Chapter 7

2 years ago

HereAsMyself

@HereAsMyself

Note: Warnings for a panic attack.

This chapter, too, comprises a conversation, this time between Abhijeet and Tarika. I understand my story appears to be moving forward very slowly (and this update comes after many, many days), but it's because I'm trying to lay out the base as comprehensively as possible, so that the actions of those involved make sense as the story progresses and don't appear abrupt or out of character. I'm also trying to show why communication is an essential part of all relationships and how character interactions as shown in CID the show have occasionally faltered on that count.

'Oh to follow the road that leads away from everything,

without anguish, death, winter waiting along it

with their eyes open through the dew'.

                                               -Pablo Neruda, Almost Out of the Sky

Abhijeet sleeps in the next morning. It’s a rare occurrence, so rare that he can’t remember the last time he’s done it willingly. It’s evident, however, that he needed it, because he ends up feeling refreshed and happy. About that last part, I wonder if Purvi’s sweet donuts had something to do with it, he thinks. He smiles, recalling the way she’d been eating them like a child getting its fill of a favourite chocolate. Then he remembers sending some to KD’s office.

I wonder if they liked them. Let me see.

He picks up his phone and, sure enough, there’s a message from KD thanking him for the donuts. I’m glad you liked them, he replies.

KD replies almost immediately. Liked them? They’re probably our new favourite food.

They text back-and-forth for some time. KD tells him that all three of them—Varun, Billie and he—loved the donuts, and to tell them the next time there’s a food fest. Abhijeet acquiesces, making a mental note to tell Purvi that the friend he’d sent the donuts to had loved them.

Yes, I’ll just tell her that he liked them, he thinks. No need to tell her who that friend is just at present. Let’s take it easy.

It’s a slow but pleasant morning for Abhijeet, who’d almost forgotten what it was like to simply sit and talk to a person. The conversation moves on from donuts to food in general to diets, and at one point KD delicately enquires about the state of Abhijeet’s wounds. He does it so casually that Abhijeet doesn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. I’m fine, he replies.

Remember to get the bandages changed within the next couple of days, KD replies.

Abhijeet smiles sheepishly at the reminder because he—a police officer who really ought to know better—had forgotten bandages needed changing. KD appears to be struck by the same idea, because he writes before Abhijeet can reply. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.

You just reminded me, is Abhijeet’s tongue-in-cheek reply. KD sends an emoticon where the yellow face is rolling it’s eyes, and Abhijeet laughs. It feels strange, sitting and laughing in his house by himself, but it’s not unpleasant. Don’t worry, he replies. I’ll get it looked at. An infection is the last thing I want right now.

KD sends him Dr. Rastogi’s number, and Abhijeet is about to call him when he remembers his decision of talking to Tarika. She’d besure to want to see his injuries and how they’re healing, and Abhijeet isn’t sure it’d be a good idea to disturb the area frequently. Let me talk to Tarika first, he thinks. He’s almost sure she’ll check his wounds and re-dress them. If she’s still annoyed with me, I can always go to Dr. Rastogi.

He texts Tarika. Could you come to the bureau a little early tomorrow morning? Need to talk.

She doesn’t reply immediately. There’s nothing wrong with that—Tarika’s a busy person and cannot afford to keep checking her phone every five minutes—but Abhijeet grows anxious. He almost jumps when he hears the notification.

It’s a one-word reply. Yes.

Abhijeet doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s very nervous the next morning. It’s mostly because he’s about to talk to someone—no matter that they’re very close to him—about an incident that’s still fresh and that left him feeling helpless and vulnerable, but also because he has no idea how Tarika will take it. She’s a sensible person and, as KD told him (and he knows perfectly well himself), panic attacks are nothing to be ashamed of, but he’s still afraid that she might start thinking of him differently after their impending conversation.

I’m being ridiculous, he thinks. Tarika’s a doctor, a forensic doctor. I’m sure she knows more about these things than I do.

He notices that he still can’t quite admit to himself that he’s had a panic attack—and one triggered, as ludicrous as it might seem, by a text message—and that he’s classifying the entire incident under the extremely vague label of ‘things’. That should reassure you, he hears in his head. She can’t possibly think of you any worse than you think of yourself.

He feels an urge to punch something. He’s buttoning up his shirt and, when of the buttons gets stuck on a thread, he pulls at it with greater force than necessary. Not surprisingly it comes off the shirt. He flings it across the room and quickly undoes two more buttons, pulling the shirt off over his head. He’s breathing deeply as he sits down on his bed and runs his hands through his hair.

Get a hold of yourself, Abhijeet, he tells himself sternly. It’s Tarika, not a firing squad.

There’s a part of him that wonders whether he really wouldn’t prefer a firing squad.

Tarika’s waiting for him in from of the bureau when he steps out of the car. She comes forward to meet him but, before she can say anything, he pushes a box of donuts into her hands. She looks at it and her eyes widen.

‘Aren’t these the ones Purvi loves?’ she says.

‘Yes’, replies Abhijeet. ‘I went to the food fest the bakery held with her and Sachin. She told me you couldn’t manage to take time off’.

‘That’s true’, Tarika replies. ‘I didn’t know you went there. You don’t usually…’

She trails off. Abhijeet knows what she’d been about to say, but he lets it go. It’s evident Purvi hasn’t told Tarika he was at the food fest—probably because she’d taken it for granted he’d tell her himself—so he decides to start from there.

‘I was, and that’s part of what I wanted to tell you, Tarika’, he says. ‘Let’s sit somewhere’.

‘Let’s go to the forensic lab’, she replies, taking they keys to the lab out of her pocket. ‘It’ll be empty now’.

They walk in and up the stairs. As Tarika opens the door, Abhijeet suddenly remembers how she’d brought his pants with Daya’s blood to be tested and how Dr. Salnkhe had caught her in the act and shouted at her for it. The first time he ever screamed at me like that, she’d told him.

All because of me, he thinks. He wonders whether anybody who saw them now would think they were once again working to cover up evidence. It’s not a pleasant thought. He’s tempted to ask her to let the lab be, to sit with him somewhere else—maybe the bureau’s terrace?—when the door opens. Too late, Abhijeet thinks as he follows her inside.

They sit facing each other at Tarika’s desk and Abhijeet begins talking without further preamble. He talks about how he saw Shreya’s message at home, the feeling of something sharp digging into his shoulder and a concerned KD looking down at him, the conversation between him and KD the next morning. He tries to keep looking at her as he speaks, to gauge her reaction, to see how she’s taking it, but finds himself unable to by the middle of his speech. He looks down at the table, at his hands—anywhere but her—and the pauses between his words grow longer and longer as he finishes speaking, not only because it’s been an emotional rollercoaster but also because his throat has begun feeling clogged to the point he cannot ignore it anymore. ‘That’s it, basically’, he finishes, still not looking at her. ‘The story of my… panic attack’. The words stick in his throat, but he forces them out nonetheless.

Tarika’s been quiet throughout his speech, sitting with her legs crossed and palms flat against each other under her chin. Abhijeet isn't looking at her but can feel her looking at him intently. The lab is so quiet that Abhijeet can hear his heart beating—hammering would be a better word—and he’s growing increasingly nervous, to the point he wants to leap out of his chair and tell Tarika to forget whatever he just said. He actually does start a little when Tarika speaks.

‘Can I look at your wounds?’ she asks.

Abhijeet, who’d been prepared for the question, consents almost immediately. She takes him to the section of the lab behind glass barriers where they perform tests. He takes off his jacket and his shirt, and Tarika gently probes the bandages with her fingers. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘No’, he replies. They really don’t—thanks to the painkillers and antibiotics Dr. Rastogi had prescribed and the fact that his days off had actually given his body time and opportunity to heal. Tarika looks at him skeptically, but soon nods as she realizes he’s being truthful.

‘I’m taking off the bandage’, she says. ‘Tell me if it hurts’.

It doesn’t. Tarika inspects the injured area closely, probably also checking for glass shards that might have proved elusive. She steps back after a few moments, satisfied.

‘It’s healing very nicely’, she tells him, a clear note of approval in her voice. ‘How frequently have you been told to get the dressing changed?’

‘I’m supposed to get it done today’, he says, waiting to hear her reply. It’s what he expected: she offers to do it and gets a first-aid box (honestly speaking, calling it a ‘first-aid’ box is being unfair to the toolkit Tarika procures—it contains implements Abhijeet has never even seen before).

His worries are far from over. He’s relieved Tarika’s taken his revelation in her stride and isn’t from the look of things judging him for it, but there are other things he must probe and settle before he’s truly satisfied she’s still okay with him and with their relationship.

‘You aren’t angry?’ he asks hesitantly. He hates how he sounds like a little boy speaking to his mother or to a teacher.

Tarika, who’s unrolling some bandage, stops. ‘Why would I be angry?’ she asks. She sounds genuinely puzzled, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her before.

‘No, I mean because I didn’t call you then or tell you all this earlier’, he replies, ‘I never…I mean, I didn’t call KD either, he just happened…’

He stops speaking as Tarika rolls her eyes and picks up the roll of bandage again. ‘Really, Abhijeet, I’m just glad someone you’re comfortable with was there to help you’, she says. She shakes her head. ‘You men are ridiculous sometimes. You’re allowed to have private relationships and friendships that don’t involve me, you know? I’m a part of your personal life, not the whole of it’.

The conversation’s getting dangerously close to uncomfortable territory (as if this wasn’t uncomfortable enough for him), so Abhijeet keeps quiet. He wants to talk to her about what happened during their lunch at his house, to apologize if he offended or hurt her that day, but he doesn’t quite dare broach it. He’s already talked to her about alot today and doesn’t want to push his luck and risk actually offending her.

(He seems to worry about that a lot these days—offending people or making them angry. He’s never shied away from confrontations, but these days he finds himself wanting to curl up and disappear at the first sign of raised voices or short tempers. Even the voice in his head seems to have noticed it: if you were dying tomorrow, Abhijeet, you’d probably die worrying that your death had somehow offended or inconvenienced other people, notably your team).

It is Tarika who breaks the ensuing silence. ‘So there isn’t really a case you were looking into then?’ she asks. ‘On DCP Sir’s orders?’

‘No’, Abhijeet replies, blushing slightly, not just because it was a lie but also because he’d gone off so unceremoniously and dumped his responsibilities on Daya and the team. A thought strikes him. He turns around and looks at Tarika, who’s washing her hands. ‘I haven’t told anyone else all this’, he says. ‘I’d appreciate it if—if you could keep it that way’.

He’s asking her to lie for him. Again. He doesn’t like it—not after what happened last time. She might refuse, and rightfully so. He almost wants her to refuse so that he can be relieved he’s not getting her into any further trouble. She’s yet to reply, and he wonders if she’s thinking of the same things.

‘About that, Abhijeet’, she says, finally, when the silence is starting to become unbearable, ‘we need to talk’.

Abhijeet had been prepared for her to refuse, but the words still feel like a punch to the gut. He wonders whether she’ll tell Dr. Salunkhe first—after all, it was keeping things from him that got her in trouble last time—and how the doctor would take it. Would he be surprised? Concerned? Would he take it as validation that Abhijeet isn’t mentally fit to serve? Who else would he tell? The DCP? ACP Sir? Daya? The team? What then? Would he be suspended? Given time off? Terminated?

Abhijeet feels his heart speed up and his hands begin to shake and wonders if he’s about to have another panic attack. At least I can feel this one coming, he thinks rather morbidly, and wants to both laugh and cry at the thought. He tries to take deep, measured breaths to control and regulate his increasingly erratic breathing. He recalls KD’s comforting presence and tries to think about what KD would have wanted him to do and how he’d try to help, but quickly abandons that line of thought when it brings a lump to his throat.

When did I become so needy? That too for someone I don’t know well at all?

Tarika’s evidently noticed, for as he begins coughing her hand is rubbing his back. It helps. As the coughing subsides, she holds a glass of water before him, making sure his hands are steady before she actually gives it to him. He finishes it in one go, realizing he’d been thirsty for sometime.

Tarika draws up a chair and sits in front of him. He  notices she keeps her distance, giving him space. She’s quiet for some time—she looks like she’s getting her thoughts together—and her voice is measured and deliberate when she speaks. ‘You don’t want me to tell anyone what you told me here today. Any of it’.

‘Please, if possible’, Abhijeet replies. His voice sounds distant to his own ears, like he is speaking from far away.

‘I won’t,’ Tarika says, and he’s so relieved he visibly sags in his chair, ‘but there are a couple of things I’d like to discuss with you on that point.’

Abhijeet nods.

‘You’ve probably realized panic attacks are notoriously unpredictable’, she begins. She’s slipping into her role of doctor, and Abhijeet suddenly feels the need to apologize. ‘I’m sorry’, he says. ‘I don’t know what came over me just now’.

His apology catches her off-guard. ‘What are you apologizing for? You can’t control panic attacks, Abhijeet. That’s why they’re called attacks’.

Abhijeet doesn’t have an answer. He settles for gesturing vaguely with his hands.

Tarika leans forward. ‘You know that, right?’

‘Yes’, Abhijeet says.

‘In that case, you also probably realize that you cannot control when and in what company you get a panic attack’, Tarika tells him. He looks at her inquiringly, as if trying to decipher where she’s going with her train of thought, and his eyes widen as the implications hit him. She nods. ‘Yes, it means you could suffer an attack tomorrow—or any other day—with Daya and the team present. Or in the middle of investigation. Or while interrogating a suspect. What will you do then, Abhijeet? The cat will be out of the bag and you wouldn’t be able to put her back inside.’

‘I never really thought of that’, says Abhijeet, wondering whether it sounds as stupid as he feels while saying it. It’s true—he hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t even realized it could be a possibility—but, now that Tarika mentions it, it’s one more thing for him to worry about. ‘What should I do if that happens?’

Tarika shrugs. ‘I don’t know, Abhijeet’, she says. There’s a short pause. ‘But I think you should see someone who does’.

Abhijeet understands immediately. ‘You’re asking me to visit a psychiatrist?’

‘Yes’, Tarika replies. ‘I’m sure you must have visited one earlier, right?’

He has. He’d visited psychiatrists and counselors after he lost his mother and his memory, and again when Daya had almost—no, had actually—died. They’d helped, he didn’t deny that, but he’d always felt something was missing (partly because they hadn’t told him anything he didn’t know himself). There was also the fact that he’d been loath to take any of the medicines they’d prescribed—he wasn’t, for better or for worse, a fan of nervous medication. And anyway, they couldn’t bring his memory back—the source of all his troubles.

He tells Tarika as much. She shakes her head. ‘That means you’re yet to find a psychiatrist who works well with you’, she says. ‘You should start looking again’.

‘Do you go to a psychiatrist?’ Abhijeet asks.

She hesitates slightly before she answers. ‘Yes. Yes, I do’. He’s about to ask her for details, but she raises her hand. ‘Don’t do it, Abhijeet. Find your own. I’m not saying mine isn’t good, but two people who know each other well visiting the same psychiatrist—it can, well, get awkward’.

‘It’s like shopping for doctors’, Abhijeet says. He’s joking, but there’s a trace of bitterness in his voice.

‘Exactly’, replies Tarika. ‘You’ve got to go on looking till you get the right fit’.

They’re quiet again. Abhijeet’s looking at his hands and Tarika’s staring at him intently, a hand on her cheek. Suddenly, she smiles, then starts to laugh.

‘What?’ Abhijeet says, puzzled.

‘Oh, Abhijeet’, she says, still laughing. ‘Remember what I told you when we had lunch last time? To think you were angry with me then, and yet here you are—you spent the past few days doing just that’.

Abhijeet still looks puzzled, but his brow clears. ‘Oh, you mean—well—finding people to fraternize with outside work’. He looks guilty. ‘I wasn’t angry with you that day, Tarika, it’s just--’

He doesn’t know what he wants to tell her. ‘Just’ what? I wasn’t ready to hear the truth? I’m still not ready to acknowledge whatever you (and KD) are saying might be the truth? That you’re forcing me into positions I’ve hitherto avoided?

Tarika, however, seems to understand. She leans forward and takes his hands in hers. ‘I know, Abhijeet. It’s partly my fault, too. I’m not sorry for what I told you that day—I meant it and its true—but I could definitely have put it better’.

Tarika’s hands are soft and warm against his cold and stiff ones. She begins massaging them gently, and Abhijeet puts one of his hands over hers.

‘I don’t know where to go from here, Tarika’, he whispers, as if making a confession. ‘What do I do? I’m not denying I’ve felt ve

ry free the past couple of days, but this isn’t a long-term solution, is it? I cannot go meeting KD on the sly every time I feel upset. It’s unfair to KD and I—I also feel like I’m betraying Daya in some measure, going behind his back. After all, he’s my best friend.’

‘I don’t see why KD being your friend is betraying Daya’, Tarika points out. ‘You’re allowed to have more than one relationship, Abhijeet, as I keep telling you. Having two friends doesn’t mean you’re replacing one with the other’.

She doesn’t get it. Abhijeet thinks. He doesn’t judge her for it. It’s not as if I’m getting it very well, either. What a mess.

‘Look, Abhijeet, I’m not you, so I can’t really take your decisions for you or tell you what you should or shouldn’t do’, says Tarika. ‘But I’ll tell you this: do what makes you comfortable and happy. Currently, if that’s taking a step back from the bureau and a step towards another direction, do it. Go easy in the beginning, tread lightly, and you can always step back if you feel things aren’t working out’.

‘KD might not like it’, Abhijeet says.

Tarika rolls her eyes again. ‘KD’s a sensible person and an adult, not a child. I doubt he’d ask you over for chess or for anything else simply to make himself miserable’.

Abhijeet smiles. Tarika smiles, too, and says, ‘I’d like to meet him one day. I’ve seen him, of course, but I don’t really know him’.

‘You’ll like him’, Abhijeet says, thinking about his recent interactions with the charming lawyer. ‘Speaking of meeting people’—he sits up a little straight—‘Is it true, what Shreya said in her text? You aren’t talking to her?’

The smile is gone immediately from Tarika’s face. She presses her lips into a thin line, and Abhijeet can see she’s angry. ‘Yes,’ she says, simply. He waits for her to say something more, something else, and decides to go on when she doesn’t. ‘Tarika, she loves Daya. You can’t blame her for behaving the way she did.’

‘And I love you’, interjects Tarika. The way she says it isn’t romantic, but it’s so simple and direct that it warms Abhijeet’s heart. ‘Hence my behaviour. I’m sure that makes us even’.

It isn’t working this way, Abhijeet thinks. He tries a different tactic. ‘I don’t want Daya to find out, Tarika. You know that. And he’s sure to be suspicious if he finds you and Shreya aren’t talking. At least try to act normal, please? For him? For me?’

He’s looking at her as earnestly as he can—he knows she can’t really refuse him when he looks at her like that. He also knows that she’s fond of Daya and wouldn’t like to see him unhappy. It turns out he’s right, because she relents.

‘All right, Abhijeet, she says. He smiles and is about to thank her when she speaks again, and her words make him pause. ‘But there’s something I want.’

‘What?’ he asks, a little wary.

‘The next time you go to meet KD Pathak, you’re taking me with you’, she says, with a straight face. ‘I have a lot to thank him for, plus I’ve never seen a man with dimples before’.

It’s definitely not what he’s been expecting to hear. Abhijeet stares at her open-mouthed for a moment and bursts out laughing. She tries to keep a straight face for some time, then starts laughing, too.

‘I promise’, he says, still laughing. ‘And I think I’ll tell him I got my dressing changed’.

Tarika gets up and begins looking through files on a nearby rack. Abhijeet pulls out his phone. Tarika gave me a check-up and changed my bandages, he types. I don’t think I’ll need to visit Dr. Rastogi today.

He puts the phone away—KD’s probably getting ready for court—but pulls it back out a little later when he hears a notification come in. I see, KD’s written. So that’s why you waited till Monday to change your bandages? Nicely done, Abhijeet!

Abhijeet shows Tarika the message. KD’s gentle, witty humour is infectious: they’re both smiling again and, as he leaves for court, KD’s smiling, too.

To be continued…