Sabka Malik Ek

 

TW: Suicide,  Abuse

 

Advay could not comprehend what was happening. He was numbly following instructions that this portly priest was telling him. His father’s body stank beside him.

He remembered the time his father had got cotton candy for him. He remembered the time he got his first video game. And the cartridge: 999 Games in 1. He remembered when his father caught him watching porn – he had thought he was clever enough to hide it by deleting the browsing history. But his father still caught him somehow. He hadn’t scolded him. Merely counselled. He remembered his first Activa, and the first accident. His father did not say anything about the mangled heap of the bike. Just bought him a helmet with the next one.

He remembered his father fighting with his mom regarding him. He remembered his father kicking out Harish from the Arts department, whom he had loved. “You are not gay” he had shouted. Advay still felt nausea when he remembered the pills he was forced to swallow to “correct” him. He remembered his mom crying, sitting by his bed, asking him to be a good boy. Then he remembered last night…

“Haan aata he matka ghe ani preta bhavti gol phir.” Advay’s attention snapped back. He got up and picked up the pot.

He did his duty.

He remembered his dad giving a huge party when he got into the IIT coaching class. “Ata ha IIT karel, mag direct US!” He remembered the sweets when he got into Dhanbad. Though no phone calls were made to tell the news. He remembered the first scratch he made on the car, when his father was teaching him to drive. He remembered the trip they had gone on after the third semester. He had driven the whole way. He had his first drink with him. Though that was not his first drink.

Then when they were drinking his father asked him about his “girlfriend”, he denied. Instead, he talked about Abhilash, his roommate. How they were good friends, were planning a road-trip, and played basketball together.

The next morning there were only 10 missed calls from Abhilash.

“How could you do this? Where did your dad get my phone number?”
“Why did you tell him everything? You promised not to. I don’t care if you didn’t. He abused me!”
“Fuck off. I don’t need this shit again in my life. We’re done.”

He gave his final assent as the body was rolled into the electric chamber. He gave the dakshina.
After returning home, and tying that thing at the door, and taking a bath, Advay lay on his bed, caressing the rope ready since last night. He had always been a coward. Then he remembered last night…

His father had printed patrikas in Vaidehi’s and his name. So had the Agnihotris. Everybody was happy. The aamras and whiskey swept down everyone’s gullets. Vaidehi was indeed beautiful. But all the suits and sarees and jewellery were biting away in his head. They left. Everybody settled in for the night. He had looked at the rope and brought in the chair.

The voice had rung in his head and was till ringing. “You are a man. Stop this nonsense. Don’t be a disgrace. I will have Abhilash arrested in Calcutta. The commissioner there is my school friend. So log-in and reply to Vaidehi Agnihotri. She is a good match. Don’t be a coward.”

He was a man. He had to be decisive. He had stood up on the chair and was about to put the noose around his head. Then he heard his mom’s scream and stumbled back. He got down, slid off the rope from the fan, and rushed to their room. The ambulance was too late. Heart-attack.

Now, he did not care who would go and pick up the asthi. That person will be going to Vaikunth for another cremation tomorrow. His dad was no more. Abhilash had gone to the US. Good for him and Sam. Perhaps God will love him, and even if God didn’t, the rope would have done its duty.