Haroon Bijli

"Bas idhar…stop here."

Rhea got down from the rick. Millat Nagar. In another area, this would have been a posh gated estate, with uniformed security and a visitor's entry book. All the best to you, she thought to herself. She carefully put the expensive sunglasses in her bag, unfurled her duppatta a little bit, covered herself as best as she could. She was tempted to cover her head and shield herself from the hot afternoon sun, but resolved not to. She rehearsed her lines as she walked into the mohalla. This, if he was there. That, if anyone else was there. This, if it was his mother. That, if it was his father. She regretted only about not thinking through her choice of footwear – could have worn shoes had she known the street would be kaccha and dusty. She was that prepared.

12, Millat Nagar. One of those row houses that were formerly chawls, a continuous series of cheek-by-jowl constructions, narrow, but long and tall. Residents has bypassed the municipal building code by using aluminum and wrought-iron extrusions to extend their dwelling, right to the street.  Number 12 looked like it had three stories, but Rhea was not in a mood to inspect the structure. Where was the bell? As usual, inside the wrought-iron gate-cum-door.

She rang and waited.

A minute passed. She rang again. This time she was sure that someone was watching her. She looked at the wrought-iron jali that ran across the facade. Rang again. Sound of someone coming down a staircase. She was suddenly nervous.

A young man looked through the bars of the gate-door. Hesitated. Looked again. Then he opened the door.

"Haan ji.. yes?"

An older version of Ashu. Much shorter hair. Slight beard. The same eyes. Slightly thicker face, but the similarity was striking and took her breath away. She didn't mean to smile, but she did in spite of herself. It was not returned.

"Ashu… Ashfaq hai kya? Is Ashfaq here?"

"No… who would you be?"

"His friend… my name is Rhea." Forced by habit, she held out her hand. Damn, she was not going according to her script. Surprisingly, the man shook it quite readily. And there was a faint glimmer of a smile.

"Oh okay." The man checked himself. "Ashfaq is not here."

"Where would he be?" asked Rhea. "I need to see him, it's… it's really urgent. He didn't pick up his calls… and now it says not reachable…"

"I don't know. He's left home maybe a week ago. We have no clue where he is… and yeah, the phone is here."

Her script ran out. So did her carefully prepared candor. She stared at him. He stared back. It was like one of those Bollywood movie scenes where the screenplay writer puts in his flashback edit. Only that it wasn't.

Ashu not here. Her Ashu. He left home. Nobody know where he was. He hadn't told her anything. One week. One whole week, and she hadn't spoke with him. A flurry of emotions hit her. Maybe she shouldn't have lost her temper. Maybe she should have picked up his calls after the fight. Or on the evening of the fight. Stupid, she was stupid. Why, why was she so stubborn? She could have just counted till 100 or tried any of those anger management techniques he himself had taught her. She wanted to be with him now, and was missing him so badly…

"Madam… Rhea."

"Ah yes… sorry… I was just…"

"Listen I know who you are. We all know. Would you like to come in? Have some water."

"No…I don't know.. I think I will go…"

"I'll drop you then?"

"No, thanks…" She quickly collected herself, turned to go. Hesitated. "You have any clue where I could find him… .any idea…?"

"No. Listen, why don't you come in? You don't look well at all. Come in."

He held the door-gate wide open. She went in. She heard footsteps shuffling on the floor above. So someone had been witnessing all this, she thought. But right now, all she wanted was to sit down, and have something to drink. Too much emotion, too many conflicting thoughts. Not good for someone in her state.

***
The young man, who she now rightly assumed was Ashu's brother, led her to an inner hall. She sat down on the sofa. A tastefully done place, she thought, but quite dark. Ashu's brother went inside, and seemed to have gone right into a heated discussion. She could catch a few words…"why did she come..she is pretty isn't she…send her away… abba…give her something to drink.."

Suddenly, someone came in through the front door. An middle-aged man, dressed in a pathan suit, silver beard, almost like a Muslim priest. He looked her up and down, did not smile, and proceeded inside. Must be Ashu's father, Abbajan, she thought.

More discussion inside. But no women's voices this time, at least the women's voices were not loud enough. A pause. Ashu's brother came out with a tray, a bottle of water, a few sweetmeats. She drank the water, but declined the sweets.

"Eat." A gruff voice growled. It was Abbajan. She quickly ate a piece. She broke out into cold sweat again. She stared intently at the floor.

"Why have you come here, Rhea?" Abbajan asked.

"Uh… I wanted to meet Ashu… nothing else."

"He has left this house forever. He is not coming back"

"Oh…then I will go…"

"Why did you come here then? Don't you know where he is?" He sounded angry. His son touched his shoulder as if to calm him. Abbajan paid no heed. A few eyes were peering from behind the curtain of the inner door. She was curious but she turned away and looked on the floor, on Ashu's brother's face, the Arabic icon on the wall, anywhere but Abbajan's face. She wanted to get out of the house but remained frozen on her seat.

To everyone's shock, Abbajan took a wad of currency notes from his suit pocket. Ashu's brother gasped, "Abbajan… what is this…" One of the women came out and tried to pull him back inside, but he wasn't budging. Everyone witnessing this scene knew, more or less, what was about to happen.

He shouted: "Take this money and do whatever you have to do and don't come back again!"

At least three women came in and pulled him inside. His son tried to grab the cash, but only scattered it all around. He quickly turned to Rhea, and pulled her up.

"Go, now… am sorry…"

He escorted Rhea, now shaking, to the veranda. He held her hand and took her out of the door.

"There will be rickshaws in the street… go now, let me take care of the mess inside… don't know what's come over him…"

The door clanged shut. Rhea, all alone, in the blazing sun, in the dusty street. She felt as if everyone in the street was looking at her. It took her a few minutes to compose herself. Some men in the street were pointing at her, beckoning a passing woman "usko dekho, pareshaan lag rahi hai… go see her, she looks troubled." Before the woman could turn around, she collected herself and started walking fast towards the main road. A crowded, anonymous road. Just what she needed now.

"Hey, wait!" a girl's voice shouted behind her.