Story- Payal

Dear Diary,
It was the same old Sunday morning, yet I felt different. With the cackling of the chickens at the butcher shop right opposite to my house I could tell its exact 6 in the morning. Indeed it had become a familiar sound by now except today. Everything was exactly the way I had left it 3 weeks back. A cluttered table, filled with stacks of papers, files, markers and an ash tray full of smoke buds. Same bed sheet I had last slept on, with clothes scattered on the other bed. The room smelt weird; a smell I had been running away from for weeks. A beer bottle with two glasses next to it, one was mine and the other was Stella’s.
Stella. Another client of mine tired of her husband’s brutality. She wanted to file for a divorce but he obviously wouldn’t let her, not because he had a little bit of love left for her somewhere but only because it was embarrassing for him to be dumped. I really fail to understand this mentality. I always thought that it was just women who were afraid of any kind of social stigma but I realised that men were on the same boat. It’s rather funny, because even they are ready to live a life full of grief only because it is against their manhood to be dumped my some silly, wretched, puny, little woman. I have worked with so many organisations that worked for the welfare of the women, but it seems now, that I should instead open organisations focusing on men, in order to inject some sense into them. Stella started to laugh at this idea.
Me: Why are you laughing, I know it seems funny but it’s something I cannot help but wonder about. Besides it not a bad idea to open organisations for such “scared” men.
Stella: Hahahaha! And who do you think will join? You are really being optimistic here Payal.
Me: Well! Believe me, when I opened the first women’s organisation 10 years back, my friends asked me the same question- “Who do you think will join?” And look at it now, many organisations have been started and not just by me, and they are all overflowing with needy women.
Stella: Hahaha. Okay, Okay. No point arguing with you. You know you are a master in the art of argument.
Me: Hahahhaha. Yes, but hey! Don’t be sarcastic, because that is exactly what will help us tomorrow at the court.
Stella: Hmmm..That is true. I hope we win the case and I can be free all over again. I want to start my parlour again. Oh! How I am waiting to earn for myself and then go out shopping with my own money. I will never have to ask anyone or keep an account of anything. I will not be scared anymore. I will be able to live again.
Me: Of course you will. Besides we have all the papers.
Stella: Yes...this is my only chance for freedom.
Thhaaaaaashh.....the window broke into pieces.
Me: Stella, bend down! Careful! (A current went up from my stomach to my heart. It started to ache a little. I was scared, but I couldn’t let Stella notice that).
Stella: I am fine, I am fine. You okay?
Me: Yeah...what the fuck was that?
Stella: Somebody threw a stone it seems.
Me: What the fuck!?! Seems like this person is influenced a lot by all the B-grade Hindi films. Ha!
I bent over the window to peep out. I saw somebody hiding behind the bushes and just as his eyes fell upon mine he ran.
Stella: Could you see him? Do you know who that was?
Me: Nope, I couldn’t recognise the person.
Stella: Wait a minute..the stone is covered with a paper. Looks like a message for us.
Me: Not for us, for me. It’s my house, remember? So you please stop sweating in your pants. Look at you! Go grab another drink while I check this out. Also get me one; I think I’ll need it.
Stella: Okay...wait, don’t start reading it. Let me come first.
Here you go.
Me: “Payal Keswani died last evening....
Stella: Oh my god, it’s a threat note! You must call the police. I won’t be surprised if it’s that bastard Manav!
Me: Relax...relax..
“Payal Keswani died last evening, while giving out her usual motivating speeches to the Mahila Mandal Society. She had always wished to live till 100 but sadly, she died at the age of 87 only.”
Me: Hahahahahhaha...this is so funny. Tell me Stella, did I ever mention in any of my speeches that I wished to live up to 100? Hahhaha...this person is good.
Stella: Shut up! And please continue reading...what else does it say?
Me: Okay!
“...Always a feminist, with the domineering personality and strong leadership skills, she would say that it is God who has sent her to earth to guide the women of this planet to a much happier life.”
Me: I think I will take this as a compliment ..What do you say?
Stella: What rubbish! Why is it so funny for you? It’s a threat note. I hope u realise that. Give it to me. I’ll read...
“...She had contributed a lot to many organisations that focused on the welfare of women. She asked of her fellow women not to even bother getting married to these insensitive ‘creatures’. Her motto remained: we do not need these ‘creatures’ to satisfy or complete us in any respect.”
Me: Hahhaa..I never ever called men “creatures”. But you know what? It does sound like quite an apt term for them!

Stella: “...Doctors say that she had the most persuasive way of delivering speeches, eventually resulting in her bursting a nerve.
This was of much to the dismay of her fans who had only one thing to say: God must be a MAN, to do this to her.”

Me: Hahhahhaha..I love the punch line!
Stella: What the hell does this mean!?!
Me: It’s my obituary silly, what else? I wish I could throw a stone back with a message saying – “Very creative!”
Stella: Your obituary...doesn’t that mean your life is in danger?
Me: Or it could be just a mockery of me. You can’t take this seriously. It’s too funny to be taken seriously you know. In my line of work, obviously there will be many people unhappy. This person just seems one of the frustrated lots.
Stella: Okay..do you want me to stay here tonight?
Me: (I knew she needed some rest herself. We had worked quite a lot, for days at an end)
Oh no..please! I am not scared. Relax! You know me. These things keep happening. You go home and catch up on some sleep and get ready for a victorious day tomorrow.
Stella: Ohh! I am already dreaming about it. Hahaha. Take care then Payal. I will meet you directly at the court at sharp 8 am.
Me: Sure! Take care. Drive safely. See ya!
Stella: See ya!
I closed all my windows, finished my drink in one gulp and fell into bed. I wrapped myself with the sheets and made it cosier for myself. I was wondering again about the obituary and what kind of person could have written such a thing. It’s quite a new trend I told myself. It seems the good old days of a threat note has been replaced by obituaries. It’s nothing serious, I am sure. It’s a silly joke, I kept telling myself that and slowly my eyelids started feeling heavy. Suddenly, the broken window started making creaky sounds. I got up, looked around here and there. There was nothing, nobody.
I thought I am taking this obituary way too seriously myself and so tried sleeping again. But I couldn’t shut my eyes.
I stood awake the whole night till the chickens started cackling again. I got up to make coffee to help my head that was throbbing because of the lack of sleep, just when the phone rang.
Me: Hello?
Person on the other end of the line: Hello? Umm is this Miss Payal?
Me: Yes please.
Person on the other end of the line: Payal, this is Geetha here.
Me: Oh hey. How are you? Stella and I had to come to you to file the papers. Hope you haven’t called to re-schedule.
Geetha: I have some bad news Payal, Stella was murdered last night in her apartment. Her neighbours heard her scream and then called the police, but I guess it was too....
I couldn’t hear her words anymore. Flashes of last night kept coming in front of me. She was so close, so close....to freedom... I whispered to myself, with tears rolling down.
Suddenly I remembered that obituary. It was my obituary. It was my obituary, then why her? I had to leave this place, I had to run away.

Back now, a smell of old papers and cigarettes hugged the room. Everything was the same except for the cackling of the chickens. PACA, Protection against Cruelty to Animals, an organisation I had once worked for, had summoned enough support from the neighbours to finally close the butcher shop down.
I opened a window and some fresh air burst in. I stood there for what felt like the longest time, staring into the street, seeing nothing.
“Hi, are you Payal?,” a voice at the back startled me.
I turned around to see an attractive young woman in her 30s.
Me: Yes. And you are...?
The person at the door: I am Manjari.
Me: Hi Manjari...
Manjari: Umm..Payal.. I have heard a lot about the work that you do. I need help.
An uncomfortable feeling started rising up in my chest, yet kept my face calm, as I had been trained to.
Me: What help do you need Manjari?
Manjari: Payal.. my relationship with my husband..well..he..I ..I need a divorce..I need your help.
I searched for words but none would come out.
After searching my face for a long time, she spoke.
Manjari: I read about the lady you were helping Payal in the newspapers....Stella. I understand. But then you see in life there are no guarantees... I want to take this chance. I want your help. You see... this is my only chance for freedom.

My surprised eyes met hers.
“...This is my only chance for freedom”...those were Stella’s words.
I felt as if Stella was there, beside me. I stayed there for a while, not wanting to break that spell; I had so much to say to her.
And then I heard myself saying: Please sit down. Would you care for some tea?