Will You Write With Me

10

I was fooled by a narcissistic writer. How could he recklessly cheat me? I really wanted to kill him that moment when I saw that shit news on my mobile. But more than killing him, I wanted answers from his ugly tongue. But I didn’t know how to get it from him. I had a thought of hiring some goons to kidnap his ass to Chennai. But I convinced myself that I was better than that. I didn’t share that pathetic news to Meera, she would not like if I keep pulling Navya’s topic in between our conversation. I really didn’t want to piss her off again. I wanted someone to talk, someone who could allude me a good suggestion. I hurried to Dr. Rekha’s clinic. I had no sessions, in fact, she claimed that I was cured with my depression months ago. But then, I was out of my usual state. I didn’t feel depressed, I felt like I was fooled by some rude, jealous bastard. I hurried inside the clinic and rushed into Dr. Rekha’s cabin. She was in a session with some other patient. She looked me in shock as she didn’t expect me to interrupt her session that way.
“I needed to talk with you. It will not go beyond 5 minutes, I promise”, I said, standing right near the door.
“After this session”, she said. I decently came out from her cabin and waited for more than an hour. I wondered how people in depression were able to survive with lots of untold stories inside them. We all need someone to share our happiness and sadness. But not all are blessed with that someone who can listen to your stories, hours without judging. Unfortunate people like myself have to seek some stranger, like Dr. Rekha, not for help, but to talk. Sharing your emotions with a right person is the only best medicine for all depressions. After almost 2 hours, the person who shared her story to Rekha that time came out from her cabin. I crept inside while Dr. Rekha was tasting a glass of water. I rested myself on the sofa. She glared at my jittery look. 
“What is wrong with you today?”, she asked me. I took my phone and showed her the news, which startled me. She took a deep look at it for five minutes. She should have studied the whole article.
“What is this?”, she asked me.
“Darshit fooled me. He lied to me that he got engaged to Navya. It was all a fake drama”, I said in my loud voice.
“Why should he fool you?”, she asked.
“How do I know?”, I shrugged.
“I think that Navya must have told him to do whatever he did”, she said.
“Why should she tell him to fool me?”, I asked.
“Ask him”, she said.
“How?”, I asked her with my anxious tone.
“Find him and ask him. If you need answers, you have to ask questions to the right person”, she said. And I knew whom she was referring to. Darshit was the right person to answer all my questions. After a 15-minute talk, I walked off from that clinic to my home.
‘She told me that you were hitting on her. She asked me to tell you all this, so please don’t disturb her anymore.’ – Darshit’s voice slapped me. “Dr. Rekha might be true, Navya must have told Darshit to tell me whatever he told me that day”, I thought. But why? I didn’t propose her, I didn’t cross my line anywhere around her. My next job was to find Darshit and fire him with my questions. ‘Where I could find him?’, I thought. And the answer was simple, Mumbai. It had been more than 6months – my return from Kolkata. My intuition told me that he would no longer be there in Kolkata. If not Kolkata, the next place I could think was Mumbai. But I had to confirm my perception. It took only one phone call to confirm my instinct and to find his home address. All I had to do, was to fly to Mumbai and kick his ass.
               I boarded Air India flight to Mumbai and landed in Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj International Airport after a 2-hour journey. I didn’t had any friends in Mumbai to pick up me, and I didn’t bother about that either. I didn’t book any room in any of the star hotels. I took a cab and hurried to Darshit’s address, which I got over a phone call. He lived somewhere in Thane, and it took about 40 minutes to reach his place. The house looked grand and modern. I also witnessed an Audi A3 in the carparking. ‘Rich writer’, I thought. But not richer than me. I was sure that it was not his own house. By judging the design and the outlook of that house, I found that crores of rupees must have spent to build that house. He would never spend that much money to build a house. But he must be giving rent about 50,000 per month to stay there. I pressed the calling bell. A mesmerizing tune played loud inside the house, which I could hear from outside. A lady opened the door. Judging by her outlook, I knew that she was a maid. It was 5.00 in the evening, and she must be working tirelessly to get her daily wage.
“Aap kaun hai?”, she said something in Hindi.
“Is this Darshit’s place?”, I asked her in English. She couldn’t understand my language, and I couldn’t understand hers.
“Kaun?”, she again said something in Hindi.
“Darshit… Darshit”, I said in my loud clear voice.
“Ho aaram karte hai. Aap kaun hai?” (He is resting. Who are you?), she again said something in Hindi and infuriated me. I had lost my control.
“DARSHIT…”, I said loudly. She didn’t react to my voice, she stood there mum glaring at my annoyed face.
“Shit”, I said in utter frustration. 
“Ho kaun hai?” (Who is it?), I heard another phrase in Hindi, but it was from a familiar voice.
“Muje oh patha nahi hai” (I don’t know who he is), she replied to his words.
His face got tensed once his eyes met mine. But yet, he managed to smile at me. And I didn’t react to it.
“Tik hai. Ho mera dhosth hai. Tum jaake thera kaam dhekh” (It’s okay. He is my friend. You go and do your work), he said to her, and she went inside the house by staring at me wildly. ‘Why the hell all North Indians are so rude?’, I said to myself.
“Come in Advik”, he said. We took a seat on the couch at the living room.
“I didn’t expect you here like this. What are you doing in Mumbai?”, he asked me.
“Came to meet you”, I said and toughen my look.
“Coffee?”, he changed the topic quickly. Before my answer, he said, “Hema, dho coffee kardho” (Hema, make two coffee).
“Tik hai bhaiya” (Okay brother), a response to his statement came from the maid.
“Tell me, what brings you to Mumbai”, he again asked the same question. I gave him a cold stare.
“How did you get my address?”, he asked me.
“It’s a long story. I am here to congratulate you”, I said.
“For what?”, he asked.
“For your marriage. I saw the article about your marriage in google”, I said. I could see his eyes, getting dim after hearing my statement.
“Oh… Thank you”, he said and gave me a smile. That sheepish smile made me anger. I abruptly punched him on his nose and choked him tight. He suffered to breathe. I could have killed him that day, but breaking sound of glasses made me to stop my actions. I turned quickly to see what was broken, it was the maid who dropped the coffees after seeing my actions. She stood there stunned and speechless.
“Hema ghar jaao. Mei isko samaal sakthaa hun. Iss baare me kissiko na bollna. Ab ghar jaayie” (Hema go home. I will handle this. Don’t tell this to anyone. Go home now), he said to her with his broken voice. She hurriedly opened the door and went off. I thought that she was going to call police to arrest me. 
“Why did you lie to me?”, I asked him in anger. She was mum and was cleaning some drops of blood which was flowing from his nose. My punch must have damaged his nostrils badly. After seeing the blood, I gave up on my emotions. I asked him for the first aid kit and applied some ointments and bandages to stop the bleeding. And it stopped eventually after a period of time.
“I am sorry”, he apologised to me.
“Why do you do that to me?”, I asked with my imploring eyes.
“Because Navya is my close friend. I don’t want her to suffer another heartbreak”, he said. His words were confounding to me. “What do you mean? I don’t understand”, I said.
“You don’t know about Navya, do you? She might be bright, charmful and happy all the time. But behind her smile, there are many hidden pains”, he said and started to narrate her story.