All Yours, Stranger: Some Mysteries are Dangerously Sexy Read online

  ‘I don’t understand it, Meghna di. Why would you not want the relationship for which you guys fought your families?’

  ‘I don’t want to go into it again, Mini. I only know that, with Riju, I’m trying to make a start. A fresh start at life.’

  ‘But he looks like a—’

  ‘He is a second-year college student. Thirteen years younger.’

  ‘And you are okay with it?’

  Meghna looked at Rivanah and said, ‘Aadil was someone I fell in love with. Wasn’t I okay with him? I have stopped bracketing relationships with good, bad, right, wrong, okay, not okay.’

  The breeze coming in through the window ruffled Rivanah’s hair. She brushed a few strands of hair away from her face, still unable to process what she had heard.

  ‘I will prepare tea for all of us,’ Meghna said and went to the kitchen.

  Rivanah had nothing against Riju but she couldn’t bring herself to talk to him properly for the rest of the night. When they sat together for dinner she could see Meghna was happy with Riju: the way they talked, touching each other at the slightest of excuses, holding hands while eating, and the way Meghna took care of him was proof of their love. And yet all of it disturbed Rivanah. She knew whatever Meghna was doing was because of lack of an option. Age wasn’t the factor but the way Meghna was trying to fit into the relationship that she said she shared with Riju didn’t seem organic to Rivanah. Would she too end up like this? She wanted to call Danny and tell him that she forgave him and that marriage wasn’t necessary and that they should start afresh. But then she realized she was a human being after all. And with human beings everything has a ramification. Her coming to this flat would have a ramification as much as her going back to Danny now would. What if he started taking for her granted all the more?

  Rivanah went to the washbasin and splashed some water on her face. Her mind was akin to a traffic signal where no thought vehicle was following any rule. And they caused one messy traffic jam. As she rested on the sofa-cum-bed and tried to sleep, she thought about what would have happened had Ekansh not cheated on her. By now she would have been living with him, making more and more memories with him. He must have applied for an MBA but before that she would have made sure they were engaged. Two more years and they would have gotten married, moved abroad to some beautiful place and spent their life happily together. But it didn’t happen. What happened was that Ekansh turned out to be a dog. It taught her a simple truth: even if you love someone truly, things could still turn out badly. She turned on the sofa-cum-bed trying to force herself to sleep when she heard the doorbell. She checked her mobile phone lying beside her. It was 11.30 p.m. She remained still, hoping Meghna or Riju would come out and open the door. Then she recollected the two had gone out for a late-night movie after dinner. They had asked her but she had cited a false headache. The doorbell rang again. Rivanah got up and went to the door. She looked through the peephole. And she had her heart in her mouth.

  ‘Hiya!’ she mumbled to herself with fear churning her guts.

  12

  Rivanah pulled herself back from the door, her heart racing and hands trembling. Her knees felt weak. This couldn’t be possible. Hiya Chowdhury was dead. People whom she trusted had confirmed this for her. The doorbell rang again. This is not even a dream, Rivanah thought, and once again looked through the peephole. Hiya Chowdhury was still standing there wearing a salwar suit.

  ‘Who is this?’ Rivanah asked aloud. Her voice had a scared trill to it.

  ‘Didi, it is me . . . Swati.’

  A slight frown appeared on Rivanah’s forehead and she immediately opened the door.

  ‘Swati?’ she said, looking at the girl whose picture she had seen as Hiya Chowdhury’s profile picture. Though the picture on Facebook was not very clear, she could tell it was her picture. A closer look and she knew who this Swati was. The last time she had seen her, Swati had been in a dishevelled and bruised state in a municipal hospital in Borivali. Swati had been gang-raped near Aarey Colony. And Rivanah was instrumental in putting those gang rapists behind bars.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Rivanah asked. This was the first time she was actually talking to her.

  ‘My mother asked me to thank you for what you did and give you a hug,’ Swati spoke in Hindi but with a heavy Marathi accent.

  ‘You came to thank me at this hour? And how did you know I live here?’ Rivanah couldn’t hide her surprise.

  ‘I know it is odd, but my mother said a lady told her that this is when you need a hug the most. She gave her your address too. You have done so much for me. A hug at this hour is the least I could do.’

  A lady . . . Rivanah didn’t waste a second trying to figure out who this lady could be. Someone the stranger must have tipped to approach Swati’s mother. By now she knew it was useless to go to her and inquire about the stranger.

  ‘Whatever it is that is bothering you, Didi, will be over soon,’ Swati said and hugged her.

  At least there was someone in this whole world who knew when she craved a shoulder to cry, a hug to dissolve herself in, Rivanah thought, and hugged Swati back tightly. In no time her eyes were wet. She felt like she was emptying herself. As if those tears were words which she was sharing with Swati but in reality were intended for Danny. She could feel Swati’s hand caressing her back as if to tell her: cry, if that’s what you think will help, then do cry. After some time Rivanah let go of Swati.

  ‘I shall forever be indebted to you,’ Swati said before taking her leave. Rivanah was about to close the door when Swati turned back.

  ‘I forgot. Aayi asked me to give you this. The lady gave this to her.’ Swati took out a piece of white cloth from her shabby sling bag and gave it to Rivanah. She took it in her hand. By then she knew what it could be. She read the message embroidered in black: There’s a belief according to which the world of the dead and the world of sleep are connected.

  Rivanah swallowed a lump reading it. World of the dead . . . Hiya . . . world of sleep . . . the nightmare?

  ‘And this too,’ Swati said, giving her another piece of white cloth.

  Resign from your job ASAP.

  Rivanah was momentarily lost in thoughts when she heard Swati say, ‘If you could help me fight such a terrible crisis, I am sure you shall fight yours too. All will be well. Bye for now, Didi.’ Rivanah smiled at her before closing the door and wondered what Swati’s picture was doing in Hiya’s profile. Moreover, Hiya was her batchmate in college. Then why the hell couldn’t she remember her face though she remembered her laughter? Till she saw her profile picture on Facebook she thought she had a vague image of her in her mind. The kind which clears up the moment the person or her photograph comes in front of you. But the truth was she didn’t remember Hiya Chowdhury at all. And the stranger was taking advantage of it. But why would Argho comment on a fake Hiya’s profile? The clouds of confusion hovered in the sky of her mind. There were too many questions and none with any lead to a solid answer. Well, there was one lead. The stranger . . .

  The doorbell rang again. It was Meghna and Riju. He had his arm around her shoulder while she had hers around his waist. Something about it made Rivanah abhor them. Why was she being so judgemental about them? Was it because Meghna had found happiness with a guy much younger than her or was it because she hadn’t been able to find that happiness with Danny?

  ‘Hey, Rivanah, what’s up?’ Riju said.

  ‘Still awake?’ Meghna said.

  ‘I was about to sleep,’ Rivanah said and went to the sofa-cum-bed. Riju and Meghna locked the door and went to the bedroom.

  Lying alone on the bed, Rivanah could see the moon outside. She wondered why the stranger wasn’t telling her who Hiya Chowdhury was. Why was he playing this game with her? Then she realized the stranger was all about games to begin with. She couldn’t resign from her job just like that. It was her identity, the only alternative where she could afford to immerse herself and forget other troubles. Every time she ran from something,
it was work that came to her rescue. How could she simply resign? How would she sustain herself? What if she didn’t get another job immediately? And then Rivanah suddenly sat up. Something struck her. The stranger had asked her one thing repeatedly: What is the most important thing in your life? And she had time and again told him it was Danny. But only now she knew the answer. It was her job that was most important.

  She immediately wrote a message for the stranger on her phone and sent it to all the phone numbers she had saved with her.

  I need to talk.

  A minute later only one of them showed a delivery tick. And right after that her phone rang, flashing a private number.

  ‘Hello, Mini.’ It was a man’s voice.

  ‘I finally have an answer to your question.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘You asked me what the most important thing in my life was, right? It is my job. I can’t leave it. I can’t resign else my life shall collapse.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You do? If you know then why are you asking me to resign?’

  ‘So that your life collapses.’

  ‘I want to be really clear with you. I have nothing—absolutely nothing—to do with Hiya Chowdhury. In fact I’m sure you are the one who put Swati’s picture on Hiya’s profile. This proves I don’t even remember her. Then how can you expect me to do away with the most important thing of my life for her?’

  ‘It’s not for her. It is for you. You have to resign for your own sake.’

  ‘You know what that would mean? What if I don’t get another job?’

  ‘We presume a lot by merely looking at a road. But presumptions limit us, limit our life. You have to walk the road to really know what it has to offer.’

  ‘What if the thing this road has to offer is a big nothing?’

  ‘If you walk a road well, then it will at least offer one basic thing.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You will know your worth a little more, Mini. Every road is an opportunity to know yourself . . . bit by bit. Tougher the road, bigger the bit.’

  Rivanah took her time to frame her next question. Should she ask the stranger if it was Argho Chowdhury on the other side? He must know by now that she had been following him, so what was the harm? But what if he didn’t know she was following him? Just what if . . . ?

  ‘I need time to think,’ she said.

  ‘Think. And think fast. Maybe this road has to offer you something which you are eager to reach.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘Me.’ And the line went dead.

  Dammit! Rivanah thought. She was sure she wouldn’t resign but this last bit from the stranger was just the teaser she could have done without. Oh no, I can’t resign just like that. Her mind was quite numb. She wanted to know how Hiya Chowdhury was linked to her but she couldn’t find a way to do so. She wanted to know who the stranger was and now it seemed she had a chance. But it wasn’t a mere chance. Resigning from her job sounded more like a price. The stranger had told her before that the job wasn’t hers. That was absurd. In fact everything about the stranger was absurd. With sleep being a far cry, she turned over when she heard a moan. Suddenly it went up several decibels. Meghna was moaning out Riju’s name. Rivanah shut her ears with both her hands and then after a moment she released her hands only to hear Riju’s groan this time. The moans and groans reminded her of too many things and too abruptly: of Ekansh and her, of Danny and her, of Nitya and Danny, of Aadil and Meghna, of everything she didn’t want to be reminded of. She rushed for her earphones, put them on and played a random song on her phone. She finally relaxed. Earlier it was Meghna–Aadil’s fights which drove her out of the flat and now it was even more irksome. She knew she would have to look for a flat for herself. She checked her phone. There were no messages from Danny. Not a single one. She hadn’t messaged him either. So, going back to his flat was not even an option right now. The song she was listening to paused as her phone’s screen flashed a private number. She took the call.

  ‘What is it, Mini: yes or no?’

  ‘I’m sorry; I can’t resign. And you don’t have to tell me anything about Danny and Nitya either,’ she said. ‘It is—’

  ‘Yes or no?’

  ‘No!’

  There was a momentary silence.

  ‘Just to remind you, Mini, every yes or no has . . . consequences.’ The stranger cut the line.

  13

  When the stranger said ‘consequences’, Rivanah knew it wasn’t a joke. It scared her but you don’t resign from your job because you are scared of someone whom you have no idea about. More than the stranger this time, she was afraid of the one word the stranger had used: consequences. She had had enough of ‘consequences’ in her life. And she was tired of them. Falling in love with Ekansh had consequences, splitting up with him had consequences, choosing Danny, now staying away from him . . . staying with parents made her meek; living alone made her aware. Life is all about consequences and how you deal with them because Rivanah by now had understood nobody could run away from them. She would have thought more about this if her phone hadn’t buzzed with a WhatsApp message just then:

  How are you?

  It was Danny. He had finally found time to message her.

  Good, she wrote back.

  The ticks turned blue telling her Danny had read the message. But no reply came. She typed: And you? She sent it.

  Good. The reply was instant this time.

  Hmm.

  Hmm.

  It was their first official cold war where ego was the deciding factor. With this particular set of messages, she knew, their relationship had entered a new phase; whether it was backward or forward she had no clue. She stared at the WhatsApp message for some time. Danny was online and so was she. But neither communicated. On an impulse she tapped on the phone and it went back to the home screen. Suddenly furious, she switched off her data network and shut her eyes.

  The next morning Rivanah left for work before Meghna and Riju had opened their bedroom door. The first thing she did was log on to Facebook to search for flats. Unlike a year ago, now she knew exactly how to talk and negotiate with dealers. She was happy with one particular flat in Goregaon East itself. The dealer had told her the place would be shared by only one more girl. It was a 2 BHK where they would have a room each for themselves as well as a drawing room. Her share was to be twenty-five thousand rupees a month but she managed to bring it down to twenty-two a month. She told the dealer she would be there in the evening after office to check out the place and finalize it if she liked it.

  ‘Hey, Rivanah, did you see this?’ It was her team lead Sridhar. Before she could turn and look at him, Sridhar leaned to show her something on her desktop. Though Sridhar had this indecent habit of gaping at her breasts while talking, never before had he come this close to her. His face was too close for Rivanah to be comfortable. She tried to push her chair back but found Sridhar’s leg blocking it. He was showing her some Facebook video he could have easily asked her to see from his seat. Why this sudden inclination to come close? ‘I’ll just be back from the washroom,’ Rivanah lied, excusing herself before he could come any closer. Sridhar moved his leg from behind her chair and she pushed it to stand up.

  She turned to look at Sridhar who was gaping at her. Till then a mere eye-lock always made him look somewhere else but this time it was Rivanah who looked away.

  Right through the day Rivanah caught Sridhar looking at her in a manner she couldn’t decipher. It was as if he wanted her to say something. She kept wondering what it was the whole day in the office. After work, Rivanah went to see the apartment in Goregaon. It was on the twelfth floor. The view of the distant hills from the bedroom window made her waste no more time. She told the dealer she would complete all formalities the next day and move in the day after.

  ‘That will be great, madam.’ The dealer was happy to have sealed the deal in a day.

  ‘But do you have any idea who will stay with me
in the flat?’ she asked.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘I don’t want any weird girl as my roomie,’ Rivanah said, remembering Asha from her previous flat. And at the same moment she missed Ishita too. It had been some time since they had had a talk. She made a mental note to contact her soon as she heard the dealer say, ‘The other room is still not occupied. And don’t worry. You can ask anyone. My record is clean as far as tenants are concerned. No weird people ever.’

  Rivanah flashed a plastic smile and said, ‘See you tomorrow morning at the registrar’s office.’

  That night when Rivanah told Meghna about the shift she said, ‘Let me know if you need my help.’

  ‘Sure, Di,’ Rivanah said, hoping she wouldn’t need any such help. Meghna had started to remind Rivanah of what she could pretty well become in the near future. And she didn’t like it one bit. Severing herself from Meghna was her priority.

  The next morning Rivanah took her luggage to the registrar’s office where an eleven-month contract was drawn between the landlord and her, after which she gave the landlord eleven post-dated cheques, went straight to the furnished flat with the keys, put her luggage there, and immediately left for office.

  In the office Sridhar yet again kept looking at her expectantly. And during lunch he WhatsApped her: I’m okay with it. What was he okay with? Rivanah had no clue. She was about to ask him when someone cleared his throat and asked, ‘Are you Rivanah Bannerjee from Sridhar’s team?’

  She looked up to see a middle-aged man with a slight paunch and a receding hairline looking down at her. His ID was hanging from his neck. She read his name in a flash: Bitan Dey.

  ‘Yes, that’s me.’

  ‘Hi, I’m sure you don’t know me. I just wanted to tell you that it’s okay with me. We can meet after office if you are free. See you.’ And he walked off.

  It’s okay with me—the phrase struck Rivanah hard. Something was wrong. She immediately WhatsApped Sridhar back: What are you okay with?