Chapter 01:
Teaching someone about ways and means of a family was
something she never thought would be a job description. The matriarch of
Raizada family and lady of the house had personally hired Khushi to do exactly
that. The subject - the stunning Lavanya Kashyap. Problem - the man who had
gotten himself engaged to Lavanya against the wishes of his family. Arnav
Raizada.
The world had missed a turn when Arnav declared to the
entire family that he was going to marry Lavanya. It had taken two hours,
several negotiations and handful of bargains to get his family - his grandmother
to be precise, accept Lavanya into their family. The old woman had finally
given her consent after Lavanya promised to do everything it takes to learn
traditions of the household. After that, Anjali had broken into cheerful
laughter, followed by rest of the household.
Khushi had struggled to maintain a smile that hurt her
cheeks while flames of disappointment licked her stomach. Arnav had avoided
looking at her for the entire evening and she was fine with that. She couldn't
have tolerated the happiness spilling from his eyes or the looks of pity he
would throw in her way.
In the past, there were moments - handful of them where she
thought the barriers between them dissolved and their interaction rewrote
boundaries around them. They held their eyes longer, gaze sharper and had
exchanged both vicious and vulnerable information about each other. They all
seemed unimportant now. In moments, the essence of the memories that she had so
carefully coddled and cherished had become trigger warnings.
But here she was walking in the rain in late evening under
orange street lamp like a tailored heroine from a clichd romance story, where
the girl doesn't get the boy she has a crush on. It's a whole another thing
that the boy in question didn't really get along with the girl all the time. It's
just that he was incredibly intrigued by her and she had a hopeless schoolgirl
crush on him irrespective of the constant irritation and annoyance the boy
caused her. She had no one but herself to blame for the predicament she was in.
Arnav had never even given her hope of something larger for her to hold on to. He
had walked into her personal space as if he belonged there. She riled him as if
it was her favorite past time. They had developed a language of their own
unknowingly and played a game only they knew how in a reality that belonged to
just them.
"Do you want to come in?" She heard a voice call. Khushi
turned around and came face to face with an elderly woman, smiling patiently at
her. "It's pouring badly."
Khushi looked at the woman blankly. "I..." She was startled at
the interruption.
"Come on in," the elderly woman nudged gently.
Khushi followed the woman inside the office that was
sparsely furnished. She sat down on a plastic chair and wiped her face with the
offered tissue paper.
"I am sorry," Khushi said cocking her head towards the
puddle that was forming because of her clothes. The elderly woman smiled and
shook her head.
"Don't worry about it." She replied, amused. "I am Maitreyi."
She said, extending her hand.
"Khushi." She said extending her own. The handshake was firm
and Maitreyi's hand was warm.
"Are you in a hurry to be somewhere?" Maitreyi asked,
calculating. "You didn't seem to care about the intensity of downpour."
Khushi shrugged. "Honestly, I realized only minutes ago that
it was raining."
"Something on your mind?" Maitreyi asked gently.
Khushi waited a moment and looked at the posters surrounding
the small office. She wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation.
"Nothing to make that drastic choice," she said looking at
one poster behind Maitreyi.
A motivational poster about gift of life and suicide
prevention decorated the spot on the wall behind Maitreyi. It was hard to take
her eyes off the simple words written there.
Maitreyi gave her a critical look. Khushi sighed. "A guy I thought
I liked is getting married to someone else. It bothered me so I walked it off."
She said, slightly irritated.
Maitreyi smiled at her response. "That's probably one way to
deal with it."
Khushi shrugged. Curious, she asked, "What is it you do
exactly?" There wasn't much going on in the office with only Maitreyi, two
cubicles, one small office and seven plastic chairs.
Noting Khushi's assessment of her office Maitreyi said, "We
provide helpline services. Sometimes, all that takes for a person to walk away
from a ledge is a listening ear. That's what we provide."
Khushi's heart hammered in her chest. She found it difficult
to breathe. Surprisingly, the impending panic attack never came. She gulped
down the water set in front of her and took a long breath.
"That's very noble of you," Khushi breathed out.
Maitreyi didn't respond. A beat of silence later, she asked,
"Do you have someone in your family who...?"
Khushi looked up from the tiny plastic cup in her hand,
surprised at the deduction. Maitreyi smiled softly at her. "I am not a novice
in this area. I am a psychiatrist working in the areas of depression and other
forms of mental health issues for more than two decades."
Khushi nodded but didn't offer any answer. Maitreyi, to her
credit, didn't push it any further.
"You are looking for volunteers." Khushi said, changing
subject so that focus of conversation wasn't on her anymore.
Maitreyi nodded. "I generally get college students interning
here for every few months. They work during the day or in evenings but not many
prefer to work during the night. At the moment I don't have anyone working the
night shift. Well except for me, of course." She chuckled.
"I am sorry." Khushi said sincerely.
Maitreyi shook her head. "Don't be. Please. It is what it
is. And I will have to make the most of what I have. Since the payment is not
very substantial, not many want to volunteer here."
The women fell silent.
"We let people believe that there is something much deeper
and grander behind the shifting masks we put. That's the greatest trick humans
play on others. In fact behind the masks, there is nothing. It's in the masks,
we weave our real self and let people think that they are masks." Khushi's
voice had a balanced husky note to it.
Maitreyi smiled inwardly at that. "You are too young to be
spouting existential philosophy."
Khushi threw her head back and laugh. "I am not sure what
that means." She said recovering from the sudden fit of laughter.
"I mean -" Maitreyi stopped talking and Khushi jumped when
phone rang.
Khushi knew the call was genuine by the grim lines deepening
on Maitreyi's face. The softness of the woman was suddenly replaced by much
jagged hard edges.
She leaned back on the cheap plastic chair and closed her
eyes.
She already knew she was going to volunteer at this beaten
down place. The decision was made the moment she had seen the poster and the
memory of her parents had clashed and juxtaposed in her mind.
She knew there was a great possibility that Maitreyi would
be unsuccessful tonight. But the fragility of reality was such that there
existed a very small probability where Maitreyi is successful in every call she
receives.
They wouldn't be simply saving lives. They would create new
realities.
comment:
p_commentcount