A Handful of Sunshine

by Vikram Bhatt

  ‘I am pissed off, Akhil. Angry doesn’t cut it. You have an injury and you don’t even tell me?’ I let the bags fall over each other, not really giving a damn.

  ‘Oh, come on, Mira! You were in New York! On work! You would have been worried and there was nothing you or me or anyone could have done about it. I got myself bandaged and here I am. Fit and fine.’

  Akhil tried to hug me, but I pushed him back.

  ‘You hurt yourself and you did not tell me!’ The tears were beginning to come now.

  ‘Mira, I think you are overreacting. It was not anything to worry about and so I did not worry you, that’s all.’

  Akhil stood there, smiling at me, but my guilt stood between us, glowering at me. This time Guilt was mean. He said the most unspeakable things to me in that one instant.

  I rushed to Akhil and broke down, holding on to him for dear life.

  ‘I am sorry, I am sorry, I am so so sorry!’ I couldn’t stop sobbing.

  ‘Have you lost your mind, Mira? It’s just a bloody sprain for God’s sake!’ Akhil was amused and could barely manage to keep the laughter from his voice.

  ‘I love you. I am so sorry!’ I wonder if he understood my words. They were just muffled gibberish between sobs.

  ‘If you are going to love me like this, I am going to get myself a new sprain every week!’ He finally gave in to his amusement completely.

  The sight of Veer behind the revolving door flashed into my mind and then the sight of Akhil at the door with his hand in a bandage.

  I thought my heart was going to explode. The doors kept going round. Choices . . .

  VEER

  Monday afternoon

  Why was I not feeling any guilt? I couldn’t understand that, however hard I tried to look at it.

  I could see that Mira had her moments—moments when she seemed completely torn apart. I could see what she was going through to be with me. It was making her ecstatic but it was also killing her softly.

  On the other hand, I did not feel a thing.

  All through the journey home, that was all I could think of. If she had a husband who she had to answer to, did I not have Kavita? I had promised her I was going to give our relationship a sincere go. And yet here I was, with Mira, and I did not care. Had I just become bitter and unfeeling? Then why was it that when it came to Mira I felt everything? Why was I not bitter and unfeeling then? By the time the plane landed at Heathrow, I had given up on that question, but I had come to a decision. I had to tell Kavita. If I could not love her the way I loved Mira, then she had a right to know and she had a right to find someone who could love her like I loved Mira. I could not string her along in this fashion.

  I walked out with my bags and was surprised to see Shazia waiting for me. What the hell was she doing at the airport? She never picked me up, ever! Did this have anything to do with the squabble we had the day I left for New York?

  She smiled and tilted her head in the Shazia kind of way, ‘Still mad at me, bro?’

  I laughed, walked up to her and gave her a tight hug. ‘I am sorry you had to hear a speech I had saved for society in general.’

  ‘Ah, that’s okay. You were right and I was wrong. Matter closed.’ She looked different, more beautiful than I had ever seen her, but different. She had no make-up on, none of that obnoxious jewellery, and I could not even smell her regular strong perfume on her.

  ‘I am glad to have you back in my corner,’ I said with a warm smile.

  ‘I am always in your corner. We are partners, remember?’

  I nodded and she handed me our ritualistic cup of coffee with a bright grin. We began to walk towards the airport parking, bags in tow.

  ‘So are we going to the office then?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, sir. Mr Jonas wants to meet his star about a new job. Nothing seems to get done in Pearl and Grey without the king of copywriters Veer Rai.’

  ‘The emperor, you mean,’ I corrected her teasingly.

  She laughed and I joined in. I had my friend back. It felt good.

  ‘Are you not coming?’ I asked her, surprised, as she dropped me off at the office.

  ‘No, I have taken the day off. My uncle has come visiting from Islamabad. Need to do the London and Harrods tour with him.’ She made a face and shrugged. I shook my head, sympathizing with her predicament.

  I grabbed my bag from the boot of her car and waved as she drove away. The thought of Kavita came back to me as I stood on the pavement outside the office. What was I going to do? Instinctively, I dialled her number.

  ‘Hey, baby!’ she screamed into the phone, ‘I have missed you so much!’

  ‘Hi, honey, I missed you too,’ I lied.

  ‘You have decided to go straight to the office I’m sure, bags and all?’

  ‘You know me too well,’ I said as a smile made its way through, despite how I felt about her and our situation.

  ‘Tonight, I am going to tire you out,’ she whispered. A sharp pain in the heart accosted me out of nowhere. So much for not feeling anything. I realized I did feel for her. I was just very good at pretending I did not. Years of pain had given me a comfortably numb switch that I could use when in pain land.

  ‘We shall see about that, my love. Do not challenge the Delhi boy in me,’ I warned her mockingly. She giggled like a schoolgirl. ‘Yes, we shall see indeed!’

  I walked into the office.

  Jim Jonas wanted me to look at a pitch for the new Audi that was going to be unveiled in the summer. I found it challenging and assured him my best pitch.

  Someone had left a squishy ball on my desk, but just this once I did not mind the fact that someone had been using my room while I was away; the squishy ball seemed like a good thinking aid. I sat there turning the task in my mind in unison with the ball around my fingers. How was I going to sell the pitch to the carmakers before I could sell it to the public?

  The phone buzzed. It was a message from Mira.

  Trafalgar Square, next to the fountains? Six o’clock?

  I smiled. She must miss me.

  Can do. I replied.

  Great. See you.

  See you.

  The square was lit up more from the lights from the National Museum than by the lights on the square itself. It was cold and well past sunset but there were still scores of people milling around. I could see the odd human statue with white make-up trying to stay still and keep himself from shivering, while tourists took pictures with him, and he made some money to last him another day. One’s tragedy is another’s entertainment, I thought.

  Mira stood by the fountain to the right of the museum. She saw me at the same moment I saw her. Every time I saw her it felt like I was looking at her for the first time. Like I’d felt eight years ago in Café Solenzo. She was wearing a black winter coat over black boots but she also wore a worried look and that had me instantly worried as well.

  As I neared her, she took a step back. I was right, something was wrong.

  ‘You want to go into a coffee shop and chat?’ I asked her with a smile.

  She shook her head. ‘No, let’s just talk here, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘It’s cold.’ I was more worried about her.

  ‘It’s fine. I have to get home soon anyway. I don’t have much time.’ She was shaking. Something was terribly wrong.

  ‘What’s the matter, Mira?’

  ‘When I got home this morning, I found out that Akhil had sprained his hand and he did not even call and tell me.’ I was worried she was going to fall. I wanted to reach out and hold her, but it was clear that she did not want to be held.

  ‘I am sorry to hear that,’ I said softly.

  ‘I am sorry, Veer. I can’t do this. I can’t do this dual life thing. It’s killing me.’ She couldn’t stand any more and sat down on the edge of the fountain.

  ‘So we are back to discussing this, Mira?’ I was feeling both sorry for her and angry with her, but that sharp pain in my heart was back.

  ‘Veer, please understa
nd. I am married. I can’t just forget that part of my life. It’s there, staring at me, staring at us.’

  ‘Then why did you call me to New York?’

  ‘Because I love you. When I say I can’t do this it does not mean I don’t love you. It just means that I love you, but I am married, and I can’t change that situation.’ Her shaking did not seem to be getting any better.

  ‘I am not asking you to change the situation, Mira. I am not asking you for anything but your love—whenever you can give it to me, however you can give it to me. In small amounts, over long periods, but don’t go away from me, Mira . . .’ I sat down beside her and held her hand. She held mine back, tight.

  ‘Veer, I am not made for lies. It’s not me. It’s not the person I am.’

  The phone in my pocket began to ring.

  ‘Answer the phone,’ she said.

  I did not bother. ‘Why does our love have to be at the sacrificial altar all the time, Mira? Why? Every time you go through emotional chaos, the first thing you think of is going away from me. Why is going away from me always the answer to your problems?’

  ‘It’s not the same thing, Veer. Akshay’s death was different. I was confused and I did not know what to do. I was younger. But this time it’s my marriage.’

  The phone in my pocket rang again.

  ‘Please answer the phone, Veer.’ She was almost insistent this time. I let it ring.

  ‘So are you not confused this time around, Mira? You are crystal clear? You cannot lie, right? Then you owe me the truth as well. Are you confused or not?’

  ‘Yes, I am. I am confused. Of course I am confused. I spent the most beautiful three days of my life with you and that was not even two days ago. Of course I am confused. I am not a slut, Veer. If I made love to you, it is because I love you.’

  The phone rang again. ‘Answer the goddamn phone, Veer!’ She snatched her hand away from mine.

  I did not recognize the number. ‘Hello!’ I almost shouted in irritation. I must have sounded really rude to the caller.

  ‘Hello? Is that Mr Veer Rai?’ the caller asked. I told him I was. What he told me next knocked the life out of me. I stood up shaking. Mira was instantly worried. She stood up as well.

  I hung up the phone and looked at her like I had been hit by a whirlwind.

  ‘What is the matter, Veer? Who was it?’ Mira asked me, really concerned now.

  ‘That was the police, Mira. They called to tell me that . . . that Shazia committed suicide. Shazia is dead, Mira. Dead.’

  VEER

  Monday night

  It was a mere ten-minute cab ride from Trafalgar to Shazia’s Sloane Square apartment building, but in the evening traffic the drive seemed endless. Had it not been for Mira hailing the cab and putting me into it, I probably would have still been standing next to the fountain staring into the faraway nothingness.

  When the traffic light turned red for the third time as the traffic inched forward, I had half a mind to get off the cab and start running towards Shazia’s apartment, but the little bit of sense I had left sternly advised me against any such senseless action.

  Shazia is dead.

  The words kept repeating themselves in my mind like an awful song that refuses to loosen its grip on you. She had planned to do this all along. That was the reason she came to the airport to pick me up and that was the reason for that one last cup of our ceremonial coffee on the way back from the airport. But why did she kill herself? What was wrong? Why did she have to do it? She had looked different at the airport.

  On and on and on, the thoughts wouldn’t stop squabbling in my head, and the traffic was making it worse. I had to roll down the window—I felt like I was going to choke, I could barely breathe. And then I had to roll the window back up for the cold was chilling my insides.

  The road outside Shazia’s apartment building was like a little village fair. There were police barricades and curious neighbours, the patrol cars and the media that was gathering fast.

  I paid the cabbie off and told the constable at the barricade that Sergeant Jillian was waiting for me at Shazia’s residence. The constable confirmed on the wireless and allowed me in. I was about to cross over the barricade when I heard Kavita call out to me. I had called her on the way and she had left everything to be here with me.

  She stretched her hand out and I held it as we crossed the barricade and half-ran to the apartment building.

  ‘Mr Rai?’ I saw a lady dressed in a sergeant’s uniform approaching me. She had the look of a woman who had seen a lot of untimely death but was still pained to see it.

  ‘Sergeant Jillian.’ She introduced herself and shook my hand.

  ‘This is Kavita,’ I said, introducing her.

  Sergeant Jillian shook her hand as well, then looking back at me she said, ‘The sight upstairs is not a happy one, Mr Rai. I suggest you accompany me only if you have the stomach for it.’

  ‘She was my friend. I want to see her, even if I have to spend the rest of my life having nightmares.’

  The sergeant nodded and led both Kavita and me to the elevator. On the way into the building, my eyes fell on the ambulance waiting outside. The back doors were open but the inside was empty. They had to still bring her down. I suppose the forensics were doing their job.

  We rode the elevator in silence but my mind was filled with the cacophony of memories. The time when Shazia rented the apartment and dragged me here to see it, I was so disinterested then, the late-night jamming sessions on copies for clients, drunken nights, and the time when I called her ‘Paki’ as a joke and she took it so badly and then I was here consoling her and giving her a warm hug. Shazia is dead. The words started playing again on loop.

  We entered Shazia’s house to find more police officers and forensic technicians; yet the place was neat save the wet carpet that had turned red on the edges.

  ‘The neighbours alerted the police when water mixed with blood started flowing out of the apartment,’ Sergeant Jillian informed us. On cue, she led us into Shazia’s bedroom. There was the same reddish coat of water on the carpet as in the living room. I was, however, not ready for the picture that greeted me in the bathroom.

  Shazia lay in the bathtub, her body submerged in deep red water. Her eyes were closed and her head was resting against the lip of the bathtub. She looked white, ashen. All her blood had drained out of her. One of her hands rested against the wall and the cut on her wrist could be seen clearly, the other was obviously under the water. Kavita turned around and walked back out. She couldn’t deal with the horrific image. I, on the other hand, stood frozen on the spot. Shazia was dead.

  ‘She left you a letter, Mr Rai. I am sorry, but we had to open it and while we shall let you read it you must understand that it is an important piece of evidence and we will have to hold it with us for a while.’ Sergeant Jillian clearly understood pain and there was sensitivity in her tone. I nodded to her without really looking her way, my eyes still fixed on my Shazia. Dead.

  She handed me the envelope and I saw it had ‘Veer’ written on it in her handwriting. I looked at her wrist all cut up. This was the hand that wrote this letter, and now it was lying limp, lifeless.

  I drew the letter from inside the envelope.

  Dear Veer,

  Firstly, I am sorry. I know this is going to devastate you and I know that I am being a rat and jumping ship, but strangely this ship burns only for this rat and so I must escape into the vast unknown for there I think I shall find some peace.

  I have lied to you, Veer. I have lied to you all this while. There has never been a Greek millionaire in my life. All the holidays he took me on were me spending my time holed up in my apartment. All the gifts he gave me were the ones I bought myself.

  It started out as a silly notion I had of love, of a perfect life. I thought if I started living that fantasy then one day the reality would catch up and the fantasy would turn into reality. But that never happened. The game only made my reality worse.

 
The more I have tried to find love the more it eluded me.

  I have been lonely all my life. No parents, no family and you my only friend. Too many failed relationships and a fantasy made my life hell. Yet, I remained hopeful.

  I remained hopeful that my life would change, I remained hopeful that I would find love, I remained hopeful that I wouldn’t be lonely any more and I remained hopeful that I would have someone to take care of me for the rest of my life. Then last week, I was faced with the truth.

  On the way to the airport when I heard you talk about love, I finally understood what real love was, how intense it could be. And I realized that it was too late for me to find that love. I would have loved to be a Veer’s Mira but I realize that it is a one in a million kind of love and it does not happen for everybody.

  I refused to live a life in which the love is of an inferior kind. I am not dying, Veer; I am simply rebooting my soul. My religion teaches me there is no reincarnation, but I want to beg Allah for another life, one where I find love like the one you have.

  Don’t bother sending my body to Pakistan; there is no one there. Bury it somewhere nice. Not near some filthy railway line.

  You have been more than a friend. You have been a brother I never had. I shall always love you.

  Shazia

  I couldn’t stand. I felt all the energy drain from my legs. I crashed on the hard marble floor of the bathroom. Sergeant Jillian tried to hold me but failed. A few police officers rushed to me asking if I was okay. Did I need any water?

  I needed my Shazia back. Could they get her back?

  There was a sob stuck at the bottom of my throat that refused to come unstuck. I tried coughing but it remained obdurate. The police officers helped me up and half dragged me to the living room and had me sit on the couch. Kavita, who was standing there by the window, rushed to me. Fortunately, she did not ask me how I was. She knew. She held me tight. The sob was still stuck.

  The letter from Shazia lay on the cold bathroom floor. Her entire life would now be just evidence—in the hands of the policeman who would pick it up.