Lie-the untold truth

 "Why to lie, I love lies. They are the only truths told wholeheartedly."

Thunderous applause and Veda smiled wholeheartedly. She was late to the event and she had lied to the organizer that she was only a minute away from the venue when Google showed her 20mins to the location. Yet, when she came her aura and enigmatic personality had the organizer melt in his pants. With her revelations, the audience was spellbound. Her confessions were bold like her cleavage visible through the low-hung blouse. She had nothing to hide and gone were the days of playing hide-and-seek with her destiny. She was face-to-face with it. In her eyes, destiny feared the inevitable. 

* * * * *

"Vahida, beta, please fetch some pav from karim chacha. We have your Abba's friends visiting us for dinner today."

Ammi's polished voice told little Vahida that today would be special. Pav was brought into their hovel only on the occasion of baida curry and mutton kheema. Guest means it had to be kheema pav!! Just the thought made her salivary glands work overtime. She drooled like a hyper-salivating pup. 

THUD!

Rafiq, her younger brother, fell off the rickety cot as a seizure enveloped him. Ammi rushed to insert a spoon in between his shattering teeth, lest he bit the already injured tongue. This was ingrained in her mother like flipping rotis on hot tava. She was accustomed to this ritual since his birth. Ammi switched on the sole bulb of the house to check for Rafiq's bruises. Old and new shared spaces like good girlfriends on a merry bus ride. The bulb flickered as Rafiq moved in and out of his jerky ride. After a good five minutes, the shuddering torso settled for a night of deep sleep. Doctors said he would. Total lie!! Soon, Vahida would realize he would live at her expense. 

Relieved, Ammi again reminded Vahida of pav and Chacha.

Jumping off the old tin container, she darted towards the verandah and made it straight to the main road. On the road she swished past, women bargaining over pennies, pedlars crouching in their own shadows, children squatting near the drains and many unknown faces of worry, anxiety, and stoic countenance faced her. But only kheema pav was on Vahida's mind. The aroma of cinnamon sizzling in ghee and the minced mutton lazily shimmering itself in the liberal dash of salt and spice. All her mind could conjure was the idea of the soft pav being dipped in the greasy gravy, and then pleasing her longing appetite. In the ecstasy of the evening meal, the chaos of the mohalla seemed a distant botheration. Who cared for what was happening until it had not touched her kheema pav? And what would happen in the biggest slum of Mumbai-Dharavi that would be new to the world? Maximum, there would be a murder or a rape or a robbery in broad daylight or some death due to cholera, tuberculosis or malaria. Nothing more than this right? Danny Boyles doesn't come here every day, and slumdogs don't become millionaires even on a single day.

But this wisdom would come to her only later in life. Right now relishing the kheema pav was her million-dollar achievement. 

"Chacha do ladi pav." 

The excited girl was huffing and puffing at Karim Chacha's shackle called Noor Jahan general stores. There was neither any noor nor any jahan in that entire area yet some people dare to call their son Shehensha who in life later sell potatoes for 20rupees a kg.

 Anyways, this wisdom, too, would come to her much later in life. Now the pav had to make its way home. But before that Chacha gave her a rupees melody. Exactly four. The old man had a heart for the bubbling girl. 

The evening dawned with much gusto, and the friends arrived in a blue fiat-padmini, a car as wide as their gully and as long as three houses in a tow. Never in her life of fourteen years had Vahida seen such extravagance stop by her hovel. Once she was definitely knocked by a similar beast making her wonder whether humans or demons drove it. The guests were definitely important as including Ammi everyone was dressed in their finery. Vahida's glittery orange salwar kameez which Ammi used to safeguard in the tin container was adorned by its benefactor. So much was the grandeur of the occasion that Vahida was allowed to wear Ammi's wedding jhumkas.

With puppy eyes, she eyed the two men who had come for the Gala evening. Bless them, she thought. Kheema pav was not an everyday affair. Throughout the evening the men in black pathani discussed business with Abba and spoke of some projects where children learned new skills and earned on daily basis. From behind a tattered, faded curtain that separated the sitting area from the kadappa-bound kitchen, Ammi listened tentatively. In a corner, Vahida ate the most delicious meal of her life.

"Vahida, come beta. Uncle wishes to speak to you." Abba's voice breached Vahida's aromatic reverie. Licking her lips so that not even a spec of curry was wasted, she rushed to answer Abba. Ammi in her mid-stride stopped her. Hugged her with misty eyes. The onions were some real spice, Vahida thought. Otherwise, why would Ammi hug her teary-eyed?

"Beta, this uncle is taking you to a school where they will teach you many things to grow in life. Come say hello to uncle."

Abba's call shook her. She took a few steps behind. From the corner of her eye, she stole a glance at the uncle.

"Beta, we have a lot of dolls. You will enjoy them. We have cars that will take you to places. Come with us."

This didn't lure her. Finally, Ammi broke the jinx.

"Vahida, you will get to eat kheema pav every day."

Vahida's eyes lit up like a thousand splendid suns. Only mothers know the way to their daughter's hearts. Vahida smiled profusely for the first time and who knew for the last time! 

The fiat car brought two, now carried three. In between the men sat Vahida with dreams of kheema pav.

* * * * *

" HIV doesn't mean you will die one day. It means you will die every single day with humiliation and guilt for the deeds of others. The virus killing you is a white lie. It's much more considerate. Your blood kills you."

The auditorium listened in rapt attention. The organizers prayed fervently. Veda's speech would decide the donations and funding. She had to fabricate and refurbish her story.

"The virus is kind enough it kills the trauma of offering you to unknown men and their ghastly desires. Finally, no one is interested in you."

A sigh escaped Veda's dainty-coloured lips. 

"In this millennium city, Vahidas had been lured to become Vedas to satisfy whims and fancies. The girls are shown the dangling carrots and turned into fancy dolls. But believe me, the uncles don't lie. They indeed make you travel in fancy cars and if not every day, every week you can relish kheema pav."

The crowd's attention wavered. What was she talking about? 

Gaining her composure, she continued. 

"So, HIV doesn't mean you will die. This is a total lie. You will die when you allow yourself to. Raise yourself against the tide and you will see the sun, too, drown in the sea."

The crowd was back to clapping till their palms turned red.

Felicitations followed and Veda was escorted backstage. Few of the chief guests had made donations to her organization which worked for HIV-infected kids of bar dancers and prostitutes. Accepting the cash and credit, she walked back to her blue fiat. Her way of coming to face with destiny. The car brushed past the polished roads to take a turn into a dingy gully. It halted at the end of the narrow path. From a distance, Veda watched Vahida's hovel. It was a brick and cement two storeys structure now. Thanks to an anonymous caretaker. Vahida's Ammi and her brother Rafiq were ambling to a nearby Noor Jahan general store. From the counter, Ammi grey and brittle bought pav.

"Today Vahida will be sold to support a dying Rafiq!" 

Veda, the grown-up Vahida wondered.