Riyana Mehta put down her pen and sighed. Growing up she had wanted to be the greatest Romantic novelist since Margaret Mitchell. That was why she had decided to become a journalist. Now, she was trapped in a dead-end job writing an Agony Aunt column for a leading publication. She smiled at irony. For someone giving love-relationship advice to others, her own love life was surprisingly zilch! Hell, at least she was getting published. And paid.
The girl at the next table finally stopped crying. Riyana looked at her, annoyed. She hated it when people created scenes in public – PDA, excessive crying, “trying” to discipline children in theatres and malls – it always got on her nerves. “If people wanted to cry, why not do it in their own homes?” But today, something inside her said that girl needed her – a friend, or at least a friendly ear. ‘Intuition? Inner voice? Gut-feeling?’ She wasn’t sure, but she decided to follow her instincts.
Anaida Parekh was inconsolable. The last week had been the worst of her life. She was tired of fighting, tired of existing like this, she had lost all hope and for once she wanted to give up and end it all.
About a week ago, her parents had visited her – they had found “a nice Gujarati boy” for her. She told them she didn’t want to get married. “But why not?” her mother asked. “I just don’t,” she’d replied. Her mother had asked her to be truthful. “Is it someone else? We don’t really mind if he is from a different community. We have nothing against love marriages. Just say it, we will support your decision,” her father had said. After initial hesitation, Anaida relented. She had a totally open relationship with her parents. She told them everything that went on in her life. Besides, her parents, the two people she loved and trusted most in the world, had been working side-by-side with gays for more than 25 years now. Surely, they would understand. But, she was mistaken. Her mother was horrified, “Why? Why did you have to be a lesbian?”
“You work with them all the time. I thought you’d be okay with it!” she exclaimed.
“It’s different. They are not my daughter. You are. And you are from a good family with decent moral values. Girls from good families just don’t become lesbians,” her mother had replied. “People will talk.”
It was Anaida’s turn to be shocked. “It’s my life. What do people care, what I do in my bedroom,” she argued.
“We live in society. And society does not accept this... this unnatural behaviour. This is not America. Your brain is rotten because of the crap you keep watching on television.”
“What has America or TV got to do with this? I am physically attracted to women. Nothing can change that.”
She had barely heard her mother say, “No... Don’t you talk to us like that! You cannot become a lesbian. We raised a good decent girl. If you don’t start acting like a normal person, don’t ever talk to us again.” Then she softened. “Come home,” she said reassuringly. “Get married. Naresh is a good boy. He has a good job, his own house. Even his family is nice. Once you have kids, you will about forget this Lesbian business.”
“I am not going to marry some guy, just because I am expected to.” Anya rested her case.
As her mother was raging and begging, her father - her wall throughout the life - hadn’t said a word. He simply sat back and listened to what both had to say. She hated it when he just stopped talking; it was like silence before storm. She held her breathe and waited for worse to come. Finally, her mother stopped long enough for him to pass his verdict. “You are right, it’s your life and you are old enough to decide what you want to do with it. I think it’s time for you go out in to the world - stand on your own two feet. Whatever happens, you are all alone. You cannot come back home. Good Luck for your future.” Her mother started sobbing as he pulled her to her feet and they left without another word. Anaida was taken aback. Who knew her parents were such hypocrites?
The next day her mother called her best friend, and asked her to help Anya see the light. The girl freaked out and complained to the Warden instead. The news of her “lesbianism” spread like a wild fire and the other girls started avoiding her. The warden, a kindly Parsi spinster, had been sympathetic, but even her hands were tied. Other girls simply didn’t want a “lesbian” around. They were threatening to pull out and management wasn’t too happy about it. She was told to find a new place and, because she was a very good student, told to move out by the end of the month.
Today she had only 24 hours to find a new place and lack of Advance Deposit or any cash upfront wasn’t helping either. Her bank balance was almost nil; she wasn’t even sure if it would last one more week. She was searching for a new job, but good jobs for fashion students were hard to come by. So, Anaida went to Nariman Point. It was the only place in the whole world where she felt at peace. As a final goodbye, she went to her favourite cafe – it was usually empty at this hour, the only other customer was a girl in a corner booth pouring over something. The girl was a regular like her, she always seemed to be reading or writing – and sat in her regular booth at the back. She just wanted her parents to accept her, the way she was. She didn’t want to marry a man, and have kids, and be “normal” the way they wanted her to be. Now, she couldn’t go home. She didn’t have any place other than her hostel to go and even they had kicked her out. All her so-called hypocritical “best-friends” who had promised to stand by her ‘no matter what’ wouldn’t even pick-up the phone. Never one to believe in miracles, today she begged for one. Just one chance to start her life afresh. Just one reason to live. She challenged God to make things better.
Just then she felt a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?” someone asked. She turned. The girl from the corner booth stood there, smiling. ‘My Miracle?’ she thought disbelievingly.
Anaida dried her eyes, “Yeah.”
“Good,” the girl smiled.
Anaida sniffed. “Was I too loud?” she asked.
“Um... Hmm,” was the answer.
“Oh... Sorry. I will try to keep it quiet,” she said.
“No... It’s not that.” The girl sat down without an invitation, “Look, today is my birthday. I am alone in the city and I was suffering from a very serious bout of homesickness and self-pitying. But you started crying, and, now, I can’t concentrate on myself. It’s easier to talk to strangers, at least that’s what I’ve heard – they are not around judge you for long. Tell me what your problem is, I am pretty good listener. Then you can go your way, and I can go back to sulking in peace. I’m Riyana, by the way.”
She said it so seriously, that Anaida managed to smile. This was definitely not what she had expected. She decided to humour the stranger. “Hi Riyana, I’m Anaida. It’s my birthday, too - 21st. I was hoping for a big surprise, but instead my parents have disowned me, I have no place to stay and I am broke.”
“Well, it was a surprise, wasn’t it? Or were you expecting it?” The girl quipped.
Anaida laughed, in spite of herself. “It was a surprise,” she said quietly.
“So what happened? Got yourself in the family way and the boyfriend won’t marry you?” Riyana asked.
The girl just wouldn’t let go. Fine! If she wanted the truth, she was going to get it. It wasn’t like she had anything left to lose. Anaida took a deep breath. “I am a lesbian,” she whispered quietly, almost shamefully.
Suddenly, Riyana understood everything. Like most conscious citizens of India, she too had heard many stories where homosexuals were disowned by their families. The conditions of Lesbians were far far worse. She wondered at the horrifying possibilities that could have happened. At least this girl was safe; at least her parents hadn’t hired a man to “cure” her. It was pathetic, the way some people treated gays.
“So... What you do? Study or ...?” Riyana asked.
Anaida was taken aback. Why hadn’t this girl jumped up and ran away screaming like she was being attacked by a zombie or something. But if this stranger could handle the news, the least she could do was be cordial. “I was a student.” She replied, “I just gave my finals. I was planning to go home, kick back and wait for the results. Now, I guess I have to find a job. I also have to find a place to stay – my hostel kicked me out,” she added, as an afterthought.
“Wait! They can’t do that. You have as much right to stay there as any other girl. You can complain to the authorities.”
“Okay, and tell what? That I was evicted from my hostel because the girls feared I would rape them in their sleep?” She asked sarcastically. “No thanks! I will find a new place to stay.”
“Ok... where? Footpath? Railway station? Zopadpatti? These are the only places where you can stay for free. Listen... why don’t you come with me? I have my own flat and I live alone.” Riyana asked. It hadn’t come out right. For the first time in her life, Riyana actually regretted not having better verbal skills.
“Hey! Who do you think you are? Just because I am alone, doesn’t mean I am easy!” Anaida started angrily. “I am not that kind of girl.”
“Whoa!” the stranger replied, “Firstly, I am not “hitting” on you. I just broke up with my boyfriend. And the last thing I’m looking for right now is some “girl-on-girl” action. Secondly, I live alone in a 2 bedroom apartment in Parel, and I don’t like living alone. And finally, I was just trying to help.”
“Look, I am not doing charity or anything – you can pay half the electric bill, plus whatever groceries you use up, whenever you can. I have a good job and I don’t really need money, but you can think of it as PG, with rent at your convenience.” Riyana assured her. “And it’s only until you find a decent job or a new place. Okay?”
Anaida was filled with emotions. On one hand were her parents and friends whom she had loved and cherished, those who had abandoned her when she’d needed them most; and on hand there was this stranger, who was opening her home for her. She was like her fairy godmother. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.
Riyana shrugged. “I told you. It makes me feel good about myself,” she said nonchalantly.
Anaida smiled. “I’ll think about it.”
