You Are All I Need Read online

  I go back to my book.

  ‘There is something else . . .’ she blurts out.

  I put my book down and wait.

  ‘I love someone else.’

  I was waiting for it. These kids think they are so smart, always on their phones, chatting and smiling. Even an old woman like me can tell who has an affair and who is going through a break-up. I knew Anaya had a boyfriend. Never knew it was this serious.

  ‘Okay. Call him tomorrow. I will tell your father. We will meet him. I can’t promise you anything, but we will meet him.’

  I am so clever.

  ‘That’s not it,’ she mumbles again.

  And I wait. Again. Where did we go so wrong with this generation?

  ‘We met in college,’ she continues. ‘Had the same classes. We clicked instantly. For two years we were best friends. But then we graduated, and I realized that I was in love. And we have been in a relationship since then.’

  ‘Look, Anaya. I agreed to talk to your parents. And that’s it. You can’t force me to like him just yet. Let’s wait and see how it goes. And, remember, caste still matters in this house.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ she sobs. And now it’s a high-pitched, ear-ringing cry.

  ‘Anaya, stop it!’ It’s tiring to watch her cry like that. ‘Just tell me the reason. No beating around the bush.’

  I am stern now. And any minute I will be at my worst. I am looking at my cane right at this moment.

  ‘You won’t get it,’ she replies angrily. ‘All you think about is what’s wrong with this generation and how lowly our thoughts are. You won’t understand a thing.’

  She is right. That is what I think. But she is wrong. I will understand.

  ‘I wasn’t always like this, you know,’ I tell her. ‘I was like you once. Full of zeal and sparkle. Wanting to do everything on my own. I remember I wanted to work at an office. But in my days it was impossible. I gave up food and water for three days, after which your grandfather finally agreed to let me be the financial head at his company.’

  I smiled.

  I could have had anything I wanted. I was pretty too. Now I am old and wrinkly. The reason I don’t have mirrors in my room.

  ‘It’s not that simple, Dadi . . .’ She puts her head down on the bed. ‘It’s more complicated than fighting for a job.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Anaya! Stop with this whining. It’s just a boy. Did I raise you so weak that you would cry over a boy?’

  ‘That is the reason you won’t understand. Because you are too strict and too conservative!’ she shouts. ‘I can’t believe I came to you for help. Someone who has never been in love will never understand what I am going through.’

  Her eyes are flashing with anger.

  ‘Love. I was in love once. We met at the office. He was the first person who welcomed me as if he were welcoming another employee. Just smiled and said not to listen to anyone.’

  My husband was not the type of person to show affection. Of course, he had a family to look after and he forgot how to show empathy to his own wife. There was just a marriage between us. We were two people sharing a bed. But love was not required to get married back then.

  ‘I always thought that I fell for Somil, even though I was married, because I didn’t like my husband. But now that I am old, I realize that love is not simple to understand. It was so easy for me to fall for Somil. Soon, we started meeting in secret. I didn’t even think of the consequences it would have for my three-year-old marriage. I was just too much in love to think. Is that what love is? It makes you someone else. It makes you brave. Well, my bravery flew out the window the day your dada caught me with Somil. For nine months I was meeting Somil until we got caught.’

  My granddaughter was listening with her eyes wide.

  ‘I know now love doesn’t make you brave, because as soon as I got caught, I denied everything. I denied ever falling for Somil. And said we were just good friends. We didn’t do anything. Really. Yes, too boring for this generation, but we weren’t raised like that. What I was doing would not be considered cheating nowadays. But back in my days, it was the reason people got divorced. So I just denied everything. I didn’t go to the office for a week. And when I returned, Somil was gone. No one could tell me whether he had been fired or if he had just left on his own. After that, love never found me again.’

  ‘Dadi . . .’ Anaya taps me. To see whether I am alive or not.

  ‘Yes. And I am not mad at you.’ I brush her cheeks softly with my fingers. ‘But, darling, you need to tell me the truth.’

  ‘Did you ever think about leaving grandfather?’ she asks, head buried in a pillow. Too ashamed to even look at me.

  ‘Yes, I did. After two months, Somil came to me. He asked me to run away with him. He said that we would be happy far away from all this. He said that I was his one true love and that no one else would ever come into his life. I couldn’t leave then. I wasn’t brave enough. So he left. I didn’t see him ever again.’

  I look at Anaya. And realize that the love she has been talking about is not that different from what I had felt. But she is different. She has the strength to fight for it.

  ‘Anaya, just trust me. If I like the boy, I will get you married to him,’ I say. ‘Caste no bar.’

  ‘It’s a girl.’ She peeps at me from the pillow.

  I stare at her. ‘What!’

  ‘I love a girl. I want to be with her.’

  I am at a loss for words. I can see her crying and staring at me. She looks like a balloon without air. Too empty to rise on its own. She looks deflated. Her greatest secret revealed. She hopes that I will understand. And I do. Love is just that—love.

  ‘Let me and your father meet her. If we like her, then fine. If not, then you will go find yourself another girlfriend. Boy or girl, you will not live with someone who is not right for you.’

  For a minute from then, I feel the air squeezed out of my lungs. Anaya is hugging me so tight that I can feel my ribs crushing. Finally, I see her smiling. I can read her eyes. She has been accepted as she is.

  This is what love is. It is not about right and wrong. It is about being you and finding the courage to fight for the two of you.

  8

  Fast Train to Love

  Pooja Dubey

  She was not fast enough to reach the ladies’ coach but enough to catch the train and get into the special coach for people with disabilities. Mumbai trains stop for no one. They follow the schedule strictly and give you only two minutes to find an entry.

  She felt somewhat restless even in the nearly empty coach. There were only five people in it—an old blind man, two specially abled women, a young boy and a blind man in his early thirties. She did not belong there.

  She had no disability. If a ticket checker caught her, she would have to pay a fine. Local railways staff was very strict and would not take any excuse she offered them. She had to get down at the next station, which was still some distance away, as she had taken a fast train from Mumbai Central, and it would stop next at Dadar.

  She did not want to get down at Dadar—it was always super crowded and the mob would crush her if she tried to change the coach. She still remembered the first time she’d boarded a train from Dadar. She had let four trains pass before she could gather the courage to enter one. A person has to be a spirited fighter, willing to throw everyone out of the way to be able to make an entry into a station like Dadar.

  So she thought of letting Dadar pass and decided to get down at the next station, Bandra. But she was going to Andheri, which was the station right after Bandra in a fast local. So why not have some more patience and get down directly at her destination? But what if she got caught at Dadar or Bandra? Those ticket checkers acted like undercover agents, blending into the masses in normal clothes. And all of them seemed to have an uncanny eye for defaulters.

  If any of them caught her, she decided she would act like she had severe leg pain. After all, she wasn’t so bad at acting. Who would ex
amine her leg physically anyway? It was a free country, after all, not like under British rule, when she could have been thrown out brutally. It was only recently that she had seen a short film shared on WhatsApp. It had depicted how their lives could have been if they were still being ruled by the British—a beautiful couple had met with an accident and were treated like shit when they went to a British restaurant to seek shelter and help. She was not committing a crime, so why was this guilt nagging her so much? She could not understand.

  She settled down on the last seat in a corner to avoid doubtful stares. The guilt was still large in her head but soon subsided when she saw there were more than enough empty seats for any specially abled person who might get in at Dadar. If more people entered, she anyway had a chance to get down at Bandra, or better still, just stand and give others a chance to sit. Then she wouldn’t be wrong, not at least in her own eyes.

  Despite so many self-assurances, she could not help but worry and wished she had a panic button she could just switch off. And then she could experience calm. But that wasn’t to be.

  She wondered how ‘Acharya Chanakya’, the coach of Samrat Ashoka, could remain so calm even in the most terrifying situations. She had recently seen a few episodes of Chakravartin Ashoka Samrat and loved the character of the coach, for he was so intelligent, intuitive and calm. Had he really been like that? Or was it just the exaggeration of a personality? Maybe—how would she ever know? It was not like she could sit in a time machine and go back to the past.

  On the opposite bench sat a blind man with black glasses. The glasses looked pretty deluxe. How could a blind man travelling by train afford that, she wondered and kept looking at him. She could not help but notice that his clothes were also expensive. He wore an original grey Zara T-shirt over blue denims. There was also an exquisite watch on his wrist. The man was also healthy, even muscular, and quite handsome. This was strange. She wondered if he was even blind. What if he wasn’t? All he had to do was wear dark glasses to look blind. He did not even have a rod that blind people normally carried. But why would a man who could afford riches travel by a cheap train?

  ‘You are wondering if I am blind?’ he said in a husky, bold voice.

  ‘What? You can see?’ She had not been wrong in her guess. What a jerk.

  ‘Yes, I can see, but only partially. I am kind of night-blind. Can’t see in the dark.’

  ‘Oh!’ She silently scolded herself for being too judgemental, too quickly, and calling him a jerk in her head.

  ‘But you are neither blind nor disabled. Am I right?’ he confronted.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘You are restless, observing others, conscious, and chose to take the innermost seat despite the empty coach.’

  ‘Maybe I like peace.’

  ‘Really?’ He smiled. ‘I think you are cautious because you think you might get caught.’

  ‘Wow! You are so observant.’

  ‘Oh, I can be so much more.’

  ‘So much more?’

  ‘I can read minds.’

  ‘Really?’ she laughed. ‘Trying to impress a girl? Bluffmaster.’

  She wondered if he was some kind of a philanderer and this was his pick-up line for women. After all, he was handsome and wore expensive clothes. And he was only partially blind, so it must be easy for him to get women interested in him with his sweet talk.

  ‘Try me,’ he challenged.

  ‘Okay, so tell me what I am thinking now,’ she said, wondering if she was doing the right thing by encouraging the conversation.

  Shouldn’t I just ignore him and disconnect? He, of course, cannot be a mind reader. That is impossible, because that can only be explained by magic, which does not exist. She recalled a Netflix series, Once Upon a Time, which had fairy-tale characters woven into a single story. Magic played a very prominent role in it.

  ‘You are thinking if you should talk to me or not; you think a lot,’ he said.

  ‘That was a lucky guess and, actually, every stranger would think the same in this situation, where a man claims he can read minds,’ she said, giving him a half-smile.

  ‘True. Then try thinking of something I can never figure out about you,’ he suggested

  Her mind went back to the report she had submitted to her boss, Hardik, before leaving office.

  Will Hardik appreciate my efforts or will he not be impressed? I’ve worked so hard on it. I have spent four precious days on it, when I could not even sleep in peace.

  ‘You are thinking if your boss is going to like the report you gave him today. And which you took four days to complete.’

  ‘What? That is impossible!’ She was flabbergasted.

  She could not believe him. No stranger could have ever made such an accurate guess, no matter the level of intelligence. The report, her boss, that the boss was male, and four days—all specifics.

  ‘Still wondering if I can?’ he asked, but this time she did not respond. If he was really a mind reader, she would not be required to say anything but only think, which she was already doing. She could control her words but not her thoughts. In fact, her thoughts were aflame. At first, she thought that it was some kind of mind game that he was playing and could really be a wise person, but the very next moment she felt scared.

  What if he really can read my mind? Can he use it to discover my secrets? Perhaps try to take advantage? Should I be scared? Should I just run and get down at the next station? Or should I just stand at the door? Maybe then he will not be able to read my mind.

  ‘Don’t be scared. I am not going to take advantage of you,’ he said.

  Why are you telling me this? Showing off or what?

  ‘I have not spoken to anyone in months. I was bored, so . . .’

  And why have you not been speaking to anyone? What a creep . . .

  ‘Because since the day I have recovered from my accident and lost my sight, I have been able to hear people think, and I know they hate me for it.’

  Till now she had still been in two minds about whether he could really hear her thoughts, but now she believed him.

  But why would people hate you?

  ‘Because I was ruthless, like a dictator, who cared only about money and results. And now no amount of money can get me my eyesight back. I am affluent and own a billion-dollar company, and yet I have no one to share my pains with.’

  Then what are you doing in this second-class compartment of a local train? Billion-dollar? Seriously? Do you think I am going to believe that? This stupid magical mind-reading stunt, and now a prince in disguise! How cheesy!

  ‘No one knows me here, so they won’t judge me or think ill of me. I feel safe here.’

  Why can’t you improve? You have money, the power to read minds, and here you are, crying about your poor social skills. Huh! What a story you are making up!

  ‘I am trying, but with so much judgement already in people’s minds, it is difficult. And now, with my weakness known to them, all they want to do is teach me a lesson.’

  You have been hard on them and now they are doing the same thing to you. Don’t you think you deserve it? Even I am judging you, even though I have known you for just a few minutes. You sound creepy to me.

  Normally, she would not be so blunt in pointing out someone’s flaws but she had no power over her words today, as her thoughts were open to him. She had no control over what he heard.

  ‘I do,’ he smiled. ‘And maybe I don’t even deserve a second chance.’

  Everyone deserves a second chance. We are all human and we make mistakes. Sometimes small, sometimes big. I have made many. I was once guilty of almost cheating on my boyfriend but he was kind enough to forgive me. Yes, later we parted ways, but I understand how badly one can need forgiveness after the realization of one’s mistakes. You should keep trying. Maybe one day they will forgive you. And with your mind-reading power, it will become easier for you to say the right things at the right time to people.

  ‘You think so?’ he asked. Thankf
ully, he did not latch on to the confession she had inadvertently made.

  Not sure, because I barely know you. But then, you do look like a genuine person. Just a spoilt one, perhaps, because of all the money you have that makes you so proud.

  ‘Then how about we have coffee and get to know each other?’ he said, smiling.

  All the other heads in the train turned to him. For them, he had mostly just been talking to himself, and now looked like a stalker who had caught hold of a helpless lonely girl on the train. Their eyes had a fury that he could not see but she could. Their thoughts had questions that she could not hear but he could.

  ‘So you are asking me out on a date?’ she said, to save him from the embarrassment.

  He smiled and said nothing. She smiled back and wondered how impressive he would look on a date. She could no longer hide her feelings, which was disturbing but also reassuring, because she did not have to pretend or wear a mask before him. He was one man on this earth with whom she could be herself. And she would never appear any worse to him, as he was already a man who was judged by so many for being ruthless. She knew that their conversation would go a long way and that she was ready to meet him again.

  On the opposite bench, the man just smiled.

  9

  The Genesis of Luck

  Ruby Gupta

  Everybody tells me I’m lucky. I have everything a woman could possibly ask for—a rich, well-educated husband, two beautiful well-behaved children and a smoothly running home. After so many years, I, too, have almost started subscribing to the belief that I am a privileged woman. But only almost.

  During the early days of my marriage, I had been a giddy teenager. In the excitement of my new husband, wardrobe, jewellery, parties and picnics, I had nearly squashed a niggling voice that said, ‘There’s something missing.’

  Of course, my children, who came soon and in quick succession, helped me channelize my thoughts and energies from my inner self. I was a doting mother and, despite having house help, loved doing everything for them myself. But once the children started school, I began to feel out of sorts. And as the kids grew and began to get alarmingly independent, the voice returned: ‘You can try your best to delude yourself into thinking that you have everything, but the truth is that you yearn for something.’