tales of Suchita

It had been a hard week for him. First his laptop crashed which meant the WIP he had been working on was lost. Before he could mourn that loss properly, he was given notice by his landlord that he needed to vacate the 1BHK he had been living in for five years because she had sold the house. He was given no time to pack so now half his stuff was in storage and the other half was scattered in his single room occupancy PG which he had to shift into.

He must be getting old, he thought, if he wanted to complain about the noise levels on a Friday evening. God if the noise was not such a problem, he would probably stay in the PG for the foreseeable future. It was small, cosy and had everything he could possibly need. He didn’t even mind the jam sessions he was sometimes invited to by the young adults living there. Their wide-eyed innocence juxtaposed with their hard lived experiences was fascinating for him to witness.

But he was old and had lined up house visits with his broker the next day so he needed to sleep, the noise notwithstanding. Punching his pillow two-three times, he willed himself to sleep.

*

It was too much – finding a suitable house. One did not have a balcony. One house had only one window. One had no ventilation and the other that had good ventilation had no light. It had come to a point where he had been ready to tear his hair so he had lied to his broker about a meeting and run.

He was sitting in a coffee shop now, stirring sugar in his cup, staring at his phone. The urge to speak to him had been growing steadily since he had been ousted from his home but he had resisted it. He couldn’t anymore.

So, he called his dead older brother’s phone. A phone whose bill he still paid for moments like this.

“Hi bhai,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “It’s been a mad few months.”

He proceeded to tell his brother’s phone just how mad his months had been. He didn’t bother to lower his voice even though he was in a cafe. There was something comforting about the anonymity he had in places like this. People may overhear, they may feel sympathetic but there would be no interruption. That shared grief for his pain was what made this whole ordeal worthwhile.

“I’m eating properly, I promise,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Why do you even care when you didn’t before? I’ll never understand.”

He talked about Uri, his twenty-year-old friend in the PG and the confessions he had made. It had been so difficult to not run to Uri’s house and give his parents a piece of his mind. But Uri had said he didn’t need that. He only needed someone to witness his courage.

“I have met some really cool people in the PG. I know you’ll tell me to stay in the PG. I have found a community there, weirdly enough. But I’m thirty-five bhai! Should I really be staying in a PG? Those are for kids! No but you’re right. There’s nothing wrong with downsizing for a while, see how it turns out and allowing myself some time to find my next step. Yeah, the PG is a good rest stop, you’re right as always bhai.”

He had to take a pause because his nose started twitching and he knew if he didn’t pause, the chances of crying were high. “Oh bhai, why did you leave me so soon?” he whispered, his voice trembling.

He stopped again; took a deep breath in, and breathed out from his mouth. He repeated that three-four times until the urge to weep had left. “Anywho, I found someone at the PG who could recover my WIP, so yay for that. Rumi is a mad computer whiz and honestly, she scares me a little.”

He talked for over an hour and probably would have continued if he hadn’t gotten a reminder message from Rumi that they were meeting for a movie. He acknowledged her message and went back to his call.

“You know the kids in the PG know I do this. But not once have they told me to stop. They get why it’s important to me, this connection with you, even if it’s a little pathetic. None of the adults get it but they do. I’ll take my leave now. Can’t keep the kids waiting. They’re introducing me to the wonders of regional cinema. I’m going to watch a Telegu movie today. I’m quite excited. Thank you as always for listening.”

He hung up, his foul mood forgotten. He paid for his coffee and ran up the three escalators to meet his kids in front of Inox to begin his education.

Maybe this month would turn out okay.

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Song: Need you now by Lady Antebellum

Check out the other posts for 2023 here. Written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z