Chapter 4

Not now, God. Not now. I wasn't ready for my happiness to end on a sour note, and the look on my mother's face did not warrant any better tidings. I was sure she was waiting for me to combust into an angry fireball. I tried to slip into oblivion without a word, but I could only hope.

"Abhilasha Bhayani, where were you in the morning?" She enquired thunderously. I wish I could be inconspicuous and squeak like a mouse on occasions like these. But contrary to it, my tone was too offensive for any person in authority, let alone be it Mother India.

"Park Street," I growled.

"Do I need to ask who was with you?"I almost smirked internally and groaned at her stupid question. Why do mothers act awfully under the influence? I am sure about a call to her from any of my well-wishers informing her about my whereabouts. Yet I had to answer; otherwise, it would be my defiance and arrogance. And torrents of advice landed on me before I could open my mouth.

"I have told you utmost times to stay away from Jigar Bhansali." She howled."We might be family friends, but we aren't from the same social strata." There was a dip in her voice and a sense of resignation with these words. "It's never going to work, Abhi; please don't ruin your life over a guy who-"

I interrupted her thought process at that very second because I could not understand where all this was coming from."Ma, Jigar is just a friend, my best friend. There is no romantic liaison between us, and we can never be together. Both of us don't see the other in that light. There is no future for us together. We are two different individuals who are incompatible concerning our thoughts and life's philosophies."

Mother India just stared at me blankly, unable to process the words. She refused to make any meaning of what I said. It was beyond my sensibilities to make it more transparent. I dashed into my room to avoid any more conversation. The news had to wait till everything calmed down.I had a week to reach Mumbai and could not withhold information from my parents for too long. I would have made a move quickly, but the untimely feud made me shut my mouth until the storm settled.

Pacing in my room for more than an hour, I needed help to develop a plausible story to narrate how I landed the internship. Unfortunately, revealing the truth at this moment seemed to do me more harm than good. My stomach was in knots with worry, and with a week in hand, there was a lot to prepare. The rest of the day passed, worrying about my parents' reaction. Not that they weren't aware of my ambition and dreams, but to tread on that path so soon would shock my parents. The clock was ticking unduly slow, yet every tick had an inversely proportional reaction to my heartbeat.

My fear of the unknown was making my heart go putty. I was awaiting my dad's return. I wasn't so scared even when I flunked Maths in my board examinations. The irony could not be lost on me. Instead of celebrating an opportunity like this, I was dreading its announcement.My dad arrived ages later than his usual time. He seemed relaxed and not in one of his foul tempers. A freelancer that he was, his work never offered him the security of earning a consistent amount. He was wealthy on one particular day and a complete pauper on the next. Did it bother me? Yes! Happiness wasn't a constant thing in my life. It was effervescent and momentary. I treasured the fleeting moments of happiness that money brought to my house in the form of my favourite book or dinner at our favourite joint. There couldn't be more, and I never demanded it.

I was just not acquainted with the idea of luxury in life. Luxury was serenity and peace in my house when my parents weren't squabbling over money, and my sister didn't bother me with their work. The innocence, that's what they call it. I was yet to be corrupted by the ways of the world. I knew I would never be tainting my soul over something as petty as money. My life goals were simple, just like any regular middle-class girl. I wanted to work, make an identity of my own, and have enough money to ensure I never see my parents fighting over a paltry sum.

Phew! Showtime! I moved out of my room to help my mother set the dinner table, secretly hoping dinner would not be a nagging affair, with my mother playing spoilsport by narrating the day's events in her fashion. No one made an effort to start a conversation, and so far, things were good and in control.

"Dad...I...have received an invitation to join the internship program for FMN News in Mumbai," I announced candidly but with hesitation.

"Wow!" My sister squealed in delight.I didn't expect a burst of excitement from my sister. Nonetheless, I was happy to have found some support.

After a long pause that seemed like an eternity, he said, "Why Mumbai?"

I realized the interrogation had just begun."Why did you apply for an internship there? Why not Kolkata?"

"Dad...Kolkata." I sighed. "Where are the opportunities?" There is hardly any news from this shitty place, and it did not make sense to apply in an office where there was nothing to learn and do."

My mother was quiet throughout. She kept on zooming her eyes at my father and then at me. The effect was comical.

"Dad, it is just an internship. I am not relocating to Mumbai permanently. And I do not wish to pursue a career in Kolkata, and ultimately I want to move out."

My dad seemed angry. "Why do you want to leave us? A streak of independence?"

"Oh, common dad. Who wants to stay here? And where are the jobs? And if there are, they don't pay us unless you are happy eating peanuts. Dad, I want to eat Zinger Burger and enjoy Domino's Pizza without batting an eyelid or thinking about compromising on ten other things. I want to hobnob in the best fine-dining restaurants on Park Street and go on a mindless shopping spree at Forum. All these are dreams without money. And I don't see myself achieving anything out here unless I move out from this forever stuck in time about its culture and heritage city."

I internally groaned. This was a pathetic argument. I could only talk about food and shopping as the reason for moving out. That was so shallow of me. How could I blabber such rubbish? I needed an introspection on what I was doing and why.I could make out from my dad's sighs that I had completely lost the argument with him. I had failed miserably in convincing him. Bye-bye, internship and Mumbai! I needed some damage control.

So I steered the discussion in another direction, questioned the state governance, and blamed it for the city's downfall. It was a courageous attempt but very mean. In a small, meek voice with wavering eyes, when I tried to speak again, I accused myself of overconfidence and lethargy for not preparing myself with probable answers to dad's questions.

"Dad, I am sorry; I know I sound foolish in my reasons, but you have to believe me. I don't see a future for myself in this city. Even if I am presented with an opportunity to work here, dad, what kind of stories would I be coming up with? There are hardly any events that shake up the nation to take cognizance and watch. On the contrary, the antics of the so-called Sisterhood of Bengal always make news and eventually make us the laughing stock. And Dad, I am proud of the education you provided; you made sure I studied in the city's best institutions; it's just that..."

But I was fumbling, "I need to test myself and see where I stand in the crowd."

I didn't know what more to say to convince him. I could not see a speck of emotion on his face. He had the most poker-faced expression revealing nothing.

"Dad, you need to trust me." I finished it in the best possible way I could. The rest was up to him. He was, at that moment, the God of my destiny who could determine my way forward. He did not reply or look at me during the rest of the dinner. It was peaceful. Nah, fraught with tension. I was on tenterhooks; I wanted any sign to know where this conversation placed me. But there was no hope. He finished his dinner and left without a word. We cleared up, and I prepared myself for a life in Kolkata, something I had never envisioned in my wildest dreams.