A Life Of Lies | ✔

Ayansh • 3

Lying is such a stage - drama. The liar performs either a nervous debutant or the overconfident smooth Grammy winner. And the one who's lied to either acts a dumb bimbo or an all-knowing ass. I think God is the only one who gets the most out of the act of lying. I mean, it should be a popcorn-worthy drama to view from Up There.

It's neither easy to lie nor to be lied to. But I guess that's what I've been doing and receiving most of my life. That's all you can do when your honesty has no good outcome and provides no sort of release. In fact, the line 'the truth shall set you free' has never made any sense to me. All I can say of the truths of my life is that if they ever come out, it won't set me free. Rather, it would set me on fire, burning out the last of my ties with the ones who are essential to me.

And that is why my fears are on a ferry wheel ride inside my mind as I hold Hansika from behind. She's breathing rapidly, her body cuddled in the fetus position and her head held tightly by her hands. Her body trembles under me. She's having an episode.

"A - Aya - Ayansh," her breathless voice reaches my ears and I immediately reply with, "Yes, baby? Do you want water? Some pills? Should I hold you tighter?"

She smiles weakly for a second, her breaths still ragged but her body a little looser. "Calm down."

Wow, the audacity. "You're asking me to calm down?! When you're like this?"

"Shh," she shuts me up with a single release of breath.

I sometimes appalled at the amount of power I've let myself give her on me. But at other times I'm sure that she took it from me effortlessly and I had no choice but to be affected by her everything.

"Can you take me out? I can't be at home. I just can't here," the words come rushing out between breaths.

"Sure! Come let's get out. Fresh air!" I immediately get up from the couch and move to carry her out. She swats her hand away.

"No. You get changed, I'll take some time and get dressed. We'll go out. Like out of this whole place. I don't care where" she says as she slowly gets up herself. I take a full look at her. She looks a little tired but her eyes look out at me in desperation.

I loosen my tie as I nod and walk into my closet as she walks to the kitchen for some water. I knew I could've asked her anything and everything about her episode. She was on the couch, writhing in small, jerking moments, tears spilling out but no noise coming. Her face was as pale as the wings of a swan that only touched the virgin waters, unexposed to air, sunlight and anything of colour.

She was quaking under the power of her memories. And I don't know what they told her.

You wouldn't wanna know, Ayansh. You wouldn't wanna know what her memories told her of you.

My fearful mind complied with the words of the voice in my head and I closed my eyes, the pressure of this entire life weighing down on my shoulders extra hard.

And I can't help but wonder if it would feel any lighter if my life were void of the lies that I built.

***

"Don't order any wine, please," Hansika says as she squeezes my hand.

"But I thought it would help you calm down... Are you sure?" I ask, a little worried. Hansika has never said no to wine before. It's not like she drinks a lot or frequently, but she has never refused it downright like this.

"I'm sure, Ayansh. I'm not in the mood for wine, that's all." She fidgets with the hem of her saree pallu.

I nod as I call for the waiter. Once our orders are given, I reach for her hand again. Something about the softness in her heart against the timid roughness of my palm spreads warmth through me. The warmth of belonging, a befitting relationship.

"It was my mother," Hansika says, finally breaking the silence that had wrapped a cocoon around us. "The episode I had... It was about my mother."

I squeeze her hands in reassurance as I ask her to go on. A sick, narcissistic corner of my mind relaxes a little because this episode wasn't about me. I hope she never gets one about me.

"It wasn't a lot. Just a vision. I was little, maybe just eight? I'm not sure, all I saw was a cloudy vision. And she was there, standing next to me. I think I was sitting on the wall and she was standing next to the wall. There was a plate on her hand. I think she was feeding me."

A smile glows from the insides of her face. I can see the light in her eyes, and the candle in front of us is in no way responsible. This is pure Hansika. And it melts me completely.

"How did she look?" I ask.

Her bright eyes meet mine.

"She looked like the epitome of benevolence, love and care. It's so ironic that my episode was all misty, but her face is what I remember the most. There were wrinkles under her eyes, but the crinkle at the end of her eyes was from the smile she had for me. There were marks of worry on her face very visible, but she had nothing but a lovable smile for me. She was beautiful, yes, but that's not what made her a lovable face. Her face is one of those that can't not be loved the moment it captured eyes because it was a radiance of hope. She gave that to you with just her face."

What she doesn't realize in her nostalgic bliss is that she's describing herself; the effect she has on me. I feel my love intensify for her with every single beat my heart pumps into my veins. Every cell of my body is chanting her name as if she's the mantra who'll help their sinned selves attain salvation.

God, I'm whipped.

"Ayansh?" She brings me back to the present. I look at her and she points at my phone. It's vibrating. Since when did I stop sensing my phone's ringing?

I sigh and grab my phone to cut the call but the name that flashes on my screen stops me.

Doctor Jaiswal

This is Hansika's doctor. Why is she calling me?

Is Hansika sick? Is there some... No! It can't be. Does she know something, then?

My thumb outruns my disorienting mind as it swipes the call to Don't Attend. I cannot deal with the consequences of this call right now.

No sooner than I cut off the call I get a text from her. It read: Mr Mishra, we need to talk. This is about Hansika. I'm her doctor from eight months ago, Anita Jaiswal. It's urgent. Call me back.

Doctor Jaiswal hasn't seen Hansika in seven months. Hansika hadn't wanted to go back to that hospital, especially to Jaiswal for some crazy reason. Her panic reaction whenever I tried to take her to the doctor made me stop it after a while.

You stopped it for your benefit too, you hypocrite, said the sceptical, accusing part of my mind.

I pause the word war in my mind as I press a quick OK to her. Whatever it may be, Doctor Jaiswal was out of our lives months ago. Why does she want in now? What does she know?

I need to know that. I need to decide whether to reward her or shut her up.

***