It felt like the world was mourning along with me. It rained tears outside, and in the dim light cast by the lamp in the corner of the room, I scrolled through the photographs on my mobile, in the folder titled ‘You and Me’. Of the first ever trek together with Reet.

The disastrous haircut I gave her during the lockdown and how pretend-mad she had got with me, the pillow fights and the selfies that followed… the laughter we shared over the haircut that was meant to make her look like Jennifer Anniston, but instead ended up with her, she said, looking like a porcupine!

I hear echoes of the laughter and Reet’s voice, but I know they are mere phantoms. All I was left with was the mocking silence in my lonely room. I could put away the memories that remained in my phone, but what about the ones in my heart and mind that were indelible, try as I might to delete them…

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Maybe the little bit of rum still left in the bottle might be kind. As I poured my fifth peg of the evening, my eyes slid to the award me and my colleagues, Deven and Nidhi, had won the previous year for an ad campaign.

‘Do Lamp Post’, written by Deepak Heera Rangnath, is the latest audio story narrated by Neelesh Misra in a series titled Meri Pyaari Zindagi, which is a collaboration between Gaon Connection, India’s biggest rural media platform, and the World Health Organization Regional Office for South East Asia (WHO SEARO) for a social campaign to promote awareness against the ill effects of alcohol. Misra is the founder of Gaon Connection and a famous audio storyteller.

Meri Pyaari Zindagi campaign involves videos, audio stories and memes that narrate the experiences of real-life former alcoholics as well fictitious protagonists who have won the battle against alcoholism.

Friends in need

Deven was more than a colleague. He was my childhood friend, a partner-in-crime as we stole pickles from neighbours’ terraces.  We were still inseparable and even worked in the same office, and Nidhi was Deven’s girlfriend, soon to be engaged.

As always, Nidhi got to work as soon as they came in. She swept away the stale peanuts that had rolled under the bed, cleared the used glasses while Deven helped me change my clothes, wiped my face and pulled the sweater over my head. 

They forced me to go out with them for dinner. There were days when Deven would stay over the night.

Once Deven found me weeping in my sleep. He woke me up, handed me a cup of coffee and consoled me. He urged me to say something, anything. But I turned away. But the big hole Reet had left behind wouldn’t get filled. I looked for blessed relief from that pain in my drink.

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“You better be prepared to make your presentation to the client. You have not come to work for two weeks and the boss is upset. You may lose your job,” Deven said.

I ignored him, grabbed my bottle and went to the balcony and took a long swig. Nidhi strode up, snatched the bottle and kept it with a hard thud next to the award.

“How long are you going to mourn Reet? She was a part of your life, not your entire life. We are here with you, we will get through your pain together, but you have to say something. If you don’t want to talk to us, talk to a stranger, a counselor…,” she stormed at me.

The memory of the day Reet left me would not go away. My lips trembled and there was something stuck in my throat that refused to be swallowed. “Just leave me alone and stop nagging me! Don’t you have something else to do? Like making arrangements for your engagement…” I yelled at them in a rage.

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For a few minutes there was silence. “There is going to be no engagement,” Deven said quietly.

I whirled around in shock. His words penetrated the fog in my head. “What are you saying? What is this Nidhi,” I demanded to know.

Two lamp posts

Nidhi took a deep breath and said, “There will be no engagement. Someone was supposed to make all the arrangements for it… fix the menu, decide the theme, help us pick our wardrobe, and even choose the design for my mehendi. But for three months now you have been drowning in your bottle…” she trailed off.

Deven continued. “Have we ever celebrated anything without you? You are our family. But ever since your bottle has joined us, things have not been the same,” he said.

I looked out where there were two lamp posts struggling to dispel the foggy darkness of the night. They were like Deven and Nidhi. Steadfast, shining their light upon my dark days. They had stood by me, not allowing me to fall down, always there…

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I picked up the bottle Nidhi had snatched from me, walked to the sink and poured it down the drain. I felt that along with it some of my misery went down too, and I let go of what I had stubbornly held on to all these months. I put my arms around Deven and Nidhi and watched the day break.

“Get ready. Time to go shopping,” Nidhi smiled.