Page 85 of 12 Years
‘Why?’
‘Mom and Dad made me do it.’
‘And you did it?’
‘They took my phone and did it themselves. Things are really bad at home.’
‘How bad?’
‘It’s awful, Saket. They’ve gone nuts. Anyway, this isn’t the best place to talk. I’m at work.’
‘Then meet me.’
‘How? They keep an eye on me all the time.’
‘Sneak out for a bit?’
‘They track my location through some app on my phone.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes. I’m on an electronic leash.’
‘And you’re putting up with all this?’
‘Mom threatened to kill herself.’
‘What?’
‘Yeah, listen, I can’t talk freely right now. I’ll call you when I can.’
‘You could’ve called or messaged earlier too. From another number, from this landline number. You could’ve somehow reached out …’
‘I’m sorry, Saket. It’s been rough, trust me. Speak soon, okay? Bye.’
‘Another drink?’ Mudit said.
‘Don’t ask me. Keep them coming,’ I said.
Mudit and I were at Janata Bar at Pali Naka, within walking distance from my house. Every shop around Janata Bar had become posh and gentrified over the last few years due to rising real estate prices. Hardware stores had turned into chic cafés, utensil shops had become upmarket bakeries and rubber-tire shops had transformed into fusion restaurants. But Janata Bar, for whatever reason, had remained unchanged. It was still a place where drivers, labourers and demotivated, heartbroken comedians gathered to get the cheapest drinks in town.
Mudit ordered another round of Old Monk rum and Coke.
‘Buy a bottle, it’ll work out cheaper,’ the waiter said, noticing the amount and the pace at which we were drinking.
Before I could shake my head and say no, Mudit had already made the decision. ‘Fine, get us the bottle. And somestarters. Tandoori chicken,’ he told the busy waiter, speaking loudly to make himself heard in the heaving, crowded and noisy bar.
‘That fat, evil Anand Jain. I’ll smash his smug face, Mudit,’ I said, or rather the Old Monk version of me said. I clenched my fists.
‘No, you can’t do that, bro,’ Mudit said. ‘We make people laugh. We make people happy. We don’t hurt them.’
I took a big sip of my drink, finishing it, and slammed the glass hard on the table. ‘What’s the point of these biceps and delts if I never use this strength to teach the bad guys a lesson?’ I said.
‘He’s not a bad guy. Just an overprotective father.’
‘This isn’t protection. This is imprisonment. He’s keeping his daughter captive against her will—making her block me, tracking her location, her mother hovering around her like the world’s most out-of-shape bodyguard. What the hell?’
‘Did you ask Payal to move in with you?’ Mudit said.
