Page 94 of 12 Years
‘I have to meet her.’
‘Bro, remember what the inspector said?’
‘I don’t care.’
‘You’re on your own trip. Anyway, how’s the new act coming along?’
‘What act?’
‘Saket! We have an international comedy festival scheduled. White people are coming to perform at the club. You’re the desi act, bro. We need to top them.’
‘Oh, right. That. I have to get back to it,’ I said. I hadn’t even started.
‘Please do. The performance is in a week. Next Saturday.’
‘Yeah. I’ll do it.’
After the call ended, I sat and stared at a blank Word document for over an hour. It’s hard to write comedy when your life’s turning into a tragedy. Why the hell hadn’t Payal messaged?
I had to shift to Plan B: Get new SIM cards. I left my apartment and went to the Airtel shop on Linking Road in Bandra. After furnishing a dozen ID proofs and filling in even more KYC forms, I finally obtained three new SIM cards.
What’s the deal with KYC—Know Your Customer—forms anyway? Do they really think having a copy of my Aadhaar card or electricity bill means theyknowme? They have no fucking clue. Do theyknowthat my heart is in a million pieces right now? That my girlfriend, who used to sleep inches away from me, has now blocked me? That I need new SIM cards just to message her because I’m that desperate? If they don’t, how can they claim to have done my KYC? You have no clue, dude—shove that Aadhaar-card copy wherever you want to.
I put the new SIM card in my phone and set up a new WhatsApp account. Then I messaged Payal: ‘Hi, this is me. Can we speak?’
She read the message, but didn’t respond.
One hour later, I sent another message: ‘It’s me, S. Please reply.’
I saw the blue ticks. Someone had clearly read the message.
‘Payal, are you there? It’s me,’ I sent a third message.
Finally, I got a response.
‘Me Sunita. Payal ki didi.’
What? Before I could respond, I got a call from Payal’s number.
‘Payal! Finally! Where have you been?’ I said, quickly picking up the call.
‘This no Payal. This Sunita. I working Payal house.’
‘Oh. Where’s Payal?’
‘I don’t know. Morning went to office.’
‘How do you have her phone?’
‘This my phone. She give her SIM card. Payal madam take new number.’
Not only had Payal’s diabolical parents made her block me everywhere, but they’d also changed her number. They’d anticipated that I’d try to call from other numbers. Jains are smart. No wonder they’re richer and more successful than most other communities.
‘Who speaking?’ Sunita said.
‘Nothing, wrong number,’ I said, which was a totally idiotic thing to say because literally half a second earlier, I had asked for Payal.
‘Your good name, please?’
