Faasla

Nine

"Hello, Mrs. Raval", a good friend from the school I work in exclaims in my ear, through the phone.

"Woman, you married a celebrity and never contacted any of us. I mean, why would you, right? You're The Darshan Raval's wife now", she goes on, and on, while only I know about the reality I'm living through.

"I researched about your husband on the Internet. A page says that he lives in a Penthouse. Is that true?", she takes a dive straight into the gossips and I let out a sigh.

"Maya!", I exclaim, slowing her down. "Take a breath, woman", I roll my eyes and slump down on the bed.

"So, you're living in a Penthouse?", she ignores me with convenience. "It's depressing", I breathe. "I honestly wouldn't mind being depressed in a Penthouse, you know. I'd rather be rich and sad, than poor and...still fucking sad", Maya belongs to a museum, I swear. I don't know how she ended up in a school, as a teacher.

"Say hi to Jiju. Is he around?", when Maya opens her mouth, almost all the time, something absurd comes out of it. "Jiju? Yuck. Maya, cut the crap", I roll my eyes.

"It's such a horrible time for you, right? Just married and now a lockdown. You couldn't even step out for your honeymoon. Acha, where was he planning to take you?", she interrogates and I feel the irresistible urge to cut the call on her face. "Hell", I mutter under my breath.

"Where was he planning to take you? I won't tell anyone, I swear", she nudges. "Probably a world tour, right?".

"Maya, why would I need a world tour when I'm living in a Penthouse, even though its depressing", I toss her dialogue back at her. "Oh shit. He hasn't planned anything at all? He's not the romantic kind?", her voice drops. Romantic kind? Bro, he isn't even kind to me, forget about the romance.

"Babe, can I call you later? I'm in the middle of something", I lie, even though I'm just rolling over and around my bed. "Wait, wait, wait!", she yells. "I called you for something important. But look at me take a dig at your love life", she sounds disappointed at herself. As she should.

"So, last week there were a bunch of teachers from an Australian school, and they visited us for an inspection. By the end of it, they offered that they could hire five best Kindergarten teachers for their school in Australia. You were shortlisted, too. Actually, you're right on top! I don't you won't take the offer, but I just wanted a word from you before I send the list", she narrates the whole incident.

"Why wouldn't I take the offer?", I question, blankly. "Your husband is based in India, right? Would you leave him and move to Australia permanently?", she questions back. "Which husband are you talking about, Maya?", I breathe out in annoyance.

"Da--Darshan Raval. Dude, did I make a mistake? You married Darshan Raval, right? And he's an independent artist in India", she cross checks her facts. "I'm just married to him. I'm not his wife!", I burst the bubble for her. "Wait. What?", confusion is evident in her voice.

I take one deep breath in, before spilling the truth out to her. Right from the wedding night to the contract I signed to all the fights we ever had.

"That's that. I'm legally married to him, and nothing more", I conclude my long story, and for the first time in history - Maya has nothing to say.

"What the hell, Nivi? You were going through all of this all alone, and never bothered to call me?", her voice drops. "I was embarrassed", I whisper. "Why are you embarrassed? That man - who put you through all of this - should be the one hiding his face", Maya lashes out at him.

"Why are you still with him? Go find  lawyer, show him the contract and tell him how you were fooled into all of this!", Maya tells me. "You know you have the upper-hand, because he never told you about it until you were married to him. That one statement is enough to put an end to his dirty game!", she adds.