45
Meanwhile in Mumbai, Roohi was ecstatic to have heard from Akash about Sagarika but she had many questions.
How did Akash manage to connect with Sagarika, and how did he land up in Gurgaon? What did he mean when he said Sagarika was in grave danger … what had that maniac Rishab done?
Roohi realized it was pointless to ruminate and distress. The need of the hour was to make arrangements to reach Gurgaon at the earliest. The prospect of reuniting with her best friend made her happy. She booked a flight ticket for next morning to Delhi. Akash had been very specific. Sagarika’s mother, Anindita, needed to come too.
Is that a good idea? Aunty is a great person but she can never stand up against Rishab. She never could.
In the long friendship the two women shared, Roohi had become part of Sagarika’s family and was invited to most functions. She had spent many a Durga Puja in Kolkata with Sagarika and her parents. She knew Anindita very well – she was an adorable woman whose life revolved around her husband, daughter and cooking, but at heart she was a weakling. She crumbled helplessly in the wake of a tense situation.
Would she be able to dig in her heels and demand that Rika come away with her? I’ll just have to tutor Aunty so that she doesn’t go weak in the knees.
With that thought firmly entrenched in her mind, she called Anindita.
‘Tell me the truth, is Rika okay?’ she asked Roohi when appraised about the urgency of the situation.
‘Aunty, I swear everything is fine. Sagarika is fine.’
‘Amrita beta, I hope you aren’t lying to me … tell me the truth. I can handle it.’
‘Aunty, trust me. She’s fine. I swear, it’s the truth.’ Roohi felt tears stinging her eyes on realizing how helplessly alone Anindita was.
‘So now, why are we taking her away from Gurgaon? Rishab was very clear the last time we spoke. He will withdraw all medical care and support if I try to take her with me.’ Her voice was quivering with worry and fear.
‘Is that what he told you?’ Roohi couldn’t believe her ears.
How low can you stoop, Rishab? How much more despicable can you get?
She understood immediately what Rishab’s game had been: He had isolated Sagarika so that no one could tell her the truth about her marriage. He systematically kept away all those people who could remind her of the past.
‘Aunty, please listen to me,’ Roohi said. ‘Sagarika doesn’t need medical care any more. She needs to be surrounded by people who can remind her of the past. It’s important that her memory returns, Aunty. And please stop being so terrified of Rishab.’
After assuaging Anindita sufficiently, Roohi confirmed the flight details once more and hung up. But she continued bristling with anger thinking about Rishab.
He had never allowed Sagarika to focus on painting, always insisting she indulge in it as nothing more than a hobby. He frequently told her why she needed to slog when he was there to earn for her. He whisked her away for holidays, called friends over and even cajoled her to accompany him on work tours to foreign countries.
Every time Sagarika got an interesting project to work on, Rishab would find some innovative way to distract her. He was averse to the idea of a wife who had a career, was successful, and also financially independent. Sure, Sagarika and her artistic flair made for great conversation at networking dinners; it felt nice to tell people that his wife painted. But for her to pursue it seriously and make it a lucrative career, he would need to compromise and make adjustments. And Rishab was too self-obsessed and selfish for that. Even though he never openly got in her way, he always threw impediments in her path to make it difficult for her to focus.
Sagarika, meanwhile, was too naïve to see what he was doing to her. She enjoyed traipsing off with him to New York, Venice, Casablanca and other exotic places. She was content that Rishab gave her enough money to shop and stay away from any serious career path.
Roohi often told her, ‘Reeks, you are again going away, but what about that project you were supposed to do?’
Sagarika’s usual reply was that it was okay to let it pass because she would always bag a new project later. Roohi wouldn’t prod her further, but what she really wanted to do was shake some sense into her friend.
If Rishab was subtle about his feelings towards her paintings in the early years of their marriage, a couple of years down the line, he became openly hostile about it.
‘Just put aside your immature doodling,’ he would tell Sagarika. ‘It’s not like the city’s galleries are waiting for your work.’ Instead, he would ask her to become a glorified hostess: be his boss’s wife’s shopping companion, a tourist guide for the wives of important clients, plan an elaborate party, and so on. While the activities varied, what they had in common was that they bolstered his professional profile, his career – they always made him look good.
It was six to seven years of married life before Sagarika realized how she had squandered various opportunities of having a steady career. By the time she understood that Rishab had moulded her into a pliant, willing puppet who danced to his tune, it was too late.
She even rued to Roohi once. ‘I’ve wasted my life travelling, shopping and being Rishab’s glorified butler. I could have done so much. Everyone says I had potential. But now, the time is gone.’
Although Roohi worried about the fallout of Sagarika’s clandestine affair with Akash, there was at least one thing she was happy about: ever since the two had begun dating, Sagarika had got back to painting with renewed vigour and enthusiasm.
However, Roohi herself wasn’t going through the happiest of times. Multiple visits to the gynaecologist had revealed she could never have kids. When Sagarika confided in her about how insignificant she felt in her marriage, Roohi was relieved to know that she wasn’t alone in her misery. This brought them even closer.
As she boarded the flight next morning, she promised to herself, ‘I am going to do whatever it takes to help Rika get her memory back. I will fight that psycho and take her away to safety.’
It made her sick thinking of everything Rishab had done. But she wasn’t surprised. She had disliked him from the first meeting.
46
‘Why isn’t Shekhar answering my phone?’ Rishab thought, nervously tapping the edge of the table.
Since the time the goons had called back to inform him about the unsuccessful kidnapping attempt and their subsequent thrashing at the hands of a stranger, Rishab’s world had begun spinning out of control.
Who is the guy that bashed the men? Is he the penniless writer? Where is Rika now? Why is her phone switched off? And why is Shekhar incommunicado?
Shekhar had seen the numerous incoming calls from Rishab, but had chosen to ignore them. He didn’t know how to address the situation and his friend. After hours of thoughtful contemplation, it was around six in the evening when he sent a text message to Rishab: ‘Come home. Need to talk. Urgent.’
Half an hour later, Rishab walked in, looking cool and calm. ‘You haven’t been answering my calls. All well?’ he asked. Shekhar found it difficult to accept that his immaculately dressed pal was trying to maintain a facade of normalcy. It was too early for a drink, so Shekhar called for two cups of tea.
‘How is Rika, Rishab?’ Shekhar asked. He knew this conversation was not going to be easy; it would need some tactful handling given that it involved two dear friends.
‘At home. Where else would she be?’ Rishab said, picking up a crystal figurine from the table and admiring it.
‘Been quite a while since I spoke with her. Let me call her,’ Shekhar said and began dialling Rishab’s landline number, his eyes locked with Rishab’s.
‘What’s going on, Shekhar?’ Rishab asked, a touch of alarm on his face.
‘Why don’t you tell me?’ Shekhar disconnected the phone, fished out the printouts and flung them on the glass table. ‘Before you deny and pretend any more, let me tell you how these came into my hands. Rika gave them to me. She found them in
your study.’
‘Where is she?’ Rishab’s jaw began to tighten.
‘At a safe place. After the failed kidnapping attempt, from which she was saved by a man who by a queer twist of fate happens to be Dia’s friend. Or should I call her Deepa? By what name do you call her?’
‘Shekhar, this isn’t how it is. Allow me to explain.’
‘Yes. That would be a good idea. To explain. And where should we start. Should we start with you hiring a prostitute to pose as your wife’s cousin? Or do you want to explain the kidnapping attempt or the printouts about the godforsaken Forgetting Pill!’
Shekhar’s voice was placid, although deep inside, he felt like cuffing his friend for being an idiot. But he knew he would have to keep a lid on his temper and nerves.
‘Shekhar, buddy,’ Rishab said, ‘all I want is for Rika to remember the life we had. I don’t want her to be reminded of the stupid affair she got involved in … I want her to give us, our marriage, another chance. A fresh start. That’s all I want.’
‘And the only way you could think of doing that was by hiring an escort and making her pose … What the fuck is wrong with you? Have you lost it, Rishab?’
Rishab sat with fingers buried deep in his hair, unable to look his friend in the eye. ‘Believe me,’ he said, ‘I wasn’t going to use the drug on her. It’s not even available in the open market. It’s a prescription drug that’s still under testing.’
‘Which means, you would have, if it was accessible!’ Shekhar yelled.
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘You have pointedly asked scientists in your emails if they can give you the drug. It’s there in the printouts, Rishab. Don’t make me read it out to you.’
‘Trust me, Shekhar, I would have never used it on Rika.’
‘Do you realize what you’ve done? You have pushed Rika away. You have terrified her. Instead of winning her trust, you’re the last person she believes in today.’
‘Where is she?’
Shekhar ignored his question. ‘Rishab, her memory needs to return. She has to remember.’
‘But if she remembers, she’ll leave!’
‘And if she doesn’t remember and ends up living with you, that doesn’t mean she chooses you. It means she has no choice. Is that how you want her?’
‘Rika is my wife and her place is with me!’ Rishab said. ‘The question of choice doesn’t arise. She cannot leave. She has no reason to. I won’t let her!’
Had Rishab screamed out the words, Shekhar would have felt less troubled. But the fact that he uttered them in such a composed manner – he could have been talking about the weather – worried Shekhar greatly. ‘Rishab has lost it. He needs medical help,’ Shekhar thought, clueless about how to deal with his friend.
‘She’s your wife, Rishab,’ he said, finally, ‘not some property in which you have invested. Whether she wants to be with you or not should be her decision, and she will decide once she recovers.’
‘What on earth is the matter with you, Shekhar? Are you suggesting that I allow Sagarika to just walk away and leave me looking like a bloody fool? She’s not going anywhere. Where is she? Here … is she here in your house?’ Rishab got up and began striding towards the other rooms.
‘No. She isn’t. And I’m not telling you anything about her whereabouts until I’m convinced you aren’t going to do something stupid,’ Shekhar said.
‘Tell me where she is, Shekhar.’
‘I will not, until you calm down, Rishab. And you know me very well. So, finish your tea and sleep over it. You’re staying here tonight. We shall talk about it again tomorrow morning.’
Rishab stood by the window in Shekhar’s guest bedroom, staring at the city lights. A dusty haze mingled with the night air, diffusing the lights of the glittering malls, the headlights of cars – the only lights that illumine Gurgaon roads at night. Hardly a sight worthy of staring at; he had seen far better citylights in Singapore, New York, Tokyo. The scenery, beautiful or ugly, never bothered him; he was far too busy to bother about such things.
Where did I go wrong? When did things go out of hand? I had everything planned to the last detail.
‘Take this,’ Shekhar said, holding out a small white tablet and a glass of water.
‘What’s this? The Forgetting Pill?’ Rishab gave a wry smile and swallowed it.
‘It will relax you. You need to sleep,’ Shekhar said, patting him on the shoulder.
Rishab fell asleep soon after, but sleep eluded Shekhar. Tomorrow was going to be a rough day. He wasn’t looking forward to it – he knew Rishab would go ballistic and he alone would have to control him.
47
‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Amrita,’ Anindita said. As their taxi made its way from Delhi airport to Akash’s homestay, Roohi turned to look at the frail woman next to her. Though it was March and not really cold, Anindita was bundled up in a shawl. It made her look smaller and more vulnerable. Her long hair, streaked in silver, had been tied into a firm, neat bun when she boarded the flight but was now bunched up messily, with many irate strands hanging loose. Her eyes looked fatigued due to lack of sleep.
‘What if Rishab doesn’t allow Rika to leave? What will happen then?’ Anindita asked, her voice wavering nervously.
‘Aunty, please don’t worry about all that. He can’t stop her from leaving. We just need to be there for her.’ Roohi knew she needed to be firm with the woman, lest she buckle in Rishab’s presence.
Sagarika, meanwhile, was a nervous wreck since early morning. About to meet her mother and her best friend, both wiped clean from her memory, she couldn’t decide what to say to them. She needn’t have worried.
When they reached the homestay, Anindita rushed towards Sagarika, arms outstretched and tears gushing out.
‘Rika!’ she cried. Despite being much smaller and thinner than her daughter, Anindita’s motherly embrace engulfed Sagarika fully. Overcome with emotion, Sagarika began weeping and blurted out in Bengali: ‘Ma, I can’t remember anything.’ This was the first time since her accident that she had spoken in her mother tongue. The others in the room – Akash and Roohi – looked at her in disbelief.
‘See? Aunty arrived in and you spoke in Bengali. You’ve always conversed with her in Bengali,’ Roohi quipped, stepping ahead to give her a hug.
Sagarika recognized her as the tattooed woman Rishab had dragged out when she’d come to visit her at the hospital in Mumbai. Sagarika extended her hand awkwardly, not knowing how to greet someone whom she had no memory of.
Roohi ignored the extended hand, flung herself around her best friend and hugged her tight. ‘Idiot! Give me a hug, Reeks.’
A bit hesitant, Sagarika hugged her back, not with the same fierce love but a warm reciprocation nevertheless.
Anindita looked at Akash who stood quietly next to Sagarika. Roohi had told her that he was ‘a good friend’ of Sagarika’s. Now wasn’t the time to discuss his place in her daughter’s life, Anindita knew – there were more pressing issues to handle.
As they sat around the dining table, the sumptuous breakfast forgotten on their plates, Anindita decided to speak up about something that had been worrying her.
‘All of you know,’ she said, ‘I survive on Rika’s father’s pension, a paltry amount. If I take Rika with me to Kolkata, how will her medical expenses be taken care of? When I met Rishab last, he was very clear – if I promised to stay away from her life, he would continue Rika’s treatment…’
‘Aunty,’ Roohi said before Anindita could go on, ‘Rika is a talented painter. She is educated and will soon be able to stand up on her own feet, financially. This is the twenty-first century. Why are you thinking of her as a burden? She will be able to find a job soon … I will help her, we all will … And besides, there’s something all of you should know.’ Roohi looked around the table. ‘Rika has quite a tidy amount in her HDFC bank account. About Rs 20 lakh.’
Both Anindita and Akash gasped. ‘How does she have so mu
ch money?’ Akash asked. ‘Rika wasn’t working before the accident.’ This was the first time he’d spoken since Anindita and Roohi arrived – he wasn’t sure his relationship with Sagarika had their approval.
Sagarika too looked amazed.
‘I don’t know why all of you look so surprised! Sagarika is an accomplished artist and she painted diligently till the accident. She gave her paintings to various art galleries. I went with her to some of them, and Akash, you must have accompanied her too. After her accident, I contacted all of them and notified them that should any painting of hers get sold, I was to be informed. I have myself deposited seven cheques to her account over the last sixteen months!’
Sagarika was unable to speak, her emotions getting the better of her.
‘This isn’t all,’ Roohi continued. ‘Rika also has a lot of jewellery in her bank locker. I have its keys and the required papers to access it. Rika had left them with me for safekeeping, because she felt that in case she left Rishab, he would not give her anything. So … none of you need worry about money for her medicines or medical care. She has enough to keep her going for a long time.’
Akash gently touched Sagarika’s arm and whispered to her, ‘Didn’t I tell you? She’s your soul sister, your rock. You can depend on her with your eyes shut.’
‘I … eh, I don’t know how to thank you, Roohi. For everything…’ Sagarika was stammering, unable to express her gratitude.
‘Reeks! You’ve really lost your mind. You’re thanking me? Silly! You would have done the same and more if something had happened to me. Anyway … all this can wait, Reeks. We have a much bigger obstacle to handle: Rishab.’
The mere mention of his name cast a shadow of gloom and despondency over the room. A confrontation was imminent, but nobody knew how.
‘Is it really necessary to meet him?’ Akash asked. ‘What if we just take Sagarika away from here and inform him later?’
‘So basically,’ Sagarika said, ‘what you’re saying is that I should slip away quietly like a scared cat and postpone the confrontation to another day. No. I will not do that. It’s not the right thing to do. I want to tell him what I feel and then I’ll do what I have to do.’
A Forgotten Affair Page 16