"Ishani, breakfast is almost ready! Would you like to come down to the kitchen? Maybe you could help me with the parathas?" Shaguncalled out in her typical chirpy, sing-song voice, standing at the bedroom door.
She sat by the large bay window, curled up into herself, with her knees close to her chest. She hoped against hope that maybe if she didn't answer, Shagun would give up and go away. Of course, her hopes were for naught. Shagun wouldn't leave until she'd made sure Ishani had eaten a properly balanced breakfast that was custom made for her body's nutritional needs. That's what she was hired for. Shagun Mathur was her personal, live-in nutritionist. One of the perks of being married to a rich man, she thought bitterly.
Surely enough, Shagun walked into the bedroom a few moments later, "Come on Ishani, I made your favorite, aloo parathas. You'll like it. Please, just give it a chance," she said with a bright smile, as if she was talking to a child.
Ishani hated to be treated like that.
I am not a child! I am twenty four for god's sake!
A twenty four year old, maybe ex-alcoholic who is incapable of taking care of herself. She knew Shagun was only trying to help, that it was her job to make sure she ate at regular intervals so that she wasn't below her minimum acceptable body weight anymore, and more importantly, so that she didn't look so sick to the outside world. She really didn't want to embarrass her husband any more than she already had. But these days the idea of sustenance of any kind made her cringe. Food meant a longer existence; an existence she was no longer too keen on. But like every other aspect of her life, she had given up the right to have any say in the matter a long time ago.
Trying to keep her revulsion out of her face, she appealed toShagun for leniency, "I'm really not hungry right now; could I please come down in an hour? You made me a really big dinner last night, remember? I'm so full still. Please."
She thought reminding Shagun of the large dosas she made last night would buy her some time.
Not today.
"Ishani, that was more than fourteen hours ago. It's almost noon now. If I let you wait any longer, you'll be complaining about lunch. Didn't we agree, no more skipping meals? Please, Ishani. I'll eat with you, just come downstairs with me. We will use the sunroom today, what do you say to that?" Shagun said in a motherly voice.
They'd had a differently worded version of this very same argument nearly every day now for five months. Shagun never gave an inch. That's why she was so good at what she did. She had an advanced degree in nutrition, and was trained to counsel patients with eating disorders. She'd been persuaded to take an unplanned sojourn from her flourishing practice for an inordinate amount of money to be Ishani's personal nutritionist slash caregiver. Though she had the credentials to offer counseling, her work with Ishani was strictly limited to nutrition. A therapist, Dr.Aneri Jalan, came by twice a week to tend to Ishani's emotional and addiction issues. The very best money could buy.
Why check into rehab when rehab can come to you?
Ishani closed her eyes and exhaled in defeat. She got up and walked downstairs with Shagun."Do you want to help with thebhindi, Ishani? No? Ok, then just go to the sunroom, everything else is served. I will bring over the parathas in a jiffy." Shagunpushed her gently in the direction of the room while she disappeared in the kitchen with a smile.
Ishani made her way to the sunroom, rightfully called for its brightness and light, and took a seat at the table closest to theglass-paneled wall. Once upon a time, this was her most favorite part of the house. She could vividly recall the day she'd brought her mother to the house, giving her the grand tour. It was soon after her husband had confessed his love for her. Falguniwas ecstatic; she took everything in with a glint in her eyes and couldn't stop talking about how happy she was for her daughter's good fortune. She couldn't believe her luck; to be invited into this grand palace as a guest. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Ishani'sfamily lived a couple of hours away from them at Parekh Mansioncourtesy of her husband of course, while his parents had decided to shift to Delhi, unable to stand Ishani after the incident. He had brought her here, on the outskirts of the city to recover' with the help of nature and fresh air, but Ishani knew he just wanted to keep the media glare away from her so she couldn't embarrass him.
She hadn't seen them in nearly a year.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Shagun's vivacious voice, "Here you go. Tell me what you think of the parathas, I tried a secret ingredient. If you can guess what it is, there will be a reward," she said as she sat down the tray with the food and a tall glass of juice, and made a plate for Ishani with all the right picks of food that made her breakfast today. It was part of her techniques, to engageIshani in inane conversations about food, in the hopes that it will trigger an interest in eating. Ishani hated these childish ploys and never responded, but it didn't stop Shagun from trying. She placed the plate in front of Ishani before serving herself and sitting down across from her.
"Go ahead, tell me what you think. You have three guesses, and the reward is I won't bother you again until dinner time. That's right, you will get a free pass for lunch today. But only if you can guess it right," Shagun said with her trademark smile. This was a new bargaining chip. Shagun never gambled with the main meals.Ishani smiled at the thought of how clever and effective the trick was. It succeeded in making her ponder if she'd be able to guess it right and win some alone time for herself that day.
She looked down at her plate and nearly choked. She couldn't bring herself to eat. Not even for the lure of an afternoon to herself, without having Shagun or Puneet, her personal security detail, trailing her around. At least Puneet never came inside the house. A day without having to fight a battle over a meal would be good.
She didn't know when this shift took place in her; when it was that she stopped feeling hunger pangs. Was it before she'd started drinking? She couldn't be sure. All she ever felt now was empty, but the idea of filling the void with food was unbelievably painful. Food meant a longer life with clearer thoughts, waking up to more days of emptiness, and more nights without him. It meant vaster grounds for her guilt-ridden mind to wander and forage for more reminders of how completely she'd destroyed everything.
Noticing her lack of initiative, Shagun prodded her gently, "Just take a few bites, sweetheart. You're getting healthier every day; you've made so much progress. You need to keep it up, honey. I know you want to get better. You told me so. Ishani, you need to eat. Please try."
Ishani looked up, silently begging her with lost, sad eyes. She didn't say anything, words were useless. She knew she'd have to give in eventually. Her husband was very clear when Shagun and Dr. Jalan were hired that he expected her to cooperate fully in getting her weight back to normal and quitting alcohol. She of course acquiesced; she'd never disobey him. Not anymore, anyway. It was like the cold from the Antarctic had settled into his eyes.
She just didn't know how to cooperate fully with the therapist when she had to be selective about how much she could share about her personal life. That dilemma aside, she'd done everything he wanted. She hadn't touched alcohol since she had been released from the hospital six months ago, she diligently sat through the twice a week therapy sessions, and ate what Shagun placed before her, albeit with great degree of reluctance. Seeing Ishani'scontinued disinclination, Shagun took a deep breath and shook her head unhappily. She didn't like what she'd have to do now to makeIshani eat, but it was the only trick that seemed to persuade her reluctant patient to pick up the spoon at each meal time.
"Ishani, think about your parents. They miss you, you know. How will you visit them if you don't get better first? And what about your husband? He is so worried about you. He expects to see progressIshani. Do you want him to come home and sit here with you instead of me? Cause you know that will happen. If Mr. Vaghela is told that you are refusing food again, he will come and oversee your every meal. Is that what you want?"
Like expected, her words had the desired effect. Ishani instantly reached for her the fork and started cutting off pieces of theparathas on her plate.
"No, no. Please don't disturb him. I will eat. See, I'm eating," she said as she shoved down the first mouthful. Shagun watched her eat while picking at her own plate. It clenched her heart to see the sight before her. Ishani's eyes were frantic and brimming with tears. Each spoonful a war waged and each swallow a battle won.
Shagun didn't like how Ishani reacted to the prospect of her husband's presence during mealtime. She'd come to suspect that there might be something very terrifying behind the beautiful faade of the loving and concerned husband that Mr. Vaghelasported. She of course hadn't seen or heard him ever speak toIshani unkindly, and he was literally spending a fortune to ensure she regained her health, both mentally and physically. Ishaniherself had never once suggested anything that might imply that she was being held in this relationship against her wishes.
Yet, something nagged at her heart. Something wasn't right and she couldn't put her finger on it. She could only hazard guesses, but it bothered her tremendously to see Ishani suffer this way. Threat or blackmail might work in the short term, but it wasn't a healthy way to truly help someone who suffered from eatingissues. It felt like she was causing more harm than good by twisting Ishani's hand like that. But it was made abundantly clear to her that her job with Ishani was to only make sure she regained her weight in a healthy and steady fashion, by whatever means necessary. She was only answerable to Mr. Vaghela, and as long as her weekly reports showed a steady upward progression inIshani's weight chart, there wouldn't be any complains.
But she couldn't shake the feeling that what she was doing was wrong. She cared about Ishani and she didn't like how forlorn and hopeless she looked most of the time, as if life was a burden that she was being forced to bear.
Ishani ate her food with determination. The inherent repulsion her body felt to the process gave her frequent pauses when she had to stop and drink water to wash it down before resuming her meal mechanically. She couldn't taste anything; her taste buds seemed to have gone on a permanent hiatus. If she were blindfolded, would she have been able to tell what she was eating? She doubted it.
Finally, when their meal was over, Shagun gave her a pat on the shoulder encouragingly, "Good girl! Now that wasn't so bad, was it? Can you tell what I used in the paratha?"
Ishani shook her head. She couldn't even remember what she ate moments ago, let alone how it tasted, even though the reminder sat like a thousand pound boulder in the pit of her stomach. She felt sick and defeated. She didn't like the mental acuity or clarity of recollection that came with a full stomach.
"Come on, just throw out your best guess. What have you got to lose?" Shagun kept trying to cheer her up.
"I don't know, pudina?" Ishani tried half-heartedly.
"That's hardly a secret, but at least you tried. So, guess what? You don't have to beat me off with a stick for lunch. You are off the hook for the rest of the day. We both deserve a break once in a while, don't you think?" Shagun offered jovially.
Ishani's eyes lit up for a moment at the thought before losing the light again. She nodded quietly and whispered, "Thank you."
"What do you say we go for a walk? It's a lovely day out," Shagunhedged. They both knew that Shagun was only trying to put a polite spin on her professional responsibility. Ishani was not to be left alone for at least two hours after a meal, lest she tried to purge herself. Ishani never made herself sick on purpose and Shagunknew that by now, but she preferred to err on the side of caution. One never knew when a new symptom might manifest itself, especially given how unique Ishani's case was, for unlike the majority of the sufferers of anorexia and similar afflictions, body image never played a role in her illness. She never seemed too fixated over how she looked, nor did she ever express any torrid need to be thin. She just didn't seem very interested in eating - or anything else for that matter.
Not at all, in fact.
Ishani didn't bother to break the illusion. She nodded and accompanied Shagun silently for a stroll around the estate ground. The house was built on a very large acre plot, with a hiking trail leading up to a cliff with a spectacular view. They walked together up the trail and when they came to the cliff side, Ishani sat down on an outcrop of rocks, looking out to the open sea.
"How are you Ishani?" Shagun asked meaningfully, as she sat down on a nearby rock. She'd been trying to forge a friendship withIshani for some time now, to get her to trust her. It hadn't been very successful so far but she was nothing if not persistent.
"I'm fine, you take care of me so well," Ishani answered with detachment, keeping her eyes trained at the ocean.
"I know you are doing great physically. But how is the girl inside holding up? How are you doing? How are things between you and Mr. Vaghela?" Shagun tried again.
"Everything is fine, Shagun," Ishani answered with a little edge to her voice. Shagun was veering too close to the restricted grounds.Ishani wouldn't indulge her curiosities any more than she would if the questions came from a society page reporter - or her therapist even. Her husband valued his privacy dearly. She knew better than to compromise his armor.
"I understand if you don't want to open up to me. I won't pressure you, but Ishani, I hope you talk to someone. Talk to Dr. Jalan. Don't keep things bottled up, it's not good for you. I know you're hurting inside and...Ishani, you can't just fix your body without healing your mind. I care about you Ishani, I want you to know that. Not just as your nutritionist, but as your friend. Please don't be too proud to accept help," Shagun said in a somber tone, hoping she was getting through to the younger woman, knowing most likely she wasn't.
Back at the house, Ishani spent her day more or less like she had for the last six months: quietly sitting in her room, pretending to read a book, pondering her past and reminiscing the memories of love lost; wondering if her sufferings were suited for her crimes. Had her pound of flesh been exacted yet, or was there still a long way to go? It was with those thoughts that she drifted off to sleep that night. She woke up in her bed later that night with a distinct feeling that she was no longer alone. She could sense the presence of her husband sitting across the room, watching her from his usual spot. Her breath hitched in fear. He hadn't been to this room in the last six months. She didn't even know where he spent his nights any more. Did she really think he'd leave her to her own devices forever? She was getting better physically, so it was only matter of time before he had returned to punish her for her crimes. She'd been given sufficient time to recuperate. Now it was time to return home, to the hell of her own making.
She trembled in fear, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest. She clenched her eyes shut. Maybe she was only imagining his presence. Maybe it was only a nightmare.
He is not here. He is not here.
"I know you're awake, Ishani." His deep voice shattered all false hope. She opened her eyes and finally looked at him. She could see him from where she lay, sitting in his armchair, as beautiful and regal as he looked the first time she saw him all those years ago when he become RV from Ranveer. Only his eyes were different. They were dead; completely devoid of any hint of life or hope, or the kindness and love it had always held for her. They didn't even show any glimmer or anger or rage.
Just hard, cold nothingness.
I did this to him. I made him this way. I deserve all the sufferings in the world. I deserve every ghost.
She pushed herself off of her bed with shaky limbs and slowly stood up. She walked over to stand at the center of the room, right in front of her husband. She knew the drill. She'd gone through this innumerable times since the night every thing fell apart.
For the first time in six months she desperately wished the house hadn't been made alcohol proof. She'd nearly forgotten how much harder it was facing this sober. She longed for the numbing haze intoxication used to give her. But this was her punishment, so maybe she should embrace and accept the added pain the sobriety brought. She deserved nothing less.
She stood before him, not knowing how long her husband would see fit to keep her in that spot. It could be anything from five minutes to five hours. It depended on his mood.
She tried to focus on something mundane in the room to escape what was really happening. Maybe he will only make me recount my crimes; maybe he won't go any further tonight.
Although, she couldn't be sure if it was any better than the other things she had to endure. Confessing to committing the ultimate act of betrayal with minute details, or accept the agonizing scrutiny from his scorching gaze as his eyes roamed over what he felt was rightfully his.
She couldn't be sure which hurt more.
It doesn't matter; I deserve both. Cruel ironic words. Bruising laughs and bruising grips.
She didn't know how long he sat there, watching her fidget and tremble. Then he stood up and walked over to where she stood.
She took a shaky breath to brace herself, but he didn't make a move to touch her or instruct her to go to the bed. She could smell the alcohol in his breath, which made her crave it again. Why wasn't he saying anything, she wondered. She wished he'd get it over with already, one way or the other. This waiting was wearing down her nerves.
Then he spoke, but the words he spoke were not the ones she expected to hear. It left her stunned and shaking.
"Happy birthday, Ishani."
Then he was gone.
Mannat Har Khushi Paane Ki
Cricket
