A Forgotten Affair

by Kanchana Banerjee

  The commotion that followed was such that Sagarika’s comment about Deepa was forgotten.

  Later, after their goodbyes, when Anindita reached the lobby and waited for her car, she turned towards her daughter’s husband and said in a voice quivering with emotion, ‘Please forget and forgive. She’s my only child. I don’t have anyone … please…’

  Rishab didn’t say anything. When the car arrived, he held the door open for her. She got in and started to say something but he shut the door firmly on her face, spun around and walked back into the hospital.

  ‘The moronic histrionics of the old and infirm,’ he murmured to himself.

  10

  January, 2008.

  Over a year and half after the accident, Sagarika was discharged from the hospital. As the attendants began packing her belongings, Rishab informed her that they were going to Gurgaon.

  Sagarika was upset on hearing this. She had not been consulted even once.

  ‘Rishab, I want to go to the house you said we stayed in. Before the accident. Maybe when we’re there, I will remember something…’

  ‘No. I have spoken to the doctors. You can’t fly yet, but our first-class train tickets have been booked. I have also spoken with some of the best neurosurgeons in Delhi. They will do everything they can to make sure you’re able to remember.’

  ‘But … why do we need to move to a new city? Why can’t we go to the house where we lived?’

  ‘Rika, I have neglected my work for more than a year. I need to be in Gurgaon. That’s where my work is.’

  ‘Even the nurses are asking me why I’m not going home but to another city,’ she protested.

  ‘So now I have to live and plan my life according to the whims and fancies of some hospital’s servants?’ Rishab spun around, faced Sagarika, his eyes narrow slits.

  Sagarika was taken aback by his temper yet again.

  ‘Come on, Sagarika. Don’t spoil the day. You have no idea what I am taking you to. I have done up everything in the house for you, my princess. You’ll go crazy when you see it. Come on now, give me a smile! I’ve been waiting for this day.’

  Dr Sharma, who was also in the room, gave her a look of sympathy. There was nothing he could do. What Sagarika didn’t know was that Rishab had kept her at the hospital for longer than was required. He didn’t want to take her to the house where it had happened. He wanted a clean break. A fresh start.

  As she left her hospital room which had become her home for all these months, the nurses and support staff came in to bid her goodbye. Deepa called to say that she would definitely see her in Gurgaon, a city she often visited for work.

  ‘Have faith, dear,’ Dr Sharma told Sagarika as they parted. ‘Never lose faith. God will take care of you. He always does,’ he said to her and shook her hand.

  ‘What if I never remember?’ Sagarika asked.

  ‘Sometimes … you need to forget everything to recognize what matters most, Sagarika. Remember that.’

  The words touched a chord somehow. She would miss him – a doctor who had been with her through some very difficult times during her stay at the hospital. He had become her guardian angel, her confidante.

  ‘I will never forget you,’ she said.

  That wasn’t a lie. She wasn’t sure if their paths would cross again. It was time to say goodbye. Dr Sharma scribbled his mobile number behind a greeting card the hospital staff presented to Sagarika. Someday, she would call him, he hoped.

  As the two made their way towards the railway station, Rishab attempted to distract her with small talk. Sagarika, though, tried to take in as much as she could of the city that had been her home for all these years.

  ‘Please ask the driver to take me around the city a little bit before we reach the station. I want to see as much as I can,’ she told Rishab.

  The firm resolve in her voice stopped Rishab from saying anything. He instructed the cabbie to take a small detour.

  Let her see whatever she can. By tomorrow morning we will be in Gurgaon. This city will fade from her thoughts. And we will start over.

  ‘How long have I lived here?’ she asked him.

  ‘Ten years.’

  Actually it was much more than ten years, but Rishab decided he would rather not go into any details. She had come to the city for a degree course at J.J. School of Art. Intermittently she had lived abroad for a couple of years, but Mumbai was very much home to her.

  Ten years is a very long time to live in a city. I must have a lot of memories here. This city must have been very special to me. I’m sure a lot of people know me and about me. I must have made so many friends here. Instead of being with them and trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, Rishab is taking me to another city. Why?

  She hated him for what he was doing to her. She wanted to argue with him but realized the futility of it all. Rishab had always had his way right from the day she had opened her eyes to him in the hospital. So she sat in the car, and took in the views of a city which looked new, but felt vaguely familiar. What she saw saddened her in a way she couldn’t define. She knew she was leaving behind something precious, but couldn’t really put her finger on what it was exactly.

  The cab stopped at a red light and there was a tap on her window. It was a boy, not more than ten years old. Clad in tattered shorts and a dirty shirt, he held few books in one hand. In the other hand, he had balanced a tall pile quite deftly. As soon as he saw Sagarika, he grinned a toothless smile and began saying something. Instinctively, Sagarika rolled down the window.

  ‘Didi! Where were you? Haven’t seen you for a very long time.’

  As soon as Rishab heard him, he screamed, ‘Oye! Peechhe hutt! Get away!’

  The boy stepped back in fright, but replied, ‘Why are you getting so angry, saabji? Didi knows me.’

  Rishab began hurling abuses at the boy. The driver too joined in, rolled down his window and swung his arm at him. Some of the books fell down on the street and the boy began crying.

  The red light changed to green and the car moved ahead. Sagarika craned her neck out of the window to see the boy. Some other boys had joined him to help him pick up the books and magazines.

  Of all the people who came to meet her, cried and howled, it was the smiling recognition of this little boy and his utter dejection and humiliation that pained her the most. As the car drove away, the boy stared fixedly at her and then knelt down to gather the books.

  She felt miserable, barely able to hear Rishab rattle on.

  ‘You shouldn’t roll down the window like that. What if someone shoves a knife at you or something?’

  Sagarika glared at him, begging him to stop. She hadn’t felt any danger with the boy. His pained expression made her want to run back to him and ask him how he knew her.

  I know I’m leaving behind a city full of memories. The roads, the buildings, the sea… they look so familiar. I know this city well. And I’m leaving all of this.

  The car turned right from Haji Ali along Heera Panna towards Mahalaxmi. They were headed towards Mumbai Central station and were running a bit late. The detour had taken up a little more time than Rishab had hoped and he instructed the driver to go faster. Suddenly a man darted across the street right in front of their car and the driver jammed the brakes to avoid running over him. The car screeched to a halt and Sagarika jolted in her seat, almost hitting her head on the rear of the driver’s seat. Instinctively she closed her eyes and heard a voice.

  ‘Cheeni! Watch out. You’re such an awful driver! Move over. Let me drive. You’ll kill someone.’

  She closed her eyes and searched for that voice. It was the voice of a young man. He had a pleasant face. She could see herself in the car with him. She tried to remember his name.

  ‘Rika! RIKA! What happened?’ Rishab screamed.

  She snapped out of her reverie.

  ‘Huh!? What?’

  She was back in the car with Rishab. She desperately searched for that voice again. She had seen his face cle
arly. It wasn’t Rishab.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Rishab asked, seeing the dazed look in her eyes.

  She nodded and stared out of the window. The car drove them on.

  Who was that man? What car was I in? And … he called me Cheeni! How do I know him?

  A bright flash of memory shook her. The pleasant face. His smile. The word ‘Cheeni’. Multiple questions buzzed in her mind, disturbing her.

  Will I see him again? How? Where? What all have I forgotten? Who are the people I don’t remember? Were they important to me? That man … who is he? Was he someone important?

  11

  ‘Do you need to work all the time?’

  Tired of staring at the villages and farms whizzing past, Sagarika was hoping Rishab would look at her once and acknowledge her presence. He was glued to his laptop ever since the train left Mumbai Central railway station.

  When she didn’t get a reply, she pushed the laptop slightly.

  ‘I’m feeling listless,’ she said, looking at Rishab. ‘I don’t know what to do. You’ve been working non-stop since we left. Can’t we chat … for some time?’

  ‘What do you expect from me, Rika?’ he said. ‘To give up my work, hold your hand and gaze into your eyes all the time?’

  ‘That’s not what I meant,’ Sagarika said softly, taken aback by his harsh tone. ‘It’s just that a short break would do you good, we could talk for a bit and then you could work again.’

  ‘Well, I can’t sit idle and chat. Okay? Attending to you, making sure you’re operated on properly … it has not only cost me money but also a lot of time away from work. Everything has a cost, Rika. Do you have any freakin’ idea how much your treatment cost? Where did the bloody money come from to pay for your hospital expenses? From me. I slog my fucking ass to make sure you are wrapped in luxury. So no … I don’t have the time to sit and chat.’

  Rishab never screamed. He could spew venom in a cold, firm and barely audible voice. Somebody trying to eavesdrop on their conversation from outside their first-class cabin could not have heard him. His body language, his piercing look and his hurtful and humiliating words stripped Sagarika of her dignity. Shocked at the way her husband spoke with her, she could barely breathe. She slipped out of the cabin, hoping to get some fresh air. Rishab didn’t stop her.

  All these months in the hospital, he never spoke to me like this. He was so tender and caring. He brought flowers, spoke gently. And now, the things he just told me…

  Standing near the door of her compartment, feeling the wind on her face, Sagarika lost track of time. Her headache was back and she kept massaging her forehead gently, looking at the countryside, now engulfed in darkness.

  ‘Hey, Rika!’ Rishab called out. He now stood at the entrance of their cabin, smiling. ‘Dinner has arrived. I’m starving and am sure so are you.’ He stretched out his hand, beckoning her to join him.

  As they sat together eating, Sagarika looked at her husband whose mood was now in sharp contrast to what it had been sometime back.

  Is this the same man who spoke to me harshly less than thirty minutes ago? He now seems completely different. It’s as if there are two sides of him, residing in a single body.

  ‘Now you be a good girl and sleep tight,’ Rishab said, handing over her medication and a glass of water. ‘Tomorrow, by the time you wake up, you will be in a new city.’ He kissed her on the forehead and turned off the overhead light.

  The winter of 2008 was one of the coldest Delhi ever witnessed. Almost the whole of north India was experiencing a cold wave. Rishab’s driver picked him and Sagarika from New Delhi railway station and as they made their way to Gurgaon through the empty, foggy highway, the chill found its way to Sagarika’s bones. Visibility was poor, but Sagarika could see that the trees seemed to be drooping and the surroundings looked ominous. What’s more, she didn’t know what lay ahead.

  ‘Have I been to Delhi before?’ she asked Rishab.

  ‘Yes. You haven’t lived here, but you have certainly visited on a number of occasions. We’re not staying in Delhi, our house is in Gurgaon. You’ll like it there. Trust me,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘Gurgaon,’ she said the name to herself. The name sounded like nothing. It didn’t ring a bell. She didn’t expect it to.

  Despite being wrapped in dense fog, Sagarika could see that Delhi was a clean city, full of trees and wide, pothole-free roads. But when they drove into Gurgaon, she was in for a rude shock: this city on the outskirts of Delhi was arid, brown, bereft of greenery and full of under-construction buildings. It was the quintessential concrete jungle.

  ‘Why do the electric wires hang from the poles so messily?’ She pointed out to Rishab who just shrugged nonchalantly. ‘How can a city be like this?’ She already disliked the place.

  ‘Some of these flats here are selling for more than Rs 10 crore. The residential and shopping complexes are mind-blowing. Wait till you see where we’ll be staying. It’s the best property in Gurgaon,’ he replied enthusiastically.

  As the car reached the gates of a huge residential colony, a security guard noted the details and Sagarika took a moment to look at what would be her new home. The Oasis. From whatever she had seen of Gurgaon so far, this seemed the most swanky and palatial address, almost like a picture postcard. The manicured hedges, preened lawns, small fountains and verandas with pretty potted plants – it was all breathtakingly gorgeous. One couldn’t find anything amiss.

  The driver held the door open for her to step out. The lobby attendants sprung up to greet them. This was a place with people trained to serve.

  Rishab had rented an apartment on the fourteenth floor. Three women stood smiling nervously in the hallway to welcome them.

  ‘Rika, this is Vina, your personal nurse and attendant. This is Rani, the cleaner, and this is Jina, the cook. And this,’ he turned to the three of them, pointing at Sagarika, ‘is the madam of the house.’

  They gave her an awkward smile and Sagarika reciprocated in equal measure. It was difficult to say who felt more nervous.

  Vina stepped out and offered a small bouquet of flowers she had picked from the lawns. It was tied together with a red ribbon.

  ‘Madamji, for you,’ she said.

  ‘Rishab, do we need so many helps? And do all of them stay in the house?’ Sagarika asked as soon as she stepped into their gigantic bedroom. She sank in the soft mattress of the king-size bed placed against a wall with wallpaper that felt like silk. On one side of the bed was a dressing table with rows of bottles and pots on it. On the other side were two sofas with a small, round table between them. Huge glass sliding doors opened to a balcony, adorned by potted plants that sprouted flowers of various hues.

  As Sagarika moved around the room, feeling the upholstery and touching the curtains, Rishab observed her. He could see that she was impressed. Anyone would be. It was difficult not to be in awe of the sheer size of the house, the obvious opulence. He had discarded everything they owned in their apartment in Mumbai and hired a well-known interior designer to do up the Gurgaon house.

  Everything was new. A new city, a new house, new furniture and surroundings – it would usher a new beginning too, he hoped.

  Sagarika put the small bouquet she had received in a glass of water on her bedside table and continued admiring the room.

  There was a gentle knock on the door. It was Vina. She stepped in, holding a tray with a steaming mug.

  Rishab had briefed all of them thoroughly about their duties. Vina, Sagarika’s personal nurse, had been specially told about her responsibilities. The bouquet she gave Sagarika was his idea. He knew his wife well and that she loved gestures like these. He knew it would bring the two close and that would serve his purpose well.

  ‘Madamji, some milk and Horlicks for you,’ Vina said.

  ‘No,’ Sagarika said. ‘I want a cup of steaming milk with a spoon of coffee powder. And just a dash of sugar in it. And don’t forget to strain the milk. Also please boil the milk on gas, I like it that way
.’

  All of it just tumbled out at one go. Sagarika spun around and looked at Rishab, amazed.

  ‘Whoa! What was that?’ she said, her palm covering her mouth. ‘I don’t know what happened, Rishab. It just came out.’

  Rishab looked stunned too.

  ‘Hmm. Vina, you heard her. Please get her milk the way she wants it,’ he said.

  Once Vina left the room, he shut the door, strode up to Sagarika and held her frail face in his palms and pressed his cheeks against hers.

  ‘Every morning, you always liked milk with coffee and very little sugar. You like to begin your day with a cup of milk. Always. And you hate milk warmed in a microwave. You like it boiled.’

  Sagarika could feel his heart almost pounding against her chest. A part of her memory had trickled out just like that, and she was thrilled. Dr Sharma’s words had proved true.

  ‘The mind works in strange ways,’ he had said. ‘You think that going back to the old house will bring back your memory. It may, or it may not. Sometimes in a new place, where the mind isn’t bombarded by stimuli, faint memories start returning. No one knows what will trigger a memory.’

  So it was true. Who would have thought that a steaming mug of Horlicks would have opened the gates to regaining lost memories!

  Rishab felt bittersweet about the entire episode, though.

  Rika will slowly remember everything. Everything that happened before. Then … I will lose her. Will she…?

  12

  By the next day, Sagarika finished unpacking. With some help from Vina, she stacked her clothes neatly in her closet. The walk-in closet was a room in itself. Having lived in drab, shapeless and colourless hospital gowns for an entire year, she felt a thrill seeing the dresses, jackets, scarves and shoes that her wardrobe was stashed with. She stood admiring everything when her cellphone – Rishab had bought her a brand-new handset – rang. It was Deepa.