Between Flood and Fire
Love and self-love in the age of chaos
…While I found myself harbouring a fondness for it when I wasn’t here, now that I am back, I can’t wait to leave. I don’t… can’t, like the Capital anymore. The only saving grace of this gas chamber are the metallic chambers that snake along its yet unchoked arteries. Turning our eyes away from the grey cityscape, we commute on these chambers sitting hunched over our flashy phones. Divided by our personal screens, united by our slavish attention to them. It’s as if we evolved to stand straight, only to turn around, return to the starting point and start crushing candies instead of peeling bananas–
Kartik’s phone vibrated. Nothing like a WhatsApp ping to feed a writer’s imagination. He saved his article and picked up the phone.
C’mon, you are not giving me the benefit of doubt. Again. He called her.
“Hey baby.”
“Why is your number always busy? I’ve been trying to call for half an hour,” said Arushi.
“Arushi,” he replied with measured gentleness, “I don’t know why Hairtel says this. Must be some issue with signal reception. I have no missed calls from you.”
“It says you were busy.”
How many times do we have to go over this? Kartik took a deep breath. He grabbed a small diary and a pencil, wrote the date on a fresh page and drew a short line. “Hmm… I guess I should shift to Antarctica or a mountain top where Hairtel has a better signal,” he said with a snort.
“Ha, let’s do that. Anyway, what are you up to?”
“Just writing the article on Delhi that’s due tomorrow morning.”
“Oh yes, how’s it coming along? How’s the smog situation?”
“It looks ok. Sounds a bit judgmental. I’ll probably–”
“You are judgmental, Kartik.”
And then she says I am rude. “Thank you… my love. I’ll probably tone it down. As for the smog, it’s a delightful visual representation of what I say all the time: Things aren’t black and white. Everything is grey,” he proclaimed in a musical baritone.
“Ha. Ha. Lame. How grey is it?”
“Thanatos’s wet dream. Yamraj’s fairy tale. Hitler’s cost saving measu–”
How funny does he think he is? I have to fake laughter even more than orgasms. “Lol. I get the drift,” she chuckled.
“Sadly, Delhi doesn’t.”
“Hahahaha.” Ok, that is funny.
Make any joke on Delhi and she’ll laugh. “You know what I am gonna title it? NaNoSuMo.”
“Pfft, why? Are you dedicating it to the Tatas?”
“Ah, you got it. But no. National November Suffocation Month. NaNoSuMo. A pun on NaNoWriMo. It’s about being a writer in the smog capital.”
“Hehe… Kartik, I don’t understand why you still want to stay in Delhi.”
“I do and I don’t. We’ll figure out how to move abroad, alright. We’re on it. I am even open to shifting to Mumbai with you. Even I wish for us to live together.”
“Yes! And then you’ll have the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to wake me up with breakfast everyday,” said Arushi with a big toothy smile.
“Hehe, done. At your service my lady. I can totally imagine you saying ‘Cheese’ right now.”
“Kartik!” He is crazy, but I love him. Maybe precisely why.
“Fine, fine,” he laughed, “That was the last one… Anyway, I was just saying that for now, Delhi is home. Jaisa bhi hai.”
“Ok Mr. Dilliwala. But you’re wearing a mask, right?”
Does she ever pay attention to what I say? We talked — nope, argued — about my discomfort with masks just two days ago. “Yes, absolutely,” he said, opening his desk drawer and looking at the packed mask. He drew another line in the diary but immediately scratched it out. Hey, don’t be an asshole. She’s just expressing her care.
“At least we can wear masks. Think about poor animals. They suffer so much for no fault of theirs.”
Kartik smiled and typed a quick note. “Aww, that’s really considerate… I’ve never had that thought,” he replied.
“Hai na. Hardly anyone does. I can’t stop crying seeing the fires in Australia. More than a billion animals dead! Poor babies.”
Man, I love the way she talks about animals. There is a different warmth in her voice. “Yes, I saw pictures of the koalas and kangaroos. It’s heartbreaking. You know, the floods in east Africa, which almost no one talks about, are related to this.”
“How?”
“Wait, sharing a link on WhatsApp.”
“Shit, where’s the world headed? Why do people do this?” she said in a high-pitched tone after skimming through the video.
“Do what?”
“Harm the environment… Harm everything. Everyone… I can’t believe that in the middle of all these disasters, India still can’t rise above its hateful politics.”
“Yes, this is quite insane… But the rise of the right wing isn’t just an Indian phenomenon.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, of course, there are a lot of other factors, but we’re seeing this trend across the world since the 2008 recession. Now with social media, you get populism on steroids... I guess what we can do is spread awareness and encourage everyone we know to really think ab–”
“Tell me about it! Had a huge fight with dad about it… I don’t understand why people can’t just learn to love? They say ‘those people were fighting like animals’ but they learn nothing about love from animals.”
“Hmm, that’s true… We are trying, I guess. It’s not like somebody started out with an evil plan to destroy nature or the political system or the economy. Even if they did, in all probability they didn’t see it as evil. Sure, there are major policy and structural blunders. But we all play a part in this, get into new problems and work on–”
Jeez Kartik, give me a break. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Please don’t lecture me at this hour. I am really tired–”
He drew another small line. What the hell? Ok, Your Highness. “Ok–”
“–got up at 5 am to reach the client’s office.”
“Oh crap, I forgot. How did the presentation go?” I should have remembered that.
“Finally! Thank you for asking.” Does he even care?
“I am sorry, I am sorry. Batao toh, how did it go?”
“We might get the deal. They said they’ll let us know next week.”
“That is awesome, my sales guru! A promotion feast awaits you.”
“Hehe. I haven’t got it yet. Don’t jinx it… Also, I have applied for a switch.”
“Ok, ok. But I know you’ll get both. You’ve earned it. And then we’ll have an awesome time listening to you talk about your happy confusion.”
“Yes! I just hope I get the job.”
“You will. Wait, did you say job or jog?”
“Job. B. B for Bills,” Arushi clarified, emphasising the last word.
“Hmm, ok… Anyway, have you been exercisi–”
“Kartik, office is crazy! Can you stop pestering me, please? I hardly get 4 hours of sleep. But theek hai, work is worship.”
What was wrong with this? I am just asking about your health. Kartik tightened his grip over the pencil and drew another line. “Ok… Aamchi Mumbai,” he said, “you can say that without being irritable, no?”
Arushi said nothing for a while. Why does he say ‘Mumbai’ like it’s a slur? Why does he keep insulting me like this? He takes one word and undermines everything I am, everything I do.
Your care is love. My care is pestering. Thank you very much. “Hello, are you there?” Kartik asked after two minutes. He made a diagonal line over the previous four parallel lines on not receiving a response. You can’t do this every time!
“Did you read the update on the Hyderabad gangrape? They executed all four rapists,” she spoke after a long pause. I don’t have the energy for a fight right now.
“What? We were talking about…,” Kartik took a long breath and exhaled slowly, while drawing another small line. Why share feelings authentically? Why work on ourselves? Let’s just change the point. Classic Arushi. “Yes, I read it. It’s very likely a face-saving fake encounter.”
“Sahi hua. They deserved it. In fact, they got the easy way out. People were anyway demanding that they be handed over to the public.”
“Are you saying they should have been beaten to death?”
“Yes, of course! Their crime is so ghastly.”
“So they shouldn’t get a trial?”
“What do they need to be tried for?”
“Arushi, I understand where your anger is coming from. And the system certainly has its problems, but that doesn’t mean–”
“You think you are so smart. You–”
“I am only saying that retributive justice may not be a good–”
“See, right there. Another fancy term. You comfortably judge… no no no, sorry… observe people, read your papers, and pass your sophisticated comments on us stupid commoners! Well, reality is much harsher, much dirtier.”
When did I say that? Why does she keep misinterpreting what I say? “Arushi, I am not denying that.”
“That you are so smart, so superior?”
“That reality is harsh.” The pencil tore through the paper.
“Huh. Leave it. You wouldn’t understand. You are not a girl. You don’t know the terror of having to watch out for rapists, abductors, molestors… This terror is our routine. What do men know, walking with a weapon between their legs!”
“Should I take this as a call for disarmament?”
“What?”
“Never mind. That joke didn’t work… It’s tragic that women have to go through this. I am not trivialising what happened for a second. But don’t you think allowing the public to kill the suspects misses the point? And by the way, I say this with the assumption that they were the actual rapists. You must remember they were suspects, not convicts,” he said in a flat voice. Why does she not think in binaries the one time she ought to?
“How? Isn’t the point to punish them? If this is done, it would at least act as a deterrent,” she said.
“What do you think is the larger problem here? Them?”
“Well, who else? The girl?”
“It’s rape. Not just rapists. Think of the broader social problem. In a sense, we are all responsible. It’s true that they committed a grave crime. But it is worth thinking about what made them them and us us. You and I think a certain way because of the kind of life we got, the things that people around us value and denounce… So do they. That said, by all means, they should receive some form of punishment because–”
“I don’t think there is any excuse for being a rapist. Kartik, I may not speak big words and read as many fat books as you but I do understand this: there are some basic human values, such as the right to not be raped, no matter what!” she exclaimed.
“Arushi, I agree with you to a large extent. But all I’m trying to say is that it’s not like you become something like a rapist in a day. Bit by bit, your social conditioning plays a huge role in shaping your thoughts and the way you confirm their validity.”
“Leave it. You are a man. You wouldn’t get it.” I am sorry I expected you to understand!
“I realise I can never truly know the terror experienced by a girl. But I am not talking about that.”
“Yes you are. You can’t separate that from this fight! And I can’t believe your sympathies lie with those rapists rather than the victim.”
“You are completely misunderstanding my point. And hey, it’s not a fight. Please calm down.” Why can’t women argue without going hysterical?
“Else what Kartik? Else what? You’ll lash out at me? Tell me what a horrible, dumb person I am?” her voice was cracking from shouting.
Kartik exhaled hard. “Arushi, you know how sorry I am for that. It happened one year ago–”
“Last happened one year ago, Kartik! You’ve done that so many times. Do you remember that or do you delete your personal history like you delete your WhatsApp chats?”
“That last happened one year ago. I am truly sorry for it. I know no matter how much I apologise, it won’t fix the past. The WhatsApp thing… It was a huge mistake. It was really unfair… But you were unwilling to understand.”
“Kartik, you lied to me. That’s all that matters.”
“You weren’t listening to me. You want the truth. So do I. I have no desire to hide anything from you. But you have to make space for the truth too.” At least give your boyfriend a trial!
“Wow, how do you always complicate things in a way that they work in your favour? You have to win the fight, don’t you? Sorry, not fight. Discussion. Whatever. Call it what you want to!”
“It’s not in my favour. Or even your favour. Nobody is winning here, Arushi. It’s us versus our problems, not me versus you. And how did we even get here? We were talking about some other issue.”
“This is our biggest issue!”
“Arushi, I think we should talk later. You seem to be too angry right now.”
“‘I am angry!’ Great. So now it’s you versus me, not us versus our problems?”
“I am not saying that. How do I talk to you when you are spewing fire?”
Yeah, I am a crazy woman, right? “Fire! Wow… And what about you? Cold as ice, calculating everything you say. Mr. I-am-so-calm. Well, no you are not, you just pretend to be.”
First you disregard my feelings. Then you tell me I am insensitive. If only you understood the difference between trying and pretending. “I don’t think this is the most melodious song of ice and fire.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha. You just have to show off how witty you are. Stop cracking these lame jokes. You know what? I am angry! And here, you’ll love this part. You want reasons for everything, right? Here it is. I am angry because you come up with some problem or the other any time my opinion differs from yours. I am bad just because I am not the same as you.”
“Arushi… I am not objecting to you having a different point of view. It’s perfectly fine to disagree. Rather, it’s nice. That’s how we add perspective to each other’s life and grow together. I am only requesting you to share your thoughts more constructively and be willing to question your opinion. Disagreements don’t have to be fights.”
“I disagree. This is a fight. You are also fighting.”
“I am… phew. At least I am trying to diffuse the tension.”
“Wow Kartik, you have an excuse for everything.”
“Why do you say that?”
“That’s what it looks like.”
“What it looks like… Uff, we’ve gone full circle yet again. How many times… Ok… Ok… Let’s slow down. Did you know that before the Copernican model of the solar system was accepted, people thought that the Sun revolved around the Earth.”
“What? What the… why the hell are you talking about this?”
“Bear with me.”
“Already doing that.”
“Please answer my question,” Kartik insisted.
“Of course, I know all this, Mr. Know-It-All.”
“I recently read an article which questioned why people thought that.”
“It’s obvious. That’s what it looked like.”
“Exactly.”
“Hain, what’s your point?”
“My point, which again, I borrow from the article is this: What do you think it would look like if it was the other way around?”
“Whatever.”
“Whatever what? I am talking to you. Please pause and think about it for a moment.”
“I don’t want to.”
Kartik drew five lines in one go, much darker than the previous tally marks. “I am trying to talk… I am trying to explain something to you. Can you at least–”
“Who the fuck do you think you are? My teacher?”
“Arushi please, would you–”
“Can you… can you stop this? Can you not be Mr. Smartass Mansplainer for a moment?”
“Can you be smart for a moment?” he shouted.
Arushi fell silent. How can he…
Kartik made no effort to break the silence. She disconnected the call. He immediately called back. She disconnected again. He broke the pencil, smacked the diary on the wall, rose up from his desk and pushed the swivel chair against the table with a thud. After pacing around the room for a few minutes, he called her again. She answered.
“I was… am talking to you, Arushi!”
“You can’t… talk to me… like that. No matter what… you can’t treat me like–” she managed to say with a quivering voice.
“Oh wow, and you can treat me as you like, huh? Do you realise the amount of effort I make to talk nicely with you. You, who wants the truth. You, who has no emotional regulation. You blurt out whatever comes to your mind, the way it comes to your mind, never pausing to think how I feel. You don’t even want to think. But when you get a taste — even a tenth of it — of what you serve, it’s too offensive. You sulk, you stop talking. And I have to do the extra work of thinking for you, extracting out thoughts out of your dismissive silence and presenting them to you for your approval… You are so sensitive and I am so cold. Well, I am cold! But do you offer any warmth for this ice to melt? I am cold because I am having to hold back my reaction, my hurt, all the fucking time, because you make no space for it. I’ve been suppressing my feelings for so long I don’t even know what I feel any more!”
Kartik broke down and joined Arushi in crying. That’s all they did for a while.
“Kartik, I–” she began after a long silence.
“And if that wasn’t enough, you are so proud of your ignorance. I am sorry, I don’t want to talk like this. But… But… you’re so sure of your opinions. You think you are so moral. You know what allows you to think so? Our culture doesn’t shame you for your constant irritability, for treating me like your emotional punching bag… Would you step down from your high ground? Would you step out of your bubble, your echo chamber for a minute? You are so quick to pass a verdict. How often do you look for news analysis beyond what can be conveyed on those blingy Instagram posts you share all the time? You say you have your own way, your own sources… Sure. But what? Who? Is there anyone in your friend circle who you’d call wise? When was the last time you even read a book? And I am not saying those are the only ways but when was the last time you challenged your thoughts? After all this, when I try to explain something, I am being your teacher, I am going overboard. Wow, thank you for being so thankless... You know what? You don’t even take care of your own well being. Put your phone down and you’ll find the time to sleep, exercise, do all that you say you can’t. Do that and you’ll have the mood and energy to think better, listen patiently, argue reasonably. But when I talk about your well being, you have a problem. And yet, you also expect to be treated like a baby all the time, unconditionally. I am sorry to break it to you, but in your dirty, harsh reality, conditions apply…”
The baton for crying was now entirely in Kartik’s hands. He bawled as Arushi gathered herself. She waited patiently as he let it out.
“Have some water,” she spoke after Kartik’s crying receded, her tone soft as that of a mother speaking to her just woken up infant, “Kartik, I am sorry that–”
“I am sorry too... I’m sorry… Really sorry,” he said between sobs.
“Kartik... May I?”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“You said a lot of things you haven’t said in a while. Some, never before. I wish they had come out in a better way. In a less angry, less hurtful way. It’s a lot to take in.”
“I know... I know. I am sorry.”
“But I can’t deny what you said. I am sorry, Kartik. For all of this. For everything. I can’t treat you like this.”
“Me too. I am sorry, Arushi. To you, as well as myself. I let myself down by repeating this. I have been working on this for so long.”
“I know.”
“But…,” he hesitated.
“But what?”
“But your blanket apology tells me nothing, Arushi. Almost nothing of what you thought, what you felt… Can you share some of that? All I’ve been wanting is for you to put your points on the table peacefully. I’d be the happiest person in the world to have a patient conversation about it.”
“Kartik,” she replied slowly, collecting her thoughts, “You are a smart person. And I mean that in a good way. You are funny too. Well, frequently funny, let’s not push it… I admire you, adore you. When you are in a loving mood, nobody can be more loving than you. But when you are not, it’s just hard to get you to… Baby, sometimes I wish… Ok, I’ll be direct. Sometimes you fail to catch yourself crossing the line between sharing ideas and bullying me intellectually. I feel scared to ask you questions, to have discussions with you because it feels like you think less of me, like I am really dumb… Can you not do that?”
“I am sorry baby, truly. I need to work on this. I guess we end up treating each other how we treat ourselves. But I want you to know that I don’t think of you like that. I admire you, I look up to you for so much, your talent, work ethic, the depth of your knowledge about the industry, your–”
“Yes, but there is still a lot I don’t know. But I know why I don’t know. I don’t have the time or energy to read so much outside of work. I don’t hate myself for it. I just hope you don’t either. I just want you to be more patient, gentler, more… human.”
Kartik smiled and spoke after a long pause, “You mean more animal?”
“Yes, more animal,” she replied softly.
“Ok… I see your point. I am sorry. I’ll be more mindful of this. I have done this before and I realise it’s not ok. And it’s not a question of being smart. I like this stuff. I love learning. I spend a lot of time reading, writing, thinking about things. Sometimes, I just forget that people have different interests, values, world-views... I don’t think less of you. But you’ll have to trust me on that too and engage with discussions with that feeling. Your silence hurts. On my part, I’ll try to be more sensitive, more empathetic. I’ll be a gentle-r man.”
“Haha, my PJ master... Ok, I’ll take care. By the way, I have been exercising. Not for too long, about 15–20 minutes in the morning. And yes, a bit of meditation too. I’ll try to do more of both. I want that too! I have reduced smoking to one cigarette a day. Next target is one a week. Thank you for supporting me through this.”
“Thank you… I am sorry. I know no matter how many times I say it, it doesn’t heal the wound. I wish I hadn’t done this.”
“Kartik, it’s ok. I mean, it’s not ok… you know what I mean… Also, I know I need to slow down, question things, discuss opinions calmly. I am sorry… The Copernican comparison was pretty cool. Things are often not as they seem… everything is grey.”
“Oh crap.”
“What?”
“I need to finish that article!”
“Ok, you do that. Good night baby. I love you.”
“I love you too, my animal… Uhm, you know what’s good about Delhi besides the Metro?”
“Parks?”
“Yeah ok, a few of them. But I was going for something else.”
“What?” she asked.
“I returned to this city and found you.”
About the Story:
Demagoguery isn’t confined to the political arena. It plays out in our daily lives, in our arguments with our romantic partners, family members and office colleagues. With our busy, fast-paced, and distracted lives, most of us have too little energy and mind space to entertain long discussions that involve thinking critically and questioning our opinions. Equally, we fail to provide each other a comforting space for sharing thoughts and feelings.
Social inequality, technological disruption, political upheaval, economic instability, ecological disasters, and pandemic threats and only induce more angst. With so much going on, our focus gets externally directed. With our constant updates, we know more about developments halfway across the world than in our own alley, next-door neighbour’s house, our personal relationships, or even our own minds and bodies. Distanced from our internal reality, most of us remain largely unaware of our lack of cognitive and emotional empathy, and walk on through life as unsuspecting participants in a mutually feeding cycle of organised chaos.
An upset and exhausted mind tends to be impatient or even lazy to think about the depth and breadth of what it observes. It looks for a quick solution, which often manifests as blame or adulation for an external agent: a fertile ground for demagoguery. In that sense, our political discourse is strongly linked to our well being, or rather, the lack thereof.
Between Flood and Fire explores this theme by taking a slice out of the life of a late-twenties urban middle-class couple in a long distance relationship towards the end of 2019. Their conversation begins as a commentary on external developments but quickly turns into an argument about their personal lives. The story follows their journey of making an effort to find comfort in talking to each other. They deal with their demagogic impulses, uncover their biases and blindspots, and learn to facilitate mutual participation in a gentler, more constructive form of argumentation. Above all, they discover the need to reconnect with their own selves in order to find a deeper connection with each other and the world at large.
About the Author:
Arjun Bhatia is a practising writer. He loves writing stories that voice the thoughts we tend to silence, and explore links between the personal and the environmental. He dreams of a world with quieter smartphones, longer hugs, and more trees. And yes, no pandemics.
