HEARTFULLY ENTANGLED - CHAPTER 8 - THE FIRST STEP

 8 - THE FIRST STEP

"The first step might not take you to your desired destination. But it would definitely take you out of the place where you are right now."

As I stepped inside Diya's home, the hall stretched endlessly before me which looked like it could accommodate more than three hundred people at a time, it's vast grandeur making me stunned. The luxurious furniture, a big screen LED TV, the antique wall frames, the paintings, their family photo collage, the lanterns, the high raised false ceiling, the chandeliers, glass windows which revealed a part of the garden, the velvet curtains, the marble staircase that spiraled up to the first floor - everything spoke volumes of their materialistic wealth. 

For a person like me who grew up in a small hut and found shelters on a footpath, this home felt like a palace. A different world.

But what made me stunned was their kindness. The only rich man I knew was, the restaurant owner who let me stay on his home's terrace for rent, who enrolled me in a govt school, who suggested me to attend music classes after I failed. 

He had kindness. But his kindness was limited. 

He allowed me to stay in their home's terrace, but he never allowed me inside their home. He provided me with dresses, but only after his children wore them and made them fade. He provided me with food, but only the leftovers after everyone in his family completed eating. He provided me with money, but only in the form of salary, only after I worked for it and he would get the half of it back in the form of rent.

But Diya's family seemed to be multiple times richer than the one-star restaurant owner. They were supposed to be more strict and distant with a person like me. 

Instead, they served my plate with food before they served it for their own plates. They allowed me to have dinner with them together. And now, Diya's dad was dragging me inside their palace-like home to stay without even asking for any rent.

I didn't know how to react. This kind of kindness was unfamiliar, almost overwhelming in a way I couldn't handle.

My heart, which was hardened over the years, was now stirring, shifting, somersaulting, doing the things which I trained not to do. I didn't like even a bit when my chest reacted in the ways I never wanted. I wanted to leave their home immediately to stop whatever I felt in my chest.

In addition to it, I was never eligible to stay inside their home when I had an alcoholic addiction in a way I wouldn't sleep without alcohol. If I stayed inside someone's home and took alcohol, it would be like my betrayal to their kindness. And betrayal... I knew how it would feel. I knew it more than anyone else in the world because my parents did it to me.

When I was an innocent child who trusted no one in the world except my parents, they left me. I had spent almost 20 years with that pain of getting hurt by the people I trusted the most, still I found no way to heal it.

The worst pain is not losing someone who doesn't deserve your love, but realising your trust was never valued, never respected. It's realising how foolish you were to trust the undeserving people.

I never wanted to give the same betrayal pain to others. I didn't want Diya's family to trust me, only to get hurt by me. I knew how my body reacted even if I delayed alcohol for an hour. I knew I wouldn't be able to live without it. At the same time, I wouldn't be able to drink inside their home, too, with my conscience.

Like an ant caught between two fires, I twisted my hand to yank myself away from him, almost pleading, "Sir, please let me go. I am not comfortable here."

Even before Diya's dad reacted to my words, Diya's voice, tinged with sarcasm, reached my ears from the dining room as she approached us, "Yes yes, Papa. Arun sir will not be comfortable staying in a small house like ours. We are all living under a cement roof. But sir is a person who stays under the roof of the vast sky. We all have home cooked food. But sir is the person who has his food only in restaurants. We all have freshly made coffee. But sir is a person who drinks only preserved fruit juices. If he is staying here, he cannot stay under the sky, he cannot eat in restaurants, and especially he cannot have preserved fruit juices. So, he is prancing to go out. Am I right, sir?" She stood in front of me, one of her legs angled, one of her hands on her waist, glaring at me.

But none of her words reached my brain. All I gave my attention was her bandage on her head which conveyed she was still under the healing phase and the angry glare she shot at me.

Her innocent eyes didn't fit her angry glare. It felt funny, somewhat cute, like a child trying to look fierce. But as much as it felt funny and cute, I knew it was serious. It was her real anger.

Getting angry, stressing herself out, putting pressure on her own mind, none of it was good for her recovery. She should have a calm and happy mind to recover soon.

That was all I could think. I wanted her recovery as soon as possible from the damages I caused.

I didn't want to be the cause of anymore stress in her. I didn't want to intensify the problems in her head.

"Okay." I took a deep breath. "Don't glare. Don't get tensed because of me. I will obey whatever you say. Why did you call me to your home? What do you want me to do? To stay here or to leave?" I asked flatly.

Her glare intensified on me without replying to anything, and then she shifted her eyes to her dad. "Papa, If you don't mind, shall I talk to him alone? Just two minutes." She forced a smile.

"Hmm." He sighed, leaving my hand. "Talk to him," he said and walked away.

"Come with me," Diya said with a blank expression and turned to ascend the stairs.

I couldn't find what was running in her mind. I sighed and followed her silently. 

She led me to a guest room which was on the first floor. On stepping inside the room, she locked the door. 

I widened my eyes. "Hey, why are you locking...."

Before I could complete my sentence, she turned to me with a glare filled with enrage and a sharp sting exploded on my cheek.

Slap.

How dare!

My hand instinctively raised to slap her back, but within a blink I realised why she slapped me and I fisted my fingers, forcing myself to calm down. My breath was frozen for a moment, my teeth clenched, my eyes locked with hers. I didn't move. I didn't give her any expression of pain or sorry, either.

She threw her hand again towards my other cheek.

Slap.

My other cheek burned.

Slap.

Again.

Again.

Again.

And then, she stopped slapping me, still glaring at me, clenching her teeth, inhaling slowly and deeply.

Why did I feel so cute and funny at the way she inhaled slow and deep?

Though I found her actions cute and funny, I couldn't smile. I loosened my fisted fingers, my eyes fixed on her eyes. "So you called me for this? Have you unleashed your anger? Shall I go now?" I removed my backpack from my shoulders, unzipping it, retrieved the chocolate box I bought for her, and placed it on a nearby table. "I bought this for you..."

"I don't need anything from you," she yelled, shoving the table's chair with her foot.

I gripped the chair before it stumbled down and said flatly, "But I cannot take back the chocolate with me. I don't have the habit of eating chocolates. So, it's your wish to eat it or to throw it away. But let it be here. Take care. Don't get angry to give pressure to your head. Be calm. I hope you get well soon. Bye..." I stepped away and clicked open the door.

She said from behind, "Wait."

I halted in my tracks, turning to her.

She inhaled deep, closing her eyes. On opening her eyes, she exhaled fast and she said, "I slapped because I should have slapped you on that day itself. But I ran away in disgust and I did some foolish things out of mixed emotions. When I met you in the hospital, my physical condition didn't leave me to slap you. So I slapped you now." She glared at me. "Remember my slaps if you ever think of coming near me hereafter."

When did I think to go near her? She was speaking as if I kissed her by planning.

I smiled sarcastically.

She furrowed her eyebrows. "You are smiling. Didn't my slaps hurt you?"

It hurt, but not more than the burnt scars I had in my body. When I could go through the burnt wounds in silence when I was not even at mistakes, why would I make a scene about the slap which I deserved?

"No." I said. "Your slaps didn't hurt. Moreover, it's right to slap someone who kissed you without your consent. It would have been better if you did it without jumping from the terrace."

The anger in her face slowly reduced, but she didn't say anything.

"Bye," I said and stepped away.

"I didn't call you just to slap you," she said from behind. 

I turned back. "Then, do you want to give anymore punishment?"

"No." She inhaled deeply. "I called you to give you a chance to reform."

"Means?"

"Throw away all your disgusting activities and stay here."

What?

Stay here?

I couldn't understand her actions even a bit.

"Why do you want me to stay here when you hate me the most?" I asked.

She stared at me, crossing her arms across her chest. "See...I don't hate you. As I said already, hate is the outcome of needing love yet being ignored. I don't need love from you. So, I obviously don't hate you. But it's true I was/is angry at you for what you did. It's true I only told you to vacate our home in anger. But when my dad said you are staying in public places, I felt I am giving you bad experiences in the name of my punishment. As a psychology student, I know bad experiences will turn you even worse. You may start to drink even more heavily to forget your bad experiences and your high intoxication may lead you to do more than a kiss to someone else. I do not want to be a reason either for your bad experiences or for your increased wrongness, or for someone else's suffering. As a person who has the ability to help people psychologically, I should help you rather than giving bad experiences. So I changed my mind. You can stay here. I will help you to come out of your addiction. Only if you wish! I am just giving you a chance to reform. You can use it wisely or you can leave. If you use it wisely, I will be happy. If you leave, I will still be happy as I will not be at guilt if you do anything wrong in intoxication in the future. Because I gave you a chance from my side, but you were the one who ignored it." She forced a smile. 

I stood still, her words, 'Bad experiences will turn you even worse' echoing in my mind.

How true it was!

If everyone understood this, no child would turn towards the wrong path. 

She added, "You don't know how much my maa and papa worried after knowing you are staying in public places. They didn't even eat properly. They thought they should have given the home to you for free, at least after knowing you don't have parents. Their worry is also one of the reasons I called you here. Though I don't see you as a friend or family anymore, my parents still see you like their son. They will love you from the place of your mom and dad. I too will never say whatever happened between us to them. So, if you stay here, you will get a happy family. If you leave, you will be again in the public place with disgusting alcohol. Decide whether you want a happy family or disgusting alcohol." She stepped away. "I am going downstairs. I hope you make a better decision."

I gulped and stood frozen, her words, 'decide whether you want a happy family or a disgusting alcohol' replaying in my mind.

She crossed me while I was standing at the entrance of the room, and then peeped inside again, her eyes landing on the chocolate box. "Actually, you are still looking filthy in my eyes. Because I saw your negative side only. I don't eat chocolates from filthy hands. But remember, everyone has positives and negatives in them. The positive side is like light and the negative side is like darkness. A little light is enough to kill the darkness. Once you bring out your positive side, then the negative side will automatically vanish. I mean, your bad habits will automatically vanish. Then, I will change my perception about you, too. I will be your friend again and I will get the chocolates from you, too," she said and left the room. 

I stood like a statue for more than five minutes, her words, 'you don't know how much my maa and papa worried after knowing you are staying in public places. They didn't even eat properly. They thought they should have given the home to you for free, at least after knowing you don't have parents. Decide whether you want a happy family or a disgusting alcohol' replaying in my mind again and again.

Finally, I removed my backpack, unzipped it and pulled out the half filled alcohol bottle.

The liquid sloshed inside as I walked to the attached bathroom and tilted the bottle over the washbasin. 

The alcohol poured out, swirling and vanishing in the sink.

I decided to stay there.

When I respected the restaurant owner who showed me a little kindness, how could I disrespect those innocent hearts of Diya's parents who worried for me? I respected them more than anyone else in the world. I respected Diya too for keeping everything within herself and allowed her parents to be kind to me.

I didn't know how long I could live without alcohol. I knew my body would crush me inside with withdrawal symptoms. But what was I going to do by living, after disrespecting, after disappointing those innocent hearts who had been kind to me, who trusted me and told me to stay inside their palace-like home? 

After all, I didn't have any wish to live. I didn't have anyone to live for, either.

I thought of not taking alcohol for the sake of their trust in me even if I die out of withdrawal symptoms.

With the deep breath, I walked out of the bathroom with the empty bottle in my hand and opened the window of the room. I looked down from the first floor through the window. I could see a public trash bin outside, near the compound wall. I hurled the bottle towards the trash bin. It fell on the trash bin, breaking into pieces. 

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With Love,
Nilah R.

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