There’s been an incident. U need to act on it. Meet me in 30.
8
Amrita Joglekar, or Roohi as she was known amongst her friends, stood outside Hope Memorial Hospital, fuming. Never had she imagined that her best friend’s husband would treat her in such a disgusting manner. She wanted to give it back to the man, but she knew it was pointless. There was no way she could take on Rishab Mehta and win.
Sagarika’s condition had filled her with hopeless grief. The woman she met in the lobby was a far cry from the friend she knew all these years – a shadow of her former self, a pale ghost-like figure, devoid of any life or cheer.
The two had met for the first time outside Jahangir Art Gallery in Mumbai on a sunny afternoon in the summer of 1990. Sagarika, then a student at J.J. School of Art, often assisted at exhibitions to hobnob with artists at the gallery. Amrita, then a management trainee with a large corporate, used to frequent the canteen of the gallery – she had no interest in art whatsoever – which served delicious keema parathas.
That day, the two of them were headed to Worli and hailed the same cab.
‘Dono ko jab Worli jaana hai, donno-ich baith jao aur paisa bachao,’ the cab driver drawled.
Sagarika and Amrita hopped in and began chatting merrily, much to the amusement of the taxi driver. This was Mumbai, a city of shared joys and miseries, where strangers had no qualms about sharing a ride or chatting about this and that.
That conversation in the cab ride from south Mumbai to Worli was the beginning of a long and dear friendship. Sagarika and Amrita stayed in touch and as the months and years rolled by, their friendship only grew. And when each checked and vetted the other’s choice of boyfriends, they knew that they had become soul sisters.
Back then, Amrita was the only one among Sagarika’s friends who disapproved of Rishab. Everyone else thought that the quiet, smart and intelligent guy with a Rhodes scholarship was a catch. Always quick to show disapproval, Amrita held her silence when Sagarika introduced her to Rishab for the first time. She couldn’t be certain what she disliked about him. She just didn’t.
I’m sure he’s just a phase in her life. Reeks will move on.
But the day Sagarika showed her the engagement ring, Amrita realized she had held her silence for too long.
‘He is too intense. You are light and frothy, Reeks.’
‘Are you calling me shallow?’
‘No, you idiot! You are fun and carefree! Rishab is not. And that makes me worry.’
Although Amrita wasn’t able to describe her disapproval clearly, it wasn’t long before she witnessed an incident that cemented her dislike for Rishab even further.
In an attempt to get her fiancé and best friend to warm up to each other, Sagarika planned a lunch for the three of them at China House at the Grand Hyatt.
‘You’ll see what a doll Amrita is. She’s my best friend and I want both of you to get to know each other,’ Sagarika had said, cosying up to Rishab. She had texted her best friend saying something along similar lines. ‘You have to give him a chance. He isn’t a beast. My best friend has to like the man I’m marrying!’
Amrita loved her best friend far too much although the lunch idea didn’t excite her one bit.
Nevertheless, the three of them met and, as expected, Sagarika was doing all the talking while the two sat sullen, trying to smile and look happy. Then it was the time to order. Rishab was speaking with the waiter, when Sagarika butted in. ‘No, no. I hate noodles. I want the clay pot—’
Rishab stopped her with a look.
‘All of us can’t speak at the same time. Either you do it, or you let me.’
Amrita found his tone icy and curt, but it was his unwavering stare that was most disturbing – it made her uncomfortable. Sagarika ignored Rishab’s jibe and tried to make light of the situation by chatting with Amrita who sat frozen, stunned at the manner in which the fiancé had just snapped at his wife-to-be. The food that arrived on their table soon after did little for her appetite. She was now worried sick about the choice her best friend had made.
Later, as they were walking out of the restaurant, she overheard Rishab whispering to Sagarika, ‘See? Wasn’t there more than enough for everyone? Just let me handle stuff. You sit and enjoy the ride, my princess.’
Amrita was very worried about her best friend’s choice of her husband-to-be.
Just sit back and enjoy the ride, don’t even open your trap to opine. ’Coz if you do, prince will turn into a bloody beast and bite your head off. I have to talk to Reeks. But how do I get across to her?
‘Do you love him, Reeks?’ she asked Sagarika one evening, over drinks at Toto’s, a popular watering hole in Bandra. ‘I mean, do you really love him?’
‘Shut up! Of course I do,’ Sagarika said. Here she was, three drinks down, feeling light as a feather, and her best friend, instead of cheering her on, was sowing seeds of doubt by asking her stupid questions.
By the fifth drink, the two had begun arguing.
‘I don’t know what your problem with Rishab is! You just seem hell-bent on disliking him.’ She paused to burp. ‘I mean, just because he snapped at me in the restaurant, it doesn’t mean he’s a devil. Babe, Rishab is a nice guy, trust me!’
Amrita decided to keep quiet. There was nothing left to say after that.
The dislike was mutual, it turned out. Rishab returned Amrita’s cold indifference in equal measure. Both tried to weed the other out of Sagarika’s life and failed.
‘She’s so different from you, Rika. How do you even relate to her?’ Rishab had asked her once.
But both husband and best friend soon realized that they would have to tolerate each other. And they did so with civility.
Sagarika and Rishab soon got married and so did Amrita, a year later. Life went on.
And then Amrita became Roohi.
For as long as she could remember, Amrita had wanted kids. The sight of babies made her all gooey. She used to volunteer at the local kindergarten schools to help with picnics, sports day and annual functions. She was also the go-to babysitter for her friends. She looked forward to the day she would become a mother herself, often telling a horrified Sagarika that she would have at least three or four kids.
Sagarika hated children, and Rishab was happy to not have any either. Amrita could never fathom how the two of them looked forward to a life without kids. She began to get fairytale and animation characters tattooed on her arms – Peter Pan, Scooby Doo, Mickey Mouse – she loved showing off her arms to kids who squealed in excitement everytime they saw their favourite cartoon characters.
But even after multiple attempts at conceiving, and a plethora of tests and sessions with fertility experts, Amrita realized that she just wasn’t able to. The doctors couldn’t figure out why – there was nothing wrong with either her or her husband.
She even sought advice from astrologers only to be disappointed with what they had to say: You will never conceive. Never.
One of them even went to the extent of telling her, ‘Don’t try to adopt or do artificial insemination. A child isn’t meant for you.’
Amrita continued searching for answers and tried everything. A session on past-life regression revealed that she had done too many abortions in her previous birth and therefore was to spend her current life devoid of any chance of attaining motherhood.
To keep her sanity intact, she turned to meditation and hoped it would calm her agitated mind. Her husband, unable to understand her desperate maternal need, tried to distract and reason with her. But he eventually had to just let her be. He once confided in Sagarika: ‘In her dogged pursuit to have a baby, she has forgotten her husband. We aren’t the couple we used to be.’ Within a few months, he drifted away, finding solace and love in another woman.
Amrita was now alone, with only Sagarika for support. Meditation, Reiki and spiritual chanting came to her aid and she attended various camps with well-known yogis and spiritual gurus. On one such sojourn, a seven-day cam
p in Dharamshala, the advice of a much-admired guru changed her life – and her name.
‘Tumhara naam aaj se Roohi. Jiski rooh … kabhie nahi mit ti,’ he said. From this day your name is Roohi, one whose spirit never dies. Overwhelmed beyond words, Amrita accepted her new name and changed everything: details on her passport, bank accounts and documentation.
Amrita became Roohi.
Her friends made fun of the Amrita–Roohi transition relentlessly.
‘So is this Jekyll and Hyde kind of thing?’
‘Who’s coming for dinner – Amrita or Roohi?’
‘Can Roohi come for the movie and then maybe Amrita can join us for dinner?’
The jokes and leg pulling never stopped but Roohi remained unfazed.
Sagarika was the only who really understood what her friend had been through. Although she didn’t share or comply with Roohi’s belief and faith, she knew what had led her friend on that path.
Friendship, she believed, wasn’t about being clones of each other. It’s a deep understanding and acceptance of the other. Sagarika and Roohi, though the proverbial chalk and cheese, were soul sisters and nothing could come between them.
That evening, after Rishab compelled her to leave, Roohi stood outside the hospital thinking about the tall, confident young woman she once knew as her best friend. She was gone; instead there was now a bony, thin woman whose flesh hung loose, her head fully shaved and bandaged. What troubled her the most were her eyes – they seemed hollow somehow, with dark patches around them. It felt as though the lights had gone off.
Rika had such beautiful eyes. Eyes that smiled, danced and shone with laughter. They reflected her every mood and thought.
Roohi pressed her eyes shut to stop the tears from spilling out. She couldn’t forget the last conversation she’d had with her friend a few weeks before that terrible, fateful day.
‘Stop this madness, Reeks. This has to stop. NOW.’
‘Why, Roohi? You’re the one who always lectured me. Scolded me for not following my gut. For being afraid.’
‘But you are married! Aren’t you thinking about that?’
‘You’re just wary of Rishab.’
‘You know that’s not true. I know he doesn’t like me. He thinks I am bad influence on you and I haven’t given a shit about that. But this…’
‘But this what? You’ve read the cards, haven’t you? What do they say?’
Roohi turned away. She feared Sagarika would compel her to read the cards. She had been learning Tarot for the past year.
The first time she had heard about Akash, Roohi had let her friend go ahead and have some fun. She thought that that’s where it would end – a brief affair, a short detour, which would inject some fun in her friend’s sombre and lonely life. But Sagarika soon began requesting Roohi to read the cards for her. Her queries gradually became more emotional and serious.
‘Is he the one? Will this go anywhere? Is he my soulmate?’
Roohi could see what was happening: this was no longer a casual fling.
‘I don’t see a clear future with this man,’ she told Sagarika, looking at her cards again.
‘You’re lying. Look again.’
Sagarika was impatient and desperately wanted the universe to show her a positive sign. She didn’t want to hear the truth. She wanted some assurance, an affirmation, that the path she was treading on was the right one; that she had finally met her soulmate.
Is he the one for me? Or is it just a temporary madness that will pass?
But when the cards didn’t indicate a new relationship, which Sagarika desperately hoped for, she was crestfallen.
‘You’re lying!’ Sagarika screamed hysterically.
‘I’m not lying, Reeks. I have never lied to you. I just don’t see a clear future for the two of you. The cards change. Maybe they will change. But…’
‘But what?’ Sagarika almost pounced on her friend.
‘The cards do indicate an upheaval in your life. A huge one. It will change everything.’
‘What do you mean by “an upheaval”? What the hell does that mean?’ Sagarika sighed. ‘You know what? This is really stupid stuff. Tarot bullshit,’ she snapped.
‘Reeks,’ said Roohi, ‘no need to abuse something you have no understanding of.’
‘Forget Tarot, Reeks. End this. I don’t need to see cards to tell you this. You are married…’
‘Please! I don’t need a lecture in morality. Not from you, of all the people.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean, Reeks?’
‘What about the tantric sex shit you did … What was that? Nothing more than a cheap, disgusting orgy. Sick and perverted minds getting together to fuck! AND YOU CALL IT HEALING!’ Sagarika screamed.
Even in the best of friendship, there’s a fine line that one must never overstep. That afternoon, Roohi knew that Sagarika had stepped over one. There was no holding back for either of them after that. The claws came out as did ugly abuses.
Sagarika stormed out of her best friend’s home with Roohi screaming after her, ‘Yeah, please go and screw your gigolo and pretend to love him. Like you’ll ever leave your rich husband and move into his tiny shack. You slutty bitch!’
That was the last thing I said to my best friend, my soul sister. It was such a horrible thing. I abused my best friend.
With no idea how to salvage their friendship or help her best friend remember the past, Roohi helplessly sat down on the footpath outside the hospital and wept.
9
The next day, Deepa came in to see Sagarika early morning. Relieved to see a familiar face, Sagarika smiled and told her about the incident in the lobby – about the tattooed woman and how Rishab angrily dragged her out. She also told her that Rishab had instructed the hospital staff not to allow anyone to meet her without his permission.
‘Rika!’ Deepa said, comforting her. ‘You have to understand what Rishab has been through since the accident. First, he found your body and brought you back from the jaws of death. Then, he waited patiently for you to wake up from the coma. And now, he is coming to terms with your memory loss. This man could have gone ahead and started a new life for himself, but he is your husband and he clearly loves you enough to go to hell and back, just to make sure you’re fine and recovering smoothly. He has naturally become more protective of you, because he doesn’t want to lose you again.’
‘But,’ said Sagarika, ‘I didn’t like the way he gripped that woman’s hand. He almost threw her out of the hospital.’
‘Rika, he loves you like crazy. He doesn’t want you to be in the presence of emotional people. You’re in a very sensitive state at the moment. We need you to think positive, happy thoughts. You need to avoid any stress or extreme emotions at the moment – not from any of us, or anyone who gets overtly emotional in front of you. I’m an emotional person too, Rika. But do you know how Rishab trained me before allowing me to visit you?’
‘I like you, Deepa. Please don’t stop visiting me,’ Sagarika said, holding her cousin’s hand, her voice cracking. ‘I feel so lonely here.’
‘Shhh … I don’t want to see any tears. If you cry, I will stop visiting you.’ Deepa flung her arms around her cousin and hugged her. ‘Just remember: Rishab loves you and you are his life.’
Deepa stayed for an hour more. When she left, she sent out a text message.
I’m done.
Meanwhile, Rishab sat in the cafeteria of Hope Memorial Hospital with an old woman.
‘I’ve told you everything that happened. Everything. House, car, money, a credit card … everything a woman can possibly want, she had. And what did I get in return?’
The woman lowered her eyes and kept quiet.
‘Anyway, I’m prepared to forget everything and put it all behind me. But I don’t want you around.’
‘But … I’m her…’ The woman’s voice quivered and her eyes filled up with tears.
‘Look, I’m not saying this is forever,’ Rishab said. ‘But right now, on
ly one of us can take care of her. Either you or me. It’s your choice. If you want, you can take care of her. I will withdraw.’
‘No, no!’ the woman pleaded. ‘Please don’t say that.’ She wiped her moist eyes with the pallu of her cotton sari. ‘Don’t leave her like this. She is your wife.’
Rishab allowed himself a small smile. This had been easy – not that he had been worried about the situation at all.
‘Okay. That’s settled then,’ he said. ‘You will go in and stay for not more than ten minutes. And you will say exactly what I’ve told you.’
Sagarika was standing by the window, staring at the sea lashing on the shore, when she heard a tender voice call out to her.
‘Rika, this is your mother.’
It was Rishab – the iciness in his voice was gone, he sounded surprisingly warm and gentle – and with him an aged woman who broke down as soon as she saw Sagarika and her bandaged head.
‘Ma, please. You remember what I told you.’ The woman immediately regained her composure and tried to smile through her tears. Rishab moved to a corner of the room and sat in one of the sofas.
Sagarika stared at this woman who now came and hugged her and touched her face and began kissing her all over. Her hands felt soft and cushiony. Sagarika had no memory of her, but held on to her, not wanting to let go. She didn’t recognize the woman’s face but the touch felt familiar.
‘I don’t remember anything,’ she said, fighting tears.
‘Na. Ekdum na,’ her mother said. ‘Don’t you cry, beta. Rishab is here. There’s no reason to worry at all. You are lucky to have such a caring and loving husband. He’ll take care of you.’
Rishab smiled quietly, staring at his mobile. Everything was going according to plan.
Sagarika said, ‘When did you hear about me? You know, Deepa visits me often. She never mentioned…’
Anindita looked blank at the mention of Deepa and turned around to say something when Rishab butted in.
‘Ma, it’s time we leave. Rika needs to rest. Nurse!’ he yelled. ‘Why is the bathroom wet? There are no fresh towels. You should remember to throw out the flowers in the evening. Please sort out the mess in this room.’
A Forgotten Affair Page 4