The Broken Heart Syndrome

CHAPTER 2

RHYTHM

I don't let myself dream, at least not when I'm awake and at night those wishes, dreams and fake scenarios, whatever you want to call them, are the only things that can put me to sleep. Then I continue them by daydreaming and that is how I spend my days. Call it unhealthy but that is how I cope, that's how I survive.

So, travelling by plane was also somewhere on my wish list. I didn't believe that I'd ever get to do that. So yeah, my middle-class mind can't comprehend the fact that I'm travelling by plane and going on a trip I've wanted my whole life.

And just like that, that disbelief turns into uncomfortable questions and suspicions.

"Where did the money come for the plane tickets and for this entire trip?"

"Why did this trip was so out of the blue?"

"And why in the hell my father is so excited?"

Many words can be used for my father and excitement isn't one of them. And the fact that he is excited, is unsettling for me. I just can't take more of these surprises of his.

The view outside my window is heavenly. I've only seen views like this in pictures and let me tell you they don't do justice to the real stuff. I can be here, plastered to the window, forever.

"Rhythm? Rhythm! Wake up!" I wake up with a jolt not knowing where I am.

"What?" I grumble to my brother who by the looks of it, is still sour about not getting the window seat. I played my you-sat-on-the-window-seat-in-your-last-trip card, which by the way wasn't a power play. He had just gone on his first school trip, so it was fair.

"We are about to land in fifteen minutes." He explains.

"Ugh! I slept the whole way?!" I exclaim.

He laughs and says," Yes and you were drooling and snoring too. Made my head hurt."

I shove him with my shoulders or try to. He's taller than my 5'5" frame and doubled the weight. So, I just manage to hurt my shoulder and nothing else. He just laughs and goes back to playing games on his phone.

***

"So, what's your future plan, beta?" asks my uncle from the driver's seat.

I hate this line of questioning with my entire being. I never know what to answer and how I can when I don't know about this plan. I can't tell what I will do tomorrow rest alone in my future.

A shot of anxiety runs through my veins like always. My breathing gets a little uneven and sharp pain slices through my left palm. It's a minute pain but enough for me to dig in my nails.

Taking in a few deep breaths, I answer absently, "I'm just planning on getting my master's degree"

"Good, good," he says like he's very proud.

"What subject?" he asks further.

"English lit, " I answer. I can't answer in more than one word when my whole concentration is on numbing the pain and finding that space where I don't feel anything.

Finally releasing a deep breath, I slowly open my left palm where now I find red moon-like indents.

I know it's not a long-term reliable way of dealing with anxiety but it's the only way in which I don't give in to the pain because I fear if I ever gave in, I won't be able to get out of it.

The rest of the way to my uncle's house is a blur. How I got to their place, I don't have a clue.

Once my aunt, didi and bhaiya came to the front door to greet us, that's when I snap into attention and became aware of my surroundings.

It's a nice flat. We enter the flat which opens in the living room leading to an open kitchen , dining area and three bedrooms right to the kitchen and a bathroom down the hall.

I admit that Uncle has done very well for himself. This kind of housing in Mumbai is not for someone like us. We can only dream of living in someplace like this.