Madhavi felt herself fighting her way towards consciousness through a fog of unconsciousness. The first thing she became aware of was the intense cold that she was feeling. As she became more aware of her immediate surroundings, she realized that she was lying on the floor. Thankfully, the carpet was providing a degree of insulation from the floor chilled by the cold December weather. However, there was nothing on top of her, and hence, the feeling of being cold. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. The act seemed to require a superhuman effort. Raising her head off the floor, she winced in pain. Yet another drinking binge had left her a familiar morning-after-present: a hangover headache. As she became more aware of herself, she realized that she was still drunk and that her tongue tasted foul. "First things first", she thought as she managed to pick herself off the carpet and head to the bathroom. Kneeling beside the pot, she shoved a finger down her throat to try and force herself to throw up. She retched, her stomach heaved but nothing came up. She had to get the undigested alcohol out of her system quickly if she wanted to make it to work and actually get sober by lunch. Reluctantly, hating the physical discomfort, she shoved her finger down her throat again. Up came the remnants of her dinner and a foul smelling mixture of bile and whisky. Her stomach cramped and she groaned in pain but forced herself to throw up once again. Hardly anything came up but convinced that she had gotten the last of the booze out of her stomach, Madhavi staggered to the basin and rinsed out her mouth. Not bothering with toothpaste, she just filled her mouth with Listerine and brushed her teeth. The Listerine smell would mask some of the odor of stale whisky that she knew must be coming from her mouth. "Hopefully, no one at the office will get drunk just standing next to me and breathing in the whisky fumes I am emitting", she thought and smiled grimly.
Rinsing her mouth with cold water, Madhavi came out and turned on the coffee machine. "I am getting the hang of it", she noted with some irony. Day after day, actually, night after night of drinking till she blacked out had forced her to develop her own survival handbook. She needed the job. Not because she particularly needed the money but because it kept her from drinking in the morning. Her professionalism did not allow her to have even a beer during working hours. After hours, however, was a different story. She would get free from work late evening and head to one watering hole or the other. She had actually stopped going to a few because she had created a scene at them while drunk and now was too embarrassed to step in there. She did not have to remember having created a scene, the knowing looks and the sniggers of the staff and the regulars were enough. Even as she blacked out most nights, her survival instinct somehow always got her home. Thank God for Bombay. She was mostly safe, even when drunk!
Dissolving a couple of Disprins in half a glass of water, she chucked the turbid liquid down the hatch. "Almost like a tequila shot" she thought with her first real smile of the day. Opening up a plastic bottle of juice, she gulped down, forcing herself to drink. She knew that drinking fluids would get rid of her hangover faster although trips to the loo would be a bitch. Leaving the bottle on the kitchen counter, Madhavi rushed into the bathroom. "Time to shower while the Disprin tablets kick in", her mind, almost on autopilot, told her. Madhavi turned on the shower as hot as she could tolerate, willing the hot water to soothe away the aches and the chill in her bones. Almost instantly, her mind turned towards Milind. She balled up her fist and banged on the wall-hard- the pain brought her back to reality. As she got ready, she finished off the remaining bottle of juice. "One litre fluid inside me. Good", she thought as she put on her make-up quickly. It was getting hard to hide the tremor in her hands, she noticed as she applied her eye-liner.
Locking the apartment, Madhavi flagged down a passing cab and gave directions to her office. She was in no state to drive, and besides, she could perhaps catch a wink, she thought. As she leaned back in the seat and rest her head on the headrest, she began to drift away. She dreamt of her ex-husband- Kevin- hurling abuses at her and hitting her. She dreamt that she tried to run away and Kevin caught her by her hair and flung her to the floor. Waking up with a start, Madhavi realized that the cab was negotiating a pothole filled stretch of road. Somehow, her dream and her reality had merged. Kevin- the suave, sophisticated rich brat that she had married. For over twelve years, she had lived a double life- being every inch a successful manager at work and cowering in fear at home. She had hoped that Kevin would mend her ways but that didn't happen. She had even started drinking with him, hoping to cultivate some empathy (for a fellow drinker) in him, but that too had failed. When the attempt to meet Kevin at his level became a habit, Madhavi did not remember. What she did remember was her father dying suddenly and leaving all his money and assets to her. She was not rich by any means, but a not-so-old, three BHK apartment in Juhu and the couple of crores that her dad had left her meant that she could survive in Bombay, even without her job. Plus, she had her savings. Kevin had never asked her for money, just blind obedience and fear. She was forty-two, and the way she was living, would not live to see sixty. "Who wants to see sixty?", she mused. "Hadn't she been through enough?"
After her father's death, Madhavi had applied for and got a divorce from Kevin. Kevin had contested it but Madhavi's physician and psychotherapist gave a vivid account of Kevin's behavior in the court. Madhavi was not only granted a divorce, but also a restraining order, prohibiting Keving from being within a kilometer of her and from contacting her by any means. She had moved to Mumbai and gotten a job in the company that she was working for now.
She had loved the job for the first two years, and even more so when Milind, a young trainee, had showed an interest in her. Madhavi, convinced that she was a dowdy, forty plus, eternally psychologically scarred borderline alcoholic, had given up on love. She had given up on men and love when she gave up on Kevin but Milind made her feel young again. He had started spending a lot of time with her, euphemistically, to learn the ropes but he had been attracted to Madhavi- a mature, intelligent, and warm woman (as he himself told her later in one of their chats). Madhavi, with her emotional blinkers on, had remained blind to Milind's attentions for a very long time. One night, when Madhavi was drinking alone at home, Milind had called her out of the blue and asked for some help on a presentation that he had to give the next morning. Madhavi agreed to help him and started working with him on a Power Point Presentation on Google Documents. When that official chat had moved into a personal zone, Madhavi did not remember, but she did remember that for the first time in her life, she had offered a glimpse into her anguished soul to a human being other that her shrink. She had not bared a lot, but aided by whisky, just enough that Milind knew that she was lonely and hurting. More and more Milind started to find reasons to chat with her after work, more and more she looked forward to these little escapades from the deafening loneliness she felt inside. During office hours they remained cool and professional towards each other but after work, Madhavi wished she could fly home, get a few drinks inside her, work up her courage to flirt with Milind again. Milind had once joked about them behaving like boyfriend and girlfriend, and she had savored the moment. Their chats had sometimes turned a bit risque' and Madhavi found a guilty pleasure in them. Once, Milind had jokingly asked her to come with him to Goa. Not knowing whether he was joking, Madhavi had said yes. She wanted to feel young again, wanted to fall in love again and to feel special again. She had never told Milind about her drinking, or her disastrous marriage, and why should she have, she thought. He had asked her out only once- for coffee, and Madhavi, fearful of emotional intimacy, had taken a rain check. Milind, on his part, had never mentioned Goa again.
Milind had gone off for a vacation with a few friends and Madhavi could do nothing but wait. every evening, not daring to call Milind, she would open up her chat window and wait for him. He never did. Madhavi consoled herself that Milind was with friends and needed time off from her too. And then, Milind was back. The official greeting was as dry and perfunctory as ever but Madhavi could not help but notice the fluttering in her heart. That evening, chat window open, she sat waiting for Milind. Milind was online, but made no attempt to talk to her. Gathering her guts, Madhavi messaged him and waited- tense, expectant. Milind replied- terse and close-ended- leaving no scope for further conversation. Madhavi tried again, again the long silence, again the terse reply. For two nights, Madhavi tried getting him out of the shell that he had retreated into but without success. She wondered if she had said anything appropriate during their chats (thank you devil booze) and found many instances at which Milind might have thought of her as coming on too strong. Ashamed, she messaged Milind again and asked him if she had done something to hurt him. His reply broke her heart. He tersely replied that she was a mentor for him, and that he felt that the boundaries of the mentor-mentee relationship had been transgressed. He would prefer them to remain within that relationship. Madhavi had wilted inside. That was one of the first nights she had drank herself into an oblivion. Since that night, every night had been the same. Madhavi would get so drunk that she would pass out, and then somehow get up in the morning and get to work. She knew she was a forty something, dowdy looking, washed out woman that no man would look at twice. She was OK with it. Jack Daniels was the only man she needed and he wasn't leaving her- not till she died.
The cab reached her office and the break in motion broke Madhavi's reverie. She sighed as she stepped out. Another day with, and without Milind.
Dissolving a couple of Disprins in half a glass of water, she chucked the turbid liquid down the hatch. "Almost like a tequila shot" she thought with her first real smile of the day. Opening up a plastic bottle of juice, she gulped down, forcing herself to drink. She knew that drinking fluids would get rid of her hangover faster although trips to the loo would be a bitch. Leaving the bottle on the kitchen counter, Madhavi rushed into the bathroom. "Time to shower while the Disprin tablets kick in", her mind, almost on autopilot, told her. Madhavi turned on the shower as hot as she could tolerate, willing the hot water to soothe away the aches and the chill in her bones. Almost instantly, her mind turned towards Milind. She balled up her fist and banged on the wall-hard- the pain brought her back to reality. As she got ready, she finished off the remaining bottle of juice. "One litre fluid inside me. Good", she thought as she put on her make-up quickly. It was getting hard to hide the tremor in her hands, she noticed as she applied her eye-liner.
Locking the apartment, Madhavi flagged down a passing cab and gave directions to her office. She was in no state to drive, and besides, she could perhaps catch a wink, she thought. As she leaned back in the seat and rest her head on the headrest, she began to drift away. She dreamt of her ex-husband- Kevin- hurling abuses at her and hitting her. She dreamt that she tried to run away and Kevin caught her by her hair and flung her to the floor. Waking up with a start, Madhavi realized that the cab was negotiating a pothole filled stretch of road. Somehow, her dream and her reality had merged. Kevin- the suave, sophisticated rich brat that she had married. For over twelve years, she had lived a double life- being every inch a successful manager at work and cowering in fear at home. She had hoped that Kevin would mend her ways but that didn't happen. She had even started drinking with him, hoping to cultivate some empathy (for a fellow drinker) in him, but that too had failed. When the attempt to meet Kevin at his level became a habit, Madhavi did not remember. What she did remember was her father dying suddenly and leaving all his money and assets to her. She was not rich by any means, but a not-so-old, three BHK apartment in Juhu and the couple of crores that her dad had left her meant that she could survive in Bombay, even without her job. Plus, she had her savings. Kevin had never asked her for money, just blind obedience and fear. She was forty-two, and the way she was living, would not live to see sixty. "Who wants to see sixty?", she mused. "Hadn't she been through enough?"
After her father's death, Madhavi had applied for and got a divorce from Kevin. Kevin had contested it but Madhavi's physician and psychotherapist gave a vivid account of Kevin's behavior in the court. Madhavi was not only granted a divorce, but also a restraining order, prohibiting Keving from being within a kilometer of her and from contacting her by any means. She had moved to Mumbai and gotten a job in the company that she was working for now.
She had loved the job for the first two years, and even more so when Milind, a young trainee, had showed an interest in her. Madhavi, convinced that she was a dowdy, forty plus, eternally psychologically scarred borderline alcoholic, had given up on love. She had given up on men and love when she gave up on Kevin but Milind made her feel young again. He had started spending a lot of time with her, euphemistically, to learn the ropes but he had been attracted to Madhavi- a mature, intelligent, and warm woman (as he himself told her later in one of their chats). Madhavi, with her emotional blinkers on, had remained blind to Milind's attentions for a very long time. One night, when Madhavi was drinking alone at home, Milind had called her out of the blue and asked for some help on a presentation that he had to give the next morning. Madhavi agreed to help him and started working with him on a Power Point Presentation on Google Documents. When that official chat had moved into a personal zone, Madhavi did not remember, but she did remember that for the first time in her life, she had offered a glimpse into her anguished soul to a human being other that her shrink. She had not bared a lot, but aided by whisky, just enough that Milind knew that she was lonely and hurting. More and more Milind started to find reasons to chat with her after work, more and more she looked forward to these little escapades from the deafening loneliness she felt inside. During office hours they remained cool and professional towards each other but after work, Madhavi wished she could fly home, get a few drinks inside her, work up her courage to flirt with Milind again. Milind had once joked about them behaving like boyfriend and girlfriend, and she had savored the moment. Their chats had sometimes turned a bit risque' and Madhavi found a guilty pleasure in them. Once, Milind had jokingly asked her to come with him to Goa. Not knowing whether he was joking, Madhavi had said yes. She wanted to feel young again, wanted to fall in love again and to feel special again. She had never told Milind about her drinking, or her disastrous marriage, and why should she have, she thought. He had asked her out only once- for coffee, and Madhavi, fearful of emotional intimacy, had taken a rain check. Milind, on his part, had never mentioned Goa again.
Milind had gone off for a vacation with a few friends and Madhavi could do nothing but wait. every evening, not daring to call Milind, she would open up her chat window and wait for him. He never did. Madhavi consoled herself that Milind was with friends and needed time off from her too. And then, Milind was back. The official greeting was as dry and perfunctory as ever but Madhavi could not help but notice the fluttering in her heart. That evening, chat window open, she sat waiting for Milind. Milind was online, but made no attempt to talk to her. Gathering her guts, Madhavi messaged him and waited- tense, expectant. Milind replied- terse and close-ended- leaving no scope for further conversation. Madhavi tried again, again the long silence, again the terse reply. For two nights, Madhavi tried getting him out of the shell that he had retreated into but without success. She wondered if she had said anything appropriate during their chats (thank you devil booze) and found many instances at which Milind might have thought of her as coming on too strong. Ashamed, she messaged Milind again and asked him if she had done something to hurt him. His reply broke her heart. He tersely replied that she was a mentor for him, and that he felt that the boundaries of the mentor-mentee relationship had been transgressed. He would prefer them to remain within that relationship. Madhavi had wilted inside. That was one of the first nights she had drank herself into an oblivion. Since that night, every night had been the same. Madhavi would get so drunk that she would pass out, and then somehow get up in the morning and get to work. She knew she was a forty something, dowdy looking, washed out woman that no man would look at twice. She was OK with it. Jack Daniels was the only man she needed and he wasn't leaving her- not till she died.
The cab reached her office and the break in motion broke Madhavi's reverie. She sighed as she stepped out. Another day with, and without Milind.
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