The Homing Pigeons... (25 page)

Radhika

Shipra’s children are playing out in the garden and I am wondering that if I had only refused to abort the child, I might have had my own. I hadn’t refused. I still remember that time when I located that place that would afford us the anonymity to be able to get the abortion. I had found the place, that rotten, sick-looking nursing home that screamed of poor hygiene. If I went anywhere else, they wanted documentation, marriage certificates and what not. I reconciled that Dr Grover, the portly, round lady would abort my child. “Why don’t you want to have this child?” Dr Grover asked.

“I need to go to the US for a few months for work and my
husband and I think that it’s best that I not have the child,” I spoke confidently.

She looked at Aditya, who was going to give us away. His eyes were shifty. He couldn’t look into the
doctor’s eyes and speak to her. We were supposed to be a young married couple that had accidentally conceived and were going to abort it. I was certain that the doctor hadn’t bought the story but nevertheless, I just couldn’t say now, “My boyfriend thinks that condoms spoil the spontaneity of sex and so we conceived”.

“Your name,” she asked while filling in the dossier.

“Radhika Sharma,” I replied.

“Husband’s name?” she asked.

“Aditya Sharma.”

I let out a silent prayer that one day, this dossier that she was filling, would change into a wedding card.

I had agreed, reluctantly, to have the abortion; not that he had left me with much choice. I hated myself for falling into that trap again. The trap of emotions that led through indecision until it opened up into doing something that I didn’t want to do. Abhinav had been one of those traps and now, this abortion. I was so dependent on him that I couldn’t assert myself. I think I should’ve given him an ultimatum that he marries me now.

“We’ll give you general anaesthesia and do the operation. It should take two hours or so. You can go back in the afternoon, but you’ll have to rest for at least twenty-four hours before you can start your normal routine. We’ll need your signatures here,” she said motioning to Aditya.

He was so
shifty; he signed all the documents without reading a word. Even if the doctor were to believe my cock and bull story, he was a giveaway. It amazed me that he was behaving this way. It made me feel like I was the Virgin Mary who had conceived the child without his help. His attitude wasn’t any better than Abhinav; he was blaming me for the child. It was as if my egg wanted to become a foetus on its own. It was his sperm that had fertilized it, then why did he disown his sperms?

I went into the operation theatre where masked men surrounded me. I thought I saw Dr Grover behind one of those masks and then there was nothing. There was cotton in my ears and the sounds were muffled. My eyes shut and I was dreaming.

I woke up to see him sitting beside my bed. He looked harried and uncomfortable in the stench that emanated from the hospital. It had to be the smell that gave me a sudden urge to puke but nothing came out. He disappeared into the bathroom and came back after five minutes, his eyes bloodshot and his face a deep crimson. He had puked the contents of his breakfast. We waited until the time that Dr Grover gave us a signal to go back home. He cleared up the bill in cash and we drove back.

Robin wasn’t sure why I wasn’t being able to walk by myself. “What happened to Didi?” he asked through his nose.

We weren’t sure how much to tell him and how much to hide. After all, he would be able to deduce given that he slept in the room next to ours. The creaking of the old wooden bed left no doubt what its occupants were up to.

I didn’t answer, nor did Aditya. I tried to fight the sleep when I lay down on the bed, but I couldn’t. He was there when I slept, hovering around me.

I don’t remember how long I had slept but it was dark outside when I woke up. I moved my hand on the vacant mattress besides me. It hadn’t been slept in. I was too weak to get up and switch on the lights, so I called out to Aditya.

Robin came rushing and switched on the light. “Water,” I said through my parched throat.

He came back with a bottle of water and a glass. I looked at the prescription that lay on the bedside table and withdrew a tablet that the doctor had recommended for pain. I swallowed it down with a gulp of water, waiting for it to relieve the pain that pervaded my lower abdomen.

“Where is Aditya?” I asked Robin. “Bhaiya went to work,” he replied.
Asshole.

I wanted to scream out, a cry that would relieve my frustration and my anxiety. I wish I could cry to reduce the pain of loving this man. A man, who had left me writhing in pain and gone to
work. I felt like a cheap whore, degraded and mutilated.

He was back when I woke up again. His shirt wasn’t crushed like it usually was when he came home from the hours of warming the soft, cushioned seat in his office. He continued to hover around and didn’t once bother to ask me if the pain had lessened or how I felt when my womb had been invaded by forceps.

The tranquilizers that had been prescribed were clouding my  brain,  blurring  my  vision,  but  even  then  I  attempted to think. There had been a niggling feeling that had started creeping into me that he just wanted me out of his life. Today, that feeling was a little stronger. Yet, someone inside me kept saying that I was wrong. The voice was faceless, almost like hope.

That voice wanted me to believe that all was well, that it was just a phase; a trough that we would emerge out of.

I slept again and woke up the next morning to see him by my side. I put my arm around him, gently so as to not awaken him. The medicines had worked. The pain in the lower abdomen was much better. The burning sensation was gone. I wasn’t going to go to work today at the doctor’s advice. It was a pity, because today was 2 April, and I was to get my letter of promotion. We had planned to celebrate our promotions very long ago and now, when that time had come, I wasn’t in a state to. What is a celebration without a drink? I had vowed to myself that I wouldn’t drink anymore.

He stirred up, looked at me and his expression changed. He pushed my arm away, got up and walked the five steps to go to the washroom. For the umpteenth time, I wondered what
was going on in his mind. He came out and wore his clothes, still silent. He didn’t even bother asking me how I was. He didn’t even smile at me. He could have been a corpse that had started walking, having found a reservoir of energy.

“Why won’t you speak to me?” I asked, unable to hold it any longer.

“I don’t feel like it,” he replied.
Feel
like it, how could you even come up with a witty retort to that?

“What’s wrong? Tell me. You’ve never been like this,” I
implored him to spill out his heart.

“It’s nothing. Go back to sleep,” he said in a gruff tone.

“I want to speak to you at length about what is bothering you,” I demanded.

“I’m getting late for work. I have to go,” he said and took two steps towards the bathroom.

I waited for an eternity until he returned back from the bathroom.

“All right, but today, not tomorrow, you and I need to have a conversation,” I gave him an ultimatum.

“I’ll do it when I have to,” he replied arrogantly He dressed as I contemplated what to say next. “Have I done something wrong?” I was near tears.

“No, I have,” he said and walked out, not giving me a chance to even understand what he meant.

Robin gave me breakfast. I was feeling better by the afternoon, physically. Mentally, I was a wreck. Emotionally, I was an inferno.

I couldn’t hold myself back. I couldn’t wait until he was back from work. I just couldn’t. I looked around for my cell phone, but couldn’t find it. I hadn’t used it since yesterday. I bent down to look under the bed and a sharp pang of pain rose
through me. The cell phone lay there, I picked it up and dialled his number.

“Yes, what is it?” he replied.

Normally, I would’ve given him the benefit of doubt that he was busy at work, but not today.

“What did you mean when you said that you’ve made a mistake?” I asked him.

“In just being with you,” he said.

“Why? What makes you say that?” I asked. My worst fears were being confirmed.

“I am not sure if I love you,” he said.

“And you’re saying that today? After so much has happened?” I said.

“What’s happened?” he asked.

The divorce and the abortion weren’t happenings? The affair, the love and the passion weren’t happenings?

“The abortion... Didn’t you think this over when we were having sex and you got me pregnant?”

“How do I know it was mine? You went around drinking with strange men. How do I even know that the child was mine?” he said.

I took the phone away from my ear, just to double check that I hadn’t dialled a wrong number. It wasn’t so much about feeling like a whore but being thought of as one. I was so deeply hurt that words failed me.

“I am so disgusted. I hate you,” I screamed in rage.

“That’s fine. It’s about time you stopped using me,” he said.

“Using you? I thought we were in love...” I said.

“And where was that love when you got married to someone else?” Aditya said.

Why didn’t he bring this up when we had had this conversation earlier? He hadn’t had any reservations about this back then. The man didn’t cease to surprise me.

“I did it for you. I thought I already explained myself,” I said.

“You leave me when you want to and you come back when you want to. You’re only interested in my money. Outside of that, there is nothing else. I am sick of being treated like a doormat.”

This conversation was over. I neither had the energy nor the willingness to explain to an uncouth, rude, insensitive man what I had felt. I hated him. It was a good thing that he wasn’t near me or else I would’ve dug my fingernails into his face and scratched him. I wanted to kill him with a dagger – stabbing it in his chest, once for every word in this conversation. I detested him. Period.

Despite  the  lingering  pain,  I  picked  up  the  small  bag that we had brought with us to the hospital and packed up everything that belonged to me in this house. I had Robin summon a rickshaw and I went home. In the sweltering heat, the sort of heat that evaporates dreams, I was burning. I had been slighted, I had been wronged and I wanted revenge.

Aditya

T
he banker, that I was, refuses to let me keep my eyes off the markets. I sit on the chair in the reception of the massage parlour and flip through channels looking for Bloomberg. I wonder why I continue to watch it when I have never heard anything positive on the channel. Each day, there is a little more gloom about the economy.

Today, for a change, the stock market is up 329 points from its last close. It is the strongest indication that the recession may be over. A thought crosses my mind that if I had invested in stocks, I might be a little richer today. I wonder what I would do with all the riches because it can’t really buy love. I am still lost in thoughts of recession, money and love when the phone rings.

“Am I speaking to Aditya Sharma?” a suave voice says from the other end of the line.

“Yes,” I say confirming it.

“My name is Saurav Dutta and I am the Human Resources Head at Axis Bank.”

The name sounds Bengali but there’s not a trace of an accent. I wonder if someone’s playing a cruel joke on me. I am
so unaccustomed to hear anything but Divya’s voice on the phone.

“We got your resume from a job portal and we like your credentials. Would you be interested in an opportunity with us?” he asks me.

Instinctively, I say “Yes”.

“Would it be convenient for you to come and meet us tomorrow?” he asks me.

I don’t want to get my hopes too high. I don’t want to believe that I can be lucky enough to make an honest living. Even in my mind, I think like a whore. I am sure there is no God, but if there is a God, this is his revenge.

“Yes, it will be,” I say.

I note down the details of our appointment on a piece of paper and bid him goodbye. I still can’t believe that he had called. It’s been nearly two-and-a-half years of trying. The two- and-a-half years that have made me lose everything.

The  next  morning,  I  cancel  an  appointment  and  go  to meet Saurav Dutta at the address that he had given me. He interviews me for the position of a Vice President. He says it is positive and that he will arrange another meeting with the Chief Operating Officer in the next few days.

I continue to wait for him to call again. Ratna, Divya, Shazia and Jaya continue to fill my days. Bhatoliya’s become quite an entrepreneur and I continue to be lonely.

I often think that it must be my sins that have caught up with me. I still drink as often as I used to back then but I don’t pass out. I am wiser. Even then, my slate refuses to be wiped clean.

It’s on one of those days that Saurav calls me again. The COO is a busy man but has found the time to meet me. I meet him wearing the same suit that I had worn when I met Divya.

I am superstitious. I think it is lucky if I wear it. Maybe, I am not so wrong. The COO thinks I am perfect. I wish I can tell him the truth.

I step out of his office in Connaught Place and I can’t help sneezing. It is spring and the pollen always gives me an allergy. Even then, I like this season because it awakens the optimist in me. I know that the flowers will bloom, even though they don’t smell the same as they used to.

Three days later, I get a letter in the mail. It’s an offer letter to join the bank. The recession is finally over.