The Prequel #2 (OS) : Seene Mein Jalan Aankhon Mein Toofan sa kyon hai

HE was at the bar, sipping the whiskey like it was his lifeline. He looked around the crowd enjoying the party, he'd never understood the hype of the 'filmi' parties of Mumbai. He supposed, Delhi parties weren't different either. It was just that he'd never attended such high-profile events when he was in Delhi. His 'rise' to fame had been orchestrated in Mumbai alone. For the last 6 years, he'd worked tirelessly to make sure he earned every penny he could lay his hands on. And while he was earning all that wealth, doors had started opening, invitations had started pouring in, and suddenly he found himself sharing drinks with some really famous people in Mumbai. He would have given an arm and a leg to get all this 6 years ago. SHE would have given an arm and a leg to get all this 6 years ago. The woman, his first love, his intended soul mate, the mother of his children.

He remembered her when he saw a certain film-star walk in. Shagun had always been a big fan of that actor, and she'd make Raman take her to the first day show of every movie of his. She used to shush Raman every time the actor danced or moved his lips to say something.Raman used to feed her pop-corn in the dark cinema theater because she would forget to eat and drink when she was staring at glamour. Raman had never complained. He knew she loved movies, he knew she loved that movie star. But he also knew he wouldn't ever be able to provide her the lifestyle she saw in the movies, he would never be able to get her an autograph or a photo with her star. So he indulged her every wish when it came to movies. He'd buy her magazines, he'd buy tickets in black if he had to, and if his parents objected, he'd just shut them up saying "Shagun knows how to enjoy life, let her".

His drink was over and he signalled the barkeep for another one. "Hold the soda this time", he instructed. Raman looked around to find any familiar face he could. His company had just signed a deal with a huge production company, and he'd earned a contract to supply soft drinks across all vending machines, parties, cafes in the offices and studios of the production house. This was a contract that had really put him on the map. And it felt like it was just the beginning. He'd conquered the market in western India, well, almost all of India except North India. His investors and partners had asked him to get to Delhi and start investing some time in the Northern operations too. Raman had given them excuses and put those questions off as long as he could. He could no longer find any excuses to avoid Delhi. He couldn't tell anyone it was personal, after all that is where his family lived. As if on cue, his phone rang. He'd already avoided answering his mother's call 2 nights in a row. She'd done nothing to deserve this treatment. "Yes Mom" he answered quietly, as he made way to the balcony, hoping he'd not find any couples snogging in the dark corners. He hated public displays of affection.

"Beta, Ye kya Mom Mom laga rakha hai? Mummyji kyon nahin bolte tum? Usmein kitna apnapan lagta hai", Toshi screamed into his ears. If Raman didn't know her any better, he'd have thought she was upset. His mother wasn't upset. He knew however, that she was tipsy. Saturday nights were hers. She had a couple of 'loaded' colas in the privacy of her room with her husband, and assumed none of her kids knew. Raman knew, he'd always known.

"Haan Mummyji boliye, kya hua ? Sab theek toh hai na ? Papa kaise hain? Romi aur Rinki ki padhai kaise chal rahi hai? Simmi kaisi hai, Jeejaji ne last phone kab kiya Dubai se?" He shot out all questions in one breath. Knowing his mother, he'd never get a chance to speak again during the call, so he might as well ask all questions at once, he thought.

His mother went on to supply all the major and minor happenings of the Mayur Vihar society, not just their home. She complained about how much weight she was gaining, almost as much as she complained about the neighbourhood Halwaai not using real ghee in sweets any more. He had no heart to tell her she wouldn't have to worry about her weight if she'd stop worrying about the Halwai and his sweets. She must have spoken for 10 minutes in a row. Raman was getting slightly irritated. It was fun to listen to his mother's drunk talks, but he dreaded the last part of those calls.

"She's here beta, hasn't slept yet. She wants to talk to you". Toshiji said and handed over the phone to the 5-year old girl before her father could object.

"Papa, Is that you?" she asked, quietly, as if she wasn't really sure her father was on the other end, still on the line.

"Yes, how are you?" he asked, deliberately avoiding adding 'Ruhi' or any term of endearment at the end of his question.

"I am fine. When are you coming home ?" she asked, continuing the conversation in English; like she was talking to a neighbour or a teacher she didn't really know. She was only learning the language now, and given that no one at home spoke anything other than Punjabi or Hindi, Ruhi was struggling with forming longer sentences. And anyway, she figured, she didn't need to learn anything more than "How are you" or "When are you coming home"

"Why, what happened?" is all Raman could muster in lieu of an answer.

"Nothing papa, I got best student award again. I got first rank in 3 subjects, I am not late to school ever" she said proudly, hoping for a kind word from the man who mattered to her more than the others.

"Congratulations. I will ask Daadi to buy you a present of your choice. I have to go now. Good Night, and tell daadi I will call her tomorrow". He hung up, not wanting to hear what he knew was coming next. It would either be a "I Love you Papa" or "I miss you Papa". Raman was ready for neither.

The effect of the whiskey seemed to have been lost in the last 15 minutes, he could feel the pain again. He closed his eyes for a moment, so he could feel the cool breeze from the sea on his eyelids. That didn't help either. He switched his phone on to call Mihir when he heard a couple of women quietly talking about some starlet who'd come to Mumbai with dreams in her eyes and had ended up taking the 'easier' route to the top.

"You know, these women, they come from smaller towns, and have no idea of how high society works, and what rules there are" said the first one.

Her other friend nodded as if she understood such pysche and replied "Yeah. You know she was married, but hid her marital status from everyone in Bollywood so she'd get good offers. Not a bad thing you see, but the moment she got a big banner movie, she quietly sent her husband divorce papers. And I heard she told him she'd found her true soul mate in her director"

The first one said "tch tch tch" as if the starlet had personally betrayed her, and said "arre, Thank God they didn't have kids at least. Warna socho, maa to chali gayi, and how would the poor husband manage their kids on his own? Some women are so selfish no... "

Raman couldn't believe his ears. It was not like this was the first time such a thing happened in Bollywood or even somewhere else in the world. It wasn't like such women didn't exist. If there was anyone who knew, it was him. But hearing about a similar story from the mouths of strangers, and hearing the plight of another man in a familiar situation made him want to scream and say "We don't need your pity!" But he didn't. They were right. At least the starlet hadn't abandoned any children. The man would survive. It wasn't really as bad.

He bid his farewells and left the party. The venue was by a beach, and it wasn't very late. He rolled up his trousers, tooks his shoes off and walked by the water for some time. Every few minutes he'd dip his toes in an incoming wave, and run back to the sand when he realised the wave was bigger than he'd estimated. The feeling of the water on his feet, the sand slipping away from under him, the mention of the scandal with the starlet and listening to his daughter ended up making him strangely sad. He'd been sad before, but something in his daughter's voice had made him confused today.

He remembered the first time he had laid eyes on his kid. He'd smiled his widest smile that night, and Shagun had become mad at him. "How can you smile so much when I have just been through such a difficult labour? Is this all you guys want? A baby-making machine? Do I not need deserve some happiness of my own?"

Raman had dismissed Shagun's words as those of a woman who'd endured the worst kind of pain, and perhaps someone suffering from some post-partum depression. He just chuckled, kissed his wife's forehead and said "Of course Shagun, you deserve all the happiness in the world. I love you, and thank you for this delightful bundle of joy"

That was the first and perhaps the last moment of joy Raman remembered that he shared with his daughter. Everything after that moment was like the sand slipping away from under his feet. He had no idea how big the incoming wave was.

In those months just before and after Ruhi was born, his wife had big mood-swings and even bigger arguments. She didnt really seem particularly interested in taking care of the baby, she didn't even care when Raman came late from work. She'd even stopped bickering with her mother in law. The only times Shagun had seemed cheerful was when they went to his office parties. Raman remembered wondering how easily Shagun had bounced back from the child-birth. When Aditya was born, it had taken more than 6 months for Shagun to want to go out and meet new people. But after Ruhi, Shagun seemed eager to get back in shape quickly and wanted to 'socialise'. He had been an idiot. There was no other way to put it.

There had been tears after she'd left. He cried, his daughter cried, and even his mother did. He remembered his father shedding an angry tear or two. He remembered Mihir's guilty tears. Slowly and steadily, everyone had stopped crying. His father had become quieter, his mother louder and Mihir sombre. His daughter thankfully didnt have a fully developed sense of language or emotions, so she didnt know any better. Raman had quietly travelled through different stages of grief, till he reached anger. And he stayed there for the last 6 years.

He was angry at Shagun for cheating him. He was angry at Ashok for making him stop believing in humanity. He was angry at his mother for letting him marry in the first place. He was angry at this father for being the one to first tell him that Shagun wasn't exactly the right woman for their family. He was angry at himself for being naive, blind and foolish; in that order. He was angry at his daughter for looking too much like her mother.

And just like that, he remembered his daughter's words. She had wanted him to know she'd won something. As if she thought that would make him come back home sooner. His daughter, in all her innocence had thought her father wasn't interested in her because she was some how sub-par. Raman looked up at the dark sky and then back at the water. He knew that at some point, he'd have to go back. He didn't want to wait too long. He knew he wouldn't be able to be the best father in the world, but he'd at least try to be the parent that stayed.

He texted Mihir and told him to book tickets back to Delhi. "Lets go now Mihir. I think it's time. And look for that estate agent's phone number. I want to see if that flat opposite ours is for sale. Mom said a couple of months ago that the earlier tenants had moved out and it was lying empty. I am thinking of buying it too. We'll need the space and Papaji wont agree to move out anywhere else"

***

So, how was it???

PS: In case you wondered, I added that last couple of lines about Raman wanting to buy the flat opposite to the Bhallas deliberately. In one of my more ambitious moments, I thought I could actually continue this story, and start YHM all over again, but write stories of my own about how Ishita found Ruhi, how Ruhi found Raman and how everything came to be... I am pretty sure I don't have the discipline to continue, but I look forward to feedback from you to see if you think it will be worth it to try or not?