There's Something About You

by Yashodhara Lal

  The child, sick in the heart for so many days, had been fighting not just the trauma of watching her grandfather slip and fall to his death, but also the relentless guilt that resulted from her blaming herself for the accident. Guilt and loss. Loss and guilt. Why did that combination feel so familiar to her, something she could relate to so well? But Lisa was just a child, she couldn’t have known better. Akanksha had been right. Her father hadn’t deserved an end like that. But he was gone now, and what was left behind was a small, broken spirit, sobbing inconsolably into her mother’s shoulder.

  Akanksha slowly registered what Lisa had just told her. Trish watched her expression change as it all sank in. The shock and disbelief were first, but they passed, and tears ran down her face as she hugged Lisa tightly and determinedly, saying, ‘Lisa. I love you and always will. And I’m so sorry for what happened. But it was just an accident. That’s all. It wasn’t your fault.’

  Trish saw that this was a different Akanksha from the one she had known before. Some sort of wall between the mother and daughter had been broken and they both hugged each other tightly, rocking back and forth together. They were both weeping quietly now and it looked like they wouldn’t stop for a while, but something lifted in Trish’s heart and she knew instinctively that they were going to be okay.

  By the time Trish finally got back home, it was late evening. She had spent most of the day with Akanksha, trying to help her figure out what was to be done for little Lisa. She had been through a lot and needed the best possible professional help. They had spent a significant portion of the day researching profiles of child psychologists and calling friends and acquaintances, mostly Akanksha’s, to get recommendations. They’d also spent hours researching the topic, and found that guilt after the loss of a loved one was potentially a cause for depression and other serious issues. And in Lisa’s case, she directly blamed herself due to the way events had unfolded that day. There was going to be a lot of work to do, but the grit that Akanksha was showing made Trish see her in a new light, and with new respect.

  Trish had realized only several hours into the day that she didn’t have her phone with her. She had left it at home in her hurry to get to Akanksha’s and talk to her. It hadn’t seemed worth it to leave Lisa and Akanksha to go and pick it up, so she had just called Ma and informed her about where she was and that she could be reached on Akanksha’s number. Ma, who was clearly still upset with her, had answered shortly that Ba was fine and that there was no need for Trish to rush back home.

  By the time she got back into her room, she was feeling completely knocked out and ready to crash. She had dully noted that Ma was making it obvious that she still wasn’t speaking to her. She didn’t even remember what was making her so mad, and she didn’t have the energy to ask. She picked up her phone from where it lay on the bedside table. Fifteen missed calls, all from Nivedita.

  Oh. Okay. She knew what this was about. No point in putting it off. She dialled.

  ‘Trish!’ The phone was answered in the middle of the second ring and Nivedita’s voice was more hysterical than Trish had ever heard before. She screeched, ‘What did you do? How could you?’

  ‘What’s up, Nivs?’ Trish said casually, as if Nivedita weren’t on the verge of an apoplectic fit. A part of her wished that she weren’t enjoying this. ‘You sound a little upset.’

  ‘A little upset?’ Nivedita screamed. ‘You blew it completely! It’s all over the place.’

  ‘It went viral?’ Trish couldn’t help feeling a sense of excitement at this news.

  Her enthusiasm was clearly not shared by Nivedita. ‘You’re going to really get it now. Look, Zee’s here, and she’s …’

  ‘Give me that, you imbecile.’ The grim voice rang out over the line and it sounded like the phone was being wrenched right out of Nivedita’s hands. Now the voice talking at Trish rapidly was Zee’s. She could make out from the accent although it was a lot more high-pitched than her usual sonorous, rich tone. ‘If you think you’re going to get away with this, you’d better think again.’

  ‘Zee!’ Trish exclaimed happily. ‘Is that really you on the line? What a nice surprise. I was always under the impression that you didn’t “do” phone calls. I feel so special.’

  ‘Feel special while you can, you little bitch.’ Trish’s smile only widened at Zee’s suddenly uncultured language. Zee went on, now in a low hiss. ‘Because we’re going to sue you for every miserable last penny that you’re worth.’

  ‘Zee, darling. It’s paisa here, not penny. And you’re welcome to try suing me,’ Trish purred into the phone. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t think you have too much of a clue as to how things work over here.’

  She was talking through her hat, of course, but she wasn’t going to get bullied by Zee any more. There was silence at the other end of the line, and then Zee said coldly, ‘You are, of course, fired.’

  ‘Told you before,’ Trish said gaily. ‘Don’t work for you, so you can’t fire me.’

  ‘The contract is over. Amy’s dead, and by the time I get through with you, you’ll wish you were too. It’s all over, do you hear me?’ Zee’s voice was getting louder and shriller now.

  ‘You bet your big queenly butt it’s over, lady,’ Trish said, her tone still pleasant. ‘But allow me to just say what a pleasure it’s been working with you.’

  ‘Will you just FUCK OFF?’ Zee was shouting in frustration.

  Trish tsk-tsk-ed, not without sympathy, and said, recalling a conversation from earlier in the day, ‘Zee, darling, most people who call this late usually end the conversation with good night.’

  She was treated to the sound of a frustrated stifled scream and then there was nothing. Zee had hung up. Trish tossed her phone aside and snuggled into bed. All in all, a fairly productive day, she decided. Within less than a minute, she was fast asleep.

  23

  Resignation Letter

  Dear Hopeless,

  You wrote a letter to ‘Ask Amy’ on 3 July. You talked about how difficult it was for you to live with your secret of being homosexual, how your parents would never ‘forgive you’ for it and, therefore, how you were planning to end it all by committing suicide.

  Well, I’m sorry your letter never got published in the column, and neither did my reply. However, I thought I’d try and reach out to you anyway, even if I fail in the endeavour, it’s important for me to try.

  You know, it must be difficult feeling you’re keeping a secret from people you care about; when you think you won’t be accepted once they find out who you really are. It sounds like a terrible way to live. Sucks.

  But since I have no experience in being dead, I can’t vouch for that possibly being a better state to be in. I mean, the pain is over, but then so is everything else, right?

  Now, when you’re not being who you really are, when you’re suppressing yourself all the time, that’s not being fair to yourself, that’s not living, really. Right now, you’re sacrificing your own self, your own identity, for the sake of pleasing others. Newsflash: ‘Others’ are never going to be happy because of you anyway.

  I can’t say how your parents or others who love you are going to react to your homosexuality. All I can say is that it’s your business and those who really love you will, by definition, need to overcome their own prejudices enough to decide they’re going to stick by you. If they don’t, their loss.

  Be who you are, and make a decision to go ahead and live your life to the fullest. And please, please know that I must confess to this – I’m just a regular person like you. I’m not a trained psychologist and I can only urge you to get professional help regarding your suicidal thoughts. They’re not to be taken lightly. I don’t know enough about this, but I do know one person who failed in his suicide attempt and is glad for it every day. And so am I.

  Finally, since you’ve got me thinking and inspired me to stop being a fake version of myself, I want to let you know this is my last letter as Amy. I’ve had it with pretending to be an expe
rt on these matters, which I’m not. I don’t know it all. I’m still figuring life out, just like everyone else.

  Therefore: I quit the column. You quit the suicide plan. Deal?

  Trish (Not Amy) Saxena

  Trish scanned through the now familiar words. The letter was up on yet another popular Mumbai blog. She went straight to the comments section, hoping to find the response she was looking for. It was everywhere now, re-posted on at least 150 blogs so far, the links tweeted and shared everywhere. A lot of newspapers were already doing features about it, journalists unable to hide their glee at the downfall of the most popular column of their rival paper, whose readership numbers were apparently already falling at a fast pace.

  There were over two hundred comments on this one, and Trish gave up after scanning through the first three pages. She would just have to continue to hope that the person she wanted most to find it would eventually find it. At least it had been made hard to miss, and she tried once again not to let negative thoughts enter her mind.

  The doorbell rang and she got up hurriedly to answer it, grateful for the distraction. It was Sahil.

  ‘Hi there!’ He grinned. He then cocked his head to the side and lowered his voice. ‘Not still mad at me, are you?’

  Trish laughed. ‘I’m supposed to be mad at you? I didn’t know.’

  ‘Oh good.’ Sahil took a step forward. ‘You know, I thought you might still be wondering why I didn’t tell you.’

  She smiled and reached up to put her arms around him in an impetuous hug. ‘It’s okay. We figured it out. Thank you.’ Suddenly realizing what she was doing, she dropped her arms from around his neck and stepped aside, cleared her throat and said, ‘Er, come on in.’

  Sahil was staring at her with a wondering smile. ‘Wow. Now we’re getting welcome hugs at the door? Maybe I’ll just take a quick walk around the block and come back again in five minutes?’

  ‘Very funny.’ Trish was embarrassed. ‘Get your skinny butt in here.’ She had to suppress her smile and turned away from him to hide her blushing cheeks, quickly walking down the hall. ‘It’s hot. You want some lemonade or something?’

  ‘Water would be great. My throat is parched.’

  She brought in a glass of water and found him settled comfortably on the sofa.

  He took a long sip and then put the glass aside. ‘So. I saw your letter online. It’s all over the place!’ He smiled at her admiringly. ‘Well done.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Trish sat next to him and sighed heavily. ‘I just hope he gets to read it.’

  He nodded and then ventured, ‘It was a risky move, though. What are you going to do about the job?’

  ‘Oh, that.’ Trish grinned. ‘Yeah. I lost the column. For about seven hours. After that, DNX was apparently flooded with letters and calls from readers asking them to put the column back up, with me back in charge. Apparently, the anonymity thing that Zee talked about wasn’t that big a deal after all. They seem to really just want to read it.’ She smiled. ‘So the lady who had threatened to sue me for breaking the contract is now pretending that it was all one big joke and has offered me the column back – for more money!’

  ‘Hey.’ Sahil sat up straighter. ‘Are you serious? That’s great. Are you going to do it?’

  Trish shook her head firmly. ‘No way. I’m done with that. I’m not going to work with an egomaniac like her ever again. And she’s still insisting on maintaining that damned “signature tone” in the column which I don’t want to do any more.’

  ‘Good.’ Sahil hesitated for a second. ‘I never liked that.’

  ‘You didn’t?’ Trish narrowed her eyes ‘You said you enjoyed reading the column.’

  ‘I mean, I enjoyed reading it because it was you writing it, that’s all. But you know what they say, sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Trish blushed. ‘I don’t know why I’ve always been like that. Kind of an automatic defence reaction or something.’

  ‘You’re doing less of it now, though.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She laughed. ‘I’ll keep a check on it.’

  ‘So what are you going to do then?’ he pressed.

  ‘You know what? I have some savings now, so I’m thinking of actually investing in training for psychotherapy or counselling. I’ve looked them up, there are some decent courses here in Mumbai. And there are also international certifications which I can do online, and I’m thinking of actually trying both if I can afford it. I’ve also got a bunch of other writing assignment offers already from other publications, so I will probably pick up a couple of those, that should help with funds for a while.’

  ‘That’s great!’ Sahil was grinning ear to ear. ‘Counselling. It sounds like something you’ll be fabulous at. I don’t know why I never thought of that.’

  ‘Very funny,’ Trish said, recalling fully well whose idea it had been in the first place. ‘And what about you?’

  ‘Well, actually, I’ve cut a deal with Dad. I’m going to be consulting for his business. I know I can do a lot to professionalize it. But I’ve told him I’m not going to operate as an owner, and will do it only part-time. In the meantime, I’m getting together with a friend of mine to launch something. It’s a low-cost, high-fidelity recording studio for use by small-time musicians who want to launch their own albums.’

  ‘That sounds right up your alley!’ Trish said. ‘Is there enough of a market for it, you think?’

  ‘We live in Mumbai. Everyone wants to make it big.’ He smiled broadly. ‘We’ve already got a couple of bands to sign up for it. My friend is well connected in the industry. I’m just the brains of the outfit.’

  ‘I’m sure.’ Trish rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop grinning in her excitement. ‘I’m so glad it’s working out for you.’

  ‘You bet,’ Sahil said. ‘Dad’s insisting on paying me this fat salary, but I’ve negotiated it down to about half now. It’s still more than I need. But I think it’s going to be all right.’

  ‘Negotiated it down to half, eh?’ Trish repeated and shook her head. ‘You really are one of a kind, Sahil.’ She privately added to herself that was just why she liked him so much.

  ‘Likewise.’ Sahil bent his head towards her, drawing in so close that their faces were almost touching. Her heart skipped a beat as the scent of his aftershave gave her a heady feeling.

  ‘So we’re all sorted now?’ she murmured. ‘No more secrets that you’re keeping from me?’ She had been half joking, but the fleeting guilty expression on his face didn’t escape her sharp eyes. ‘Sahil,’ she said, a warning tone in her voice. ‘There’s something else?’

  He looked defiant. ‘Nothing that you can’t find out for yourself.’

  She growled at him, a sudden thought hitting her. ‘Was it you who wrote that suicide letter? Was that some kind of sick joke?’

  ‘Calm down, Trish.’ Sahil held his hands up. ‘It wasn’t me, I swear.’ He looked completely sincere. Trish unclenched her fists. Good. Then she realized that it meant there was still an unhappy suicidal man at large whom she hadn’t heard back from.

  Trying to put that thought out of her head, she said, ‘You know, Sahil, I always know when you’re not telling me something.’

  ‘I know. It’s almost like, with you, you’re the one who’s reading my mind instead of the other way around. We make a funny couple, right?’

  ‘Funny couple?’ Trish reddened. ‘We’re not a couple.’

  ‘That’s what you think,’ Sahil said confidently.

  ‘Sahil. I … don’t think I can handle a relationship.’

  ‘I know you don’t think that.’ He grinned flirtatiously. ‘But seeing as I’m so much older and wiser, you can leave the handling to me.’

  ‘Older, yes,’ Trish quipped. ‘Wiser, not so sure.’ She smacked his arm lightly. ‘Don’t patronize me.’ She tried to change the subject. ‘Um, so what were you talking about, the thing I’m still supposed to figure out for myself?’

  Sahil sighed, as if conte
mplating whether to give in or not. ‘I can’t figure it out, really,’ he murmured. ‘It’s a whole family thing. I think it’s something you all block out collectively.’ He looked at her appraisingly, one eyebrow raised. She tried to ignore how cute it made him look.

  ‘Ma’s not speaking to me, for some obscure reason. And Ba, he barely knows what’s going on most times.’

  As if on cue, Baba’s voice floated in. ‘Trishna … Trishna?’

  Sahil stood up. ‘You know what? I’m leaving now.’

  ‘You don’t have to rush off,’ Trish said quickly, also standing up.

  ‘I’ll be back later,’ Sahil said. ‘Your dad needs you. Go.’

  ‘You know,’ Trish narrowed her eyes at him. ‘You can be really irritating at times.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Trishna!’ Ba’s voice was more insistent now.

  Trish scurried towards the door past Sahil, who called after her, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll let myself out.’

  She trotted into Ba’s room and said, ‘What is it, Ba? Are you okay?’

  ‘I thought I heard that Sabharwal fellow’s voice,’ Ba said gruffly. ‘Is he coming in here?’

  ‘He had to go,’ Trish said, sitting down next to Ba, relieved that he seemed all right. ‘He said he’ll be back again soon, though.’

  Ba grumbled. ‘Who does he think he is, popping in and out as he pleases? If he thinks I’m going to agree to let you marry him with this kind of casual behaviour, he’s got another think coming.’

  ‘Ba!’ Trish interrupted. ‘Who said anything about our getting married?’

  Ba looked surprised. ‘I just assumed you would. Aren’t you almost thirty?’

  ‘Oh god.’ Trish groaned. ‘I finally managed to get Ma to stop, and you start off on me?’

  This seemed to remind Ba. ‘Your mother is upset with you,’ he informed her.