I closed my eyes, trying to bring back my focus and not let his words sting. ‘If working in the kitchen of a dingy bar makes me feel happy and alive, I will do it.’
‘What’s this stupid thing about being alive? You’re breathing, your heart’s working. How much more alive do you want to be?’
‘Ishaan.’ Mom touched my forehead. ‘Are you sick? Those people are making you go mad.’
‘I’m fine, Aai.’ I brushed her hand away, a little annoyed that I wasn’t explaining it to them properly. Or they just didn’t want to see things differently.
‘But that is not all,’ I added. A terrified silence ensued, Baba clearly looking like he couldn’t deal with any more surprises. But I had to tell them. ‘I plan on opening my own restaurant.’
His already horrified face registered disbelief, if that was possible. ‘Great!’ he threw his hands up. ‘So now, you’ll also be serving people, running to take their orders, cleaning up after them. From leading a team of corporate people, you’ll be down to serving them food.’
‘Being a chef and owning a restaurant is not a small feat, Baba.’
Seeing that I was determined, he shook his head. ‘What do you know about running a business?’ he demanded. ‘You want to risk everything you’ve earned so far to chase this stupid fantasy?’
‘I understand it will be difficult. I don’t have the experience, but I have people who will help me. People at the bar.’ He scoffed at that, averting his eyes. His breathing had got fast paced, I could see, and I tried to lessen the blow, but nothing I had to say to him was what he would ideally want to hear. I just had to risk it. Praying he doesn’t get hyped up too much and affect his health in the process, I added, ‘Business is like swimming. You only get good at it by doing it.’
‘Don’t use that philosophical crap with me! It’s a huge endeavour and not meant for working class people like us. Besides, how far-sighted are you?’ He asked, his temple throbbing. He sounded condescending, like I had no idea what I was doing. I had a flash of Arihant sitting in his spot, with the same expression on his face. I guess it ran in the family. ‘What happens when, say, three years down the line, you think this is not what you want to do again? That this is not your … your passion.’ He spit out that word like chewed-up tobacco in his mouth. ‘What will you do then?’
That was a valid question, but I didn’t have an answer to it. And since I was being brutally honest, I decided to speak the truth. ‘I don’t know,’ I told him and he gave out a short derisive laugh. ‘Sure, I don’t know if I’d do this for life, even though right now I think I will. I don’t know what my future will look like and you know what? For once, I want things to be like that. Unsure, exciting, full of possibilities. I have never wanted anything so badly in my life before. And I know if I keep on this track, keep following my gut, my heart, I’ll eventually end up in a place I will be happy at.’
He let out a frustrated sigh. Mom intervened, ‘What you’re doing is not exciting. It’s ridiculous, dangerous and a risky way of living life. You can afford to say that because you don’t have your own family. Once you have that, you’ll have a different set of responsibilities.’
‘And I will not turn them away,’ I insisted, glad to see that she was at least willing to argue rationally. ‘I have enough responsibilities now and I’ll continue to contribute to this house financially as I always have, more if I earn better. But most of all, I’ll settle down first, before I add more responsibilities onto myself.’
Dad was unnaturally quiet and just when I thought he was sincerely giving this a thought and he just might support it, he leaned back on the wall and said, ‘I won’t allow this. On top of being gravely dangerous, what you’re doing is downgrading yourself. What do you think we will tell everyone when they ask us what our son does? Left a perfectly fine and respectable job to work at a cheap bar?’
I swallowed, not letting the words cut me too deep. Despite anticipating this response, I refused to believe he would disregard my plans so easily. ‘Or you can tell them I’m a chef at my own restaurant,’ I offered. ‘What you tell others is up to you.’
‘Using some fancy words doesn’t change reality, Ishaan!’ he boomed, almost yelling the words and for a second, there was complete silence in the house. Saloni had gone back to reading her book, although I was quite sure she wasn’t reading a single word. My mother was frowning at me, accusation in her eyes for having angered him so much. My father hadn’t as much as raised his voice at any of us. ‘How much are those bar people paying you? I’m sure not half as much as you earn here. What’s the status this job will bring you?’
I pulled in a breath, trying to calm myself. I couldn’t find a way to make him regard this field with respect. So instead, I told him some of my concrete plans so he could see I was serious about this. ‘I have been sanctioned a loan—’
Someone gasped.
‘Loan?’ my mother repeated, horrified. That was something else we needed to learn as ‘working class’. Loan wasn’t a word to be afraid of. If carefully dealt with, it was there to help us.
I went on, ‘I’ve finalized a good place in a busy locality to open my restaurant, which is called ‘Melting Pot’. I have applied for the FSSAI licence which I will get in a few weeks. The interior work will begin in a month or so and I am hoping to get this project off the ground by—’
Baba pulled in a sharp breath and cut in, ‘You cannot stay in this house if you plan to continue on this path.’
That stopped me momentarily, my chain of thoughts screeching to a halt. ‘Sorry?’
‘I won’t be supporting this madness. Until you don’t see sense and how this road will make you penniless or worse, bankrupt, I want you out.’
So much for trusting his son. ‘Actually, Baba,’ I said, smiling, the smile not reaching my eyes, ‘Leaving the house is the easiest option for me, to pack my bags and tell you I want to stay elsewhere, pretend like I’m working for some MNC while actually pursuing my dreams. Some people do that, you know. But I didn’t. I chose to tell you the truth. I wanted to share this with you, wanted to make you a part of my journey, seek your blessings while I take this road. But now I know, people would rather hail the sweet lies than listen and support the bitter truth.’
He refused to look at me at all and my mother knit her eyebrows together. ‘What’s that you said?’
I was only looking at my father, waiting for him to spare a glance at me. But he didn’t, so finally, I got to my feet and turned to my mother, giving her a weak smile. ‘Maybe you should ask that to your better son.’
With that, I turned and retreated to my room. In the depths of my heart, I was prepared for things to come to this, which is why I sent a message to Vartika after I shut the door behind me.
Told them.
She texted back a few seconds later: How did it go?? They heeded?
I smiled sadly, feeling the numbness settle in, the one you experience after completing a monumental task. I didn’t know I was capable of feeling so intensely. It was an unknown territory, unexplored and locked away. The emotions were all jumbled now, heightened to a point where I could no longer identify one from the other. Sadness, relief at having finally told them everything. I couldn’t even put words to what it felt like to be leaving home.
Not wanting to acknowledge any of these strange sentiments, I focused on packing my bag.
No. I sent her. They didn’t.
Vartika: I’m sorry. I guess we saw that coming.
Me: Do you know a place I could stay for the night?
Vartika sent me a wide-eyed shocked emoticon. She rarely used them. What exactly happened?
Nothing much. I sent first. I only just understood why Arihant did what he did.
Vartika: Come over. You can stay here for as long as you want.
CHAPTER 8
A
t some point while packing, I heard the doorbell ring and I hoped it wasn’t one of our relatives or people from the building. I wanted to l
eave quietly, without making any fuss about it. I also wanted to seem strong when I did, letting them know that their decision wasn’t going to make me fall weak, stay back or influence me in any way.
Throwing all that I could get a hold of in my bag, I zipped it up, then pushed it onto the floor and turned to my room. I wasn’t sure how long until I would see it again. In a way, I was glad. With this small, enclosed space out of my sight, that has only ever made me feel confined and trapped, I would truly feel liberated.
Maybe.
When I opened the door of my bedroom, I saw Arihant standing by the television, the living room quiet, just like the way I’d left it, drowned in some sort of mournful energy. Except now, Dad was on a chair. Arihant’s face was fallen too, contrasting his crisp shirt and pants. He was supposed to be at a reception.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked him. I should have taken a cue of what must have happened from the way Saloni looked on at both of us, like she didn’t know us.
Arihant glanced at me and smiled sadly. ‘Is there any other question you can ask when you see me?’ he said with no enthusiasm and caught sight of my bag. He narrowed his eyes. ‘Where are you going?’
‘He is leaving home,’ That was Baba, who got up to his feet and stared him down. ‘For good. And now, you are too. I have never been so disappointed in my children, so much so that I’m starting to question myself and your upbringing. First, my daughter, then both of you. Where did you three learn to lie and fool people so much?’ This time, he pinned his gaze on all three of us, Saloni at last, who squirmed in her seat. Finally, his eyes rested on me. ‘This is beyond being ashamed.’
While I didn’t say anything, Arihant was surprised by this revelation. ‘You told them about the bar?’ he asked, his eyes slightly wide.
My father exploded. ‘You knew about this? Great! You can stay together and help each other, maybe fool others together.’
Arihant turned to our father. ‘Have you stopped to wonder why we lied to you, Baba?’ he said. ‘Maybe we don’t feel like you will support us.’
‘Of course, we won’t,’ Mom intervened, stepping forward to her husband’s defence. ‘Tell me one set of parents who have supported their kids when they were about to jump off a cliff.’
‘What do you want us to do?’ he argued. ‘Do whatever you want for the rest of our lives?’
Dad’s face was impassive. ‘Right now, I want you to leave,’ he said, sounding less angry and more worn out. ‘And you don’t need to come back this weekend.’
‘You know, Baba, it’s not what I do with my life that bothers you. It’s what you can’t,’ Arihant shot back and I stared at him, at the use of his words, at his determined stance. I might have not cared what my brother did with his time, but I couldn’t fight the fact that he had talent, a way with words. Maybe, just maybe, he was meant for it.
That was the last straw for Dad. He gave us both a disappointed, wounded look and I could see how old he was, with his grey hair, wrinkled face, hunched back and the drooping posture which never quite straightened after the accident. He ambled to his room, vanishing out of sight.
Arihant turned to Mom. ‘Aai, you can understand, right?’
Her face was hard, unreadable. ‘If something happens to him, I’ll hold both of you responsible.’ Neither of us said anything. She looked at Arihant distrustfully, the first time I’d seen her look at him like that. ‘Have you any idea how many people think you work at this Charmine firm? You’ve been taking us for a ride for months on end. You didn’t think we’d be devastated when we find out?’
‘I’m sorry, Aai. That was never my intent.’
‘You lied to me, too,’ Saloni said from the sofa, frowning at Arihant. ‘You don’t follow what you preach, Da, do you?’
‘Saloni, don’t get into this,’ Mom said, quietening her. But I could tell my sister was hurt; the one brother she looked up to didn’t turn out to be perfect.
Averting her eyes, my mother muttered, ‘I can’t even begin to imagine what I’d tell my sisters once they know about all this.’
I was done with everything.
‘Just tell them the truth,’ I said to her and left the house. I stood at the bottom of the building for a moment, in the midst of stagnant cold wind. There were so many ways my life could turn from here and the thought chilled my bones. I felt my confidence ebb away, whatever vision I had blurring into the night.
‘Where are you going to stay?’ Arihant asked me and I realized he had followed me out.
Not in a mood to talk any more, I didn’t answer him at all. I simply went to my bike and zoomed out of the stinking locality.
PART THREE
ARIHANT
I
watched my brother leave without any remorse on his face, as if he were made of stone, and wondered what had ensued between him and my parents before I came in, what he had told them. When I asked him where he’d stay for the night, I had intended to invite him over to my apartment, but if only he could keep aside his ego for once.
Then again, he would do anything but consider me as someone dependable. It was as if he held some grudge against me, some form of hatred. I didn’t understand it and at the moment, I didn’t want to.
Baba’s words rang in my mind, cutting deep, and as soon as I reached my apartment, I opened my notebook. I began to write and the reality loosened its stifling grip on me. The darkness of the room and the small lamplight faded and figures took shape and form in my mind, replacing the angry buzz in my veins with the lightness of having left everyone behind, including the fear and doubts in my heart.
My handwriting was nearly illegible. My hands could barely get down all the words fast enough. I wasn’t writing anything in particular. I didn’t have a topic, a scene or even a story in mind. I was simply venting. With each word pouring onto the page, my mind fired up. I was writing one painful memory after another. The first thing I wrote about, when the tip of the pen touched the rough pages of my book, was Arvi, the memory that refused to leave me alone.
There were two particular incidences that changed my life.
‘I need to live my life, Ari. I really can’t have any distractions right now,’ Arvi told me that night, right before she conveyed we weren’t really meant to share starlit nights and lazy mornings, long texts and stolen kisses together.
‘Who can distract you from living your life?’ I asked her then, standing on the edge of the city at ten in the night, the ocean outstretched ahead of us, endless, calm. While the nature engulfed us, I was looking at her, my mind tracing the outline of her shadowed face. ‘Whether you like it or not, you’re doing that now.’
Being the optimist that I was, not in my wildest dreams did I think she was hinting at not wanting to be together anymore. Then again, she was a part of my dreams. So it was unlikely she’d not be present.
She shook her head to that and exhaled like I’d never really understood her. ‘You don’t get it. You have a way of making everything sound… sound…’
‘Silly?’ I offered.
‘Poetic,’ she spit it out, as if tasting blood in her mouth. ‘Weird. Unrealistic. Life shouldn’t happen to you, Ari. You should happen to life. You’re passive about everything. Sometimes, just sometimes, act wild and crazy. For your own self.’
That was the semi-last thing she said to me before she officially broke up. Semi-last because, that night, while I was scrolling through her Amazon wishlist trying to figure out if I could afford to get any one of those items for her as a peace offering, I got to know on Facebook that she had changed her status.
Of course, I didn’t believe in that crap. Something as precious as love cannot end over a click of a button, can it?
But it had. Unfortunately. Not that I didn’t try to fix it. She just refused to pick up my calls or reply to my messages. It was then that I first felt like I needed to move out, be on my own, live my life on my terms because ultimately, a career would be all I’d have. Loving a human being was hard enou
gh.
But it was a fleeting thought. I only acted on it when I got my first job.
The moment of realization came a few months later, when companies began taking rounds of our college and fellows around me prepped up for interviews. ‘Campus selection’ was the term looming over us like a dark cloud. Post these interviews, destiny would shower prosperity over a few students, securing their lives, and thunder and lightning would fall over others. There was no third option of escaping it.
Teachers began to warn us about the side-effects of not securing a job, and generously handed out tips on how to present ourselves, speak, behave, shake hands, and sell ourselves in the interview rooms. How to make that sought-after ‘first impression’. The more other students seemed either pumped up or bogged down by it, the pressure clearly visible under their eyes, the more I began to panic.
‘Good morning, how are you?’ was replaced by ‘Which company are you applying to?’
I had no answer to that question for a whole week because I hadn’t applied anywhere. I realized time was limited and I was headed towards the steep slope of professional life, family, job, deadlines, madness—I wasn’t prepared for it. But with the peer pressure, I applied to one company, stood outside in the best of my clothes, ironed, polished, so well put together I didn’t even feel like myself.
That was when my father’s call interrupted my thoughts, the call that changed the course of my life.
‘I just called to check in on you,’ he said. ‘Feeling okay? Nervous?’
I chose the latter.
‘Happens. It’s your first interview. Just breathe deeply if you get too nervous. Maintain eye contact, but make sure you do not stare them down. Don’t focus your entire attention on one…’
And he went on for another minute, which seemed to last a lifetime. I heard, and heard some more before the answer, as clear as the sun breaking through a mass of clouds, radiated within me. And I knew what I had been missing. I had been missing passion, that invisible pull you feel towards your dreams. No matter which direction your life chooses to take you, your heart always drives you back to it.
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