  ‘Breaking the lock would mean losing Ananki’s trust forever. She might never talk to me, and her opening up is crucial to know her story in her own words. The time for speculations and assumptions has to be left behind for reality to come forth,’ he replied, picking up the diary.

  He tried to peep into the pages by pulling the covers apart, but the diary was tightly bound and it was difficult to make space between the pages. He did not give up, however. His effort paid off as he saw that something had been kept between the pages, a folded piece of paper.

  Avik shook the diary several times in an attempt to dislodge the paper, but it was wedged in tight.

  ‘Do you have a nail file or a hairpin?’ he asked Khyati.

  She searched in her bag and found a pair of tweezers. Avik took them from her and pushed them in slowly between the pages of the diary. Khyati pulled at the sides of the diary to help Avik ease the paper out. It was a pink sheet, folded over once. Avik quickly unfolded it.

  ‘It’s a letter. How can you read someone else’s letter?’ Khyati exclaimed.

  He merely stared at her and, without replying, looked at the letter. It was written in deep red ink, with a thick-nibbed pen, in calligraphy.

  For a moment Avik just wondered at the beauty of the writing. He felt as if the unknown red words had enchanted him. He gazed at the words without reading them, and then handed the letter to Khyati who read it silently at first and then, on Avik’s request, read it aloud.

  Dear Da,

  This is the first time that I’m writing to you. It is not possible for me to hide from you the sea of emotions that surge within me every night and day. It is also strange to me how you hold such a position in my life, despite being ‘You’. I do not remember when I started feeling like this about you, taking your hugs and kisses as tokens of passion when I knew you did not have the same level of feelings for me. To think about you as I should is something that I cannot do, no matter how hard I try; it has gone much beyond my control. I’m not mad, but if I express my passion for you freely, I would definitely be called insane. But is that not what love is? Love is beyond logical explanations. I cannot give any reason as to why and how I developed such feelings for you despite knowing the nature of our relationship. I have always loved you, ever since I learnt what the love of a woman for a man is. You are the only man in my life and this equation will not change, come what may. I have many more confessions to make. Please meet me once, alone, anywhere you say.

  I love you so much.

  Yours only

  A.

  Khyati handed the letter back to Avik. He happened to hold it exactly where Ananki had left a kiss for the addressee. The lipstick mark was still visible.

  ‘Any idea to whom this letter is addressed?’ she asked.

  Avik had no clue who the man was, but it was clear to them that it was someone whom Ananki had known for a very long time, a childhood friend perhaps, someone close to her, someone she was not ‘supposed’ to love but she did.

  The contents of the letter disturbed Avik, making him yearn for solitude. He no longer wanted Khyati to stay with him. He wanted her to leave so that he could hold the letter
close to his chest, as if the words in it would seep through his skin and reach his bloodstream, infusing perfectly to flow through his veins.

  ‘I feel like going for a long walk,’ Avik said to Khyati, hinting that she should leave.

  He quickly called her a cab, then walked with her to the main road. When the cab arrived, he gave her an almost reluctant hug.

  ‘I’ll see you at Dr Neerja’s place tomorrow,’ Khyati said as she sat in the cab. He nodded and waved at her.

  Avik ran back to his hotel room as fast as he could. Khyati turned around to watch him through the rear window of the cab. Seeing Avik running back towards the hotel like a bullet, she realized that something was affecting him deeply, making him behave strangely.

  This is certainly not a good sign, she thought.

  Avik reached his room, struggling to catch his breath. He drank the entire contents of the jug lying on the bedside table. Feeling relieved, he picked up the letter and looked at it again, reading what the beautifully written red words said. He read the letter in its entirety first. Then in the second go he read each word with a distinct pause, as if it was independent, not part of a sentence.

  ‘Each word is so wondrous to behold,’ he whispered, moving his finger over each of them.

  His finger went to the bottom of the letter to feel the spot where her lips had left their mark. He brought the letter close to his face and breathed in deeply. He kissed the mark in a daze, then licked it. The act hardened him. He lay down on his bed, the letter covering his face, and let his hands reach down to caress himself.

  He woke up the next morning to find himself naked, the letter lying on his left. He paused to think whether last night’s act should fill him with shame.

  I have worked with a lot of female colleagues, but never fantasized about any of them. It’s not that I never thought about a woman while easing myself, but never like this. How could I have fantasized about a woman without knowing or seeing her in person, enticed just by the mark left by her lips?