Swear You Won't Tell?

by Vedashree Khambete-Sharma

  Laxmi had gone through all those traumatic experiences and had never breathed a word of it to her. And they had been the best of friends! Perhaps she’d been ashamed? Her parents had certainly made her feel like she had a reason to feel ashamed. If her theory was right, Laxmi hadn’t told her even half the story. Maybe she’d wanted to, maybe she just—

  ‘Well, hello there.’

  Avantika had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t even realized that a man was leaning casually against her scooter. Or that the man was Dhruv.

  ‘What are you doing here?’, she demanded.

  He gave her a lopsided grin.

  ‘It’s a free country, last I checked.’

  She folded her hands against her chest and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Fine, fine,’ he said, ‘I was at Khotachi Wadi taking a few pictures for that project I’m doing for you guys and I thought I’d swing by and see how Laxmi’s folks are doing. I’m guessing that’s why you’re here?’

  She hadn’t noticed the smart and clearly very expensive SLR camera case slung on his side. Was he telling the truth, she wondered.

  ‘How come you’re suddenly Mr Sympathetic?’

  Dhruv looked irritated. ‘Right. First, you accuse me of being creepy when all I did was bring you home safely from a bar. Now you’re questioning my motives when I want to check on a friend’s parents?’

  ‘I thought you said you weren’t friends with her.’

  ‘Friends. Acquaintances. Whatever, Sherlock.’

  Shifty man, she thought, as she shrugged and pointed to her bike. ‘Can I take that or do you have some more leaning on to do?’

  He unfolded himself and stepped aside. She got on the bike and put on her helmet. As she was pulling out of the parking space, he smiled.

  ‘You know, I’ve figured out where we first met.’

  ‘Really.’ She sounded sceptical.

  ‘It was at that farewell party, wasn’t it? The one Aisha threw right after your tenth standard board exams?’

  ‘Why do you think that?’ she asked coldly.

  ‘It was the only time your entire class had come over. I can’t forget that point, because Aisha mentioned it at least eight times a day back then.’

  She sniffed. ‘Yes. Well.’

  ‘What were you, forty? Fifty girls?’

  ‘Forty-five.’

  ‘It was so bloody noisy. I guess that’s what happens when girls have fun.’

  ‘Not everyone had fun.’

  ‘No?’ He looked genuinely surprised. ‘It certainly looked that way.’

  She thought of making a snappy response. Don’t believe everything you see. That was a good one. Or, maybe, looks can deceive. Naah, too pat. Instead, she snapped her visor down and started the scooter.

  ‘Goodbye,’ she said.

  He looked a little confused at her abruptness, but smiled anyway. ‘See you around.’

  She hit the accelerator and zoomed away. Avantika had to get to office and figure out what to do next. If Laxmi’s mom was right and Laxmi had suffered from the phobia till recently, then the body couldn’t possibly be hers. But then whose was it? And where was Laxmi? And why wasn’t anyone else but her asking these questions? She raced past the Worli Naka signal. The road ahead was wide, open and blessedly free of traffic. She revved the scooter—as much as it was possible on a vehicle that started shuddering if you took it beyond 60 kilometres per hour. She opened her visor and felt the cool breeze rush against her face. This is what made riding a bike worth it. The way the air felt against your skin. That feeling of being alone and apart from the crowd, utterly free and as close as you could come to actually flying. Or at least, you know, gliding slowly while faster birds overtook you.

  She sighed with pleasure. Up ahead, she saw a dark, wet patch on the road. Probably water spilled from a tanker1. She decelerated and gently pressed the brakes. Nothing happened. She pressed the brakes harder. Still nothing. She had a brief moment of panic. But just a moment. Because the next thing she knew, the scooter was sliding on the patch, the handle in her hands feeling as immaterial as air. A sickening sensation as the world came smashing down. A gong in her head as her helmet crashed against the concrete. The faint metallic taste of blood in her mouth.

  And then, darkness.

  1999

  This was a bad, bad idea, Avantika thought, sitting on the edge of the couch. All around her, there was music, laughter, endless chatter. It was the farewell party for the Class of 1999. Venue: Aisha Juneja’s palatial bungalow on Napeansea Road. Time: 7 p.m. onwards. On the guest list: Everybody, minus their parents.

  There were girls sitting on chairs, comparing notes and outfits. There were girls on the makeshift dance floor, trying to catch the eye of a photographer who was wandering around taking commemorative pictures. There were girls standing shyly in the corner, making eyes at the boys—boys!—among the guests. And then, there was her, sitting alone, wondering what on earth she was doing here. At a party at Aisha’s house with forty-four girls who couldn’t care less if a giant sea-squid ripped open the dance floor and swallowed her whole mid-Macarena. She wasn’t being paranoid. She’d read some of the entries in her slam book2. So why was she here at all?

  But no, that was a silly question. She knew why she was here. It was because Laxmi had accosted her on the last day of the board exams and said, ‘Aisha’s throwing a party and you should come, because who knows when we’ll see each other again?’ And she had thought, good point. Some point. So far, she’d seen Laxmi careening from one end of the room to the other, giggling hysterically with Aisha, Mahira and Shweta, and then, talking quietly with a tall, dark-haired boy with strange hair and a face you couldn’t take your eyes off.

  Aisha’s brother, Dhruv. Or so she’d reliably been told by a very giggly Meenal. He was easily the best looking boy in the room, and there were quite a few of those to start with. His friends, presumably, although the easy camaraderie between them and Aisha made her feel that maybe they were her friends too. She sighed and looked at her watch: 8.07 p.m.. She’d been the first one to show up. And as if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, she was the most boringly dressed person at the party. She fiddled with the collar of her shirt. It was blue gingham with a zip-up front and it fit her better than all her other tops. And the pants! A smart little navy blue pair, which fit her bottom perfectly and made her feel all ready for college. She’d felt so cool, stepping out in this outfit. But that was before she saw how the others were dressed.

  There were dresses and skirts, some daringly mini, some fashionably flared. There were shorts and rompers and tank tops and most of all, there was make-up. Lips glistened in the yellow lamp-light, cheeks seemed flushed, eyes appeared sultrier than usual and hair was either left loose or styled with shiny hair accessories. There was nobody old enough to raise a disapproving eyebrow at any of it. Even Aisha’s parents didn’t seem to be chaperoning discreetly from the corner. Perhaps they were around and were staying away to give the kids their privacy? They seemed hi-fi3 enough to do something like that.

  She considered asking someone where the phone was, so she could call Baba and ask him to come pick her up a little earlier. Sure, she had some emergency money, just enough for a taxi back home. But that was a dreadful extravagance. Better to wait till 9.30 p.m.. Baba would come then. Till then, she could have some food, maybe the paneer kebabs she saw floating around on trays held by white-gloved waiters. She was just wondering if she should flag one of them down, when someone sat on the couch next to her. She spun around half-hoping it was Dhruv Juneja, but it was only Laxmi, holding a paper cup in her hands.

  ‘Hi,’ she said.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘I’m glad you came.’

  Avantika gave her a tight smile. She didn’t say ‘me too’. That would’ve been lying.

  ‘Thanks for getting her to invite me,’ she said instead.

  Laxmi looked like she was going to deny it, but then she just shrugged. They both knew that Aisha
would never have invited her on her own.

  ‘Can you believe it’s over?’ Laxmi asked, ‘All those … exams, and studying and that tension? I feel so light.’

  ‘Totally,’ Avantika agreed, ‘I can sleep at night now, without having nightmares about sitting for a geography exam and being handed an algebra question paper.’

  They both laughed and just for a moment there, it was almost exactly like old times. Then Laxmi glanced at the paper cup in her hands and slapped her forehead.

  ‘I forgot only! I came to give you this,’ she said, holding out the paper cup, ‘have you tried it? It’s yummy!’

  Avantika took the cup. There was a very light pink liquid inside. ‘What is it?’ she asked, taking a sip. It tasted sweet and bubbly and happy—like a heartfelt laugh.

  ‘Champagne,’ Laxmi said with a grin.

  Avantika’s eyes widened. She knew about alcohol, of course, she wasn’t a total loser. The past couple of years, she’d been allowed to have a small glass of port wine on New Year’s Eve. But this was nothing like that. This was … fancy stuff. This was … champagne. She took another sip, pretty sure that her parents would disapprove of her drinking among strangers. But all those bubbles were tickling her stomach on the inside and making her feel happy.

  ‘It’s … nice,’ she said, grinning.

  ‘Right? Keep the cup, I’ll get another.’

  And with that, she bounded away. Avantika sat back on the couch, enjoying the warmth that was spreading through her stomach. Through the corner of her eyes, she saw Dhruv talking to some of his friends. She wondered if any of them would ask her to dance. Isn’t that how these things went? But no, on second thoughts, they wouldn’t. And for some reason, this was not depressing her as much as it normally would’ve. She pushed her spectacles up her nose and took another sip of the champagne. The photographer passed by with his camera, without a second glance in her direction.

  Just then, the music changed. Someone must’ve told the DJ—there was a DJ!—that Aisha was a Backstreet Boys fan, because he started playing all their best tracks. Stuff you could really move to. He started with Backstreet’s Back and Avantika’s foot started tapping of its own accord. Girls and boys were gravitating to the dance floor now. Then came We’ve Got it Goin’ On and she kept the glass down on the floor next to the couch and began moving purposefully towards an empty spot on the dance floor. By the time the DJ put on the new hit single Larger Than Life, Avantika was in a world of her own. A world where there was only her, the music and the delicious lightness in her head.

  Which is why it took her a couple of minutes to realize that Laxmi had joined her and was dancing right next to her, a fond smile on her face. She gave her a happy grin and continued to dance, not noticing the poisonous look Aisha was throwing at her from across the room. Not noticing when Aisha walked towards her, slowly and silently, a tigress prowling through the grass, and began dancing alongside her. She thought she heard Aisha whisper something in her ears, but the music was too loud for her to hear exactly what she’d said. She only saw, through the pink haze of the champagne, Aisha reach out to her, and in one quick move, pull down the zipper of her shirt.

  The music didn’t stop but for one terrifying moment, Avantika felt like her heart had. She froze, half in shock, half in shame, as the cool breeze raised goose prickles on her bare skin. She was not wearing her usual cotton slip, because slips were for schoolgirls and she was very soon not going to be one. So, tonight of all nights, she’d chosen to wear nothing but her white cotton training bra underneath. And now, a roomful of strangers—half of them boys—had just seen it.

  Through reddening eyes, she fumbled hastily with the zipper, trying to pull it close. Her fingers seemed detached from her body. The zip wouldn’t close! She struggled in vain, her eyes blurry with tears. She looked up frantically, hoping nobody had noticed and found herself catching the eye of Dhruv Juneja, who had been about to step on the dance floor. Her eyes widened in horror and his gaze dropped instinctively below her neck. It was just for a second, but it was enough. She gave up trying to wrestle with the stubborn zipper, pulled her shirt close against her chest and stumbling, blinded by tears, ran out of the room. Just as she reached the door, the giggling began.

  Outside in the corridor, there was nobody except a few servants, with trays of refreshments. She dodged them and made her way to the restroom she had visited earlier that evening. Thankfully, it was empty. Locking the door behind her, she sank to the floor. Tears streamed slowly down her face, falling on her lap, leaving dark splotches on the gabardine of her pants. The look on Aisha’s face. The look on Dhruv’s face. The shock on the faces of everyone else, which was already turning to amusement. She closed her eyes, letting the tears flow wordlessly. Moments passed. And then, like a sun rising from behind a raincloud, she felt her anger rise.

  How dare she? Her eyes sprang open. What gave her the right? Just because she was rich? Good-looking? She had no right to treat anyone like this. Who did she think she was? She wiped her tears with the back of the hand and got to her feet. Her nose was running, so she wiped that too. She looked at her teary-eyed reflection in the bathroom mirror and felt even more furious. With a calmness she didn’t really feel, she pulled up the zip of her shirt, right up to her neck. That bitch. That absolute … c—

  There was a tentative knock on the door.

  ‘Avanti? Are you in there?’ Laxmi’s voice asked from the other side.

  Avantika threw open the door and stormed past her.

  ‘I’m really sorry … about what happened in there—’, Laxmi began, hurrying to keep up with her.

  Avantika stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face her. ‘Sorry? Please! As if you didn’t plan the whole thing with her!’

  Laxmi recoiled, as if she’d thrown a snake at her. ‘What? Why would you say that?’

  ‘Why? You made her invite me! You gave me that champagne—’

  ‘That’s unfair! I didn’t force you to come! I didn’t force you to drink!’

  ‘No,’ Avantika said bitterly. ‘You didn’t. That was my fault. I forgot to be careful around you. I forgot that you’re one of them now! That you’re her friend! Not mine.’

  Laxmi stopped walking then. ‘We’re not … friends?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Not anymore,’ Avantika said, her jaw set.

  She pushed past her and marched down the corridor towards the main door. Away from the music. Away from the humiliation. Away from the only real friend she’d known in ten years of school.

  Thirteen

  Uday was at his desk, typing the follow-up piece to the Sion murder. It was a many-headed Ravana of a case. At first, it seemed like a simple crime of passion. Jealous husband, cheating wife, absconding lover. Your garden variety trifecta of neighbourhood gossip. But the more people he talked to, the more complicated it was getting. Apparently, the husband had been married twice before, with one wife dying of a mysterious illness and the other having vanished without a trace. He wondered if the police knew. If they didn’t, they’d be told tomorrow morning. By an article with his by-line above it.

  He grinned and was considering patting himself on the back, when his phone rang. It was Avantika.

  ‘Yeah?’ he asked.

  ‘Hi. Um … I can’ ma’e it to wuh today.’

  Uday frowned. ‘Why are you sounding like that? No, wait, do I want to know?’

  ‘You ’oo. E’s a grea stowy.’

  ‘Can you go somewhere with better network? You’re sounding drunk.’

  ‘E’s naw the netwuh! Ow. E’s ma jaw. I cwashed ma bike.’

  Uday sat up instantly. This girl. What was he going to do with her? ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Es. Sotta. Was weahing ma hemmet so…’

  ‘Oh good, then you’re not completely insane! How the hell did this happen?’

  ‘I donno! Ow. Okay, it huhts to talk.’

  Uday drummed at his desk anxiously.

  ‘Are your parents back?’
/>
  ‘Nuh.’

  ‘Do you want me to call them?’

  ‘Nuh! They’ll wovvy.’

  ‘Avanti! You need someone to take care of you!’

  ‘Now ya soundin’ like ma dad.’

  Uday clicked his tongue in frustration. Damned woman didn’t know when to turn off the jokes. ‘I’m serious! Look, tell me where you are and I’ll come and take you to a doctor.’

  There was a weird hacking sound, followed by an ‘ow’.

  ‘Don’ make me laugh. Arready saw the doctuh. Got pills an everythin’. Am home now. Bye.’

  The phone clicked and Uday wondered if there was any stone and mortar somewhere among Avantika’s ancestors. Because sometimes, talking to her felt exactly like talking to a brick wall.

  Avantika looked at herself in the mirror to assess the damage. A cut on the upper lip. A bruised lower jaw that hurt to move. Assorted scratches and cuts on the arms. A tear in her jeans. And her favourite red shirt, ruined. The doctor had put mercurochrome on the cuts making her look, in her opinion, like a bloodthirsty revenant. When she had mentioned this to him, he had cut her off with a scowl.

  ‘Stop complaining about silly things,’ he’d growled. ‘You’re lucky you escaped with nothing broken. You should see some of the bike accidents that I’ve had to patch up. Youngsters and teenagers who’re brought in on stretchers and have to leave on crutches. And sometimes on stretchers.’ The scowl had deepened. ‘Dead,’ he’d added, as if she hadn’t realized what ‘stretcher’ implied.

  And with that, he had shooed her out of his office, with dire warnings to take the medication, get some rest and let her body heal itself. Which is what she was doing now, curled up on the sofa in the living room, with a quilt, a mug of cocoa that she sipped through a straw and, most therapeutic of all, a DVD of the BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice playing on the TV. That Colin Firth. Better than all the muscle relaxants of the world combined. She sighed contentedly and pulled the quilt up to her neck. Soon, she found her eyes drooping of their own accord and with a big yawn, she fell asleep.