A song with two notes — The Raghu and Kadhambari story

Raghu hits a rough patch, and the beginning of his healing process comes from an unlikely place

Hello, dear reader. This story is a part of a series of short stories I started writing three years ago. For context about the different characters mentioned, read the following stories:
Raghu and Divya — https://gnicketan.medium.com/cigarettes-conversations-and-comfortable-silences-the-divya-and-raghu-story-b9094de305a3
Arjun — https://gnicketan.medium.com/crossroads-a8b134d7042a?source=your_stories_page-------------------------------------
TW: Suicide, Depression, Anxiety

Raghu

Raghu made his way into his apartment and dropped his bag down with a thud. The clink of the bottle inside startled him for a second and he quickly checked inside to see if it was broken and let out a sigh of relief when he saw that it wasn’t. He took the bottle out, placed it on the coffee table in front of his couch, made his way into the kitchen and looked for a glass. He saw that all that was left were a couple of coffee cups. “That damn kid” he drunkenly mumbled to himself and picked up a cup and plopped down on the couch to pour himself a peg. He turned to see if his roommate was home — a 22-year-old who worked in marketing and performed stand-up comedy and happened to share Raghu’s love for whiskey. He occupied the third room of the huge apartment. Divya’s old room remained untouched and unoccupied — Raghu liked it that way. He continued sipping his neat whiskey, turned on the TV and switched to a random football game. He didn’t watch football, he just liked the noise of the commentary in the background. It made him feel a little less lonely.

It had been a while since his divorce. In the months since he negotiated with Divya’s parents to pay off the rest of the price of the apartment. Even though the divorce was mutual and amicable, he had grown to miss her. He felt as empty as the huge apartment he lived in, and a sense of loneliness grew like moss on a wet surface. “Get a dog, bro. Or a roommate! You know I’d have moved in if not for Rekha” said his best friend Vidhur, who’d gotten married recently. A roommate did seem like a nice idea, enter Arjun, whom Raghu met after his show while smoking outside the comedy club. “The place is lovely, but I don’t think I can afford it”, Arjun said. “Pay what you can. You’re just paying for the room” said Raghu. The money didn’t matter to him. He just wanted to feel a little less alone.

Arjun and Raghu got along well despite the age difference between them. He bought his own alcohol, bought food for the both of them every once in a while, kept the place neat and brought along a PS4. It was ideal. But it didn’t stop Raghu from feeling lonely.

Raghu continued downing pegs, albeit a little slowly with each one. The whiskey became a little too harsh for his throat, so he mixed it with water. This had become his routine. Alcohol had become his best friend over the past month. Since the day that was etched on his mind like words written in permanent marker and he was measuring the amount of alcohol that would erase it. It was a normal day at the office and he was on a coffee break when something he saw on Instagram turned his world upside down. A friend from college had just gotten engaged — to his ex-girlfriend from college, Ramya. The one woman, the only woman, he had ever loved. He’d cut off complete contact from Ramya and wasn’t expecting this. He had cut off contact with Divya too, so he couldn’t even go and talk to her about this like their conversation on their balcony from before. He had no avenue to open up about this, and he felt cornered.

He was gripped with a swirl of emotions from the time he saw the post and all the people in his circle congratulating the happy couple. Anger at himself, his parents, and at times, even Divya. He felt a pit inside his stomach that kept getting deeper like someone was tugging down at it. There would be days where he’d be going about his business when suddenly, a slew of thoughts would hit him like fiery arrows and his chest would get heavy. He would grab his pack of smokes and bolt to the smoking-room immediately. And after a while, cigarettes stopped working. He resorted to alcohol. Vodka in a water bottle, Bailey’s in a coffee sipper, Whiskey in a Coke bottle. He’d sip through the day and mask the smell with perfumes and mouth freshener. His descent into darkness was quick, but he was too intoxicated to even realize that.

He had already emptied half the bottle when a thought hit him. “Maybe I should just die”, he said to himself. Everything in life had come easy for Raghu. His parents ensured he got everything. His privilege ensured him of that. Even when his relationship with Ramya ended on a bad note, he knew that eventually, things would work out somewhere, at some point. This was the first time he was thrust into a situation where he felt helpless and out of control, and he dealt with it the only way he knew how to. What bothered him more was simply the fact that he knew that it could have been him, in that picture, with Ramya, smiling and happy. Rajesh, the guy she was engaged to, wasn’t any different from Raghu. They came from the same fabric. They sat next to each other in college and school and were good friends. He always considered them to be very similar. That’s what angered him. The fact that it worked out for him and didn’t for himself, and that he couldn’t do anything about it, and was stuck in a cycle of unhappiness with a failed marriage — despite it being his choice.

His thoughts were interrupted by a text from Arjun. “Staying out tonight. Don’t wait for me,” it said. “Perfect,” Raghu thought to himself. His self-hatred had consumed him at this point. He drew out a plan in his head. He was going to step out onto his balcony, make a straight jump, head-first. His drunken state would make it seem like an accident, and no one would even know. He had it set straight. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey, he made his way to the balcony. The wind hit him as he opened the door, and he stumbled his way to the rails. He peered down and felt nauseous. He almost threw up, when a sound startled him. He immediately stepped back and almost fell down. He turned around to see a girl, not older than 25, standing on the parallel balcony, looking at him. The light from her living room shined on one side of her face, and he couldn’t get a clear look. He was embarrassed and he sat down on his balcony. He felt like she knew what he was up to. He gazed into Chennai’s skyline as he felt himself tearing up. He felt stuck to the floor and decided to stay there until he heard the girl going inside and coming back out to her balcony.

“Adho pogindrathu
Aasai megam
Mazhaiyai kettukollungal..”
Raghu turned to get a look. The girl had a ukulele in her hand, seated on the floor, singing the song, in a slow tune. AR Rahman, his favourite artist. Her voice was mellifluous. The song brought back memories. It was the same song that played when he opened up to Divya, seated on the same balcony, not too long ago. She continued singing and strumming, and Raghu felt present. No thoughts except for the memory of Divya and him running through his head.

“Nila kaaigirathu
Niram theigirathu
Yaarum rasikkavillaiyae”

As she continued singing, Raghu ran into the house. He ran into his bedroom and fell face down on his bed and started wailing. Crying in a way he’d never done before. He bit his pillow and continued crying. He noticed that the music had stopped, and he continued letting it all out. Soon enough, he passed out.
He woke up to his own vomit on the floor late in the morning. He cleaned it up and took a shower. He called into his work and said he wouldn’t be coming in for a while. And his boss, who cared a lot for him, agreed because he’d been noticing the signs of his self-wreckage. Every night, Raghu would pour himself a glass of whiskey and sit on his balcony at the same time. The girl next door would show up, sometimes with her ukelele, sometimes with her guitar, sometimes just her voice, and she would sing tunes into the sky. Arjun joined Raghu sometimes with his own drink and they’d sit in silence, listening.

Sometimes Raja, sometimes Rahman, Sometimes R.D. Burman, Sometimes SPB. The music was soothing and both the men were mesmerized by her skill.
Soon enough, Raghu stopped bringing drinks to the little, private concert that he and Arjun got to witness. He would just sit and listen to the music, writing in his journal. He would get through his days just for it. He returned to work, slowly started focusing on the things he loved. Until one day, the music stopped. He didn’t know why, but he was happy for all the days he kept it alive. That night, Raghu still sat on his balcony, without a drink, just feeling the wind on his face. And he opened up his phone and booked an appointment with a psychiatrist. He turned to the side where Divya sat, and he smiled. And he turned to look at the empty balcony on the other side, and that made him smile too.

Kadhambari

Kadhambari carried her guitar and a bag full of groceries up the lift and tried hard to ring the bell of the apartment she shared with her cousin careful not to drop anything. As she struggled with the bags, she decided to knock on the door. Reshma, her cousin opened the door, all dressed and ready to leave for work. She was an air hostess and was hardly home, and she shared the apartment with a friend of hers. Kadhambari, ‘Kat’ as she was called by her friends and cousin, had been living with her for a couple of months. “Hey Kat, sorry, I’ve got to leave. Ranj is out too, staying with her boyfriend tonight. Red-eye to Mumbai. Dinner is ready and on the kitchen table, though. Help yourself with some eggs if possible. Love you” she said, pecked her on the cheek and rolled her trolley to the elevator. Ranjini, her roommate, had left a message on a post-it note stuck to the wall above the shoe rack. “Okay,” Kadhambari said, as she made her way into the house. She decided to skip dinner and went straight to her room, placed her guitar near the bed and sat down to look at the Taylor Swift poster on the wall. She teared up and choked, worried about her future.

“You have 6 months. We’ll support you financially for you to go to Chennai and make something of yourself. If nothing happens, come back and we will figure out what you can do for your Master's degree” her father declared on a chilly, winter morning in Ooty, Kat’s hometown. The family was a humble, modest middle class one. Kat’s grandfather had been the manager of a tea estate, and her dad went on to do the same. They didn’t believe in a luxurious lifestyle. The family, over two generations, made a living and built a small house nestled among the estate where they worked, and ensured the children got a good education. Kat herself went to a convent and got a commerce degree from Christ College in Bangalore. However, her passion always was to become a musician. She daydreamed of playing at concerts the size of the Wembley stadium, singing to a roaring crowd as Freddie Mercury did decades ago. After a long struggle, her father finally agreed to let her see what she can make of the dream she had. So, she packed her bag and her instruments and left for the city of dreams for any small-town girl in Tamil Nadu. She was used to urban life, thanks to college, but the road ahead was tough and she knew it.

4 months had passed since her father set the deadline, and she found herself dejected, staring at the poster on her wall, worried she will never be able to pursue her passion. She’d been looking for opportunities to become a playback singer, just as a start, so she can go on to perform independently, but nothing worked out. The impending doom of the deadline and having to go to a life of numbers and graphs that didn’t make sense to her was setting in and she had finally lost hope. She opened up her phone to text a close friend of hers. Her only friend in Chennai, apart from her cousin and her roommate. Arjun, the boy next door, quite literally. He’d moved in around the same time as her. “Hey, I think I’m giving up. Thank you for being such a good friend.” she said, and before the message could get delivered, she dropped her phone on the bed and started crying. To an unsuspecting Arjun, the message seemed like she was returning to Ooty. “Don’t give up just yet, you’ve got two more months. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, I’m at a friend’s place right now. And remember, your music has the power to heal. It’s gotten me through tough days. You know I’ll always listen when you play and will be your biggest fan. Doesn’t matter if the audience is big or small, your art is authentic, and you are true to it” he replied, but it was too late. What Kadhambari meant by the message was that she was going to take her own life.

She went to the balcony and looked down. The building was tall, and she stood there, crying, still contemplating, almost taking the plunge but deciding against it. Suddenly, she was startled. The parallel balcony opened, it was like someone was breaking in. She saw that it was just the occupant of the house, Arjun’s roommate, Raghu, visibly drunk even in the dark. Arjun had told Kat about him. She’d seen him around too. Drove a nice car, seemed like a typical high-earning corporate employee who was living life at its fullest, despite a divorce. He looked dishevelled and still in his work clothes. Kat quickly stepped back and kept looking at him. He stepped too close to the rails of the balcony and almost accurately repeated the same actions Kat had done mere minutes ago. “Is he here to throw up?” Kat thought to herself. But no, he kept looking down, almost as though he was going to jump. Kat knew exactly what was going on. For a minute, she forgot all about her own conundrum. She very subtly kicked a flower pot that was on the balcony, alerting Raghu of her presence. He turned around, startled, to look at her, and seemed like he’d collapse and fall backwards. She saw Raghu sitting down, and she was just glad he didn’t jump. She made her way into the house quickly to call Arjun and ask him to get home immediately and maybe even an ambulance, when she read his text. For some reason, it put a smile on her face. She quickly grabbed her ukelele and ran back to the balcony to ensure she was on time before anything bad happened. She came back, he was still seated there, his hands on his face.

She sat down on the balcony as well. Arjun had just reminded her of the reason she loved music so much — Its power to heal. It reminded her of the times she’d sing to her grandfather when he was on his deathbed with the pain inflicted from cancer, where her music would be his only source of happiness on days. She didn’t care for anything else at that moment. She just wanted to sing — for herself and the man who was on the same boat as her. She started singing one of her favourite AR Rahman melodies, strumming slowly, because she didn’t know of a single person in Chennai who didn’t love AR Rahman. She found the weight lifting off of her shoulders as she sang into the night sky as well. She felt light. And suddenly, the man took off and went inside his house. She was just glad he was safe, but the anxiety of him still attempting to take his life inside was eating at her. But she trusted her instincts and went to sleep.

The next morning, Kat knew exactly what to do. She bolted to the door as soon as she woke up, knocked on the door, only to be greeted by Arjun. She wanted to inquire about Raghu, before she saw him in the background, making his way into the kitchen, in a fresh set of clothes. “I came to borrow some milk,” she said, coyly. “With the way you knocked, I thought you came to get some blood” Arjun responded, jokingly. “Also, what bullshit was that text last night? We need to talk,” Arjun said. She’d forgotten about what she sent, but decided to have the conversation with him about it anyway. “Sure. Come over for coffee?” she said. And Arjun followed. He liked his coffee black.

“Listen Kat, all I’m saying is, no one delivers these things at your door. The hustle is hard and I get it. I don’t blame you for feeling the way you do. But just don’t give up. You’re one of the most talented people I know”, Arjun said, sipping on his coffee and taking a drag of his cigarette, on the very balcony that Kat stood, contemplating the worst not many hours ago. “Understood. I’ll try harder… by the way, what’s the deal with your roommate?” she asked. That was the reason she was having this conversation. “Oh, I don’t know. Man’s been going through some shit, I guess. But the alcoholism bonds us and I don’t like to pry, so I don’t exactly know what’s going on.” Arjun said. “He was drinking in his work clothes on the balcony yesterday, that’s why I was curious,” she said, careful not to let it slip. “Oh, that’s what we do. Alcohol isn’t judgemental and doesn’t care too much for fashion,” Arjun joked. She slapped his shoulder. “You should quit drinking. And smoking,” she said. “Yeah I will, I should also be in Silicon Valley making millions and flying out to New York on a private jet to perform in Comedy Clubs, but am I?” he said, laughed, told her he’ll catch up later and left. Kat stood on the balcony and realized something. She’d just found a reason to keep going.

Every night from then on, she’d take her ukelele or her guitar out into the balcony to play her music and sing songs. Soundtracks from different movies and artists. She knew that Raghu was listening. Sometimes Arjun would join in and make song requests from his balcony, and so did Ranjani and Reshma, whenever they were around. The two months went by in the blink of an eye. She still hadn’t made any progress. But she had found hope in knowing that her music helped, healed and kept someone alive.

Moving back to Ooty was hard for Kat. She’d grown to love Chennai and it’s people. But she found herself without a choice. But on the other hand, she wasn’t questioning her ability as a musician anymore. That was something nobody, including herself, could take away any more. She packed her bags, bid her goodbyes, left Arjun a long message and gave him a hug and her address, and just before leaving, slipped Raghu a note. Not a long one. Kat had always been an introvert, and she never initiated a conversation with Raghu. In all the time that she played her music for his ears, they’d never spoken a word to each other. She just thought a note would suffice.

“Thank you for being a kind audience and re-instilling hope in me when I’d lost it all. You were the reason I kept going. It didn’t work out, but I’m happy I made a difference. (I hope I did). Much Love, Kadhambari”

Kat returned to Ooty and settled back into her old life. Taking walks along the hills, teaching the choir at her Alma Mater, and she was trying to retain the parts of Chennai she still had left in her. Until one day, she received a text from Arjun. “Yo, Raghu asked me about you. Seems like he misses your concerts. Either way, you’re in for a surprise. I gave him your address. Miss you!” it said. Surprise? Kat was perplexed. She’d been at the school, training the choir all day. She left at the last bell and rushed home. “You’ve received a huge package. It’s in your room,” her mother said. Kat rushed in and opened it up in a hurry. She found an all new, high-end laptop, the kind that artists she loves use, and another high-quality mic set that she could use to set up a home studio. Attached with it, was a note.

“Hi Kadhambari. I received your note. Thank you so much for all the tunes. Yes, it helped. Yes, it kept me alive. But I was sad to hear you gave up and returned. This is the least I can do. Please do put your voice out there, the world deserves to hear it. Consider this a gift from a fan. Love, Raghu”

Kat smiled. It reminded her of something her music teacher told her in school. “Music isn’t just an art. It’s a language. It’s a language through which you communicate. It’s the language that I use to communicate with god, and you will use to communicate with the world” she said. And Kat smiled wider at how true it was. No words exchanged between two individuals, except for two small notes, yet a lot was said. Kat got to work immediately.

Kat recorded her songs and put it online. First on YouTube, then on Spotify, she built a following as a year went by and eventually, she received a phone call. “We’re calling from A1 Records. Is this Kadhambari? We’d like to discuss something”. She froze. She had tears of happiness flowing. She composed herself and spoke to the voice on the other end. Kadhambari had made it.

7 years later

In the years since Kadhambari had visited Chennai many times. But she was mostly put up in fancy hotels and hardly had time to catch up with her old friends. She caught up with Arjun after a long break, during which he told her “he went to hell and back” and he was pretty successful now himself. On this specific occasion, she was playing at the Music Academy in Alwarpet. A concert in front of thousand five hundred people. She’d built a great stage presence and as she wrapped up the concert, she took the time to notice the audience members. Seated in the first row — Raghu, much older, yet happier, with a woman she didn’t recognize by his side. She smiled at him, so did he. And at the end of it, they maintained the sanctity of their relationship — no words were still exchanged.