The Other Side: Dare To Visit Alone?

by Faraaz Kazi

  “This is not right, Salim,” she said, moving back.

  Before I could say something, Aarusha turned and sprinted towards the exit. I immediately followed her and we came out in

  The Other Side

  129 the parking area. The rain had stopped, leaving little pools of water in the mud.

  “Aaru, Aaru… wait!” I shouted, suddenly feeling like she was someone I had known for a long time. I caught up with her, intercepting her path again.

  “I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to do that, it just happened. Please forgive me,” I blurted for the first time to a girl.

  She stared at me and after what seemed like an eternity of looking in her eyes, she nodded, a slight movement of her head.

  “Thank you, let's go back. We're having so much fun,” I suggested, taking a step towards the pub and expecting her to do the same.

  “No, I should get going. It's late,” she said, looking up at the sky.

  “So soon?”

  “Yes, I have to.”

  “You'll go alone at this time of the night? It's not safe. Let me drop you on my bike.”

  “No, thank you. I'll be fine.”

  “I insist, koi shak?” I said, repeating the Mithun-gig. Her laughter soothed my anxiety.

  “Alright, let's go,” she said and accompanied me to the bike parked ahead. She sat with her shoulder touching me. Although I was not expecting her to sit with her front touching my back, the weird thing was that not once did the thought of taking advantage of the potholes cross my mind.

  Strangely, she kept mum all the way, just signaling to show me the way. I supposed she was shy from our little encounter in the pub. Half an hour later, I reached an empty street with some old buildings on either side that looked like they would tumble down the moment a strong force of wind would graze their bricks. Aarusha asked me to halt the bike in a corner. She stepped down slowly and turned her smiling face towards me.

  “Thanks,” she said and gave me a small burning peck on the cheek.

  “Ummm… my pleasure. Aaru, c… can I call you sometime?” I asked nervously, hoping she would give me her cell number.

  But she just laughed and ran to the opposite end of the road, into one of the old chawl-like colonies. I waited for her to appear again so that I could make out the building she would enter and squinted hard in the darkness but I did not see her again. Cursing the broken streetlights in the vicinity, I hopped onto the bike. Not once did I feel inebriated by the five liquor shots but as I neared my home, I was starting to feel a different kind of intoxication.

  Five minutes after entering home, I found myself scrambling to offer tahajjud prayers and for the first time, I was not praying after being coerced or just to showcase that I was. As my forehead touched the ground, my body relaxed and I felt a pleasant comfort ease through my heart. The moment I finished turning my head to my left, I cupped my palms together for the first time in my life, the way I had seen my father do.

  “Oh Allah, make her mine,” I said and soon plonked down on the bed to call it the best night of my life.

  The moment I awoke, her smiling face resurfaced, her delicate laughter rang a melodious tune in my ears. I wondered then for the use of a morning alarm, her thoughts would suffice for me; I was quite sure about that.

  I knew this was foolish as I knew the girl just from a couple of hours of spending time with her but I could not stop myself from thinking about the fact that she was from my caste and that could make matters easier at home. Continuing the same train of thoughts, I was waiting for Ammi to call me for breakfast, when the phone rang.

  “Rascal, where were you last night?” I asked standing up from the bed and walking to the window.

  “Don't you think you're the wrong guy asking that, buddy?” Jigar said in a bitter note.

  “Huh? Dude, I waited for you for half an hour near the parking area of the club. I called up a zillion times but you didn't even bother to answer once. You might have been slouched out in your room yet you have the guts to tell me that I am the wrong guy to ask that?” I shouted.

  “Hold on a sec, buddy. It was not you who was waiting for me in the parking lot for half an hour but the other way round. It wasn't you who called me a zillion times but I, who frantically kept trying your number, forty-one times to be precise and you blissfully kept ignoring my calls. It wasn't me who was slouched out but…” Jigar sounded angry and I knew he wasn't the kind who lost their temper easily. I was sure he was not kidding this time.

  “Was there a second parking there?” I enquired, going soft.

  “Running Water has just one small parking area in front. There's nothing else outside,” Jigar replied.

  “Right. I was there on the pavement,” I said with confidence.

  “Were you invisible? I was waiting for you since 11 at night and after half an hour or so, I gave up and went in as it started to rain,” Jigar said.

  “B… but Jigar, I was there. If you don't trust me, then come home and check the stag stamp on my palm…” I said, shifting the phone to my other hand. The next instant, I backtracked towards my bed, not trusting myself to stand.

  “Salim? Hello? Salim, you there? What happened? The Running Water stamp has a flowing stream with STAG PASS written between the two waves,” Jigar described the same sign that was on my palm till last night.

  “There's no stamp,” I whispered.

  “Of course, they have a stamp of two waves…”

  “Dude, there is not a patch of ink on my hand!”

  “I knew it. You might have drunk gallons of beer and then headed to some stray bar taking it for one of the most rocking places here,” Jigar reasoned.

  “I wasn't drunk. At least… at least until I entered the pub,” I was trying to convince myself more than my friend.

  “Hang on,” I tried again. “You're talking about the same pub with dark blue walls on the outside, colourful Greek letters written all over in black and it has a dome shaped entry door. The bouncers at the entrance wear black leather jackets while standing on a red carpet. On the opposite side, there is a paan-beedi shop and the parking…”

  “Yes, yes… paan-beedi shop? Fuck you! It is a high profile area, no paan-beedi shops there. On the opposite side, there are three huge commercial towers,” Jigar said.

  “Impossible! I remember smirking at the paan-waalah last night and wondering how he ended up in such a place,” I explained.

  “Salim, my friend, you drank too much last night and you're still in the hangover zone. Happens when you drink after a long interval,” Jigar said in a tone that suggested regret.

  “I'm perfectly in my senses. Just tell me one more thing. Running Wateris on Kings Road, right?” I asked.

  “Yes, it is but I can bet my backside that's not the place you had visited last night. Too sad, you missed a fantastic setting. Hot chicks in red lingerie, mugs of beer…”

  “Jigar, I'll talk to you later. Ammi's calling,” I lied and disconnected before he could further make me doubt my sanity.

  “Ammi, what did you do after I left last night?” I asked coming out from my room, hoping that she would not shock me by saying that I had never left the house last night.

  “Slept, what else? What time did you come back?” she enquired and I mumbled an incoherent reply before rushing back into the room. I hurriedly put on my clothes and picked up the bike keys lying on the table.

  “Where are you going now? Breakfast is ready,” Ammi called out.

  “Will be back for lunch,” I shouted back, not waiting for a reply. I rushed down the stairs two at a time, not waiting for the elevator. Zooming the bike towards Kings Road, I found the morning traffic was not much of a deterrent to my confused emotions. I negotiated the bike through corners, jumped two signals, came perilously close to bumping into a stupid urchin running across the road and then I reached the place.

  Yet I was sure this was not the place I was at last night. To my left was the club, the dome doors and blue walls shining in
the morning glory. The Greek lettering stood out in the regal state of the neighbourhood. I looked to my right and there I could spot three huge towers beyond a high-rise fenced wall. I could make out the busy officer-goers entering the complex in their expensive sedans.

  “No,” I shook my head in incredulity. Trying to calm myself down, I started the bike again and took a U-turn from the next signal, searching for something that I was not even sure of. I kept combing the paths to spot something familiar. And then I saw a small-unmade path to my right. I would have avoided it but something about the path seemed vaguely familiar. I recollected the directions Aarusha had guided me as she sat behind while I raced the bike. The deteriorating buildings on the opposite side of the road were a great help in zeroing in on the location. The street did not seem as lonely as it had during the night. A bunch of people were gossiping on the pavement, a few vehicles zoomed past mine and some beggars surrounded me asking for alms as soon as I alighted from the bike. I made my way to where I had seen her go. I considered asking someone around but there weren't too many people in the compound.

  There was an old man with a hunch and a flowing beard who was strolling at a leisurely pace. I called out to him and he turned to face me.

  “Assalamvalekum, Chacha,” I greeted, seeking some bonding.

  “Walaikumassalam, janaab,” he answered, trying to place me.

  “Chacha, do you have any idea where a girl called Aarusha stays here?” I asked.

  “There must be so many Aarushas here, child. Which one do you seek?” the old man asked.

  “Tall, fair, wears shalwar-suits and has a really lovely smile,” I described. The old man stared back blankly. Knowing that would not help, I decided to give him a gist of the events.

  “Yesterday night, I dropped her home and I saw her walk toward this colony, may be this building. I am not sure,” I said, pointing towards a three-storied structure that looked on the verge of crashing down any moment.

  The old man hobbled uncomfortably and looked away.

  “There's no Aarusha there,” he said, his tone changing.

  “Look, it's urgent.” I was sure he was hiding something.

  “Go home, child. It's not your business being here, poking around,” the old man said.

  “No Chacha, I need to know. It's a matter of my sanity. Perhaps much more than that. Please guide me to her house,” I pleaded.

  “Very well,” he sighed. “Follow me,” the old man commanded and turned towards the building I had pointed out. We climbed the creaking wooden stairs of the crumbling building and stopped on the third floor.

  “That's where she used to stay,” the old man said pointing to the third room from the right at a distance.

  “Thank you, Chacha,” I said, registering his action and bent down to kiss his hand. He eyed me in a probing manner and unlocked the door right opposite where we stood. He shut the door on my face, waking my lost self.

  Consciously, I knocked where the old man had pointed. The faded mint green coloured door showed some movement after my fourth knock just when I was beginning to get impatient. I came face to face with a woman who seemed to be an older version of Aarusha.

  “Assalamvalekum, Khaala, is Aarusha at home?” I enquired.

  The woman eyed me nervously for a moment. It was difficult to read her expression.

  “W… Who are you?” she asked.

  “I am her friend, Salim,” I said.

  I saw the colour drain from the woman's face. Her knees buckled down and she held the door for support, the wooden frame hardly supporting her heavy body.

  “We met yesterday night at a pub and as it was getting late, I dropped her here, actually the street below. I was passing by this way again in the morning, so thought I would drop in and greet her,” I said, trying to explain.

  “What do you want?” the woman asked me in a choked voice.

  “Nothing really. Just wanted to meet her,” I said.

  “Come,” the woman said straightening up and grabbing a scarf from behind the door.

  “Where?” I asked surprised.

  “Aarusha's house,” the woman answered, tightening the scarf around her head.

  “She doesn't live here?” I asked.

  “No,” the woman said.

  “Then?” I enquired.

  “You'll see,” the woman said, locking the door behind her.

  Only Aarusha could provide me the answers to last night. She was the only witness and hence I had to go along with the woman. She didn't seem to respond to my incessant queries as we descended the stairs.

  “I have a bike,” I said as we came out of the locality. Before long, we were speeding away to a place only she knew and I had no choice but to follow her directions. The woman sat behind me just like Aarusha did the other night and I couldn't help noticing the similarities between the two.

  Twenty minutes later, she made me halt at a place that seemed strangely familiar. As soon as I braked, my eyes registered the paanwaalahon the opposite side looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

  “Give me a minute,” I requested the woman after hurriedly parking the bike and crossed the street.

  “You also have a shop at Kings Road?” I enquired, tapping the Bihari on the shoulder.

  “Kings Road? No, I can't afford a shop here. This has been my humble location since the past fifteen years,” the paan-waalahsaid, showing me his stained teeth.

  “Huh? Anyway, why were you looking at me like that?” I asked.

  “You're the same guy from last night, who was smiling at me, aren't you?” he asked back.

  “Hmm, you have a good memory but you said you don't…” I was saying when he interrupted with a chuckle.

  “Of course, I do. It's not often I see guys wearing shiny jackets and leather boots enter the graveyard.”

  “Graveyard?” I repeated and turned to look at the opposite side of the road. Blue walls, covered with hand-painted sketches, nonsensical graffiti, national slogans strewn randomly parting to accommodate a big dome shaped gate through which I could see heaps of tombs.

  I could see the woman eyeing me patiently from a distance. Something heavy seeped into my chest as I held my head, shaking it violently, trying to come to terms with a missing memory. I punched the side of my head in frustration, seeking an explanation for the events.

  I don't remember when I crossed the street and joined the woman. She didn't even as much give me a second glance but just acknowledged me with a “You want to meet her, don't you?” I nodded and she walked towards the gates. I hesitated and then followed.

  Aarusha must have come to the graveyard to visit long gone relatives; I answered the voice inside my head. That was what Abbu did during Eid as well.

  “Why have you brought me to a graveyard?” I asked.

  “You'll know soon.” We walked on the damp mud, taking care not to step on the bones beneath our feet. Graves of all kinds surrounded us, some ancient and withering like the remains of the people inside while a few polished till their marble stones glistened. Some small enough to accommodate one adult arm, testament to a life cut short and others, wide enough to hold the sleep of generations of families. The wild grass and shrubs soon engulfed us as we rounded a corner under the afternoon sun.

  The woman looked neither here nor there but kept walking ahead; her face bearing a look of silent determination. She trudged along stepping on dead leaves and bones and halted at the end of the third lane, making me almost bump into her frame.

  The Other Side

  139

  It was as if she was expecting it. She caught hold of my hand lest I fell down on a grave. Her firm fingers reflected the same kind of look when her eyes met mine.

  “I still don't understand why we are here!” I said, breaking the silence.

  “You wanted to meet your Aarusha, right? So I brought you to her abode,” she said.

  “Huh? And where would that be? On those coconut trees?” I mocked, the anger evident in my voice.

/>   Before I could add a few lines, she shifted so as not to block my sight any further and pointed to a grave behind her.

  It was almost concealed by overgrown shrubs, weeds and wild flowers. Dry leaves lay strewn over the granite. The tombstone had cracked due to the beatings of the monsoon but I could make out something inscribed over its surface. The words pulled me, lulling me into a trance and I trudged ahead. Bending down on one knee, I rubbed the dirty surface with my hands. The tombstone had a few lines in Arabic from the Quran, right below which was a name that made me stagger and fall on my back. I squatted on the gravel, unmindful of the scattered bones and dirt around.

  Aarusha Khan

  1983-2006

  Daughter of Hasan and Shehnaz Khan

  The date stabbed my chest and I looked up to see the woman staring at me with a grim expression.

  “H… how is this possible?” I managed to ask her.

  “Aarusha was our only daughter,” the woman said, establishing the fact that she was Aarusha's mother.

  “Very beautiful she was and post her graduation, we started getting a lot of marriage proposals for her. No dearth of choices; from doctors to pilots, everyone wanted Aaru as their wife,” she said.

  I looked at her blankly.

  “But our sweet daughter fell for a guy named Salim, whom she met online over a casual chat around six years back. They used to chat daily, soon phone calls started and over a period of time, she also started meeting him behind our backs,” she said with a faraway look in her eyes. I remained silent, still sitting down, holding on to my trembling knees.

  “We were not happy with her choice and tried to influence her decision when she informed us about him but she remained adamant and stated that she would marry no one else except him. She also confessed the same to Salim but whenever she would broach the wedding topic, he would ask for some more time.”

  “Then?” I croaked.

  “And then all hell broke loose. Aaru had found out Salim's residential address through a misplaced call he had given on her phone once. It was the occasion of Eid five years ago when Aaru decided she would make use of her finding and go unannounced to Salim's place after cooking a meal for him as a surprise.