Bombay Rains, Bombay Girls

by Anirban Bose

  He fell silent, staring angrily at the card lying on his desk.

  ‘So, what is wrong with a card?’ asked Adi.

  ‘What is wrong with a card? What is wrong with a card? What does a card mean? Who am I, his colleague’s wife? I want him to say what he feels, man. I want him to be my fucking dad!’

  Pheru’s outburst surprised Adi.

  Pheru caught Adi’s look. ‘My dad is different, Adi,’ he said, his voice edgy with exasperation. ‘My mother died when I was very young and I’ve grown up with Abbu alone. But growing up with him was like growing up with a picture on a wall. You wouldn’t understand, Adi…we have a lot of problems…’

  ‘But he cares for you, man. That’s why he sends you the cards, right?’

  ‘That’s what everyone thinks. His cards aren’t sent to wish me well!’

  Adi stared at Pheru incredulously, trying to decipher the contorted logic of his statement.

  Pheru sighed and fell silent. ‘It’s funny when I think about it,’ he said. ‘Everyone else gets into medicine to become a doctor, but I got into medicine to irritate him. Abbu wanted me to stay in the family business. I am the only man left to carry on the Pherwani name and Pherwani Constructions. But I wanted to get as far away as possible from him and from what he wanted me to be. So I studied like a madman to get into medical college. It pissed him off. But now that I’m going to be thrown out of college, he sends me a card. Don’t you see? This card is his victory. This card means I’ve lost! He knows that I’ll end up doing what he wants me to do!’

  ‘But why don’t you want to join the family business?’ Adi asked.

  ‘Because that’s what he wants me to do!’

  ‘What is wrong with that?’

  ‘No… I’m not going to give him what he wants. He was never there for me when I needed him and just because he’s old now he expects me to forget everything…Saala, no way…no fucking way! I have to become a doctor. I just have to…even if it takes me a hundred fucking years!’

  ‘I… I don’t understand Pheru. What is wrong with your dad expecting you to join his business? What is this fascination with becoming a doctor?’

  ‘It’s not a fascination, Adi. It’s a fucking necessity!’

  Adi stared at Pheru, a silent question adorning his puzzled face. Pheru caught that look and shook his head in frustration. He leaned back against the wall, letting his eyes drift aimlessly over the ceiling. Then, after a few minutes, he said, ‘My life is too bloody complicated, Adi. My mother committed suicide when I was about five…no one knows why. She had five kids…the fifth, me, probably tipped her over. One day she walked to the ledge of the naked terrace and just kept walking. One year later, to the exact day, my eldest brother Khalid and my sister Samina disappeared in a Hindu-Muslim riot. Khalid was eighteen years old and all set to join Abbu in his business. He was the son Abbu always wanted. Khalid was the best in anything he did, studies, sports, drama…and Abbu would go to all his sporting events and elocution contests in school. So when Samina and he didn’t come home and they found his headless body in a field near his school, Abbu went crazy. He started going to vague dargahs and crazy babas, preparing for another fucking calamity the next year! I used to feel very scared seeing all kinds of weird people come into the house at all times of the day and night and perform these bizarre rituals. His business started to suffer…we almost got thrown out of our house.

  ‘Abbu recovered somewhat in the next few years, but remained cold, barely throwing me a glance. And I was only a kid… I couldn’t understand why. I tried so hard to please him, you know, just to get him to fucking look at me. But he’d either scold me and turn me away or just walk out of the room silently. Then, from when I was about seven or eight years old, I began to have these terrible nightmares. I’d see Ammi walking on air and Khalid and Samina calling out to me. I’d try to follow them only to realize that there was nothing under my feet. I’d wake up shivering and bathed in sweat, with such headaches that I felt my head would explode. I’d stay awake the rest of the night…afraid to go back to sleep…afraid of the dream coming back. But I couldn’t tell Abbu… I was so scared of him! So I would sit alone in my bed the rest of the night and cry till I could cry no more. It went on till one night when I couldn’t bear it anymore, I ran to Abbu. Just outside his door, I could hear him arguing loudly with someone. They were talking about me and that’s when I heard Abbu say that I was the family’s curse! One of these fucking babas had told him that…that everything bad had happened to him after my birth – Ammi’s death, Samina’s disappearance, Khalid’s murder, his business problems. I stood there feeling like I was still dreaming…only it wasn’t a dream any more. But you know the funny part, Adi, I had stopped crying and my headache had vanished. And from that day, the nightmares were gone!’

  He paused. Then, his voice trembling with hurt and anger, he said, ‘So, from then on, I’ve carried the curse of my birth, Adi. The curse that sits on my shoulders like it was stitched on to me. I ruin everyone’s life, Adi, everyone’s… I fuck up their happy little existence, I cloud their bright sunny futures, I ruin their precious dreams. I am the ghost that haunts everyone… Just like my image in the hostel…grotesque, fearful and terrifying… They all wonder, what will Pheru do to me next? Everyone is scared of me, Adi, including my own father…! They don’t know that I’m as afraid of the fucking curse because it rules my fucking life!’

  Mad…sad…bad…glad…had?

  ‘Maybe your dad is trying for a reconciliation, Pheru.’ he said.

  ‘No, he isn’t!’ scoffed Pheru.

  ‘Maybe this is your opportunity to get back what you missed out on!’

  ‘Didn’t you hear all that I just said?’ said Pheru, irritated.

  ‘You’re living in the past, man.’

  ‘It’s not my past, Adi. I’m still living that fucking isolation!’ he shouted. ‘Nothing’s changed…it’s the same in the hostel! I see the others stare at me from a distance…I see the unwelcome faces when I walk into a room. I can hear their footsteps run past my door… I know they pray for me to get thrown out of college! It’s the same fucking loneliness. While I walk around hoping to find someone…anyone, to talk to, everyone finds ways to keep me away. Everyone is afraid of what I’ll do to them. Nobody wants to be around me: all they want me to do is fucking rag, rag, and rag. It fits my terrifying image… Pheru the monster! But that’s not me, Adi, that’s not me. I dislike ragging but there is nothing I can do, man. That is what they want me to do. That is the only reason they will talk to me or respect me. If I don’t rag, I’m nobody…if I do rag I’m somebody…but not the person I want to be…’ His voice trailed off, chasing his agonized confusion.

  Adi gulped and stared at Pheru silently.

  Pheru dabbed his eyes with his shirt and said, ‘So you see, Adi, becoming a doctor is not a dream for me, it’s a necessity. I have this thing in my head that I’ll remain cursed till I become a doctor. I just know it. I just know that I’ll cure myself only if I become a doctor. I have to pass my exams or I’ll never be rid of this curse. That is why I desperately cling to medicine while the dean tries to kick me out! Otherwise the curse of my birth will take hold of my life again.’

  ‘Pheru, that’s just ridiculous.’

  ‘No, no, it’s true…don’t you see it? The fucking baba or whoever was right… Khalid, Samina, Ammi, Abbu all felt it before. I’ve been stuck in second MB for the last four years in the same fucking subject. There have been so many other incidents. Sam lost the election as soon as I tried to get him to contest. And now that you’ve talked to me, I’m sure something will go wrong with you…if it hasn’t happened already. Was everything okay today?’

  Adi smiled, but didn’t respond.

  ‘What? Did something happen? It did…didn’t it?’ said Pheru.

  ‘She…she didn’t show up,’ replied Adi.

  Pheru face fell. ‘I can’t believe it!’ he said, clutching his head as though unable to deal with the te
rrible accuracy of his own prediction. ‘Don’t you see what I’m saying? I do this to everybody. I’m sure none of this would have happened if I had not shown up to meet you.’

  ‘Pheru, I’m not superstitious,’ lied Adi.

  ‘No Adi, it’s true. This bloody thing never leaves me! That is why I must become a doctor, Adi. I have to become a doctor, not to give medicines to people, but to cure myself of this scourge!’

  Adi stared at Pheru wrestling with his demons. He couldn’t believe this was the same guy who had nearly made them cry; whose name evoked images of torture and terrible humiliation, whose influence had ruined his…

  Mad…sad…bad…glad…had?

  ‘Pheru,’ said Adi. ‘This is just nonsense. Has anyone told you…you are an absolute psycho. Sam lost because Manish and his gang played dirty. I don’t know why you are stuck in second MB, but your influence on the events of today have as much significance as the…as the…influence of an Asian grasshopper’s fart on the…pattern of rainfall in the Kalahari Desert!’

  Pheru stopped agonizing and stared at Adi as though someone had yanked the power supply to his misery. Then he began to laugh. He sat on the bed and laughed till tears started streaming down his face. Adi joined in, deriving more mirth from Pheru’s laughter than the absurdity of his metaphor.

  Finally, when he had calmed down, Pheru sat reflective and silent for a few minutes. Then, turning to Adi he said, ‘It’s scary to be so scary, Adi. I… I’m so afraid of myself.’

  Adi smiled and hugged him. Mad…sad…bad…glad…had?

  Glad. Yes…definitely glad.

  SIX

  It rained heavily that night. A freak October shower – a leftover from the monsoon that had flooded the roads and caused the drains to overflow two months ago. The deluge prophesized a similar aftermath, but threatened to wreak even more havoc on an unprepared populace this time. But, while everyone hoped the uninvited drencher would die out soon, Adi prayed for it to go on forever and drown out any possibility of ever meeting Renuka again.

  He dreaded meeting her. He prayed for the rains to miraculously wipe out the memories of that evening. If only to assuage his own insecurity, he fantasized about a heartwrenching, earth-shattering, superbly persuasive explanation for her choosing a car-ride home over meeting him. The thought of being unable to camouflage his sense of betrayal in her presence in the event of a less than satisfactory explanation, terrified him. He prayed that he wouldn’t run into her, but as so often happens, she was the first person he bumped into upon entering the Physiology Hall the very next day.

  ‘Hi,’ she said excitedly. ‘Did you check your new batch?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Adi replied.

  ‘It’s on the board…right there,’ she said, pointing towards the far wall. ‘Why don’t you look at it? I’ll wait for you here.’

  Confused that she had made no mention of the previous day’s fiasco, Adi headed towards the board and began going through the names half-heartedly. He located himself on the board as number nineteen. Predictably, Sam and Harsha were his batchmates. Then another name on the list caught his attention.

  Ishita Banerji was number fifteen.

  Reading her name close to his brought a smile to Adi’s face. He hadn’t foreseen this pleasant surprise. The memory of her gentle beauty, her vivacious laughter and the few minutes they had shared on the bus during the picnic, suddenly buoyed his spirits.

  Smiling to himself, Adi withdrew from the board. Suddenly he wasn’t feeling all that bad any more.

  He could see Renuka’s silhouette at the door, talking to someone. As he headed towards them, he saw them laugh in unison, and then the other person walked away. Renuka was still laughing when Adi reached her. She turned towards him.

  ‘What is your new number?’ she asked.

  ‘Nineteen. Yours?’

  ‘One five five,’ she replied.

  Adi smiled. He was feeling rather good, and the events of the previous afternoon had stopped bothering him. He looked forward to being in the new batch.

  ‘Neil is in second MB,’ she said.

  ‘What? Oh…who’s that?’ said Adi.

  ‘Neil Kapoor. You know… I was just talking to him. He gave me a ride home yesterday. Didn’t Shetty tell you?’

  ‘Oh, I see… Shetty did tell me, but only about two and a half hours later,’ laughed Adi.

  ‘Why? What happened?’ she asked.

  Adi did a quick recap of the events, leaving out his feelings and abridging his story to the canteen.

  She smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’

  ‘That’s fine. It’s all right; not your fault, really.’

  ‘Look, I’ll make it up to you. How about I treat you to a movie and lunch today? We can skip dissection, that way I’ll have enough time to make it back home.’

  Adi was a bit taken aback by the sudden turn of events.

  She sensed his hesitation and said, ‘I promise, I won’t take a ride with anybody else.’

  Adi laughed. ‘Which movie do you want to go to?’

  ‘Does that really matter?’ she said, smiling.

  The theatre was fairly crowded for a matinee show. Even though she had promised to treat him, Adi insisted on paying for the tickets which, at Rs 50 apiece, meant he’d have to miss a few breakfasts in order to manage his monthly budget. Of course, at that moment, managing his monthly budget was the farthest thing from his mind.

  They settled into their seats while the advertisements and trailers played onscreen. The seats were small and close together, and for the first time, Adi felt very aware of her physical proximity. In the flickering light of the huge screen, he stole surreptitious glances at her.

  Her pretty profile looked like one of those exotic faces embossed on the sides of a coin. Her neck was long and slender. The outline of her breasts underneath the tight-fitting top moved gently with her breath. Smooth, shapely legs stretched out seductively beyond the skirt’s hemline. One foot lazily dangled a shoe at its end. Her wavy black hair spilled gently over her shoulders, and the faint whiff of her perfume reminded Adi of jasmine flowers.

  In the sumptuous anonymity of the dark surroundings, Adi felt his mouth turn dry and a familiar tingle in his loins made his heart thump noisily in his chest.

  ‘A penny for your thoughts,’ she said.

  Her words startled him. ‘What? No, nothing …I was just…you know, daydreaming.’

  She smiled and said, ‘Adi, I’ve got to ask you something.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Why did you wait close to three hours for me?’

  ‘I didn’t know you wouldn’t show up.’

  ‘But three hours?’

  Adi thought for a few seconds and said, ‘Well… I didn’t want to have an inauspicious start to my dating life.’

  She looked at him and said, ‘You’ve never gone out on a date before? And, by the way, I’m not exactly sure yesterday was a date.’

  ‘That’s true,’ he agreed sheepishly, kicking himself for his gaffe.

  ‘What’s true? You’ve never been out on a date before?’

  Adi nodded.

  ‘So no girlfriends at home getting jealous?’

  ‘Well,’ said Adi. ‘I’ve been the secret admirer of this girl in my neighbourhood and I think she knows it too, but both of us are too timid to make any moves.’

  She smiled. ‘So you don’t write to her every day telling her how much you miss her?’

  ‘I’ve thought about it. But you know the joke about the soldier who goes off to war, promising to write to his lover every day and then comes back to find that she’s married the postman? So I decided against it.’

  She began to laugh. A few people glared at them. Adi mimed apologies.

  ‘I’m glad you waited for me, though,’ she said.

  Adi gulped, unsure of her meaning. The sentence was pregnant with possibilities.

  She slid down her seat and rested her head next to his shoulder. Adi fought
to control the dryness in his mouth.

  ‘How about you?’ he asked. ‘No guys waiting in line?’

  ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘Well, just so that I don’t suddenly get beaten up by a bunch of guys after being seen alone with you.’

  She laughed again. More angry stares followed from the crowd.

  ‘I think we stand a good chance of being beaten up by this crowd,’ she said. ‘Are you watching the movie?’

  ‘No, not really.’

  ‘Then let’s get out of here.’

  They walked into a small restaurant right next to the cinema hall. Over coffee, they talked about their childhood, comparing and contrasting their upbringing 2500 kilometres apart. The difference was not just in the distance. Her privileged background contrasted sharply with the iron spoon Adi had been born with. He was surprised she had chosen to enter medicine, ignoring the relative luxury of an established family business.

  ‘Is that the trend nowadays…nobody wants to join their family business?’ asked Adi.

  She smiled. ‘I didn’t want to follow anyone else blindly… Why did you choose medicine, Adi?’

  ‘Me? Hmm…honestly, I don’t know. Everybody was taking the medical entrance exams, I did too. Nobody expected me to get through …least of all me. But I guess I got lucky…so here I am.’

  She smiled. ‘Are you always this self-deprecating?’

  ‘I’m just being honest, Renuka. Nobody had any confidence in my abilities – least of all me. You should have seen how surprised my parents were when I told them it was my roll number in the newspaper…’

  She laughed again. ‘You should be a little more confident about yourself, Adi.’

  Adi shrugged. ‘I suppose…but all this is rather new to me. I have to remind myself everyday that someday I’ll become a doctor. I’m from a middle-class family; if I had a rich business family like yours, I’d probably stay in it.’