‘Banging your girlfriend tonight, Yusef?’ Vartika asked, jumping to her feet. Both of us looked more embarrassed than she did.
‘Vani,’ I called, tired. She needed a lasso on her tongue.
He cleared his throat. ‘Well, I have dinner plans at her place today.’
‘Sure you do,’ she winked, then tossed the butt of the cig on the floor, crushed it under her heel before walking off. I dropped her home first, which was only five minutes away, then dropped off Yusef and headed home, leaving behind another eventful year of my life.
CHAPTER 3
‘Y
ou’re late,’ Arihant said, sitting up when I flipped the light switch on. ‘By a day.’
My little brother was sprawled on the baithak, his phone in his hand. I tossed my helmet on the rack, mildly surprised to find him in the house. He rarely came home during weekdays. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘What do you think?’
Tired more because of the stress than the work itself, my eyes caught sight of the living room. The place was littered with balloons and those things hanging from the wall, glaring at me, reminding me I had grown older by another year, yet rarely done anything to make this life worth living. It made more sense to celebrate the life of people who indeed made a difference, not just in their lives but in those of others. Birthdays were a waste of time, resources and only reminded someone of how many years they’d wasted on this planet.
‘What is all this?’ I demanded.
‘It was Saloni’s idea,’ he said. Tossing the blame on the little angel of the house was always a good defence. ‘She said we hardly ever do anything fun nowadays.’
Saloni was the pampered house clown; the one no one took seriously, but everyone loved. She was usually the one to come up with lame ideas like these. I took off my shoes. ‘What are we? Five?’ I muttered.
‘It wasn’t so bad. If not anything else, the food was delicious.’
I thought of the food Mom must have cooked with a surge of regret. I made a mental note of not leaving home before tasting it early next morning. I was the only one in the house who appreciated her cooking, whether I told her that or not. The rest were taste-dead, couldn’t tell the difference between a dish shallow fried in butter or oil.
‘You know, you could have just told us that you didn’t want to celebrate at all,’ Arihant cut through my thoughts. ‘We wouldn’t have done all this.’
The boy couldn’t enjoy one quiet minute. He’s either speaking or urging someone to speak. Words made up his life—he breathed them. No wonder he had no sense of the power of silence.
‘You’ve known me for how many years?’ I asked rhetorically, sounding disinterested, and splashed some water on my face to wash off the fatigue of the day.
Only a tick of silence passed before Arihant shot, ‘Where were you though?’
See what I meant?
‘Quit playing detective,’ I said almost in a bored tone and opened the refrigerator. The first thing I noticed was the uncovered cake, 250 gms of thin, cream-layered chocolate cake with my name written across it in vanilla frosting. It wasn’t a fresh one; probably a day old.
‘Not a detective. Just a concerned brother,’ Arihant was saying. The fact that my name was spelled Eshan made me snort. My sister had one job.
‘I am serious,’ my brother added and I realized he was still talking to me. Can’t people tell when you just aren’t listening to them anymore? But instead of asking him to please shut it, like I was about to, what he said next grabbed my attention. My thoughts on whether or not the cake would last the night dissolved.
‘I am serious. I called your office. Nice people, they are. Kind enough to let you off early.’ I glared at him. ‘Girlfriend?’ he asked, teasing me in a way that rubbed me the wrong way and I lost it. A guy who has the most secrets has no right to speculate on those of others.
‘Stay the hell out of my life.’
‘Hey, I’m not interested in your life. I just called because Dad told me to. When I learned you had already left, I didn’t want to worry them. So I lied that you were caught up in work.’
I abandoned the thought of peeking under the enclosed containers in the refrigerator, grabbed a water bottle and shut the door. This conversation was lasting longer than I wanted it to. And his ‘I know where you’ve been’ act was getting on my nerves. ‘So?’ I asked, turning my attention to him. ‘Should I thank you?’
‘I’m just saying. Besides, I didn’t do it for you.’
Arihant was rarely home to give a back massage to Dad when he needed one late in the night because he couldn’t sleep with the pain. He was rarely home to brew a cup of fresh coffee for Mom when she was too tired of feeding hungry mouths during weekends, when everyone refused to be satiated with just regular staple food.
‘Weekends are meant for special lunch and dinner’ all three of them believed, never once stopping to think maybe the person who cooks needs a Sunday off too. Maybe she needed it more than the rest of us. Arihant basically came home (most weekends) to gobble and doze.
Thinking of all the times he called on weekends, making demands on what he wanted to eat for lunch, and then our mother calling me to pick up some ingredients since I was the only one who got the best ones from the market, I snapped at him, ‘Don’t breeze into this house whenever you want and pretend like you care.’
It seemed like I had gotten to him. His expression turned sombre.
‘Mom slept without eating anything, waiting for you. Saloni has been saving up her pocket money to get you a watch. She was more excited than you. So contrary to what you think, I do care about my family.’
He told me nothing I didn’t already know.
‘I’ll take the watch from her tomorrow,’ I said. I was the one who sent Saloni the screenshot of the watch I wanted, since she wouldn’t stop bugging me, despite my telling her that she needn’t give me anything. Finally, I had chosen the one that was the cheapest in the online store and sent her a screenshot. In case of Mom, she just never listened. Despite Saloni being a teenager, I sometimes felt Mom was the rebel of the house. ‘And Mom is just dramatic,’ I said finally. ‘I’m tired of telling her not to wait for me to have her dinner.’
‘Well, you know how she is. You can try and understand—’
I almost laughed at that statement. ‘Don’t you dare tell me what to do.’
Arihant had always had this problem. Not just of interfering in others’ life, but also of standing on the high moral ground. I had paid little attention to him since I was a boy. But he was always in my way—either wanting to play with me and my friends, or wanting to hang out with us while we sneaked some forbidden CDs into the house. Not that I minded. I simply treated him as another block in my way. Eventually, I abandoned the idea of ever finding peace in this house and learned to live with it.
I was fine until Arihant shocked me with his one decision. I’d always treated him as someone who just ‘came along’ with a family, a parcel of it, the person no one thought to pay much attention to because his absence or presence made not much difference. At least, not to me. But then he declared he was going to move out and stay in an apartment.
I had fantasized about moving out so often it almost felt real at times, but I had never found the courage to actually do it. The practical part of my brain dominated most of my decisions and living alone wasn’t a viable option. It was, to put it simply, splurging. It meant uncalled-for expenses, some portion of my salary that I could otherwise save or use for the house.
But the fact that Arihant did it as soon as the thought struck him and convinced our parents with such ease as if asking for a packet of gums was a blow in the gut. A reality check.
Now my desire to live on my own seemed all the more distant. With him gone out, I couldn’t abandon my parents, especially not when Saloni was still underage, Baba was contemplating using a wheelchair and Mom running around the house to get things done all alone. Without realizing it, the responsibility
and dependency had begun piling up on my back. I didn’t mind it, but when Arihant declared he was shaking off his share, it hit harder.
I convinced myself to be fine with it, to not be too jealous. I knew engineering could be demanding and travelling exhausting. Of course, his share of work was now divided among the rest of us, but his absence was, in a way, a welcome change. Eventually, I saw the perks. It meant less chattering in the house, less unwanted enthusiasm and more time for me in the kitchen.
That was until I saw what he was up to. A few months ago, he’d requested Mom to courier some of his semester books he’d left at home. Of course, Mom being herself, didn’t want to pay the delivery charges and asked me to take them to him. Without much argument, I agreed. When I reached his apartment, he wasn’t home.
‘These are for Arihant,’ I told his flatmate who stank strongly of stale sweat.
‘More books?’ the flatmate groaned. ‘This boy will drown in them one day.’
That made me stop and ask him, ‘Did Arihant really study that much?’
‘Study?’ the flatmate snorted. ‘Hardly. Dude keeps getting these books from god-knows-where and keeps reading these novels by god-knows-who.’
Strange, I’d thought then. Arihant was a reader, but he often read a book once in two or three months, usually borrowed from his classmates. They were either comic books or biographies of some famous personalities, like football players or politicians or international stars. But he was nowhere near as addicted as this guy indicated. Curious, I asked him if I could see the kinds of books he read and he showed me to his room.
That’s where I discovered his small section of novels, all unheard of, and the flatmate, waiting by the door, said, ‘He’s a blessed writer though. I read one of his poems the other day, the one he’d scribbled on a paper napkin in the kitchen. I guess he forgot to dispose of it.’
‘A poem?’ I blinked.
The boy narrowed his eyes. ‘You’re his brother only, na?’
I cleared my throat, finding it odd having to explain that. ‘Yes. Why?’
‘No, you just sound like you’re hearing about his reading and writing hobbies for the first time. I hope you know he’s writing a novel though. Talented ass.’ He scoffed.
That knocked the wind out of me, but I kept my expression neutral. ‘Yes,’ I said slowly. ‘Yes, he mentioned that.’
‘Right. He keeps writing whenever he returns at night and early in the morning before anyone wakes. Says he rarely finds any quiet place. I guess we disturb him as much as you guys do.’ He winked and a laugh burst out of him.
‘He says we disturb him,’ I repeated.
‘Hey, don’t take it otherwise. But I can bet it must be difficult for him to write with his family looking over his shoulder. Or so he says.’
I nodded, not sure what else to add. ‘He must be in office now?’ I confirmed and the guy shrugged.
‘Most probably,’ he said. ‘It’s the end of the month. Apparently, the closing day of the magazine.’
‘The magazine,’ I repeated carefully, my voice still controlled.
‘Anyway. I have to go out now. If you need anything, feel free to get it. And my thanks to your Mom for those laddoos.’ He held up the tin box Mom had given me in the air.
I nodded, wondering how much of it Arihant would get to taste. But I didn’t wait to find out. I left his apartment and headed to the place Arihant told us he worked at. It was a plush corporate building, a typical commercial complex, with cars parked outside, ATMs and food court, people wearing business suits loitering about. I approached the gatekeeper from wing C.
‘Excuse me. Is Charmine Pvt. Ltd. up here?’
The man squinted at me. ‘What’s that?’
‘Charmine. The firm.’
He gave me a puzzled look. ‘No, there is no such firm here.’
For some reason, instead of trusting my brother, I believed this man. But I wanted to be sure, so I asked to check the register. I found Arihant’s name against a firm called Splash! and I found answers I wasn’t looking for.
Arihant had always been selfish, if I could dare say that in the face of people who thought he was the most caring of the lot of us. He had a knack of making people believe he cared. He fussed over you, was there as a shoulder to cry on, as an adviser whenever you’d need a dose of motivation.
But he chased his dreams, didn’t flinch while he lied to your face and acted like he openly cared about everyone. But most of all, I envied his confidence, something he had acquired without doing anything noteworthy in his life.
Since then, I saw through his act, his lies and his façade. Whenever he talked about how hectic his job was, I imagined him sitting comfortably in his chair, writing away whatever he wanted to. His condescending attitude, blatant lies and the fact the he got to live his dream life while I was trapped in a rut wasn’t the best motivator.
Whenever I saw him, I could only see what he had and I didn’t, and then it became harder to accept my fate and just do what I was meant to—be a stabilizing deadweight for the people in this family while they cruised to the land of their dreams.
CHAPTER 4
‘M
r Gill, may I come in?’ I asked a week later. He waved me in. Without making a sound, I took a seat in front of him, the same one I’d sat on countless times.
‘Ishaan,’ he addressed me looking up from his computer, ‘How have you been?’
‘Fine, sir. Thank you.’
He nodded. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t do a meeting earlier. What you presented last week wasn’t up to the mark. But after much discussion, it was passed. But we’re here to do some excellent work, not passable. Right?’
I took a moment to realize there was victory in those words. The clients had liked my solutions. They were ready to go ahead with the plan. Instead of feeling euphoric or victorious, I gave out a sigh of relief internally. Only a person who didn’t consider himself a part of an organization would feel detachable relief than happiness at victories like these. That’s what the firm had brought me to. To feel relief at having pleased my bosses.
I nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’
The fact that we made that presentation in four days working overnight was commendable. And it got through to the client, which was our ultimate aim; they agreed on working with Velcom. If others did not appreciate the effort made by my team, I certainly would.
‘But congratulations, although you must know we expect more from you.’
‘When did they not?’ I thought. It was only a matter of time until they would start asking us to donate organs because that’s what the client needed urgently.
‘I hope in the future we see much better results from you and your team,’ Sherman’s stern gaze held mine and I nodded once. ‘How are you doing on Karnik’s project?’
‘I’m in talks with them. It’s still in the RA stage. Framework and module will be handed over to the developers in three days.’
‘Will it get done on time?’
‘I trust it will.’
Distrust flashed prominently on his face. ‘I hope so but I wouldn’t believe you until I see the result.’
‘You will, Mr Gill.’
He turned to the papers on his desk. ‘Anything else?’
I cleared my throat. ‘I need a day off this Friday.’
‘For what?’
‘Personal reasons.’
He gave me a stern look. ‘This Friday is our meeting to discuss performances.’ To be precise, it was the meeting that held the best and worst team leaders of the month as examples of what to and not to do, their mistakes highlighted, dissected and analysed over cups of coffee. I had a feeling I fell in the second category.
‘I know,’ I told him, ‘which is why I am letting Siddharth attend it. He is bright, energetic and eager to learn. He will represent me well. I have informed him all that we’re going to—’
Mr Gill shook his head, which made me pause. ‘You know that’s not acceptable. And especially with your
performance, it might be more difficult. We’re going to talk about that as well. Besides, isn’t he the youngest member of your team?’
I kept those remarks from getting to me. If I had doubts before, they’ve just been confirmed. I was an Example of the month. ‘It’s only for one day, Mr Gill,’ I said. I could hear pleading in my voice.
A shadow of sympathy crossed his face, then it hardened. ‘You picked the wrong day, Ishaan.’
‘No,’ Vartika snapped. ‘No. This is not going to be a compromise.’
‘Do you think I don’t want to be a part of it?’ Our voices were rising, but with the cabin door closed and the sound of sizzling pans and music, they were safe from the ears of other cooks. ‘That’s where I want to be. I just can’t.’
Her jaw tightened. ‘Tell me one reason why not.’
‘I just told you.’
‘Your stupid meeting,’ she said, spitting the word out like it had venom, ‘is not a valid reason.’
I sighed, pressing my palms to my eyes to stop my head from spinning. I hadn’t had anything to eat since the roll I gobbled down in the afternoon. ‘I need to get to work,’ I told her, more tired now and looped my apron in my hand around my neck. Before I could tie it at the back, she intervened.
‘You don’t have to come from tomorrow,’ she said, turning to her bills on the table, the ones she was sifting through when I walked in. ‘You’re fired.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You heard me,’ she said, her voice devoid of any emotions.
‘You…’ I faltered, then swallowed. ‘You’re kidding, right?’
She whirled around and pinned her gaze on me. ‘Do I look like I am?’
I searched her face, looking for the encouraging foul-mouthed woman I knew. The sternness in her voice wasn’t as piercing as the coldness in her eyes. ‘Vani, you know how important this is for me. This is the only thing that…’ I trailed off, my teeth gritted, angry at the lack of words in my vocabulary to describe whatever this meant to me.
A Long Way Home Page 13