& when they opened her up, they found her empty;
She had read through the message so many times – she still saw it when she closed her eyes. How did anyone know? They had been so careful, every move a carefully calculated one and yet… and yet. She had assumed the secret they shared would have been shot to pieces (the way Dhruv was) but yet here was someone who not only seemed to know the biggest lie behind her career but also seemed to be unflinching about using it.
And if the person knew Dhruv that well…
A part of her was convinced that whoever this was definitely had a hand in his murder. Of that much, she was certain. Another small part of her wanted to do whatever they wanted her to, call up the lawyer and admit everything just so that the ordeal would end. Oh but she could smell a game from miles away and this person, whoever it was, wasn’t going to stop at anything.
She had spent close to two days trying to rack her brain over what the end motive could be. Her reputation was at stake, they had threatened. Obviously, whoever it was didn’t know her enough. If they really thought she was going to tell the lawyer that Dhruv had sexually assaulted her—There were a lot of things Raashi was willing to do but risk her client’s reputation was not one of them. Even if the said client was six feet underground. Oh no. Raashi would not rest until she polished Dhruv’s reputation until it was so sparkling that it forced someone to make a biopic out of it.
But now?
No, whoever it was, she wasn’t going to let them get their way. She wasn’t going to singlehandedly throw her own and her client’s reputation under a truck just for the sake of some trigger happy person threatening her behind the mask of a message. Let them do whatever they want, she decided defiantly – she would take on the risks. And she would have a backup plan. For now. Her finger hovered over the contact before she pressed it finally, holding her breath till the dial tone clicked to a stop. “Oberoi? Yes, Raashi here. Are you free in the evening?”
It was perhaps a mark of over-involvement that she knew the way to Viraj Oberoi’s office so well. She had come over several times, either trying to figure out a loophole in a demanding contract or angry rants about lawsuits that would never materialise.
When she was twelve, Raashi was casted as the main lead of a rather dubious adaptation of Heer Ranjha. It was there that she realise she had almost a natural instinct for crying – it seemed as if the tears would just fall whenever she wished to, with no emotion inside of her. The entire thing almost felt like a deja vu of that performance. After all, she hardly felt anything these days – Dhruv’s death being the only thing that seemed to shake her out of the cold box she was slowly folding herself into.
It was the very same tears that would pour out as she practically collapsed in the office, and she knew from the slight glimpse at Viraj’s face that it was the right amount of dramatic flair needed. Thank god for the glycerine. “What the hell happened?!” The anxiety colouring his tone made her bring down her hysteria level to a minimum as she curled on the couch, wiping off her tears. Was the eyeliner even waterproof? Didn’t matter, she decided, the marks would add to the authenticity. She accepted the glass of water offered to her with slightly quivering hands, making sure her hiccups seemed real enough. It seemed to almost be an exercise in regurgitation – an actor sure of his craft would easily see through Raashi’s hysterics.
Time for a change in profession.
She eventually calmed down, her eyes fixated on the glass of water. This was the part she hadn’t rehearsed in her head, this was the impromptu dialogue she was wary of. She could feel Viraj’s question enveloping the air around her and as much as she wanted to get this over with, she knew it would only seem convincing as she dragged the act out.
“What happened, Raashi?”
She shook her head quickly, taking in another drawn out breath. “I k-keep hearing strange… strange rumours. About D-dhruv.” That did make the man sit up straighter; it was not often that Raashi Chauhan would break down over something after all. “And it’s not true—you know… knew Dhruv…”
Pregnant pause. Stretch it out as much as you can. You’re not you, you’re another character.
“What did you hear about him?”
“I- I heard someone say that Dh-Dhruv t-tried to—”
Hiccups are an art. Suck in, shiver out. Feed off the anxiety.
“That he tried to rape me.” The words tumbled out as if a confession that was long due and she shuddered accordingly, simply saying the sentence bringing up an acrid taste of bile. “They’re trying to… trying to defame him, take down his name, he was the best and everyone knew that, I don’t know why they’re…”
“Calm down, Raashi. Breathe. I understand.”
“You don’t, Viraj, you do—I did so much for him and someone tries to ruin what we had…”
Don’t push it. Your words lie on a tenacious scale, one that can be tipped easily with an extra syllable. Rein it in.
“Where are you hearing this from, Raashi? Did someone say it to you?”
She shook her head, the glass now curled close to her chest, as if she was taking strength from the glass of water. “I heard it from Samaira,” she whispered, her eyes flitting away from Viraj’s. “She was telling someone… maybe the cop… Tanisha, I don’t know. I don’t know who started the rumour.” She turned back to Viraj then, the urgency rolling along the pace. “You know it’s not true, right? You know they’re doing this to make news, milk more money out of someone who could have- should have done so much…”
“You know I wouldn’t trust anyone else when it comes to Dhruv.”
Bullseye. Her reputation may center on being a bitch but it was also built around complete and utter dedication to her clients. Dead and alive.
“Do something for me, Viraj.” She sat up then, her eyes now fixated on the lawyer. The black coat of lies – a profession that she had willingly turned against. “They’re going to keep doing this. Bring him down anyway they can and you… you have to stop it. Promise me. You’ll help me keep him alive, wouldn’t you?”
“Raashi… he’s gone. You need to accept it.”
Her eyes softened to something akin to a genuine expression and she simply shook her head, mirroring his sympathetic smile. “You’re wrong,” she said simply. Turning to put down the glass, she let out one final breath. Her time was up, her character had done its run.
“Don’t forget what you promised me, Viraj,” she said as parting, knowing she had sowed enough doubts within this room for it grow against any other rumours that will spread.
Sorry Dhruv, I’m not letting anything ruin your reputation.
Or hers. If need be, she would fight tooth and nail against this mysterious A, the senile mastermind playing around with her life as if she was some inanimate Barbie doll.
