Where’s Radha?

A peek into Senthil’s mind one night, and his peculiar relationship with Radha Shankar, who happens to be missing. The question ‘Where’s Radha?’ becomes an emotional roller coaster following her absence, tests more than just Senthil’s delirious state of mind.

Just great! Just fuckin’ great! You could hear the rushed voice from across the little bridge on the lively street, the frustration on the man’s face bestowing him a clear path to…just a quick leap above some fresh cow dung, with the startled moo-machine looking intently at the human tearing across the road, yes, a clear path to his…his darling. But ohhh he was late, so very late. He could almost sympathize with the White Rabbit dashing the way he did in the celebrated production.

Though, oh he shouldn’t really, the first film had made sure of that. The whole world could never look at the rabbit the same way again. And that indeed was a pity. Yes, she was something else, even now.

He snaked a hand to his pocket, slowing down just enough to keep the bundle slipping from his hands from it’s fateful tumble, for he knew how that scene would play out. Turning right, now a habit, but not the accompanying lefts’ and right’s for the funny pharmacy tonight, our man moved with the same dexterity that got him promoted at work to senior slave, till he finally reached the gate of his home.

Boosting Sunny Laundry’s handiwork on one hip, he blindly jabbed at the door with his jingling little tormentors. In vain, it seems. The sound in turn intensifying his need to pee. Who had thought metal scraps could bring an operations manager to his knees, but then lesser mortals had won his pride before and defeat was just a number now. Or not, as last month clamored for recollection, he inhaled properly, perhaps for the first time that day. A clear ‘Open Sesame’ later, one shaking head followed a straggling bundle and the omni-present black laptop bag.

Bounding up the stairs, leaping steps, were not the days anymore. For every step was a studied reflection on how not to repeat 4th standard today. His leg muscles flexed together almost as tight a line as his lady’s lips when he dared suggest something shady….which was not the best body part to be thinking of right now, he mused as he turned the knob to his frost-bitten room. Flinging everything to the bed, our man strides to the bathroom and not a moment too soon by the sounds of it. Removing the belt from the last of the loops as he walked back in, he wonders about the room today. It was almost livable. Why?

As the eyes surveyed for the damage, his alarm grew a smidgen more. No burning drapes, no hacked table-tops, not even a bloodied bedspread to be seen. ‘Is she angry’, he added a moment later ‘-ier than usual?’

Replaying the last showdown brought back a sigh, and the utter bemusement at his life that usually followed this course of thought. How, just how did he, out of all able men, walk into the night with such a lousy fate.

For it is lousy, he mumbled ambling through the doorways peeking through keyholes every now and then. A normal man would barge right in, or maybe he could knock, who knows. He on the other hand, could ill-afford to distress the madam through such tom-foolery. Heh, she sure does spin me one, he thought.

The world outside had long ago christened him a devoted husband, “devoted” mind you is a word unlike “loving”. Which she proved to him everyday. But how could you demand a man’s faith, his religion after all of this. All 6 years of this.

The press, with their articles all preaching the same game. With every critic a fan and every room a fawning audience, his wife certainly knew the power she held over the written word.

Being stubborn, is one thing. Getting kicked out from your family is also one thing. But suffering just for the sake of a smile? That’s stupid and definitely not him. No, there was a fourth kind, his kind.

For a moment, the mind quieted down. A hiccupping voice threatened his existence, again as a memory flashed by. His steps now a little worried and mind agog at the possibilities of a life after, brought about hurried shouts into the nothingness that was the night terrace.

She couldn’t. No, she wouldn’t do it, certainly when I am still alive. But the mind, kept returning back to the same gleeful conclusion. Even as he went through her family tree with frantic messages and calls, the rocking chair still as a picture stayed with him. The significance of his life up till now calling up empty, just like her phone.

There must be a reason, a friend, an award show or even the long walks she so liked. But, no. The long walks were not a possibility anymore, he gently reminded as the the familiar vexation came trailing by. The guilt had long left the building, but Radha Shankar’s words seldom did.

This house could be sold within a month, I wouldn’t even drag it out, just chuck the keys at the first fucker who comes along. But her family…no, I need to at least find a body, his stuttered words jumped across the walls. His eyes set to work anew at his now bright surroundings. ‘Just try it, Hon, you’ll see how this place lights like a lamp. It will huge-ie up entirely!’ Played back almost like a constant strain amidst a busy heartbeat. ‘Minting just about anything into a word. How could everyone fall for that habit of hers!’ What was this, her fairy tale? He grunted again.

Calling out on the street seemed like the right precursor to the police. He screamed repeatedly into the jarring quiet of the street from his window, her name, that dreaded word which till now had haunted just his phone history. Ahhh, this is almost therapeutic, he thought, as a few of his old friends, of the canine variety, joined in the hunt.

‘Dhaah!’ As his throat finally went home for the day after an impressive show, another suspicion hit the now adrenaline-addled brain, springing him off towards the bedroom.

The room shifted perceptibly, as the relieved sigh ending on a perplexed expletive brought with it new searches on his woman’s whereabouts a La social check-ins.

This is ridiculous, on a stilted breath Senthil refreshed the page until the page just couldn’t comply fast enough. He could hear someone banging in the distance, the noise just loud enough for the words to finally push through his uncomprehending skull.

‘Last active 4 years ago’ her facebook agreeing to her twitter page was apparently not the only oddity that struck sore to his eyes but what was this funny sensation in the pit of his stomach about, he couldn’t figure out, it was almost as if he didn’t have control, any control whatsoever. The banging now more than just annoyance, in its urgency accompanied a loud thud that brought the man away from the all-but tribute filled page of a woman Senthil knew more than his shadow. As he looked up to his now panting brother, the dread in his heart was adding up to each breath his fellow man regained.

‘came fast as I could… man’ he looked down ‘yes Dad, he’s fine…No not left alone, just dead drunk among, no Dad, Bhaiya isn’t dead, no it’s a expression. Yes, won’t do it again. Fine, lemme call back yes yes’ The rushed affirmatives ended as he squatted down to Senthil’s dazed eyes.

‘Senthi? You okay, bhai?’ A soft nod later, Sreejith bit his lips and slowly raised Senthil back to the chair’s edge. While hunting for some drinking water, he started the conversation he definitely wasn’t looking forward to.

‘Bro, you know Ma, I mean, Radha isn’t here na?’ Sreejith’s mouth dry as he finally sat on the table’s edge watching the shell of a man he’d adored. In that moment you could sense the resentment for a woman he didn’t even remember, pulse through his impatient feet into the floor in a tip-tapping sound that broke the monotony from the dulled traffic outside.

‘Where is she?’ The faint question asked for a sensitive approach, something Sreejith and his recent bouts of temper were newly unfamiliar with.

‘Ummm, it..it’s nothing to worry about, just leave that for now, tell me, did you eat today.’

‘Where is she?’ Sree could see the direction of this conversation was not changing anytime soon.

‘You need need to get over Mom & Dad, Sen.’

‘What are you talking about Sree?’

‘Radha is dead.’

The man’s unaffected face spoke volumes of his experience with this particular conversation.

‘I don’t believe you.’ Pat, came the reply. But, one could see the relief course through the shoulders of one brother, at the cost of fear in the eyes of the other.

‘Bro, Radha… Who is she to you?’

‘What an absurd conversation is this Sree? First Radha, whom I saw mere hours ago, is dead, you say. And then Sreejith you, you… you ask me who she is? You don’t know my wife, Sree?Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Bhai, remind me who you are again?’ The soft but strangely patronising tone did nothing for Senthil’s growing headache.

‘You do know how ridiculous you sound right now, yes?’

The deadpan but frustrated tone just one of the many things that Sreejith missed about his brother almost on a weekly basis.

‘Jus…just humor me. Write it down here’ Sree’s hand sliding a piece of paper that Senthil had definitely seen somewhere.

‘Fine, fine. This day cannot get any more bizarre, so here’s me writing down my family tree in front of that same family. Happy?’

‘Ecstatic’

What followed was a flurry of words printing with a splash of stick figures. The scratching on the paper was slowing down, halting to the same set of arrows it always did during these episodes.

While Sreejith just wanted to scream Eureka, he’d learnt to give Bhai some time to absorb.

The head that came up slowly, had an embarrassed but pained smile Sreejith couldn’t hate more than he already did.

“So who was playing I this time around, eh thumbee? Did you figure it out?”

The phone buzzed again but this time Senthil picked it up from the ground and put his father out of misery.

‘Yo Dad! Did you know the number of brain cells you could possibly kill if you scream at me the way you are, for 50 hours straight?’

While one brother chuckled at the response, the other picked up the blinking laptop from the ground, each wondering the same thing, how long could this possibly go on.