A Long Way Home Read online

  She shook her head, took a deep breath. ‘That’s not the worst he did, though.’ A shiver ran down the length of my back. ‘He threatened to tell my parents and my grandmother.’

  ‘Your grandmother,’ I repeated. Nyra had told me once that she wasn’t fond of her grandmother and uncle, two entities in her life who were the reason she despised going to her home-town.

  Her grandmother, since the day Nyra turned eighteen, had been wanting to marry her off. Whenever she went over to stay at the house in Jalpaiguri, the woman would nitpick the way Nyra ate, dressed, talked. Her unmarried drunkard uncle, on the other hand, often found his own ways to trouble her, by ordering her around, talking down to her, complaining about his brother being an ass, which made her life hell. Most of her life, she had spent her birthday in her home-town and wished for the vacation to end quickly.

  When she turned eighteen two years ago, she made a pact with her parents that if she put her vacation to good use, she’d get to stay in the city. Last year, she participated in a dance competition she didn’t like. This year, she joined the internship.

  But it was odd to bring her grandmother into this. I didn’t know how close Veer was to her, or if he had met her family. So I asked, ‘Why your grandmother?’

  ‘Because he knows she will create a scene,’ Nyra answered. ‘Granny doesn’t really like my father as much as she likes uncle, for he has always stayed with her. Dad left her house and the home-town to make something of himself in the city. And she can’t find anything to complain about him because he pays the bills of that house. But I know her too well. She can and will use my bad decision as a weapon to hurt him.’

  She shook her head, as if to clear her mind of the thoughts and memories. ‘Forget it. I just have to find a way to keep Veer away from everyone.’

  ‘How does he have your grandmother’s phone number?’

  ‘I had called him a couple of times from the landline number over there. He has everyone’s number, even my dad’s.’ She buried her face in her hands and gave out a frustrated sigh. ‘I can tackle him myself, but if he says something to any of them, I don’t know what will ensue or what my parents would have to hear. And he can distort facts any way he wants.’

  I debated for a moment. ‘I have a solution,’ I said tentatively and she looked up, her eyes tear-stained, waiting, hopeful. ‘Tell your parents the truth before he does.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘That is like digging my own grave.’

  ‘No. Think about it.’ I said. ‘Guys like Veer are cowards. They only know manipulation and empty threats. Since he knows your weakness, he’ll look to use it. Take that power away from him. Take your parents into confidence and he will lose all power over you. You said your parents were understanding and educated, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but,’ she snapped, panicking slightly, ‘that’s the worst-case scenario. There’s no telling how they will react.’

  ‘Nyra,’ I said, my voice strong, persistent, ‘It can’t get any worse than this!’

  She was quiet for a moment, her breathing uneven, eyes unfocused. I got up from my seat and sat next to her. ‘They are your parents,’ I said. ‘They are the first ones who will shield you from the world, if need be. Who do you think they’ll support when they know what’s going on?’

  ‘That’s another thing I fear,’ she muttered. ‘They might take things too far. Complain against him, go to his house. I don’t even want to think about it. But eventually, I know this will lead to restrictions and lack of their trust in me. If I have to spill the truth, I have to tell them all the times I lied.’

  ‘You can either live in the shadow of your lies consumed with fear, or embrace the truth and freedom,’ I said. ‘The choice is yours.’

  She glanced up, her gaze pinning on me. ‘What would you have done?’

  Without a pause, I said, ‘I’d have told the truth.’

  A corner of her mouth twitched. ‘Then do it.’

  I narrowed my eyes, not sure if I followed her. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Tell your parents that you work for a magazine and aspire to be a writer.’

  That took the wind out of my lungs and I stared at her hard, unable to form words. Very few people could render me speechless and I spoke after what seemed like a long time. My mouth was set and I barely moved my lips when I said, ‘I don’t know what you’re saying.’

  ‘I know, Arihant,’ she said, her voice so understanding it pinched my heart. ‘I read your blog.’

  Eyes widened, I asked, ‘How did you…?’

  ‘At the office,’ she said and placed her elbows on the table, entangling her fingers between us, her ring catching the glint of the moonlight. ‘The day you told me to lock your computer, your blog page was open and although I didn’t read anything much at that time, because I was too distracted to think straight, I read it at home in two days.’

  I watched her reaction, gauging if she was being judgemental. But she wasn’t. Instead, she gave me a small smile, apologetic, but not guilty.

  ‘In two days,’ I repeated, cupping my hands around the glass of water and picking it up. ‘There are more than a hundred posts.’

  ‘You kept me hooked,’ she said. ‘And I’m not even a reader. I barely get through a novel, no matter how interesting, without dozing off.’

  I frowned into the glass, the cold droplets of water soaking into my palms. I imagined her reading about all the little details of my life and I felt vulnerable in the moment, something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  ‘I am just repeating what the comments you get from strangers say when I say this,’ she added, ‘but you have what it takes to make it as a published writer. It is special and you shouldn’t hide it.’

  ‘Technically, I am sharing it with the world,’ I said, swirling the water but not taking a sip.

  ‘Without letting anyone know that it’s you,’ she said.

  ‘When did this conversation stop being about you and turned to me?’

  She smiled. ‘Very few people are lucky enough to have a dream as powerful as you do, Arihant, one that makes you want to leave your family behind in pursuit of it. By pulling the curtains over the deepest desires of your heart, shielding it from the very people who will stand by you through it all, if not now, then eventually, you’re not only deceiving them but also making yourself suffer.’

  ‘You don’t know my father, Nyra,’ I said, stiff in my seat, my voice constricted. I had kept this a secret for so long, I had to push the words out of my mouth. ‘No one in my family has ever valued anything unconventional and this writing field… it’s so volatile, so uncertain, with no concrete future in sight. It is the epitome of everything that they want me to steer clear of. The elders in my family fear everything they cannot comfortably foresee.’

  ‘But did their fear stop you from going after what you truly wanted?’

  ‘No,’ I replied, breathing in deeply. ‘And it won’t. But I cannot tell them. They will never understand.’

  ‘Well, that’s the case with me too,’ she said, leaning back in her seat, crossing her arms over, as if she’d just made her point.

  ‘Your case is different, Nyra,’ I told her, a little annoyed now. ‘It’s about your safety.’

  ‘How is it any different?’ she argued and I realized this was the first time we were raising voices at each other. ‘We both have to tell our parents something we are afraid of admitting. We weren’t afraid when we lied, then why now, when we are in fact doing the right thing?’

  I was quiet and she reached over to close her warm, soft hand on mine. The touch was new, foreign, but comforting. ‘I will tell my mother everything if you promise to come clean to your father tonight. A task is less daunting with two people doing it. And I will only do it if you promise not to hide anymore.’

  I wanted that moment to freeze, wanted to sit there for as long as we could, ignoring the slow distant rumble of the occasional car that passed by outside, the constant smell of coffee this place had, the part
y we left behind, the lies we piled into a mountain over the years and the truth that glared us in the eye right now, demanding to be let out. I wanted to stay with her by my side and forget about everything else. I had no idea when my feelings for her grew to clasp my heart so firmly, but there was no denying that they did.

  Besides, I couldn’t argue with what she was trying to say. No matter how much I denied it, it was suffocating to live like this. To live with the doors closed, not letting any light shine through. I had wanted nothing but my father to look at me with brimming eyes, his wrinkled hand patting my back, telling me he was proud of me, of my choice and of whatever I’ve chosen to do with my life.

  I knew I had a long way to go before I could make him proud. But I wanted to take him along the journey, show him the orchard of tales I nurtured with each feat I achieved. And through it all, I wanted nothing more than to have him stand by me, proudly claiming to the world, ‘That’s my son, the writer.’

  ‘Hey, you okay?’ Nyra asked me. I didn’t realize that at some point, while imagining my father’s face smiling at me when I held copies of my novel for him to hold, a tear had slipped through my eye. Nyra was holding my hand in both of hers, her big trusting eyes staring into mine.

  Even the thought of my parents accepting my dream filled me with joy. If they really did, I will practically have no bounds. I just needed the stomach to risk it once.

  So I nodded to Nyra, shaking my mind from the thoughts. ‘The truth it is, then,’ I said to her and she squeezed my palm, both of us soaking in strength from each other.

  CHAPTER 16

  I

  t was 12.30 a.m. when I reached home. I was not as surprised to find Ishaan’s bike parked in his spot on the road by the low, broken compound wall of our building as I was to find my parents awake, sitting in the living room, as quiet as the street outside.

  I keyed my way in and saw Mom first, then my eyes rested on Baba who was staring out the window, his back to me. Saloni had propped her chin on her fist, her elbow rested on the armrest. She was staring at the phone in her hand, but wasn’t really doing anything with it.

  They looked up when I entered, as if expecting me.

  ‘Hello,’ I said tentatively, nudging the door close behind. ‘You’re all still awake?’

  No one answered. They seemed stunted in their respective places and my eyes widened, cold sweat breaking on my forehead. ‘Is everything alright?’ My mind flashed images of my brother having met with an accident. For some reason, I always conjured up images of something happening to him whenever I sensed trouble.

  Mom got up from the baithak and ambled over to me. ‘No. All’s fine,’ she said, pouring me a glass of water. ‘How was the function?’

  I took the glass from her. I might need more of this soon. ‘Okay,’ I said and my stomach rumbled. I hadn’t had anything for dinner. All I had at the hotel was a glass of Martini and some paneer fry. I drank the water down in one go, comforting my stomach with it for the time being.

  Once I was done, I said, ‘Baba, I was going to talk to you in the morning, but now that you’re awake, I need to tell you something.’

  He gave me a questioning look.

  I held on to the glass as if it were a life vest, my knuckles whitening with the pressing grip. Instead of looking at any of them, I thought of Nyra, brought her face in front of my eyes and found the courage to blurt out, ‘I don’t work at Charmine Pvt. Ltd.’

  Again, I was met with a confused silence.

  Mom finally spoke, ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There is no firm called Charmine Pvt. Ltd. I … might have … lied to you. I work for a magazine … called Splash!…’ My sentences came out in broken patches, a chuck of words at a time.

  ‘This is no time to joke, Ari,’ Dad said as if the thought of me lying was unreal and far-fetched. ‘I had called your office. I talked to the office boy.’

  I didn’t know how far I’d need to dig to get the dirt out. At some point, I had stopped keeping track of my lies.

  ‘He lied too,’ I said tightly. ‘He knows about this and helped me to cover up the truth. I am not pursuing engineering, Baba. I want to become a writer. And I left the house so I could write in peace.’

  ‘But you showed me your office building when I came to see your apartment,’ my mom argued, refusing to believe the truth. Ironic.

  I pursed my lips. ‘It’s the same building, but the firm I work for is different.’ My voice was growing smaller and less confident with each word and I was almost tempted to bark ‘Only joking!’ out loud, but I knew this was just as difficult for Nyra. And if she could do it, I could too. ‘Baba, if you google Charmine Pvt. Ltd., you won’t get any results.’

  As if on cue, Saloni turned to her phone, typing urgently into it. When she found nothing, her eyes met mine, accusing and lacking in trust. ‘There is no such firm,’ she mumbled, just to confirm it for others.

  Dad limped forward, the way he usually did, and sat on the plastic chair facing me. He couldn’t stay standing for too long.

  ‘Why would you do that?’ Mom asked.

  I told them. With every sentence, every word that spilled from my mouth, my dad’s face contorted, his jaw clenched. I was glad he was seated in a chair. Mom didn’t look as repulsed, but she had an ever-present scowl on her forehead throughout the narration, lingering like a reminder of how much I was disappointing her with every lie I dusted off and put forth. She occasionally glanced at her husband, probably gauging his reaction. I didn’t want Saloni to be in the room but there was no way I could ask her not to listen to this. Eventually, she’d find out too. I just hoped she wouldn’t hate me for this.

  I avoided looking at them as much as I could without seeming diffident, aware of the growing discomfort in the room. It was sad how easy it was for me to lie to them, but for once when I’d decided to speak the truth, I couldn’t meet their eyes.

  I began from the time I decided to quit engineering to all those months of finding a place away from home to finding my current job and working on a novel.

  When I’d exhausted my words, a sense of emptiness hung between us and within me. A vacuum that seemed nearly impossible to fill. I felt drained, but also relieved. It was as if all my muscles had relaxed all at once, my mind loosening the tight grip on them. A weight of a lie was heavy and I vowed never to carry it again.

  But shaking the shackles of lies was bound to leave some marks.

  When I was done, no one spoke for a long minute. Then I heard the sound of a doorknob turning. Ishaan walked out of his bedroom and stopped in his tracks when he saw me. He was wearing a casual jersey over his trackpants.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked me.

  I grunted. ‘Is there any other question you can ask when you see me?’ I said, finding little strength to be surprised by his presence. But then I caught the sight of a luggage bag he dragged on his side and my eyes narrowed. ‘Where are you going?’

  It was not he who replied. It was my father.

  ‘He is leaving home for good,’ Dad said, pushing his weight off the chair and getting on his feet. When he bore his eyes into mine, there was no pride or love or even sympathy in them. All I saw was contempt. ‘And now, you are too.’

  PART TWO

  Ishaan

  CHAPTER 1

  S

  herman Gill threw the file I had slogged on for a week onto his desk, the papers spilling out. My face hardened. Barring the mild humiliation I had to sit through, I felt no remorse. ‘How can a tech lead,’ Mr Gill said, ‘make a blunder like this? Miscommunication? That’s your only job! I could have defended you saying you’d misheard the requirements. But even with whatever you heard, you made a faulty module. What else does this prove if not that you’re simply … stupid?’

  Unruffled, I replied to him, ‘I take the responsibility for it.’

  He let out a frustrated breath and sat down heavily in his chair. Sherman wasn’t known for being considerate or particularly kin
d. Then again, kindness was a foreign word around here. ‘The project is worth more than what you and I make in years. Now after five years, I shouldn’t have to explain this to you.’

  ‘You shouldn’t,’ I agreed, meeting his eyes. If I’d mastered anything in the past years, it was this—looking at someone dead in the eyes and concealing everything else running in my mind. ‘I’ll fix it,’ I added.

  ‘I need a revised module before the weekend,’ he said, shuffling some papers on his orderly desk, OCD level. ‘I cannot give you any more grace days. We’re all tied to the projects the leads handle. You delay and we all suffer.’

  ‘I understand. I’ll do my best.’

  He spared me a look. ‘Your best is not good enough. Assure me of excellence.’

  I couldn’t see how I could possibly refute that. So I nodded once, a minimal movement of my neck. ‘I assure you, Mr Gill.’

  He leaned back in his chair. I got up from the seat, exhausted by the week of sleepless nights. My mind, throbbing like a ticking time bomb, cautioned me that any more work could detonate it.

  ‘And Ishaan,’ Mr Gill called, and I turned at the door, the file tucked under my arm. His eyes warmed and I got a glimpse of the man who had first interviewed me—an under-confident kid fresh out of college, the responsibility of a family on his small, shaky shoulders. Mr Gill had never been one to dole out compliments but he knew when you needed one. He wasn’t kind, but he was merciful. ‘Happy Birthday,’ he added.

  Of all things, these were the words that formed a lump in my throat. I pushed it down easily and gave him a nod of acknowledgment.

  All five of my teammates were working and as soon as I walked into the common room, they glanced up, fear and anticipation in their eyes. I placed the bulging file on the desk and asked them to follow me into one of the meeting rooms in the hallway.