The Choices That Make Us

By Jaibala M Rao

CONSEQUENCES

Mohit switched off the television and flung the remote. He heard a crack as the remote landed on the floor. He was furious; why shouldn’t he be? They were singing praises of the new girl on the block with fresh tunes; the very same girl who had somehow stolen his tunes. Mohit was frustrated as he could not prove that the tunes were his; his diary was still in its place untouched. Secretly, he wished to find out who she was. He dialled Preeti’s number and asked her to meet him at the studio as soon as possible.

Preeti knew when she got the call to come in early it was what this was about. She knew Mohit had found out; he must have after seeing the news reports. She walked up to the office door, knocked thrice and waited for a response.

“Come in.”

Mohit’s tone didn’t give away anything. When Preeti walked in, he was much more composed.

“Did you see the reports?” he asked, not bothering to look up from the computer screen. Not waiting for a response, he continued, “Those tunes are some of my old unused melodies. I have always been careful with my tunes, and I don’t share them with anyone. I need you to find out exactly who this girl is, and how did she steal my tunes? I want you to find out as soon as you can, and let me know immediately when you do. This is most important.”

Twisha was having dinner when Preeti called. She knew what the call was for, but she could not let her best friend panic.

“Hello,” she answered and listened to what Preeti had to say.

“Tell him. Don’t lose your job over me. Tell him what you have to. Don’t worry about anything,” she assured her friend.

Preeti knocked on the office door hesitatingly this time. She was scared, but all the same, she had to tell him the truth. As she entered, she saw a rather forlorn Mohit. He looked at her, waiting for her to say what she wanted.

“Sir, my best friend Twisha is a big fan of yours,” she started.

“I don’t want to hear about your friend, I want to know about that girl.”

“This is about her, sir,” she said, “Twisha is that girl.”

“But how?”

His curiosity was evident in his voice.

“Sir, it’s my fault. I brought her here when you weren’t there. And that diary was lying outside. I got a call and went to answer the phone. I don’t know why, when or how she did it. I swear. I was on the phone for only two seconds; it was a wrong number. But she did it. I am sorry.”

She did not look him in the eye out of fear. Mohit threw the pen he had in his hand at her. The pen missed its intended target, and he was beyond furious.

“Two seconds? How can she copy an entire diary in two seconds?”

He went to the locker removed the diary and checked it. It was the same; nothing was tampered with. He paused in thought. He knew Preeti enough to know that she was telling the truth. He was not cruel.

“Okay. Tell me where she lives. And you go home for the day. We can do the rest of the work tomorrow.”

Preeti was surprised by the sudden change of mood. Not taking any chances, she quickly wrote down the address and left the room. The address raised his curiosity further. The coincidence was just too much. Mohit debated as to what to do. He finally decided that he could no longer take it and decided to go meet her… this Twisha.

As he drove to the address, he wondered how it was possible that she stayed in the same place where he had lived twenty years back, in that flat. He had sold his house a long time ago, but his memories were attached to this house more. Mohit stepped into the colony, and the surroundings still felt familiar to him. He saw the mango tree that had been the first thing he saw outside his window each day, the small garden where children still played on the slide and the see-saw. He remembered the day the playground was set up, and how excited they had been to see the children play so happy and carefree.

As he entered the building, the fact that they still did not have a lift surprised him. He climbed the stairs slowly, recalling the moment he used them for the last time. He reached the flat on the second floor and saw the door.

“Ah! This is new!” he thought, as he rang the bell. When the door opened, it was like his entire world turned upside down.

THE ACT

Mohit had never expected to see her again. Not after the way things ended between them. She held the door open to invite him in; it was as if she was expecting him.

As he walked in, he said, “Ummm. So Twisha is…”

But Ria cut him off with a curt, “Yes.”

The silence that hung between them made Mohit uncomfortable. Ria on the other hand seemed at ease.

“I did not leave much to be said,” he thought. As he looked around the interior of the house, he noted that nothing much had changed except for the addition of the laptop and a few other gadgets. He spotted the guitar lying in the same old corner. He smiled remembering.

*~*~*~*

Mohit was struggling hard that month. With the bills due soon, he needed a job. He was working as an assistant to a music director, but with no films in their kitty, Mohit was forced to search for odd jobs. He did do a few jingles and his tunes were appreciated, but he was stuck in a rut and needed some inspiration. Struggling to come up with anything at all, he got up and looked out of the balcony. He saw Sharma Uncle and Ria. He rushed out of the house and next door, the source of his happiness and his inspiration was back from her trip.

“Aunty, is Ria back?” he asked as he walked in to the Sharma’s household and picked up the guitar.

“Don’t touch that! How many times have I told you not to touch it?” Ria said, walking in, “How difficult is it to get yours while coming here?”

“As if you play well,” he retorted.

Mr and Mrs Sharma just smiled. They knew these kids would just continue to bicker. It was strange for them to imagine that they would be married soon.

“I am so much better than you and you know it.”

Mohit took out his diary and asked her, “Any new tunes this time?”

“Yeah, but I don’t get why you write them down. I always remember them, all of mine and all of yours.”

She took the guitar and began playing a tune. “I have to remember so many other things”, he said, noting down the tune. Soon it was lunch time and they had to cut short their jam session.

Mohit’s days were all about looking for jobs in the morning and jam sessions with Ria in the evenings. Ria began to sense his frustration. She did not know how to pacify him. His ambition was to become the best composer in town. After his parents’ accident, his ambition had only become stronger. She had seen him struggle for it every single day. For her, music was just fun. For him, it was who he was and who he wanted to be. No one knew that better than her. She knew she was second to his ambition and had accepted that.

Mohit and Ria were having one of their jam sessions that evening. Mohit was rather quiet, and Ria was trying to figure out why.

“So what is keeping you quiet?” she chided him trying to get him out of his melancholy mood. She saw that he was still lost in his own thoughts.

“What is it, Mohit? Why so quiet?”

Mohit just looked at her.

“Ria, they turned my jingles down. You are right. I suck! And now I am out of ideas. If I don’t give them a set by tomorrow, I am out of the project. I have already borrowed from you for the bills this month.”

“Mohit, money will come. If not today, it’ll come tomorrow. You will get that contract for the jingles. The Mohit I know and love would not give up, I know you will get something by tomorrow. Mohit, you are the best. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You are music, it is within you. You will come up with something, I know.”

Mohit was still unconvinced, but looking at Ria’s concerned face, he smiled and hugged her tightly. Ria did not leave him that night. As they sat talking of their life together and their future, there was a glimmer of hope in Ria’s heart, when she thought that she had become as important to him as his music.

The next morning, when Mohit woke up, he saw that Ria had already left. He wondered for a minute, and then realised she must have gone to take the milk. If he was unsure about how much they loved each other, last night was the proof he needed to know that they were meant be. As he was making his black coffee, he started leafing through the tunes in his diary. A tune caught his eye and he started playing it. As he was playing it, realisation dawned on him and he hurriedly got dressed and went to the studio.

Ria waited for Mohit to come back. He had left in a hurry in the morning and he had not got in touch with her all day. After the happenings of the previous night, she had not expected that from him. Of course, she had left without telling him too, but she needed to get the milk and he knew that. He did not come back that night nor did he come back for the entire week. Ria was panicking. She did not want to believe the worst, but she had to begin to accept that something might have gone wrong.

It had been a very hectic week for Mohit. He had recorded the song and it had been approved. The deadline to go on air was looming, so they had to take it into production to send it to all radio stations. He was very happy that finally he was taking a step in the right direction. He knew Ria would not mind, and that she would wait for him patiently. He was in a hurry to get home, to Ria and listen to the jingle for that was being aired for the first time on the radio. If only the traffic would have moved faster.

It was their favourite radio show at five in the evening. Ria thought about how Mohit had always wanted his tunes to be played on that show. The jingle that was playing sounded oddly familiar to her. She turned up the volume and realised that was her tune, one of the many Mohit put in his diary. The door opened and Mohit walked in. Ria had been crying, the radio was on and he had missed the reveal.

Ria turned to face him “How could you?”

*~*~*~*

The sound of the door being opened brought Mohit back to the present. He saw Ria walk in with a young girl he knew, from all the pictures that were up on the walls of the house, was Twisha.

REDEMPTION

Mohit looked at Twisha, and then at Ria. Both of them were staring silently at him. The silence was accusing him of many things and he wanted to defend himself. Instead, he opened his mouth and said the words before he could stop himself.

“So what is it that you want?”

He regretted the words the moment he said them.

“So you really haven’t changed, have you?” asked Ria.

“No need to answer that actually. I realised it the moment you walked into the house. You haven’t changed from the man who left me when I was angry and confused, the one whose actions broke me further. You really did not have the patience to deal with mending what you damaged, fixing what you fractured. It was Twisha who helped to rebuild, picking up the pieces, repairing the broken fragments that you left scattered.”

She broke down, and Twisha reacted instantly.

“Maasi, sit on the sofa. The doctor said it is not good for you to stand for long.”

Twisha looked up and saw a very shocked and confused Mohit.

“Yes, I was so excited to come live here in Mumbai, when Baba gave my custody to Nanaji and Nani. I was happy that I will get to live with Maasi, especially after all the fun we had when she had come visiting.”

“So that trip was about you?” Mohit asked.

“Yes it was, but when I came back with Nanaji and Nani, she was not the same any more. She just cried all day. I did not understand what had happened. Then one day, I heard her talking to Nani, I heard her tell Nani about what you did. All that mattered was the wedding was cancelled. And that was because you ran away, Mr. Mohit. You made a choice to run away from what you did. You made a choice to not face the consequences.”

“I cannot undo what I did, but we could start again. Let me take care of you guys. Twisha, you could start working for me.”

Ria started laughing.

“We don’t need you in our lives, Mohit. Twisha and I have a good life here. After Mom and Dad passed away, we had only each other. And we have built a great life like that. We don’t need you to validate us.”

“Yes”, Twisha agreed. “All this was not to bring you back into our lives. We need you to face the consequences of what you did. I want you to understand the pain and the agony Maasi felt when she lost what was the most important thing in the world to her. We want you to understand what happens when you are lied to or used, even if it is unintentional.”

“So, why this drama with the tunes and everything? I could not undo it then, I cannot undo it now. Ria herself said that she would have let me use the tunes, all of them if I wanted to. I was excited. I did not ask her before.”

Twisha saw that Mohit was irritated, but she continued calmly.

“The drama”, she made quotes with her fingers as she spoke, “as you call it, was to tell you this. I would like you Mr. Mohit, to tell everyone, whose tune you used for the jingle; the truth about who made you. I want you to tell the world about the choice you made to further your ambition. It is simple really, either you confess or else I will tell the truth to the media tomorrow. I want you to feel what Maasi felt all these years. What it is like to lose it all. That is all. And now you may leave.”

Twisha’s voice had finality in it.

Mohit looked at Ria, but she looked away. Losing her love to his ambition had hardened her heart. He went back to his office home, as he called it. It was a small room where he slept, and it was attached to his studio. This was the first investment he had made with his money, and he never lived away from his work. It was easier to record tunes on the spur of the moment even at night. Today, as he struggled with the decision of making an impossible choice, even his studio did not offer him solace.

The next morning Preeti walked in as usual, but found the studio to be eerily quiet except for the radio was playing in the background in the empty room. There was a lot of work to be done and she wondered where Mohit sir was. She settled her things on the table and walked to the door of his office. She knocked thrice and opened the door when there was no answer. The room was empty. The guitar that had the place of pride was also missing. The diary was lying on the table and a piece of paper lying below the diary. She took it and began to read.

*~*~*~*

Our life is full of choices. Some we make, some are made for us. I made a lot of them, but the one that defined me was the one that I made unintentionally. That is the choice that changed the course of my life. I did not want to lie to you, Ria, nor did I want to take that tune from you. I just got excited and I went with the flow. Lack of communication can lead to a lot of problems. I just did not realise that we would be facing those problems. I always assumed that you would understand.

I never realised how it would have looked to you. I disappear for a week and your tune ends up on radio with my name. I still believe you would not have said ‘no’, had I asked you, but I cannot change the fact that I did not ask you. It is done and it got me where I wanted to get. My only regret is not asking you first.

Twisha, you are right. This agony of losing what is dearest to you is crippling. I can't imagine what Ria must have gone through. And you as a kid, to have to grow up with that, it is just so wrong. Even if I say I am sorry, it won't begin to mend what I broke. But Ria was strong, to face the loss and come out stronger than before. Me, I am just not that strong. I can’t live without my music; my ambition is what made me then. It is what makes me now.

Yes, I took Ria's tune. I called it my own and became famous. But all the work I did after that was my own. I never touched that diary again. It was only a reminder to as to how it all began. But with this letter, my credibility will be doubted and I will be questioned at every step.

Twisha, you wanted me to face the consequences of my choice. But like I said, I am not so strong to face the ramifications that this letter carries. By the time you get this letter, I will be gone. I hope to live a life of anonymity. Maybe that is again my choice or my punishment.

Before I go I have left the studio to you, Twisha, and Ria’s diary too. You have the talent to make the right use of it. Remember, it is the choices we make that make us, Twisha. Hope you always make the right ones.

*~*~*~*

As Preeti finished reading the letter she heard a tune on the radio, the tune that started it all, was the one playing in the end.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

It is difficult to do anything without the people that make you who you are.

For me they are a handful. These are the people that are my reason to write, and fulfil my dream. They are the ones that inspire, motivate, and even push me when I am slacking.

They are the ones I turn to for advice, to discuss the merits and demerits, or simply to rant. They are the ones that know me so well that sometimes, I feel they know me better than myself.

This story belongs to them.

Picture Credit: amenic181/freedigitalphotos.net

By Jaibala M Rao