The Life of Myra - Chapter 5

My heart is thudding loudly against my ribs, and I feel sweat on my forehead. I am still on the sofa, and the book is lying face down on the carpet on the ground. The dream felt so real, that I am finding it difficult to believe that it was just a dream, and not a memory of something real.

I get up and check the watch. It’s 7 pm.

I freshen up and after a long time, I cook myself my favouite snack – vermicelli upma. As I eat, I keep going back and thinking about Viraj, and somehow, it makes me smile.

As I drive to the hospital that night, I feel like a car is tailing me. It’s a dark blue Innova, and I have seen it following me, maintaining the same distance, at at least two traffic lights. I try to squint my eyes and see in the rear-view mirror for the number plate, but the darkness and onslaught of intermittent bright lights make it impossible to decipher.

Is it Rishi? Should I call the police, I wonder.

As I enter the gate of the hospital, I watch as the Innova passes ahead along the road, without slowing down. Nothing is visible as to who could have been inside since the glasses are black tinted.

I wait in my car, with bated breath, to see if the car returns, my pulse racing. But nothing happens, and ten minutes later, I alight my parked car and walk towards the hospital.

Am I being paranoid, I wonder. May be the car wanted to go along that path, and I am reading too much into a casual thing?

 

That night, work is hectic and I find myself free of all thoughts as I focus on my job.

Dr. Shantanu’s round is as usual brilliant, and I keep sneaking glances at him even as he explains one complicated case of liver cirrhosis, as I realize how much resemblance he bears to Viraj. I just hope Viraj too turns out to be as intelligent and wise as Dr. Shantanu.

Saloni and I chat while I have dinner at almost midnight, because a polytrauma admission hasn’t left me with any time to even breathe, and I tell her about Viraj. She is genuinely happy for me, and tells me to call her after my date tomorrow.

I am so happy in my own bubble that after a long time, I have forgotten about Anish and his girlfriend.

I tell Mayank too, as we chat late at night, somewhere around 3 am. He is happy too, and he tells me he is going to break the news about him and Sapna to my parents soon.

I arrive at my flat by 9 am the next morning, carrying my breakfast - a burger, from the bakers around the corner.

I shower and change into comfortable clothes. I am hoping to catch up on a good sleep before today evening.

I sit down to eat the burger, phone in my hand. As I munch on the tasty aloo patty burger exploding with cheese and veggies and mayonnaise, I open Madhumita’s Instagram account.

She has posted a photo from Rudolf hall, in her bottle green jumpsuit, standing next to one of the best pieces of Vanya’s art, flanked by Anish on one side, his hand carelessly around her neck, and Vanya on the other.

All of my excitement and happiness about Viraj feels evaporated instantly as I see the trio, standing there, happy in their own world, teasing me, challenging me.

There are hundreds of comments, mostly ‘Awwwws’ and ‘ooooohhs’.

I throw my mobile angrily, not worried about breaking it anymore. I feel so angry, as if my guts are being wretched out.

My mood not so good after having had to see those photos of Anish and Madhumita, I sit in front of the television, mindlessly watching a news channel. I don’t even know what the news anchor is saying.

Unable to concentrate on TV, I pick up my copy of Jigyasa and snuggle back onto the sofa, reading it. This is the only sure way of keeping my mind away from all the horrible thoughts about Anish and Madhumita that are now swirling in my head.

I don’t realize when I drift off into a fitful sleep.

I scream as I sit up, awake and alert. I am in a state. I am anxious, panicking, palpitating, as if I have run miles and miles. It must be the dreams. I always have them, especially when I am in an emotional turmoil. The dreams that are so intense that they seem to leave their essence even after I am awake. The only problem being, I can’t seem to recall them. At all.

I shake my head. This is definitely not the right time to dwell on these thoughts.

I look around the room which is now filled with an orange light streaming in through the gaps between the curtains that flank the full-length French windows of my living room. Is it twilight already?

I look at the watch. It is 7:30 pm. Did I just sleep the entire day?

My stomach is growling with hunger. But I have no time to waste. I pop a granola bar from the fridge and rush to my room to get ready.

****

I look in the mirror. And I look stunning!

I am wearing a sky blue and cream floral off shoulder dress that hugs my body and compliments my figure. I pair it with pearl earrings and a gold chain with a mother of pearl locket that rests on my neck, shining brightly.

I wear very light make up, just a hint of mascara, black kajal and a faint orange lipstick.

I have messaged Viraj that he need not pick me, I will drive over to the venue he suggested, because having him pick me would mean him having to drive all the way across the city. I want this date to start sooner and end later.

We meet in the lobby of Sitara, a restaurant that I have frequently visited.

We order authentic Punjabi food, of which we both are fans of. Over Shami kebabs, Sarso da saag, Makki ki roti and lassi, we talk a lot. I am not usually an outgoing extrovert, but with Viraj, I feel different. I tell him about my childhood, how me, my brother and my sister used to spend our summer holidays in Ratnagiri, at our grandparent’s place. My grandparents owned a huge palatial wada just off the beach, lined by coconut trees, at Ratnagiri, our native place in the Konkan area of Maharashtra. I tell him about the folklore there, and the ghost stories we have grown up listening to.

The evening is so relaxed, the background music so enticing, the food so delicious and everything just seems so magical, that I don’t even realize my phone ringing loudly in my purse.

“Excuse me,” I say, as I receive Mahika’s call. She had to interrupt my perfect moment. I can feel Viraj’s eyes on me even as I speak into the phone.

“Hello?” I ask.

“Myra, where are you?” Mahika asks, skipping any pleasantries. So typical!

“Why?” I counter question.

“Where were you today afternoon?” she asks, her voice sounding chipped.

I get up, gesturing to Viraj that I need to speak in private. He nods in understanding.

I walk over to a side, out of ear shot of Viraj.

“I was at home. Sleeping. Why?” I ask.

“Did you go back to Rudolf hall?” she asks.

“No. Why would I? and why are you even asking me?” I cry out.

“Because someone ruined a painting at the exhibition. With a black paint smeared all across it,” she says, sounding as if she is losing patience by the minute.

“So?” I ask.

“So? It is the same painting that Madhumita had displayed on her insta today”.

“What?” I exclaim.

“Don’t act like you don’t already know,” Mahika says in an acidic tone. “I warned you to stay away from them. Vanya Thakur is registering a case of trespassing and damage to personal property in the police station as we speak.”

“And what proof do you have that I have done it?” I ask her. I can feel the hidden rage burning within me again. Why, when I am trying to move on, are they holding me responsible for each and everything that happens?

“They don’t have proof, you know. But nobody who knows you needs a proof to know that it had to be you. Come on Myra, please get a life!” she says and I am irritated beyond limits.

“If they don’t have proof, why the hell are you blaming me?” I ask, in as silent a tone I can possibly muster, through gritted teeth.

I actually feel like screaming at her. But I can feel Viraj watching me even from a distance and I don’t want to create a scene here.

“You followed Anish and Madhumita there day before yesterday. Immediately after Madhumita updated it on her social media. And only this particular painting has been ruined, the same one that Madhumita posted no her social media not long before. Doesn’t need a rocket scientist to join the dots…”, she adds.



“Well, if you are blaming me based on bloody speculation, it is you who needs to get a life, not me,” I hiss into the phone.

Mahika sighs.

“They have CCTV footage of someone wearing a black hoodie creeping inside the hall during lunch hour. But they are trying to find the identity by checking out if they can get more CCTV footages around the area…”.

I have stopped listening.

Lunch hour? I have no memory what I did at that time. As far as I can remember, I was fast asleep. But then, when I woke up, why was I panting and breathless?

No, no. I was at home, sleeping. And it was just a dream!

Is Mahika up to something? Are Anish, Madhumita, Mahika, mom and everyone who hates me, together trying to prove that I am mentally unstable? So that I can go back to the asylum?