There's Something About You

by Yashodhara Lal

  The protective spirit was apparently out to lunch now because she spotted the grey Ford Fiesta crawling along behind her, this time maintaining much more distance. She gritted her teeth and made a decision.

  Cursing under her breath, she drove a few hundred metres past her own building. She wasn’t going to show him where she actually lived and put her parents in danger. She whizzed past Shah Rukh’s bungalow, with the fleeting thought that he certainly had a lot of security for his home Mannat; if she tried to barge in or something, it would attract a lot of attention and the psycho-rapist would be scared away. Abandoning the plan as both stupid and overly dramatic, she drove on until she spotted a parking spot on the right side of the road.

  She pulled in, parked, took off her sunglasses to toss them on to the passenger seat and got out of the car. She opened the back door and pulled out her purse. Swinging it over her right shoulder, she walked with deliberate nonchalance towards the unfamiliar apartment building, trying to hide the fact that her left hand was desperately trembling as it attempted, without success, to locate the phone buried somewhere inside her purse.

  It was a bad, bad decision. At least her own building had one or two watchmen hanging around most of the time. This place appeared to have no security whatsoever, either at the gate or in the main hall, where she now stood. Where the heck was everyone? There was a ramshackle sort of lift and she thought of quickly getting in and making her way to a higher floor. But the thought of being shoved off a higher floor to her imminent death stopped her. She would probably hyperventilate in a lift right now anyway. She looked around desperately and then ran over to a narrow passageway just across from the lift lobby. It had long rows of mailboxes on the walls with the residents’ names and house numbers. She crouched down in a corner there.

  She rifled through her purse again, cursing herself for being so disorganized. Her ears were suddenly super sensitive and the sound of the click of a door made her freeze in her crouching position. Someone had come into the building.

  He was obviously trying to be as quiet as possible as he walked around the lobby. She counted his steps and estimated that he was just a few metres away from her. Would he assume she had taken a lift up to her supposed flat? If he got into the lift, she could make a mad dash to the entrance. It was her only hope.

  Then the sound of his steps became louder and Trish realized that he was heading straight towards her. This was it. She swallowed hard and clenched her fist. She wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

  The fellow turned the corner and his shadow fell on her. With desperate abandon, Trish sprang up and leapt at him with an enraged scream. He only had time to blink once in horror and say ‘Wha—’ before she made contact, grabbing him hard around the stomach region as she tackled him to the floor, his spectacles askew, hands flailing automatically towards his face to try and hold on to his glasses.

  Trish not only had the advantage of surprise, she also had the advantage of several kilograms. She now sat on his chest, pinning his arms to the floor with her knees. Her face was red and hot, her curly hair wild and standing on end. She must have looked a frightening sight because all the guy could do was stare at her, his brown eyes opened wide in shock. He’d had the wind knocked out of him and was gasping for breath. Trish quickly clamped both hands around his throat in a vice-like grip.

  She felt a lot more confident now that she was in control of the situation. ‘Aha.’ Her voice was shriller than she would have liked. She modulated it down to a growl. ‘Picked on the wrong girl today, didn’t you?’

  ‘Excuse me, ma’am,’ The fellow managed to choke out. ‘But I think there’s been some mistake.’

  ‘Of course there’s been a mistake, you creep.’ Trish barked at him. ‘You were following me and I suppose you thought you would … would …’ She found that she couldn’t say it. She finally finished with, ‘Have your way with me, eh?’ It sounded lame even to her own ears. To make up for it, she tightened her grip on his throat. This caused him to cough loudly, and she loosened her hold just a little, biting back the word ‘Sorry’.

  The thing was, this guy wasn’t behaving much like a psycho-rapist. Not that she was sure what a psycho-rapist would do if caught like this, but he was making absolutely no attempt to fight back. In fact, he simply lay there quietly beneath her. She decided to loosen her grip around his throat a little further and his face became less purple after a moment.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he ventured tentatively when he could speak again, ‘you might allow me to explain myself?’

  ‘Explain, then,’ she ordered. ‘What do you want from me?’

  ‘Well, you see.’ He blinked up at her a couple of times, clearly uncomfortable without his spectacles, which now lay two inches away from his face on the floor. ‘It’s just that … I’ve been … disturbed.’

  ‘I KNEW IT.’ Trish tensed up, tightening her grip on his neck again, and transferred more weight on to her knees in order to press his arms down harder. He groaned in pain and was caught up in another coughing fit, while Trish yelled, ‘Hello? Is anyone here? Guard? GUARD!’

  ‘Ma’am. MA’AM!’ the fellow managed to choke out. ‘It’s not that. As in, I’ve been disturbed, I’m not disturbed per se. And I’m definitely no criminal. I was just seeking your help. I mean, I’ve been trying to contact Amy, but they insisted that they couldn’t let me meet her. I knew if I waited long enough, you would show up. And you did today! I wrote a letter, but I just really wanted to give it to you in person. That’s all.’

  His face was screwed up in discomfort, and those brown eyes looked up at her beseechingly. ‘You expect me to buy that?’ she hissed at him. ‘What a cock-and-bull story. Who hangs around all day waiting for an anonymous columnist to land up?’

  ‘I did. Five days, in fact,’ he said, almost proud now. He had the temerity to even smile. ‘And I found you.’ She squeezed his throat again and he gasped. ‘Look, look, you’ll find the letter in my shirt, front pocket, right here.’ He indicated with his chin towards his chest. ‘Read it if you don’t believe me.’

  ‘Hah! Just trying to divert my attention,’ Trish said, feeling increasingly unsure of herself.

  ‘Please, Ms Amy,’ the man begged. ‘I can’t breathe. It would be very nice if we could have this conversation standing up.’

  ‘My name isn’t Amy, you psycho,’ Trish barked, but then she bit her lower lip, thinking hard. She didn’t quite trust him, but she was confident she could pin him down again if it came to that. Of course, he might run away, but that would be no big deal, she had seen his face closely enough to identify him. With a grunt, she finally released her grip on his throat. She pushed her heavy body off his, teetered a bit and finally managed to rise to her feet in an uncertain and rather undignified manner.

  She watched him warily as he sat up. He picked up his glasses and put them on, then fished around in his pocket. She tensed up. How stupid of her. She’d forgotten. What if he had a weapon? But he pulled out a small white envelope, slightly crumpled, and held it out to her.

  ‘I don’t need to see that,’ Trish said curtly. ‘Just get out of here and don’t let me see your face again.’

  ‘What?’ he said incredulously. ‘Hang on, you can’t do that. You have to read my letter.’

  ‘I don’t have to do anything.’ Trish stood up straight, towering over him menacingly. ‘I’m giving you one chance to get your skinny ass out of here. Don’t make me sit on you again.’

  ‘Listen, hello. Excuse me,’ the fellow said, blinking in indignation through his spectacles. ‘You attacked me without reason; and now when I’m making a simple polite request of you, you …’

  ‘Out! Out! OUT!’

  ‘Okay, okay, OKAY.’ The man scrambled to his feet. He hovered. Trish’s face was hostile and she tensed up as if to attack him again. ‘I guess I’ll be off then,’ he said politely, as if they had just concluded a cordial tea party.

  ‘OUT!’ Trish screamed at the top of her lungs.

>   With a start, the man dropped the envelope to the floor and beat a hasty retreat. He turned into the lift lobby. Trish scrambled after him to make sure he was really leaving. He didn’t look back once, and she watched as he disappeared out of the main door of the building.

  11

  A Curious Letter

  Trish’s hands were still trembling as she fumbled with her key in the door. She usually avoided ringing the bell because there was no telling what time Ba would be taking his nap. Besides, this way she also got to avoid having to talk to Ma.

  She swung the door open, feeling a wave of relief now that she was finally home. She stepped into the apartment and immediately found herself face to face with her mother. She was still feeling jumpy and just about managed to keep herself from visibly starting.

  ‘Hello, Ma,’ she said in as neutral a tone as she could. ‘How’s Ba?’

  ‘Ba is fine,’ Ma snapped at her. ‘You could ask about me sometimes too, you know. I’m also old and weak.’

  Privately, Trish thought that Ma was in the pink of health – still in her early fifties with no major complaints – and she was the one who went on about having a healthy metabolism. But she decided she wouldn’t give in and let Ma have a fight today. ‘Okay,’ she said calmly. ‘How are you, Ma?’

  ‘Too late now. You don’t even sound like you mean it,’ her mother said peevishly. ‘You’re just asking because I said you should.’ Trish sighed and squeezed past her mother and went down the hall into the drawing room. Ma followed her. ‘Have you had lunch?’

  ‘No, Ma. I’ll eat in a bit.’

  Her mother continued to hover. ‘Where were you today, anyway?’ She sounded curious.

  ‘The office,’ Trish said automatically, as she dropped on to her weather-beaten, comfortable sofa.

  ‘The office?’ her mother cried. ‘Why? Are they giving you your job back? I knew the good lord would answer my prayers!’

  ‘Calm down, Ma,’ Trish hissed, sitting up straighter. ‘It’s not that. They just …’ She stopped short. That ridiculous clause, it said she couldn’t talk about writing the column. At all. Not even to her own mother. This was stupid. Why had she agreed?

  ‘They just what?’ Ma was looking at her through narrowed eyes.

  ‘They just needed … to finish some paperwork … about my leaving.’ Trish was not a skilled liar. She tried to avoid her mother’s penetrating glare by examining a spot on the carpet.

  Ma, usually so self-involved and cozy inside her own bubble, was suddenly acting like Sherlock Holmes. She crossed her arms across her chest and said, ‘Why do I get the feeling that you aren’t telling me everything? Why this secrecy? Why not just …’

  ‘Okay. OKAY!’ Trish’s nerves were still frayed and she lost her patience. Her voice rose involuntarily. ‘How about this? How about the fact that I just got chased halfway across Mumbai by a guy who turned out to be a self-confessed lunatic? And that I led him into the wrong building and trapped him and sat on him until he finally gave up and agreed to stop stalking me and ran off? How’s that for an exciting day in the life of your

  only daughter?’

  Her mother was staring at her incredulously. Trish glowered back, breathing heavily. Finally, her mother broke the impasse by throwing up her hands and rolling her eyes as she said, ‘Fine! I was only trying to understand what’s going on with you. You don’t have to make up wild stories like that! Being chased by a lunatic, it seems.’ She turned away in disgust and stalked out of the room, adding, ‘If only you could figure out a way to get paid for your sarcasm, we wouldn’t be in financial trouble any more.’

  Trish stared after her, wondering if she had heard right. Now how the hell did Ma know about that? No, of course she didn’t know, it was just something random she had said. And naturally Ma wouldn’t believe her about the chase. Her mother had this habit of downplaying anything that Trish said. When Trish was ten and had come home panting, telling her mother that she had been chased by a dog and had narrowly escaped being bitten, Ma had written it off as a gross exaggeration. Her logic included the fact that portly little Trish couldn’t have actually outrun a dog. Trish cringed at the memory. This was precisely why she didn’t ever want to tell her mother anything, even if it was important. Actually, especially when it was important. There just wasn’t any point. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Well, at least Ma had left her alone for now and Trish could indulge the curiosity that had been steadily growing inside her.

  After a final glance at the doorway to make sure her mother had really gone, Trish struggled to extract something from her jeans pocket. Ah, there it was. She looked appraisingly at the small crumpled white envelope and then proceeded to unfold the letter inside.

  Dear Amy,

  I hope you are doing well. I have been following your column with great interest over the last few days and I wanted to request a personal meeting with you.

  I have called the DNX publication office several times, but I have got no response from them as to how I could give this letter to you in person. I did not want to send it to the column as I assume there is a screening process, and I would not like anyone but you to read this letter.

  Allow me to assure you that I am a perfectly normal person, apart from certain issues, completely nonviolent in nature. However, in case you have concerns about your safety, I would be happy to meet you in a public place such as a café or any restaurant of your choice.

  Since I have received no cooperation from the publication with regard to my request for your mobile number or personal email address, I am taking it upon myself to visit the office in the hope of being able to hand over this letter to you personally. If you are reading this, it means I have been successful in my search for you.

  I beg of you to grant my request as my problem is unique and can only be adequately demonstrated in person, and would be too unbelievable if I tried to describe it in writing.

  Please do call me on the number below.

  Yours humbly,

  Sahil Aggarwal

  The neatly written letter ended with a mobile number. Trish read it again, her frown deepening as she realized that this particular letter raised more questions than it did answers. So much for satisfying her curiosity.

  She folded it up, stuffed it back in its envelope. Whatever. She was hungry.

  ‘Are you really going to eat that?’ Akanksha looked aghast at the large bowl of Maggi on the table with its slice of half melted cheese on top.

  ‘Yep.’ Trish tried to hide her annoyance. She had just prepared herself the Maggi from the double pack of Classic Masala and was settling down to eat when Akanksha had landed up, unannounced and with Lisa in tow. She had babbled brightly about how today was positively, definitely the last time she would be asking the usual favour of Trish since her father was arriving soon. And now, having barely entered the house, she was already remarking upon Trish’s choice of food.

  ‘Goes straight to your butt, you know,’ Akanksha said knowledgeably. ‘All maida.’

  ‘I want some Maggi too!’ Lisa announced and then looked up at Trish ‘I mean, please can I have some too, Trish-masi?’

  ‘Sure thing.’ Trish was pleased that Lisa could remember to be polite. She had started to like this kid. She went into the kitchen to get another bowl.

  She came back just in time to hear Akanksha tell her daughter, ‘Well, your butt is skinny, so I guess you can have some. At least you’re eating something.’ Lisa ignored her mother as she sat down at the table, licking her lips. Trish decided to ignore Akanksha too. She transferred some of the noodles to Lisa’s bowl and sat down next to her to eat. Akanksha took the chair opposite the two of them. ‘So how’s your new thing going? You said you have some new writing assignment?’ Akanksha seemed to have realized that she’d been a tad insensitive with the Maggi thing.

  Trish shrugged non-committally. She sensed that Akanksha was just asking out of guilt. Today was a change, though. Akanksha was hanging around. Usually, she
just dropped Lisa off and hurried away somewhere. ‘What are you up to?’ She turned the question around on Akanksha. ‘I’ve been asking you where you rush off to after leaving Lisa and you haven’t really answered me. What’s going on?’

  ‘Oh. That!’ Akanksha said breezily. ‘Nothing, nothing. It’s just … there are these new … classes I’ve been taking.’

  ‘What classes?’

  ‘What? Oh. Zumba.’

  ‘Huh?’ Trish frowned. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Zumba?’ Akanksha threw her head back and laughed. ‘You don’t know what Zumba is? Come on, it’s all the rage these days.’

  ‘No,’ Trish said calmly. ‘I have no idea. What is it?’

  Akanksha seemed not to know where to start and just kept giggling. Lisa, as if sensing that her mother was being dense, swallowed a mouthful of Maggi and said, ‘Dance fitness. We had classes in school too.’

  ‘Dance fitness,’ Akanksha nodded. ‘Exactly. And great fun, right, Leez?’

  ‘I don’t know, you never let me join those classes.’ Lisa gave Akanksha a plaintive look.

  ‘Where do you go for these?’ Trish asked. ‘It sounds interesting.’

  ‘Really?’ Akanksha laughed again. ‘You’re saying some form of exercise sounds interesting? That’s something. Maybe you should join me. I’ll enquire about a friend discount.’

  Trish worked hard to ignore her friend’s jab. ‘So where are they? Nearby?’

  ‘Not too far.’ Akanksha looked at her watch, appearing distracted. ‘That Celeb Fitness Gym.’

  ‘So what are the timings and charges?’

  ‘Oh.’ Akanksha picked up her bag and stood up. ‘I’ll do one thing, I’ll message you the details, okay? I have a special plan with them because I’m a gym member, I don’t know about the regular rates. Anyway, the afternoon batch wouldn’t suit you, you usually seem to have your writing work to do at that time. In fact, don’t you have your writing work to do now?’

  ‘Well, yeah, but …’ Trish indicated her Maggi with her fork.