Life has become better since I have stopped hallucinating. The doctor has stopped my medicines. He is worried I might suffer from another disease because of the weight I have gained.
Although I don’t have a job yet, I am feeling more confident. The interview I had taken the other day had gone well. The executives trusted that I would be able to cope with the work pressure. Meanwhile, I am taking Kalpana on a date today. We have distanced each other for so long that I think I need to make some effort to keep her happy. She is watching her favourite TV show. I block her view and say, “Do you want to go out on a date?”
Her eyes glow. I continue, “I don’t have a job yet, but who knows if I can give you enough time.”
Kalpana’s eyes tear up, which she wipes quickly. She stands up, hugs me, and asks. “What’s the plan?”
“Let’s see.” Pretending that I am reading a list, I say, “The first on the list is to go to a movie. Then taste some new food and come back.”
“It’s a simple one,” she says.
Isn’t she happy? What can I add to the plan? I’m worried.
“But I approve.”
I am relieved. Kalpana then opens the wardrobe, takes out half a dozen saris, and asks me to choose one from among them.
“Wear whichever you want,” I say.
“Don’t say that. Select one. I’ll wear whichever you choose.”
I pick a blue sari with beautiful golden flowers. Kalpana pouts. “I knew you’d choose this.”
“Oh, did you? So you know I’d make a terrible choice.”
“What? No! You don’t make terrible choices. I trust you.”
“After all that has happened?”
“Umm.” She nods.
Before we leave, Kalpana puts a pocketknife in her favourite handbag.
“Why did you put that pocketknife?” I asked.
“It will come in handy in case we buy some fruits.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Are you scared?” Kalpana asks.
“No,” I reply with a smile. “Why should I be afraid when you’re with me?”
We hurry and get into a microbus. “No motorcycle.” I had said because I had wanted to walk with her, looking into her eyes whenever I pleased. We go to a theatre on the top of a mall. The movie is alright in bits, but it’s a disappointment. Still, we sit all through the movie holding hands and hugging each other in the darkness.
We dine at a restaurant nearby. The food is delicious, and the live music is enjoyable. I ask for the band to sing a romantic song, dedicating it to Kalpana. To my surprise, they sang it so well—almost the same as the original.
The night had ripened when we left for home. Microbuses were no longer available. I wanted to hire a taxi, but Kalpana said, “Let’s walk.”
“But it’s a long walk. Almost an hour. And it’s dark in most places.”
“Are you scared of the dark?”
“No, I’m not,” I try to sound brave.
“Okay. Anyway, I don’t have to worry when I’m with you, Satya.”
We walk hand in hand, talking about the things we like—just like the time we were in love years ago. We talk about philosophy, religion, books, sports, movies, music, and so on. We sing and dance on the street. Finally, everything has become all right.
Is this happiness an illusion, though? I feel a strange tingle when we arrive at a dark street almost five minutes from home. It is a familiar street that cared for me while I was learning to walk with my parents. In this street, I used to burst into laughter when I kicked my friends, and then they came after me. The flowers on its sides had also bloomed the day I had first found love with Kalpana. But now, it seems unfamiliar. It feels uncaring and gloomy and smells not of flowers but of death and rot.
“What are you thinking, Satya?”
I turn around. Kalpana’s gait has changed. She seems to be mocking me. “What happened, Satya? There is always something going on in your head. What’s bothering you?”
Her voice is not the usual soft melody. It has changed into the vile tone—the one she used to have when she wanted to kill me. All of a sudden, she leaps at me. I dodge and slap her hard. She staggers. I hit her again and again until she drops on the cold pitch. I smirk, seeing her getting what she deserved. But she shocks me by getting up, stealing the knife from my pocket, and stabbing me in the stomach. One. Two. Three. “I should have done this earlier,” she whispers. “There is no point in living with a madman like you.”
She runs away as I collapse, waiting for death on the street that smells of death and rot.
I wake up to the sounds of footsteps. Somebody must have called up the ambulance. One of them performs first aid and carries me on a stretcher. One of the four men carrying me was saying, “I don’t want to save this man.”
“Me too,” says another. “Who’d want to help a guy who stabbed his wife, then stabbed himself, and put the knife in his wife’s hand so that it seems like she did the crime?”
The third speaks up, “Thankfully, some people saw him during the action. Otherwise, everyone would have blamed her.”
“I feel for the wife,” the fourth says. “Even when she was losing her consciousness, she was pleading not to do anything to this piece of shit.”
What? Why are they talking about things that have not happened? What happened to Kalpana? Did I really stab her? Fear creeps in. What if they are telling the truth? Will Kalpana forgive me as she has always done? Even if she does forgive me, how am I going to live with the guilt? How can I face my parents and friends? I can’t imagine the shame I have brought to them. I don’t want to live. I’d better be dead… Better be dead!
