Fear Is the Key

by Juggi Bhasin

  ‘Quite well,’ he answered tersely, conveying he did not want to pursue the subject further.

  ‘Okay, let’s step back from all this even though I would like to ask you about this new initiative of yours later. Now, tell me, are you still experiencing those auditory and visual hallucinations you had mentioned earlier?’

  ‘Hallucinations?’ he asked her with a sense of genuine confusion. He appeared to be lost somewhere. ‘No, they have not occurred again. But I had a very different experience. I clearly saw a doorway opening to a massive column of light. It was kind of pulling me towards it.’

  ‘The hallucination, for want of a better word, did it occur only once?’

  ‘Well, maybe a couple of times.’

  ‘How did it make you feel?’

  ‘It scared the hell out of me. I resisted going towards it with all my might. What was it? What did it mean?’

  There was no emotion on her face when she told him, ‘I have no idea. Hopefully, such paranormal experiences explain themselves over a period of time. Okay, let’s shift gears a bit. Talk to me about your parents. Tell me what you felt towards them.’

  ‘What about them? I have already told you about my dad. He was like the millions of other dads in this country who are obsessed with sending their children to IIT. My mom . . . I told you, I don’t have much of an idea about her . . .’

  Tanya did not make any move to ease him out from what was a sticky spot. A tense silence followed and both of them tried not to break eye contact or say another word. Rahul finally looked away and spoke as if he was talking to someone standing at the far end of the room.

  ‘Okay . . . okay . . . I will not insult your intelligence. You must have looked up my mom on Google. She was a well-known stage and television actress. She . . . she was a different kind of a person. She was . . . don’t look at me like that, Tanya . . .’

  ‘Like what? I haven’t said a word.’

  He got up from the chair and went up to the shuttered window, turning his back to Tanya.

  ‘She lived life in the fast lane. It’s common knowledge that she had a number of affairs with the leading men from all the TV serials and stage plays she acted in. I know you know about it, Tanya. I can see it in your eyes.’

  ‘Rahul, turn around and look at me. Come back and sit. No one is judging you. It was her life, and she led it the way she wanted to. Please come back and talk to me.’

  His face was flushed when he took his seat. They both made eye contact. She spoke to him calmly, determined not to exaggerate the situation.

  ‘It is a sensitive subject. I understand that. I am not going to belittle the intensity of what you thought or went through at that time by asking leading questions like “what did you feel about it”. If you wish to talk about it, I am prepared to listen.’

  He gave her the time-out signal. She fell silent, and he deliberated on what he would say next.

  He finally opened up, ‘I have thought about this a number of times. Each time, I feel surprised at how cold it leaves me. I feel no resentment or anger against my mother. I was not affected by her reputation. Probably my dad was; he might have been the butt of all jokes in his office. We all know the ecosystem in offices, especially government offices. To give him credit, he never spoke to me once about how his relationship with his wife affected him. He was like a wall and devoted his life to giving me quality education. Like a mother hen, he threw a protective umbrella around me. I have told you that Suhel was the only friend I had while growing up. I suspect my father’s hand in bringing us together. He wanted a caring, older, mature boy as my friend. Someone who was less bright than me, but more aggressive in terms of taking care of me. My dad chose well. Even today, that role is ingrained in Suhel. It suits him.’

  ‘Surely, you must have had some interaction with your mother . . .’

  Rahul leaned forward.

  ‘Listen to me, Tanya. I am being completely honest. I have no recollection or memory before the age of seven. I have told you that. My parents were separated by the time I turned twelve. I really don’t recall much of any interaction with my mother. She would constantly be in and out, mostly out of the house. Unlike the popular perception in such cases, my parents did not fight. They just lived separate lives and hardly spoke to each other. My father was a very tolerant man. When I turned twelve, she moved out and started to live with someone else. He did not let it affect him. He continued to follow the same routine, same schedule. I, too, never missed her. I suffered no deviances due to her absence or reputation. My world was contained, secure, almost impregnable. Dad was always there to look after me. I had Suhel to play with at school, and back at home, a challenging world of numbers awaited me. I was content, secure . . .’

  ‘What about the earlier hallucinations? The clapping sound, the strong smells? They sound like sights and smells associated with studios and the stage.’

  ‘Maybe you are correct. There could be some latent reaction that surfaced for a short while in the past few weeks. The problem is that I have no memory before the age of seven, so I’m not aware of any links to the past.’

  ‘You need not worry about that. Let’s talk of your time at IIT. What was it like?’

  Rahul took off the wrapper from another candy and put it in his mouth. ‘You got me hooked to this,’ he said with a smile playing on his face. ‘Okay . . . IIT. So . . . understand this. IIT is not a place where the bright and the less bright compete. It is a place where the bright and the brightest compete. It is a very challenging environment. Unlike the popular notion that IITians only slog it out, the institute gives everyone ample opportunities to develop other skillsets besides the obvious engineering skills. It was then that I became closely associated with an organization called SPIC MACAY, which promotes the arts, especially classical music and dance. I think my journey to Yummimages was almost certainly inspired by my interest in music, arts, and the media. Tanya . . . why are you smiling?’

  Tanya kept quiet and gave Rahul time to figure out the irony of what he had said. When it dawned on him, he acknowledged it.

  ‘Okay, I get it. Why did I end up liking those very things that my mom was associated with? Frankly, I have never thought of this. I am sure there are some Freudian motives behind it, but I leave it to your tribe to crack this one. Maybe in a subconscious way we imitate or do things that exist along the peripheral circle of our lives. Anyway, IIT was pretty much all this. A lot of hard work thrown in, moments of pure happiness when I would organize an evening devoted to classical music and dance. Not to forget the steadfast friendship with Suhel.’

  Tanya shifted a little uneasily and then came to the point.

  ‘I am glad you talked about the role Suhel played in your life. I understand he is an integral part of your life. So, look here, Rahul. I have told you before that I am a bit of an oddball psychiatrist. I don’t really follow rules laid down by some farts, who over the years have tried to standardize and codify client–psychiatrist interactions and outreach. Maybe one of these days they might disbar me for breaking these rules. I don’t particularly care. Why am I telling you this? I say this because I will use whatever means available to me to bring awareness to you, comfort you and walk along with you when your healing process begins. So, unlike a psychiatrist and more like a rookie cop, I have been digging up information about you. There is an unanimous opinion outside these four walls that Suhel is a highly unpopular guy at your company. He is like a guard dog who does more than just bark. People are quite terrified of him. What exactly was, and is, your relationship with him?’

  Rahul smiled and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Suhel is like a habit. A good habit, a useful habit, a comforting habit. Sometimes he’s tiresome, but then aren’t we all? Look, when I was growing up, it was not as if I was completely unaware that my circumstances were unusual as compared to other kids. But Suhel’s steadfast companionship, both at school and IIT, helped me sail through those dangerous waters. Yes, he is moody, tough and usually quite abrasi
ve. He never really liked Simone, and she never trusted him. Yet, despite all that, I stick with him. I actually owe my sanity to him. Even as I talk to you, I am becoming aware that I could have been crushed by the weight of my mom’s behaviour. Suhel took me away from all that.’

  ‘Fair point, Rahul. My question is this: you can know someone for years, yet do you really know that person?’

  Rahul instinctively reached for another candy but then held back.

  ‘Lady, you have placed an addiction on your table. All that sugar rush will make me sick.’

  Tanya removed the candy bowl.

  ‘So sorry for this,’ she replied soothingly. ‘Everything nowadays is becoming a double-edged sword, including candy. Please continue.’

  Puzzled, Rahul looked at her and suddenly his head lolled back on the chair. His pupils dilated and the whites of his eyes showed up prominently. Tanya stared at him in complete shock as he spoke incoherently, words and phrases disjointed, making no sense.

  ‘Sizzle of burning flesh . . . the screams, the screams . . . Jimi . . . Jimi . . . Jimi Hendrix . . . would have been proud . . . when you gotta go, you gotta go . . . the stench of burning flesh . . . Jimi . . . Jimi . . . Man on fire! Man on fire! You fuckers, man on fire!’

  Tanya ran towards him, alarmed, and snapped her thumb and middle finger with a loud clicking noise.

  ‘Wake up! Wake up! Rahul!’

  Rahul opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling with a vacant expression. He continued to stare at it before managing to focus on the room. His brow furrowed when he saw Tanya standing near him, urging him to sip some water.

  ‘What happened? Why are you giving me water? We were talking of Suhel . . .’

  Tanya could not quite hide the worry lines on her face. ‘You don’t know what happened?’

  ‘No. I just blacked out. Maybe too much of that candy got to me?’

  ‘No,’ replied Tanya. ‘It was not that. Here’s what happened, Rahul. You auto-hypnotized yourself, if such a thing is even possible. Some trauma from the past got you. You were blabbering about burnt flesh, man on fire . . .’

  Rahul drew in a lungful of air and shook his head at Tanya.

  ‘So, it came back. The most traumatic incident of my life came back, unannounced, from nowhere, just like that. Suhel’s name must have triggered it. I am talking, Tanya, of an incident at the annual IIT festival “Rendezvous”. Our band was playing a Jimi Hendrix number in front of a packed, doped, excitable crowd. The setting was surreal, almost maniacal. There was a din in the auditorium that reached the skies. I was playing the second guitar. The lead guitar was connected to the mains near the aisles by an electric cable. To this day, no one knows what really happened. The lead guitarist was jumping on stage in a frenzy when suddenly a column of sparks erupted from his guitar. For a moment, everyone thought it was special pyrotechnics. He was lifted up into the air; he was screaming inhumanly, his hair, arms and T-shirt, all were on fire. There was complete bedlam. A fire broke out. I was very nearly trapped. Suhel, who was standing in the wings, pulled me out. The lead guitarist had suffered serious burns. He was rushed to Safdarjung Hospital where he battled his injuries for nearly three months. Then he passed away . . .’

  Rahul broke down and wept inconsolably. Tanya came up to him and embraced him. He continued to weep in her arms till the emotion passed.

  When he calmed down, he wiped his tears and said, ‘I am emptied out, Tanya. Everything is in a spin. You have set off a churn within me. It will have to be next time now. I just need to get home and shut myself from everything.’

  CHAPTER 28

  Like a general watching the advance of his troops from a hilltop, Suhel monitored the launch of the Yummimages IPO from the confines of his office. All alone. He had no patience to listen to what the CNBC anchor was yapping on about Yummimages. His eyes were glued to the stock ticker on the massive flat-screen TV in his office. It took a long time for the ticker to reach the alphabet Y. He could not miss the massive spike when the company’s name flashed past him. The share value of the stock had touched stratospheric levels. In less than an hour since the launch, the net value of the company had quadrupled. The top management, glued to the boardroom TV set, knew instantly that they had earned enough to last them a few generations. Rahul’s odd controversial child had become a top-drawer athlete. The word ‘yummy’ had adjusted to new gastronomical connotations. It now meant a media lolly that everyone wanted to get a bite of.

  The phones on Suhel’s desk started to ring, but he didn’t pay any attention to them. He walked to the far end of the room and placed a call to Rahul.

  ‘Yeah?’ asked Rahul

  Suhel replied, ‘We did it, buddy. We are worth more than the island of Seychelles. Your dream has come true and how!’

  ‘Well, congrats,’ Rahul said, his voice a tad tired.

  ‘Everyone has gathered in the boardroom. They want a speech. You should be making it. Just come for this. It will charge them up no end . . .’

  ‘No,’ replied Rahul firmly. ‘I am out of it . . . at least for now. You led them well, Suhel. That honour is yours.’

  ‘Come on, Rahul. You are behaving like that reclusive billionaire Howard Hughes . . .’

  ‘Good comparison, Suhel. He was a nutjob. I also feel like one right now.’

  ‘That’s tough. Hope Tanya has been of some help?’

  ‘She’s a dream find, Suhel. She’s unlocking so many doors inside me that I never knew even existed.’

  ‘I am relieved to hear that. I was worried I had pushed someone unpredictable and unorthodox at you.’

  ‘No sweat, pal. You keep the armada sailing, friend. We will meet in better times.’

  ‘Wait a minute, Rahul. You don’t want to know anything we are doing here?’

  ‘You have carte blanche to do whatever you wish, Suhel. I don’t expect you to continue my methods and models. That’s the idea of having a new man at the top.’

  ‘What about continuity with change?’

  ‘It’s a fucked-up idea. Truth is, we all live minute-to-minute. I am fighting a war within. You are waging it on the field outside. We know our roles. Let’s keep it this way for now, my friend.’

  Rahul hung up and Suhel marched out of his office to usher in a new age for the company. He opened the boardroom door to deafening applause and cheer. Someone uncorked the bubbly. ‘Wait till you get to know about the new mandate,’ he thought to himself. He smiled and mingled with them and let them have their moment. Later, after the celebrations were done, he came back to his office with the new content officer.

  ‘Close the door behind you, Sri,’ growled Suhel. The new man on the job did just that and sat facing his new boss. Suhel sized him up and then spoke to him. ‘Do you know why I recruited you, Sri?’

  Sri became even more self-effacing than his appearance suggested. ‘I wouldn’t dare guess, Boss.’

  Suhel played with a paperweight on his table. ‘You are not the best or the brightest in the field, Sri. But you have a reputation for closely listening to orders and carrying them out without any fuss. The person holding your position earlier used to argue a lot. You must have heard about her. One day, she simply disappeared never to return. I acknowledge this person was unusually gifted. She made Yummimages “yummy” with her bold, innovative ideas and campaigns. She was a trailblazer. Now, she’s nowhere to be found. There is some learning we can take from her story.

  ‘So, keeping her story in the context let me tell you a secret about good companies making profits. That is our bottom line, correct? Start-ups need argumentative, rebellious, supremely gifted people like Simone to give a company tailwind that helps them get off the ground. When the company is afloat and doing well, the same set of people can drag it down. You then wonder whether you need rebels or implementers.’

  ‘I get the message, Boss. I am your man, the implementing variety. And, of course, the brand that is Yummimages will be shaped by your vision.’

  ‘You l
earn fast, Sri. Good. So we are clear on that. One more thing. I have my moods and despite whatever you might do, you will find yourself at the short end of the stick at times. My historical heroes have been fascists like Mussolini.’

  Sri attempted a smile. ‘Accepted, Boss.’

  Suhel nodded and opened his laptop. He connected to Skype and Sahib’s image flickered on the screen.

  ‘Sahib, meet Sri, my new chief content officer. Sri, meet Sahib, hacker extraordinaire, the biggest motherfucking peddler of lies on social media. Gentlemen, together both of you will destroy Simone’s legacy and build for me a nimble, dark, reputation-destroying, in-your-face, unethical, controversial, addictive company. That, in short, is the mandate for you, gentlemen. Now, let’s get to work on this.’

  *

  Close to 10 p.m., Suhel cleared all his files and wound up his meetings. Alone in his office, he reached for a bottle of Glenlivet 18 in his cabinet. He fixed a drink for himself. What a day it had been! He put on lounge music and sipped his drink. He took off his shoes, loosened his tie and lay on the sofa in the room. He never knew when he dozed off and dreamed of the incident at IIT for no apparent reason. A part of his mind told him that he was dreaming, but for the other part it was all too real. The tumult in the jam-packed auditorium grew in his ears. The local band ‘Nerd’ had the crowd on its feet. Suhel watched the performance from the wings. Rahul, as the rhythm guitarist, was struggling to keep up with the lead guitarist, who seemed to be in a frenzy. He was playing all kind of variations of the Jimi Hendrix song ‘Purple Haze’. He was jumping on stage and the largely stoned crowd was mimicking and singing along with him in the dark auditorium.

  A column of sparks almost like fireworks erupted without any warning. The lead guitarist jumped once again, but this time it was because of the searing pain of electrocution. His skin was being fried, and he was screaming like an animal in great pain. The stench from his burning skin filled Suhel’s nostrils and gagged him. The wooden stage was on fire, and a circle of flames had trapped Rahul. It was rapidly moving towards him. The lead guitarist was twisting on his back in unbearable pain. The skin was peeling off his body because of the intense heat. Suhel held in his hand an old sheet he had ripped off from a large table in the wings. He had a choice to make. He could have thrown the sheet over the lead guitarist and contained the extent of his burns. Or he could throw the sheet around Rahul and drag him out unscathed. It all came down to what he would do in the next three seconds. Suhel chose to pull Rahul out.