Ashmi woke up with a shiver. What time it is?
She wasn’t able to focus. Slowly, she was able to tie the threads together.
She felt a strange choking sensation at work. Laily drove her to the hospital. They gave her tranquilisers and Laily dropped her home. Sometime in the afternoon, she curled inside the duvet in an air conditioned room.
She walked towards the mirror and gazed herself for full 30 seconds, something she hadn’t done in years.
Deep pools of sadness reflected in her eyes, which sparkled once upon a time. She smiled at her reflection. It was too painful. What went wrong in so many years?
Life had been generous to me. I married someone, who loved me, she reflected.
Did I love him then?
May be not, but today I crave for his time, his love, his attention.
Akhil’s Fortuner stopped in the driveway. It broke her reverie of thoughts. She forced a smile. They were fortunate to have a house in Gurgaon; a piece of land to call their own and the terrace too. Flats were so pigeonholes. They bought the house, just when the property market had got the whiff of appreciation, somehow, the word never stuck to her tongue, she never found it apt. Inflation was more appropriate. Now, these houses were like untouchables.
She walked to open the door, even before the doorbell rang.
‘You look so…’Akhil stammered racking his brain to choose a politically correct word to describe her.
‘Devastated,’ she supplied.
‘No, that’s not what I mean,’ he defended.
‘Why don’t you see a doctor?’ I am worried.
‘Why don’t you take me to a doctor?’ The words almost hit her tongue but stirred inside. She let the non-verbal communication take over.
I will leave the driver tomorrow. You can go to office late. There are good hospitals close by, he had a plan in place.
Fake concern, she wished to shout. Correction, yell on the top of her lungs. Rather, she stayed quiet and said, “There is no need to worry, I am just fatigued.’ She had a terrific skill. Whenever, she lost her temper, completely, she would also lose her voice simultaneously.
All she screamed for was attention of Akhil.
Once upon a time, he was desperate about her. May be he was only attracted towards me, then too.
God had been generous in granting looks to her. Her high cheek bones, well arched brows and full pout accompanied by olive complexion made her stand out in the crowd. The slightly wavy hairs cascaded down her back beyond the curve of her waist and were usually left loose. And she was quite concerned about her weight. ‘After all it stood between me and my age,’ she would say to those who asked her the secret of her weight maintenance.
The coming days whirred by her, till she met Sid again. He could have come to her office easily, but then she needed a break. Desperately.
She dressed carefully. Not, that it was necessary, but it was required to indulge her spirit, correction, the soul that has been lying dormant for a while. She pulled out an ice-blue coloured crepe sari and left her hair loose. Like her second nature, she lined her almond shaped eyes with kohl and to get that professional look, she chose matte lipstick of brown shade. The splash of Cool Water completed her look.
They were meeting at Park Palaza. Sid was a member, which meant he would get discount: 25 percent to be precise. The place worked well for Ashmi, as it was closer to home. She fixed up a meeting in the day with the Digital Media team. They were a young group of boys with an inventive name called Blue Lemon. The best part was their office was just ten minutes away from her home, if you preferred to walk the distance. From there she reached Park Palaza, once again before time and decided to wait. She was dying to have a breezer. In fact something stronger, but then settled for ginger ale.
Sid joined her twenty minutes later. From the place she was sitting, she could see Sid scanning for her. She waved from there.
‘I always keep you waiting,’ he drawled.
‘Somehow, I always manage to reach early, not that I leave early,’ she explained to preempt his imagination. I am not a desperate woman. At least a stranger, shouldn’t think that
‘By-the-way let me introduce you to Joseph Zachariah, my close friend, business partner and the senior designer at Marksman. We started Marksman together,’ Sid said.
‘Call me Joe,’ he interrupted the introduction and stretched his hand towards her for the handshake. Ashmi relented. Call her old fashioned, but she was more comfortable, with a warm hello, a wave or the more traditional namaste.
As if he could sense her discomfort, he just let his hand graze her and set it free.
Ashmi locked her eyes with his, as they sat down. Sid took the charge and ordered Italian food. Ashmi would have preferred Mexican any day, but right now, was not the time to debate the spiciness of the food. The technical details were discussed in ten minutes flat. Joseph would send her the logo and cover design for Epicureans sometime, early next week. Post approvals, things would flow smoothly.
The difficult part was coordinating with the odd 5000 employees and generating their inputs for the Epicureans. Ashmi was aware of the ground realities. Lunch happened in silence and in an hour’s time the three of them moved towards the parking. She was the first one to pull out of the parking. She caught Joe waving cheerily in her rear-view mirror. Sid was busy on the phone, gesticulating wildly. ‘May be his ex is on the other line,’ she thought and pushed the gas.
‘By when the Epicureans will be out?’ Jain had emailed her. She decided to barge in his office to make things clear to him for once and for all. Didn’t he badger me into accepting two months as the time frame for bringing it out?
Sid joined her twenty minutes later. From the place she was sitting, she could see Sid scanning for her. She waved from there.
‘I always keep you waiting,’ he drawled.
‘Somehow, I always manage to reach early, not that I leave early,’ she explained to preempt his imagination. I am not a desperate woman. At least a stranger, shouldn’t think that
‘By-the-way let me introduce you to Joseph Zachariah, my close friend, business partner and the senior designer at Marksman. We started Marksman together,’ Sid said.
‘Call me Joe,’ he interrupted the introduction and stretched his hand towards her for the handshake. Ashmi relented. Call her old fashioned, but she was more comfortable, with a warm hello, a wave or the more traditional namaste.
As if he could sense her discomfort, he just let his hand graze her and set it free.
Ashmi locked her eyes with his, as they sat down. Sid took the charge and ordered Italian food. Ashmi would have preferred Mexican any day, but right now, was not the time to debate the spiciness of the food. The technical details were discussed in ten minutes flat. Joseph would send her the logo and cover design for Epicureans sometime, early next week. Post approvals, things would flow smoothly.
The difficult part was coordinating with the odd 5000 employees and generating their inputs for the Epicureans. Ashmi was aware of the ground realities. Lunch happened in silence and in an hour’s time the three of them moved towards the parking. She was the first one to pull out of the parking. She caught Joe waving cheerily in her rear-view mirror. Sid was busy on the phone, gesticulating wildly. ‘May be his ex is on the other line,’ she thought and pushed the gas.
‘By when the Epicureans will be out?’ Jain had emailed her. She decided to barge in his office to make things clear to him for once and for all. Didn’t he badger me into accepting two months as the time frame for bringing it out?
‘How is his mood?’ she called Laily to check on the weather report before.
‘Well, he came sulking in the morning, but then by afternoon, he was soaring as high as a kite. Currently, I think, he is in a bearable state.’ Laily gave the details.
‘Thanks friend,’ Ashmi sighed.
She braced herself to visit Jain and strode inside his office.
'Hi Ashmi! How is the work at Epicureans coming up?' Jain asked.
'In the next week, you will get the logo and a dummy design,' she updated him.
‘Good job,’ he complimented her.
She knew a negative remark would follow soon. That was Jain’s style of working: carrots and sticks, in his case, it was just compliments and stick.
She went back to her desk feeling happy for a while. She had forced Jain to recognize her effort, which was not a small accomplishment by any chance. Absent mindedly, she pulled out her mobile from the drawer of her desk, which she had left there, before going to meet Jain.
‘It was a pleasure meeting you. Have a great day. Cheers!’ The message read from an unsaved number.
Intuitively, she pulled out a business card from her wallet that she had shoved just two hours ago, to cross check the phone number of the sender. The message had landed from Joe.
Is this man trying to flirt with me? No, he can’t afford to do that. He risks losing business. She explained to herself and concentrated on the unanswered emails of the day. Around 4 she decided to call it a day. The kids were at home, huddled on their homework sheets. TV was dutifully turned on. Between kids and Akhil if the TV was not on, it meant either the TV was unwell or they. Rajul was surprised to see her home an hour earlier. But, it was Rhea, the younger one who expressed her true happiness on her early arrival. With her paint stained hands, she hugged her, as if she was her long-lost mother.
‘You two excel in theatrics,’ Rajul commented from distance.
Ashmi ignored the sarcasm and hugged Rhea back. Rhea left her homework and pulled out a Dora book with illustrations for Ashmi to read. She dropped her purse and laptop bag to the floor and sat with her on the couch to read it, with Rhea in her lap. After so many months I am doing this, and it feels so good. If only I could get rid of that choking sensation now!
Around 6, kids left for the park, Ashmi dialed the number scribbled on a discharge slip of the hospital and disconnected. Then, she ambled to kitchen to fetch a glass of water. Slowly, sip by sip, she drained the glass. Once again, she braced herself to dial the number. This time she used the landline.
‘Hello,’ said a matronly voice in a heavy Punjabi accent.
‘Can I fix an appointment with the doctor?’ Ashmi spoke with great effort.
‘When do you want it?’
Friday morning is just perfect, she faked enthusiasm.
‘That means tomorrow,’ personal assistant of the doctor confirmed with her.
She jolted back to reality. The week had almost come to an end and she didn’t even realize it. She was bone tired.
The next day she woke up early. She couldn’t sleep well. When was the last time I had a sound sleep? It now sounded like another lifetime.
There was no need to hurry. The hospital was just at 20 minutes drive from her home.
‘Aren’t you going to work?’ Akhil was surprised to see her lounging in the nightdress, when he returned from the morning jog. Usually, she would be ready by then.
‘No, I am not,’ she said.
‘Why? Anything wrong?’ he wondered.
‘I just don’t feel like going today,’ she said.
‘Well, that’s good. You cool your heels today,’ he said and rushed to shower.
She got up and reconfirmed her appointment. It was for 9.30 in the morning. A week ago she had been there. It so happened:
In the afternoon, she began to hyperventilate. A strange sensation as if she wasn’t able to breathe engulfed here. Something was squeezing life out of her. Laily drove her to the hospital immediately. The doctor at the Emergency gave her tranquilisers and referred her to the clinical psychologist for further diagnosis.
Now, a week later, sitting alone surrounded by the antiseptic smell of the lobby she felt strange. ‘Plastic plants, however green they look never evoke enthusiasm,’ she noted. The matronly lady who had answered her phone call, escorted her to the doctor’s office. Surprisingly, there was no couch, just a chair and the doctor sat across the table. She had a gentle face that radiated warmth.
‘How are you doing today morning?’ she asked pausing to read her name on the sheet of the paper lying before her, and then added, Mrs Mishra
Not so well, Ashmi answered. I spent 1500 for the appointment and she doesn’t even know my name!
‘Tell me exactly, how you are feeling,’ the doctor urged.
For months I am feeling overwhelmed, and I experience strange choking sensations,’ she narrated.
‘Why don’t you run me through your average day?’
‘I don’t run rather sprint and juggle through my average day.’
‘Do you indulge in fun?’
‘No, I don’t.’
The questionnaire lasted for 45 minutes.
The doc prescribed two things: medicine and the need to loosen up.
‘How do I loosen up?’ Ashmi asked feeling as if she had whiled away her precious one hour.
Well, I don’t know about others, but my job involves listening to my clients’ stresses and at times, I am at the loss of my wit. To maintain sanity after every session, I log in my social networking account, listen to music on Youtube, blog or do online shopping at least for thirty minutes, before I see another client.
‘Why don’t you chat with a friend?’ Ashmi was curious to know.
‘Girl, because these days friends don’t have time for friends in real life,’ the doctor maintained.
May be that’s what you need, the doctor’s eyes twinkled.
‘You open an account with a pseudo identity and do what you wanted to but could never do in real life,’ she winked.
This was absolutely disastrous in Ashmi’s vocabulary. She charged me 1500 to provide the treatment hunted from the internet.
‘This much is sure I am not going to come back to her. Let me find a sane doctor,’ she decided as she turned the ignition of the car on.
Once back home, she boarded the social media bandwagon, with her own identity. There was no need to fake a life. ‘Welcome to the world,’ Laily sent her a message requesting her friendship.
She was astonished to find, almost everyone who existed on the earth, was there on the virtual world too.
One languid afternoon, as she tried to get the hang of Epicureans and her life, the sheer boredom gravitated her towards her social media account. There were so many friendship notifications waiting for her from old friends, current colleagues, even the principal of her kids’. The last notification for friendship request was from an unknown name: Albert Mathias. She accepted the other requests in a hurry and lingered on Mathias for a while.
‘Who on the earth is he? Do I know him?’
The bespectacled face that looked back to her was a complete stranger. There was not even one mutual friend who seemed to know him. The mouse lingered on delete request.
Suddenly, the shrink’s words resonated in her ears, like a lightening.
‘Do something that you haven’t done in the real life.’ Wasn’t Akhil a stranger before we became friend?
At the spur of the moment, she decided to take the plunge. A bit of insanity was what she needed in her life, Laily had diagnosed long back for free. In case of a trouble, you could always unfriend the person, unlike real life that the person will hang on.
And she thought of playing along.
‘Do I know you?’ she started the conversation with him.
‘No, you don’t,’ he wrote back.
What makes you think that I will be your friend? She was treading on a forbidden territory for her.
‘I felt that you need a good friend,’ he said.
‘How do you know that?’ She was shocked.
‘So, you admit, you need a good friend.’ He knew that the trick would work, it always did, even with his last girl friend.
She logged out. Sweat beaded on her palm. She checked the ac. It was working. Two hours later, she logged once again to check the conversation with Mathias.
‘Why should I be your friend?’ She wrote asking him once again. The curiosity was going to kill the cat.
’Because I am a nice guy,’ he answered.
‘Is he always online,’ she wondered.
‘Just like you,’ he wrote, as if he had access to her mind.
Ashmi was foxed. It was like someone had pulled the rug beneath her feet. In her life everything was predictable: planned, where everything had to fall in the designated place. And this was like dejavu. Almost after 15 years, she felt thrilled, just the way, she felt if for the first time, when she was dating Akhil.
Her caution warned her, to stop it at once, but then wasn’t it the insanity which was prescribed to her? She accepted his friendship request.
‘Thanks for accepting my friendship request,’ he wrote back continuing the conversation.
‘I think I know you from somewhere,’ Ashmi wasn’t going to give up so fast.
‘No, you don’t know me from anywhere,’ He was getting a bit irritated now. We are complete strangers, but we can be good friends.
This unnerved her. She logged out.
‘Well, he came sulking in the morning, but then by afternoon, he was soaring as high as a kite. Currently, I think, he is in a bearable state.’ Laily gave the details.
‘Thanks friend,’ Ashmi sighed.
She braced herself to visit Jain and strode inside his office.
'Hi Ashmi! How is the work at Epicureans coming up?' Jain asked.
'In the next week, you will get the logo and a dummy design,' she updated him.
‘Good job,’ he complimented her.
She knew a negative remark would follow soon. That was Jain’s style of working: carrots and sticks, in his case, it was just compliments and stick.
She went back to her desk feeling happy for a while. She had forced Jain to recognize her effort, which was not a small accomplishment by any chance. Absent mindedly, she pulled out her mobile from the drawer of her desk, which she had left there, before going to meet Jain.
‘It was a pleasure meeting you. Have a great day. Cheers!’ The message read from an unsaved number.
Intuitively, she pulled out a business card from her wallet that she had shoved just two hours ago, to cross check the phone number of the sender. The message had landed from Joe.
Is this man trying to flirt with me? No, he can’t afford to do that. He risks losing business. She explained to herself and concentrated on the unanswered emails of the day. Around 4 she decided to call it a day. The kids were at home, huddled on their homework sheets. TV was dutifully turned on. Between kids and Akhil if the TV was not on, it meant either the TV was unwell or they. Rajul was surprised to see her home an hour earlier. But, it was Rhea, the younger one who expressed her true happiness on her early arrival. With her paint stained hands, she hugged her, as if she was her long-lost mother.
‘You two excel in theatrics,’ Rajul commented from distance.
Ashmi ignored the sarcasm and hugged Rhea back. Rhea left her homework and pulled out a Dora book with illustrations for Ashmi to read. She dropped her purse and laptop bag to the floor and sat with her on the couch to read it, with Rhea in her lap. After so many months I am doing this, and it feels so good. If only I could get rid of that choking sensation now!
Around 6, kids left for the park, Ashmi dialed the number scribbled on a discharge slip of the hospital and disconnected. Then, she ambled to kitchen to fetch a glass of water. Slowly, sip by sip, she drained the glass. Once again, she braced herself to dial the number. This time she used the landline.
‘Hello,’ said a matronly voice in a heavy Punjabi accent.
‘Can I fix an appointment with the doctor?’ Ashmi spoke with great effort.
‘When do you want it?’
Friday morning is just perfect, she faked enthusiasm.
‘That means tomorrow,’ personal assistant of the doctor confirmed with her.
She jolted back to reality. The week had almost come to an end and she didn’t even realize it. She was bone tired.
The next day she woke up early. She couldn’t sleep well. When was the last time I had a sound sleep? It now sounded like another lifetime.
There was no need to hurry. The hospital was just at 20 minutes drive from her home.
‘Aren’t you going to work?’ Akhil was surprised to see her lounging in the nightdress, when he returned from the morning jog. Usually, she would be ready by then.
‘No, I am not,’ she said.
‘Why? Anything wrong?’ he wondered.
‘I just don’t feel like going today,’ she said.
‘Well, that’s good. You cool your heels today,’ he said and rushed to shower.
She got up and reconfirmed her appointment. It was for 9.30 in the morning. A week ago she had been there. It so happened:
In the afternoon, she began to hyperventilate. A strange sensation as if she wasn’t able to breathe engulfed here. Something was squeezing life out of her. Laily drove her to the hospital immediately. The doctor at the Emergency gave her tranquilisers and referred her to the clinical psychologist for further diagnosis.
Now, a week later, sitting alone surrounded by the antiseptic smell of the lobby she felt strange. ‘Plastic plants, however green they look never evoke enthusiasm,’ she noted. The matronly lady who had answered her phone call, escorted her to the doctor’s office. Surprisingly, there was no couch, just a chair and the doctor sat across the table. She had a gentle face that radiated warmth.
‘How are you doing today morning?’ she asked pausing to read her name on the sheet of the paper lying before her, and then added, Mrs Mishra
Not so well, Ashmi answered. I spent 1500 for the appointment and she doesn’t even know my name!
‘Tell me exactly, how you are feeling,’ the doctor urged.
For months I am feeling overwhelmed, and I experience strange choking sensations,’ she narrated.
‘Why don’t you run me through your average day?’
‘I don’t run rather sprint and juggle through my average day.’
‘Do you indulge in fun?’
‘No, I don’t.’
The questionnaire lasted for 45 minutes.
The doc prescribed two things: medicine and the need to loosen up.
‘How do I loosen up?’ Ashmi asked feeling as if she had whiled away her precious one hour.
Well, I don’t know about others, but my job involves listening to my clients’ stresses and at times, I am at the loss of my wit. To maintain sanity after every session, I log in my social networking account, listen to music on Youtube, blog or do online shopping at least for thirty minutes, before I see another client.
‘Why don’t you chat with a friend?’ Ashmi was curious to know.
‘Girl, because these days friends don’t have time for friends in real life,’ the doctor maintained.
May be that’s what you need, the doctor’s eyes twinkled.
‘You open an account with a pseudo identity and do what you wanted to but could never do in real life,’ she winked.
This was absolutely disastrous in Ashmi’s vocabulary. She charged me 1500 to provide the treatment hunted from the internet.
‘This much is sure I am not going to come back to her. Let me find a sane doctor,’ she decided as she turned the ignition of the car on.
Once back home, she boarded the social media bandwagon, with her own identity. There was no need to fake a life. ‘Welcome to the world,’ Laily sent her a message requesting her friendship.
She was astonished to find, almost everyone who existed on the earth, was there on the virtual world too.
One languid afternoon, as she tried to get the hang of Epicureans and her life, the sheer boredom gravitated her towards her social media account. There were so many friendship notifications waiting for her from old friends, current colleagues, even the principal of her kids’. The last notification for friendship request was from an unknown name: Albert Mathias. She accepted the other requests in a hurry and lingered on Mathias for a while.
‘Who on the earth is he? Do I know him?’
The bespectacled face that looked back to her was a complete stranger. There was not even one mutual friend who seemed to know him. The mouse lingered on delete request.
Suddenly, the shrink’s words resonated in her ears, like a lightening.
‘Do something that you haven’t done in the real life.’ Wasn’t Akhil a stranger before we became friend?
At the spur of the moment, she decided to take the plunge. A bit of insanity was what she needed in her life, Laily had diagnosed long back for free. In case of a trouble, you could always unfriend the person, unlike real life that the person will hang on.
And she thought of playing along.
‘Do I know you?’ she started the conversation with him.
‘No, you don’t,’ he wrote back.
What makes you think that I will be your friend? She was treading on a forbidden territory for her.
‘I felt that you need a good friend,’ he said.
‘How do you know that?’ She was shocked.
‘So, you admit, you need a good friend.’ He knew that the trick would work, it always did, even with his last girl friend.
She logged out. Sweat beaded on her palm. She checked the ac. It was working. Two hours later, she logged once again to check the conversation with Mathias.
‘Why should I be your friend?’ She wrote asking him once again. The curiosity was going to kill the cat.
’Because I am a nice guy,’ he answered.
‘Is he always online,’ she wondered.
‘Just like you,’ he wrote, as if he had access to her mind.
Ashmi was foxed. It was like someone had pulled the rug beneath her feet. In her life everything was predictable: planned, where everything had to fall in the designated place. And this was like dejavu. Almost after 15 years, she felt thrilled, just the way, she felt if for the first time, when she was dating Akhil.
Her caution warned her, to stop it at once, but then wasn’t it the insanity which was prescribed to her? She accepted his friendship request.
‘Thanks for accepting my friendship request,’ he wrote back continuing the conversation.
‘I think I know you from somewhere,’ Ashmi wasn’t going to give up so fast.
‘No, you don’t know me from anywhere,’ He was getting a bit irritated now. We are complete strangers, but we can be good friends.
This unnerved her. She logged out.
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