Showing posts with label Short Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Short Story. Show all posts

Sunday, 7 June 2026

BRTDR.xyz


 

“And…. Send!” Bella did her trademark sign off flourish while pressing the send button, as always.

In this day and age of instant advice on tap, people still waited to hear from her.

She only posted two answers a day, but the views on those two answers made up 20% of the total traffic on the website. Not a mean feat by any standard. No wonder brtdr.xyz paid her so well and did everything to retain her.

Bella, born Bela Ravindran, moved to the USA like a lot of people from her state, to complete her master’s degree in computer science.  Admissions were not easy then, and every win was celebrated by the whole community. She still remembered the sendoff party thrown in her honour. The entire neighbourhood was there.

Bella had come to the Land of Dreams. She got help from the seniors who had travelled before her. She completed her Masters successfully, graduated (how proud her Amma and Appa were that day), and got a job.

That went on for five years – job, marriage, and a divorce. At the end of five years, Bela found herself divorced, alone, and laid off.

It was the season of layoffs. She just happened to be on the wrong list at the wrong time. That’s how it was for literally hundreds of folks like her. In some cases, like hers, the person losing the job was also the sole breadwinner for the family.

Desperate times, as they say, call for desperate measures. While browsing, she bumped into this website – brtdr.xyz. Random strangers could share their problems and offer advice to each other. Just the thing she needed.

Pretty soon, she was addicted – spending hours on the website – venting out her own frustrations and giving advice to others.

******************************

“I am here to confess.” The voice was calm. The speaker was standing straight. Not tall, but straight enough. Her hair looked matted. At any rate, they were open and not tied up or styled in any way. She was dressed in a loose one-piece western dress. 

Arundhati, the lady constable, got up very quickly. Something about the tone was sinister. In a police station, one rarely heard the words, “I am here to confess” voluntarily. From women, even less so.

“Please come this way.” Arundhati pointed to a room to her left.

Later, Arundhati’s boss would praise her for this moment of poise and equanimity. Probably, this one moment of poise made all the difference to the case. 

In the room, the lady started by saying that her name was Swapna. She was the survivor of fifteen years of domestic abuse – physical, financial, sexual, and emotional.

Being an orphan, she had no one to go to – a fact well understood and exploited by her husband, Nagesh. Nagesh wooed her softly for over four months, whispering into her ears how good-looking she was and how little his life meant without her. After her parents’ death, the relatives had given her only shark-like bites to eat into her inheritance. No love. She was an easy prey.

They married within six months of being introduced. And she was put to work the very next day.

Nagesh was a mathematical genius in his own way. During the day, she was a teacher in a government school. This ensured job security, minimal work, and pension after retirement. Also, access to free health and medical facilities. By night, she was a worker in a very different industry. This ensured highest revenue per minute of time spent working. Sure, the work was dangerous, but Nagesh wasn’t the one getting hurt.

This way, he maximized her earning potential. When not playing one of these two roles, she was, obviously, his default housekeeper and bartender.

And this was the hell that Swapna suffered for two years before breaking down in front of a colleague one day. The colleague, Shanti, was shocked and didn’t know what to say. Most of them did face some kind of domestic abuse, but many of the girls these days were able to save themselves by threatening divorce. No one wanted to divorce a government employee. It was tough to become one (government jobs have the toughest selection criteria), and tougher still to find one worth marrying.

Shanti advised Swapna to meet an NGO lady. The NGO lady counselled her and threatened Nagesh. Things got better for a fortnight or so. Then, slowly, they began again. In innocuous ways. “Won’t you get me a drink, the queen of my life?”, “Who will I share a drink with, if not the one who rules my heart? All my thoughts are about you. All my dreams are yours.”

Then, they slowly became sinister. Until, six months later, she was in the same hell all over again.

She blamed herself, of course. But didn’t know how to break this cycle with Nagesh.

After nine years of this perennial cycle, everyone, including herself, just gave up. She surrendered to her fate.

The pattern perpetuated.

 

“So, what changed today?” Arundhati asked gently.

“There’s this website. My friend told me about it. I go there to just vent. We can just talk to strangers, get advice, give advice, just speak our heart out. It’s all anonymous. No one knows anyone else. I found this to be a very safe space where I could really say what was happening with me.

On this website, there is this feature – Bella’s Advice Column. Bella picks up any two posts and shares her advice on them. Bella’s advice is usually spot on. It is very specific. It tells the person what to do, how to do it, and when to do it. Like, it’s as if a guide is standing there talking to you.

So many people have followed Bella’s advice and their life has changed. Whether it is doing simple things like melatonin to fall asleep, or bigger things like community property in divorce cases, Bella is very real in what’s possible and what’s not, and very helpful.

I have been writing to Bella for advice for years now. Never got accepted.

Last week, Bella finally featured my problem.

I followed her advice.”

“What was her advice?”

“The only way out of this mess is to kill my husband. Nothing else. Just kill him. If I want to live my life in peace, even inside a prison, that life would be better than what I am going through now.”

Arundhati wanted to gasp. But didn’t. She repeated slowly, “Bella… told… you… to…kill…your…..husband…..and….go….to…prison?”

“Yes.”

“And….you…..followed….that….advice…..to…..a…..T?”

“Yes.”

“Why? You could have run away. You didn’t even need to kill. You could have divorced the fellow!”

“I tried the divorce route. You, madam, know what hell it is for a woman seeking divorce from a man who refuses. You make women go from family counselling to father judges who advise us to “adjust”. You never have that advice for the husband. In the meantime, he would come and threaten me. Create public nuisance until no friend would have me in her house. No owner would rent a property to me.

You said I could have run away after killing him. But I could not have – for two reasons. One, you would have found me. Two, I don’t want to live my life like a fugitive. I want to use my own documents and be my own self.”

Arundhati had the presence of mind to show absolutely no emotional reaction whatsoever. She got a glass of water for Swapna to drink.

A police psychologist was summoned. She spoke with Swapna and certified that she was in a sound mental state and was making this confession voluntarily - no duress or influence – of people or substance.

While this was not necessary, the police officers thought it best to go through this before deploying any manpower on the case and sending police personnel to a so-called crime scene.

Once the formalities were completed, Arundhati sent a team to the crime scene.

The man was dead. No doubt about it. Other than that, the house was neat and clean. There wasn’t that much to process at the crime scene, but they still took pictures and fingerprints.

The police team, led by Arundhati, took Swapna into custody, and made the case file with the chargesheet. This was an easy case.

*********************

ACP Rajeshwari Das was rocking her flexible office chair. Her face was tilted upwards and the eyes were closed. This usually happened when she was thinking her way out of a tricky problem. The “Do Not Disturb” sign outside her door was on.

But the seats in front of her were not empty. One of them was occupied by Jatin. Jatin was Swapna’s lawyer. Swapna, who had confessed and requested a speedy trial, was not granted her wish. A government lawyer was defending her. That government lawyer was Jatin.

After meeting Swapna a few times, Jatin had been convinced that he did not want this woman to suffer for a murder that was inevitable.

The poisoning was deliberate and pre-meditated, so he could not argue insanity or self-defence.

He then used that brilliant lawyer brain and filed for “influence”. The columnist called Bella had a position of influence as far as the subject (Swapna) was concerned. She had used that influence to not just encourage, but almost coerce Swapna into committing an illegal act – by saying that this was the ONLY way for her to live peacefully. Not only that, it must also be noted that prior to Bella’s “suggestion”, the idea of murder had not occurred to the person accused. It was neither her original intent, nor her idea. She had only been used as the execution device.

Therefore, the chargesheet must be modified to include the columnist who writes as Bella as the primary accused. Swapna was under undue influence at the time of committing the murder. Further, Bella materially coerced the subject, Swapna, by indicating that this was "The only way” for her to live peacefully.

Arundhati had forwarded the submission to ACP Das. She had to admire the creativity of the young man. She wanted this case disposed of quickly. In the interest of time, she asked her assistant to reach out to Jatin and call him for a meeting.

**************

After listening to Jatin’s thoughts, ACP Das was inclined to agree with him. A battered woman anyway loses half her mind every day. Added to that was the fact that Swapna had tried every other choice – separation, divorce, police case for domestic violence, family counselling, everything. This man was making it impossible for her to lead a normal life. To such a person, the idea that murder was the only way to live peacefully, would appear to be logical and true.

And it was also true that prior to this advice, Swapna had never considered murdering Nagesh. The idea was planted in her mind for the first time by that advice columnist. The specificity of the plan had made it possible for her to execute the said plan. Both the idea and the method were given by the columnist. Swapna executed it, presumably under undue influence.

“Madam,” Jatin was still speaking, “This is the same as a woman who kills her children under the influence of some tantrik[1]. We also charge the tantrik under the same Section 302[2]. This case is identical. These advice columnists are the new tantriks.”

“Where does this advice columnist live?”

“We don’t know, ma’m. The Whois entry[3] of the website itself is also masked. We know nothing about where this Bella is from. But that alone should not stop us from making her a co-accused.”

“Jatin, the difference between the tantrik and Bella is this – we have jurisdiction over the tantrik. The main reason you are doing this is to get bail for Swapna, no? You apply for bail. I see no reason for us to contest it. She is a good person. Don’t think she will go out and do anything stupid. Let this case be. Don’t weaken it unnecessarily with this Bella nonsense. I promise to think about this some more. You have raised an important point. But in this case, I am not changing the chargesheet. Sorry.”

ACP Das closed the file with finality.

“Madam, I am not asking to add Bella only for bail. I ask because Swapna will not be the only woman going to these anonymous websites to vent. Do think about what I am saying. You are in a state that prides itself on its track record on prosecuting digital crime. Isn’t this also a form of digital crime? Inducing murder, sitting far away from the hands of the law? Do think, madam. You may not be able to prosecute this columnist. But at least you will send a message across.”

ACP Das knew, even in that moment, that the decision was not hers to make. She would have to consult her seniors.

**************

The seniors did get involved – all the way to the CM, who was the darling of the tech moguls. He dined with them at industry events, gently cajoling them to invest more money in his state – renting offices, providing jobs (creating a market for thousands of homes made and sold by his construction company).

When he heard about the case and the request of the police to file for getting the identity information of the columnist and then making her a co-accused in the trial, he kept quiet for more than a minute. Saying no would mean antagonising the police – never a good idea. Saying yes would mean raised eyebrows at the industry dinner this Wednesday.

“Let me get back to you.” He said to the state police chief.

**************

Swapna, meanwhile, had used her bail time to log back on to the site and write on the forums how she followed Bella’s column and was now accused of murder. The forums were divided – some ridiculed her for not using her judgement on something as basic as “Not killing someone”, while some others blamed Bella for suggesting something that was clearly illegal, in every part of the world. “Does Bella have a conscience at all?” Many posters asked.

The editorial team of brtdr.xyz had reached out to Bella, demanding an explanation. Now that they knew that the person had followed the advice (like everyone before her), they had to cover their backsides against any legal and user backlash. So far, they were not doing a very good job.

Bella was stunned. Her column had advised someone to kill their husband, and they had done it?

At first, she did not believe it. When the brtdr team showed her the post, she read through her own advice and was amazed at the specificity of it. The answer was worded in a very persuasive manner. Anyone reading this, even Bella, would have agreed with the answer. Now she knew why people always followed the advice given in her column.

“Is there a legal liability for me, personally?” she asked Stella, her contact from brtdr.

“My dear, the legal liability is all yours. We publish a disclaimer, see, that we are only intermediaries. The advice being sought, and given, and any liability arising out of actions therefrom, belongs completely to the two parties involved – you and the poster. Having said that, we won’t be able to avoid the backlash, I’m sure. I would suggest you get a lawyer. In the meantime, I am sending you an email, terminating our relationship with immediate effect. I’m sorry, Bella. You really were our rock star.” Stella signed off.

Bella’s head was spinning. She didn’t know what to do next.

************

Brtdr thought that once it released a statement terminating its relationship with Bella, people would move on within weeks, if not days. But the opposite happened. The user community started shrinking rapidly. Within two weeks, brtdr’s traffic was down 50%. Average active users per day dropped even more quickly – as many as 60% of the daily active users abandoned the website.

Brtdr had a business problem on its hands. The other internet forums were quick to pick it up as a ‘case study’ and discuss it threadbare.

It had no idea about the legal problem - yet.

*********************

Jatin reached out to a few media outlets on his own. Even though it was illegal to discuss sub-judice cases, he made the leak – discreetly. The journalists would report as if they had picked up the story on international forums.

The story of a columnist sitting in a first world country influencing a mentally battered person in India to commit murder, was too good to pass up. It was national news within two days. Opinion pieces flew thick and fast, and TV debates soared. Everyone was unanimous in demanding criminal action against the columnist – wherever they may be physically located.

That is how someone in Delhi read about the case. A few phone calls later, someone from the Union ministry got involved. The ambassador of the first world country was called and “encouraged” to share the details of the website owners, as a “small gesture of goodwill.”

The Ambassador made some enquiries and realised, much to his relief, that the said columnist was of Indian origin. Promptly, the personal details of the columnist were passed on to the Indian government.

************************

“So, help me understand. This is your column?”

“Yes”

“You write this advice, and you did not know that you have advised someone to commit murder, with very specific steps?”

“For the last six months, I have not been the one writing that column. I use AutoChat – an AI driven LLM[4], to write out the answers. Earlier, I would check them. But they are so good that now I don’t even read. I just copy paste the answer from the chat window to the email and send. No one else knows this.”

Jim stared. If there was a word for being speechless, he needed it now.

“Your column answers are written by AutoChat?”

“Yes. I am a computer science graduate. I learnt prompt engineering and then invested in a professional generative AI product for writing. I give the prompts for style, etc. But now the engine pretty much knows my style based on user id, and is fairly automatic.”

“So, why are you here?”

“The thing is, if I am sued, I would like to sue the makers of AutoChat for releasing a public solution before it has been tested for safety. If their product is making a kill recommendation, it has obviously not been tested for safety, right?”

“As it turns out, madam, they have gone public with the information that the solution has biases and is not tested for safety.”

“I am a professional, paying user of AutoChat. The ‘service’ being offered by AutoChat AI Solution is writing. If the writing is not reliable or even safe, what am I paying for? Why is this a commercial product?

If any liability comes to me, that is directly attributable to the work product generated by a paid product, that liability has to be passed on to the creators of the product.”

“Madam, that is how it would work in the normal course of things. But in this case, the ‘service’ you have bought is flawed, and openly so. Therefore, you assume the risk. I am sorry, there is no legal case here. I could represent you if the website sued you for a subpar or potentially damaging work product. But we could not represent you on a case against Big Tech.”

A sly smile played on Bella’s lips. “What do you think will happen if I go public with the fact that this advice column was written by AutoChat? I have lost my job already. What’s to lose? It is one thing to say a product has not been tested fully for biases. Quite another to cause a death. Do you think enterprise customers would still pay for integrating AutoChat as the base LLM in their own enterprise chatbots? After all, how much editing oversight can an enterprise provide in its own chatbot? What if the solution recommends to a user that the only way to deal with an abusive boss is to kill them?”

Jim stared, for the second time, at the woman sitting in front of him. This time, his jaw openly dropped.

“Madam, I am a corporate lawyer. I have no expertise in this kind of case. Maybe you should speak to our criminal law team. I will have a partner sent out shortly, if you would just wait here for some time.”

And Jim exited that room as quickly as he could. Any partner in the criminal team, he knew, would be more than willing to be in that room. An actual case on criminal liability of AI! And theirs would be one of the first firms to handle it!

****************

Unfortunately, that didn’t go as planned. The deliberations fell flat. Big Tech refused to assume any liability. No settlement was offered.

But someone (possibly from the law firm, but who knows?) leaked to an online AI news website the details of the case. They reached out to Bella immediately, offering her some money to share her story with them.

In tears, Bella came on video and shared how she was one of the first adopters of new tech. She had become a paying customer of AutoChat as soon as a paid version was released. She told the story as is, blaming AutoChat for the murder and for her own loss of livelihood. “My only fault is that I trusted the solution.  A solution I was told to trust and a commercial solution that I was paying for. But this is not about me. This is about what the future of humanity will be if we allow this to go unchecked. I did not provide human oversight. But this AI solution will soon form the backbone of hundreds of chatbot solutions in corporate America and global corporations. What human oversight will they provide to each answer going out of the solution? Who is responsible if this AI solution tells an employee that the only way out of their predicament is suicide? Or murder? Or mass shooting? After my experience, that doesn’t sound so impossible, does it? Their solution for an abusive husband is murder. Can you imagine the impact of that on our American society? On American families?”

The response was immediate. And widespread. Corporate America shut down every single chatbot project that included this LLM solution. Other LLM solutions came under the scanner too. “What if?” became the national question.

Like the flu, it spread – first to Canada, then Europe, then South East Asia. Pretty soon, the lawyer who had offered no settlement to Bella did not look so smart to his employers any more.

*****************

The murder case ran on in India. Jatin placed the facts of the case again in front of the judge. The sessions court decided in a record time of four months. Swapna was given life imprisonment, but parole application could be allowed in due course.

Jatin convinced her that she should be out in two, at most three years. Swapna looked at him and smiled, “And go where, Jatin ji? Who is waiting for me outside? No house, no money, no family. This is my life now. I am happy.”

But it was not the prison sentence that made headlines. It was the quote in the judgement.

“We are possibly looking at the first crime attributable to the influence of AI. This should serve as a strict warning to all of us in general, but the architects of AI in particular. AI optimises outcomes in a rational, inhuman manner. What is to stop AI from recommending mass culling of humans in the event of a drought, famine, or, say, a global pandemic? That is the mathematically optimal solution, but is it the right one?”

**********************************

The US Congress invited the CEOs of the top four AI companies for a Congressional hearing.

The CEOs admitted that the product probably should not have been offered as a commercial solution just yet, but denied any deliberate wrongdoing. They maintained that they acted ‘to the best of their ability’ but were not in a position to provide any guarantees in the foreseeable future.

All commercial AI LLM solutions that provided chat output were immediately taken off the market.

Big Tech was not happy, of course. Every day without revenue is a loss-making day. More importantly, LLMs were, so far, free of any regulation. This Congressional hearing meant that future LLM AI solutions were likely to face some sort of standards requirement.

Brtdr.xyz received a legal notice.

Instead of trying to fight the Big Tech behemoth, they decided to shut shop.

Brtdr closed the website a month after receiving the legal notice. All employees were paid the highest severance the company could manage – the CEO personally saw to that. Thousands of users who were still loyal, wrote heartfelt posts about what the website had meant to them.

In her house, Bela Ravindran sat with a friend. Two cups of coffee were on the table, and there was silence.

“Say something, Bela. Anything. What comes to your mind first when you think of everything that’s happened? Is it your job loss? How will you earn again? What will your family think of you? That poor woman? What is it? Just tell me!”

“Only this, Sharada – Who, really, is responsible for that man’s death? His wife was under undue influence. I relied on a professional writing service. And the creators of that AI? Who, really?”

 


[1][1] Tantrik – Magic healer

[2] In Indian criminal law, Section 302 applies to murder.

[3] Whois entry tells us who owns a website, their address, etc.

[4] LLM – Large Language Model. These AI programs are fed on a vast amount of conversational data and are then used to create chatbots like ChatGPT and others.

Friday, 16 August 2024

Short Story: A Midsummer Dream

 “All right, sweetheart, see you at 5 then.”

“See you. Can’t wait!” Sushila hung up with practiced ease. Two boring hours, but money was money, and Jai Batra was not that hard to tolerate.  

*************

“See you at 5. Wear the red dress, please!” Archish spoke softly into the phone. Natasha blushed.

Archish was easy on the eyes and easier on the heart. He was empathic, attentive, and observant. He could make a woman feel like a queen – the most beautiful queen in the history of mankind. Sincerely.

He loved the good life and lived it. His detractors might say without doing anything, but only he knew the hard work it took.

The main reason he loved his work was not the money or the perks. It was the genuine happiness that he brought to people. People don’t realise how lonely, unwanted, and unappreciated we make people feel as they approach middle age. It is inhuman, almost. Every time he brought a smile to a face, every time he saw a face light up in response to a compliment, he felt great about himself.

The money was easy in the sense that he did not have to break stones or code for twelve hours to get it. But it was hard because usually, in the first two months, his clients only complained. Only slowly, after repeated compliments and many dates, did the sweet side of their personality come out. Absorbing all that negativity day after day with a smile is not an easy job – ask anyone.

Archish was a professional gigolo. He met middle-aged ladies and dated – a few at a time. They plied him with gifts and cash, and provided the good life – the luxury spas, the 5-star hotel stays, the business class holidays – all paid and provided for.

At this time, one of the people he was seeing was Natasha Batra – the wife of Jai Batra – one of the best-known business tycoons in the city. Jai also doubled up as a sugar daddy. Natasha didn’t have the details, but in her mind, blowing up his money on a similar service was the perfect definition of sweet vendetta.

Who was Archish to complain? He was more than happy to be the chosen one. Now, all he had to do was ensure that she did not feel lonesome enough to take on another ‘partner’. So, he spent a lot of time with her.

********************

“Hello!” Jai Batra grinned salaciously as he entered the apartment. Sushila groaned inwardly, ‘At least keep five minutes for the prelude, dude!’ she thought, but then realised that his prelude had started as soon as he’d put the phone down. Anyway, he was a direct to action kind of guy.

So, they did just that.

Afterwards, she heard his stories of accomplishments .. yet again. How important he was, how many meetings he had to cancel to be here with her, how idiotic his team members were, how dumb the rest of the world was, how stupid and incompetent his wife was, how unattractive, how he had resisted advances from two women this week… she patiently bore it all.

When he was done, he left the cash on the table, at the usual place, and arranged for a day to meet the following week. She looked at her calendar and blocked the time. They kissed and he left.

Sushila showered again and then got back to her books.

Her Master’s was due to end next year. Then, she could look at a placement and leave Jai Batra behind.

How suave, accomplished, and smart he had first appeared when she met him a year ago. How star-struck she had been! And how flattered when he paid romantic attention to her – only her – out of the entire class. He was a speaker at an event in her college. He had singled her out and asked for her LinkedIn profile. Then, slowly, they had moved from LinkedIn to Instagram and Instagram to Whatsapp chats, Whatsapp chats to coffee dates, coffee dates to…

He had asked playfully about her boyfriend initially. When he realised that she was focused on completing her Master’s and not boys, he had been delighted. He insisted on paying all her bills – rent, conveyance, everything except tuition fee, so her parents didn’t get suspicious.

Sushila didn’t even realise when he went from being mentor to being sugar daddy. They never used that word, but they both knew what was happening here. She had considered dumping him, but she was too invested. That, and there was complete discretion. He would never breathe a word, nor would she.

A few months ago, she had realised that she was a part of a group list. At first, she was shocked. How did such a busy man find time to sleep with more than one woman? But now, she just smiled at the idea. His life, his problem.

************************

And this is how it would have continued if fate greed hadn’t intervened.

Jai and Natasha Batra were happy in their alternate universes. They both had partners who were young and attentive. They were using money as the currency of love. It was all working out.

The key to such an arrangement is mutual ignorance or mutual tolerance. So, this state of equilibrium remained while mutual ignorance was in place.

One day, the equilibrium broke.

**********************

“The &^*^! She is seeing someone behind my back, and using MY credit card to pay for it too! How disgusting can she get!” Jai Batra spat out the words with the right mix of venom and anger.

Sushila found it hard to stifle a giggle. The irony of this man complaining to her was too unmistakable to ignore. However, she stroked his shoulder in a placatory gesture.

“Can you imagine! 2 lakhs for a holiday! I thought what is she doing with 2 lakhs for one weekend? I used to feel guilty and give her all these indulgences. I never looked at the bills at all! One random bill I noticed – spa booking for two! Which +1 did she have with her 500 kms from home? Now it all makes sense. All this while, God knows how long, the %^*(( has been blowing my money on some toy boy!”

 Sushila remained silent. It was becoming harder and harder to keep a straight face. The stroking on the shoulder continued. Boy! This was going to be a long two hours.

Finally, he got down to it. Afterwards, as they were sipping their coffee, he suddenly leapt up from his chair and looked straight at her, “Sushi, I need your help. Will you help me?”

Sushi didn’t like the sound of this. But she could not possibly deny help to the guy who had done so much for her. “Of course! What is it?”

“I want you to befriend my wife. Get her trust. Then, get her to confess to this boyfriend of hers. Record that statement. Once I have that audio, I will take her to court and leave her a pauper. If I file for divorce now, she will take half my stuff. I haven’t worked so hard to share it with that %^&%$.”

Sushila stared at him, “Are you planning to divorce her?”

“What else can I do? She cheated on me!”

Sushila continued to stare.

“This is different. You and I. We love each other. Who will fall in love with that old, fat hag?”

Sushila looked at this ageing, middle aged man who kept himself ‘fit’ and mistook that for ‘attractive’. She didn’t know whether to loathe or pity this person. Both, probably.

“Why don’t you hire a PI to do this for you? There are plenty available.”

He shook his head, “No sweetheart, can’t take that risk. I am too prominent a public figure to have a PI looking into my family affairs. It has to be someone I trust. You are the only one.”

Sushila smiled again. She knew that the same request would be made to at least a few other women this week, and for her sake, she hoped that one of them would agree.

But Jai Batra either did not make that offer to anyone else, or no one signed up. Sushi would never know. All she experienced was that he wouldn’t give up. Every time they met, he kept pestering her to agree. Finally, she had to say yes. More to get him off her back than anything else. She considered breaking up with him, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. The human heart is a mysterious muscle.

************

Three months later, the human heart was a lot less mysterious.

“Jai, I cannot do it. Your wife is a tough nut to crack. I have been at it just like you said. I have done everything you asked me to do. I have missed important classes to help you. And it has not worked out. Sorry, Jai, I can’t keep trying any more. It’s too much stress. My studies come first, and they are hurting – a LOT!”

“Please sweetheart, it’s only a few more days. I know her. She is simply bursting to tell someone how lucky she is to have met this wonderful guy.”

“Well, she is not bursting to tell me, and I am busted, trying to find out!”

Jai shut up. They really had tried everything. Sushila had befriended Natasha at the salon, pretended to have similar hobbies, and had spent a lot of time in the last few months. She had gone drinking, played spin the bottle, and showed her pictures of her own supposed “friends with benefits.” But Natasha had been nothing but a warm, older friend and mentor. She had never mentioned her own bad marriage, much less an affair.

Suddenly, his face lit up again, “Ok, let’s try one last thing. If this does not work out within two weeks, I swear, Sushi, I will never involve you in this thing again. We should have thought of this before!”

Sushila shook her head, “No, Jai, Enough is…”

“Please, Sushi, I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. Without this, I will lose more than half my money! Access to my kids! Please, Sushi… if I have to have a chance in my divorce, even a fighting chance, I need this! Please!”

Sushi was too tired to go on resisting. Jai Batra was used to having his own way anyway. “Tell me,” she whispered with as much disinterest as she could muster.

“Why don’t you befriend the guy? The boyfriend? Then try to get to his mobile phone when he is in the loo or something, and get a screenshot of his chats or photos with Natasha. That will be something!”

“Are you insane? Do you know that the picture of a screenshot means nothing? Also, I am not a PI. That man is a professional gigolo, according to you. Why would a gigolo waste his time on a student with no money to spend?”

“Because even the gigolo has desires! Look at you! You are perfect! Which man would not want to spend a coffee date just gazing into your eyes?”

Once again, Sushila was fatigued out of resistance.

Chapter Two was about to begin.

***********************

Chapter Two

“Really, what’s a smart girl like you doing with a dumbass like me?” Archish flashed his signature smile – always full of charm and meant to disarm.

“Feasting her eyes,” Sushila said truthfully.

“I am eye candy, yes. To many people.” Archish said quietly.

“I am sorry.”

“No, don’t be. At least you were honest.”

“Look, if you want to go back or something…”

“No, no, its good to be here. You’re good fun to talk to.”

“OK then..”

And that is how the first Tinder[1] date was working out.

*************

It took only a few weeks for the magic to work.

It was fully filmi[2]. They tried their best to not be attracted to each other, but they were. They just couldn’t help it.

They moved in together[3] in less than eight weeks. Archish was upfront with Sushila about what he did for a living. She hadn’t yet come clean about why she chose him on Tinder, but did confess that she was seeing someone older and married before they met.

He cooked while she studied. He went out to work while she attended classes. They cuddled and slept.

Jai Batra was thrilled when he heard that Archish had moved in with her. This was going to be perfect. Now, it would only be a matter of time before he got his recording.

****************

Sushila was conflicted. She knew how much she owed Jai and what this recording would mean to him. But she was also sure that she loved Archish and did not want to deceive or cheat him. Honestly, she simply could not continue to even lie to this man, who had given her nothing but honesty, love, and solicitude.

Solicitude – what a wonderful word. Add “I See”, and solitude becomes solicitude.  What a difference it makes, when we see, really see, those around us and what they are going through.

 

She didn’t know how serious he was about her. Was it time to have ‘the chat’? Would she lose him forever? Only one way to find out.

Sushila steeled herself as best as she could. Terrible situation to be in – not even a bestie could be trusted with this dilemma. How did she get in this situation in the first place? What was she thinking, volunteering to spy?

Archish walked in as usual. He washed up and hugged Sushila. The smile that came back to him was not radiant. It was washed out.

“Tired?” he asked. 

“No. Not really.”

He came and sat next to her. Taking her legs, he started massaging them gently. Neither said anything for a while. He changed the TV to a stand-up comedy show. They laughed at a few dumb jokes. After a few minutes, he looked her in the eyes and asked, “So, what’s eating my darling?”

She was not ready for so much love!

Hesitatingly, she spilled it all out. Why she matched him on Tinder, why she needed to give a recording to Jai Batra, and how she wanted commitment from him, even if he was not in a position to give it.

“But I am in a position to give that commitment! I want to marry you, baby! There is no doubt at all!”

Sushila was startled. Out of the whole thing, THIS is what he focuses on? She was too dumbfounded to do anything but stare at him.

He laughed. Again, that easy, charming laughter.

“My sweetie pie, did you really think I wouldn’t know? What did you think I was doing with you?

But before we get there, I have to complete what I started saying. Sushila, you are the love of my life. If you can accept me for what I do, great. If not, you will have to support me after your graduation, while I start to make enough money. We can get married tomorrow, if you’ll have me. And if you want to wait until I can pay for myself, I am up for that test, too, my love…”

Sushila quickly silenced him with a kiss and a nod that said “Yes.” This was not what she had in mind. This was too quick. But it was right. In her bones, she knew this was right. This was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

In a while, Archish continued, “Natasha Batra told me to find out who her husband was sleeping with. I just did a little footwork and found you. I care for Natasha. Jai Batra has not treated her well at all.

And then, I found you on Tinder too! I thought that was a coincidence, but a few dates confirmed that it wasn’t. You were spying on me, and I was spying on you.”

“Why did Natasha want you to spy on me?”

“Oh, her motives were far more personal. She was jealous. The irony of sending your boyfriend to find out about the mistress of your husband was lost on her. But I did want to give her the details that she wanted. However, as I got to know you better, I realised that we were.. oddly placed. We were four people in a ratio proportion statement. A was to B as C was to D.

Then, one day, she did the most incredible thing. She asked me to get evidence of the cheating. So that she could file for divorce. I was willing to put a face to the name for her. I wasn’t about to become a PI[4]. That’s where Natasha and I broke up.”

Here, Archish paused.

“So, in short, Jai Batra wants to get evidence of his wife’s cheating so that he can cheat her out of a fair alimony. Natasha Batra wants evidence of her husband’s cheating so that she can claim that alimony and file for divorce. You and I love each other and want to marry. Where does that leave us?”

“I think.. in a very good place.” Archish said mysteriously.

*******************

The milking started slowly. Sushila kept asking for expenses. Archish was a gigolo, after all, and it can’t be easy to keep one. Jai Batra paid up. Sushila’s living expenses also went up. Jai’s meetings with her were a thing of the past. So, now, he was paying for her living expenses, for Archish’s living expenses, and getting a test of patience in return.

 

Archish contacted Natasha. At first, she avoided his calls. When they finally met, she said, “Archish, I don’t want to leave him. I want restitution of conjugal rights. For that, it is important that we don’t meet again.”

“But, why?”

“I have two reasons in flesh and blood – my children - and one in the heart. That’s all there is to it.”

“But… he is not with you. Whether you divorce him or not, he is not with you.”

“But I am with him. That’s the important thing. I can’t be untrue to myself. The time with you was perfect. After a long time, I felt like a living, breathing woman again. But when it came right down to it, I realised I didn’t want to file for divorce. I didn’t want his money. I want him.”

“You are a strange one!”

“Yes, I am.” Natasha smiled.

****************

“What do we tell Jai?” a concerned Sushila asked Archish.

“Nothing. We tell him nothing. He will anyway find out if Natasha files a case for restitution. He is a very important man who can buy everything from prestige to love. Let him savour his money.”

“But he is on my case[5], and getting restless by the day.”

“You know why he is getting restless? Because he is helpless. Tomorrow, if you say you have no proof, he can’t do a thing.”

“In that case, Archish, let’s put an end to this charade.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

Sushila nodded, then asked, “Tell me something. There are four of us in this chain. None of us is doing the morally right thing. But your disdain is reserved for Jai Batra. Why only him?”

Archish was silent for a minute before responding, “Where does this chain start, Sush? It starts with Jai Batra thinking he is Adonis, just because he has money and power. Jai Batra seduces or buys Sushila. Natasha, to avenge the insult, buys Archish. And suddenly, four people are doing the wrong thing. But that’s also not where my anger comes from. It comes from the state in which I have seen the wives of these powerful men. That depression, that feeling of being worthless that comes from being discarded. And why does the discard happen? Because the man is powerful and rich. So, he buys people. This dehumanising – of his own wife, and the women he seduces with power – what does that dehumanising deserve, if not disdain? I am too powerless to do anything more than this disdain.” He shrugged.  

Sushila kissed him on the forehead.

***************************

“I’m sorry, Jai, I cannot go on doing this. Neither Archish nor Natasha have shared anything. Are you sure this is not a figment of your imagination? You have ONE spa bill as your proof? What if she was wrongly charged and didn’t realise it?”

“You are right, Sushi! It must have been a mistake. She is totally into me and the kids. So sorry to have put you through this. Let’s forget all this, push that Archish out of your house, and go back to being together. I miss you so much!”

Sushila stared at the man. She was speechless.

“Sorry, Jai, we are not going back to anything. My exams are due in less than a month and I need to focus.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” Jai was incredulous.

Sushila felt like laughing in his face but maintained a stoic silence.

“Are you? Really? B%^&? After everything I have done for you?” Jai grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Let me go, Jai. You are hurting me.” Sushila still maintained her calm.

Jai let her go with a rough thud. Sushila got up and straightened her clothes. Without a word, she left the room.

********** 

Chapter Three

Six months later…

“Archish, you are such a sweetheart! This is the perfect day! I never thought I would be so happy on my wedding day. But I am!”

Archish smiled indulgently. What a change from his earlier, luxury-imbued life this was. An Arya Samaj temple[6] in the city. Ten guests, making up the grand wedding party. Thankfully, four out of these ten were beaming parents.

The bride, dressed in a simple red saree, the groom in a dhoti-kurta[7].

The lunch after the simple ceremony was a langar – a community feast where everyone sits on the floor. The food was organised by the temple.

Guests received hand-painted vases – made by the bride’s mother, as return gifts. 

The sari Sushila was wearing was a gift from her mother-in-law.

After the wedding ceremony, the bride and the groom returned to the small one-bedroom apartment that they had rented after Sushila completed her studies and got a job. Archish lived with her and had been applying for sales positions. He was due to start at a small firm next week.

 

 


 

 



[1] Tinder is an app that allows people to look for potential partners.

[2] Indianism for – Just like in the movies.

[3] Started sharing a house

[4] Private investigator

[5] Being on someone’s case means to follow up with them on something again and again.

[6] An Arya Samaj temple performs Hindu prayers in the Vedic methodology – through yagnas – offerings to the Fire. No deities are worshipped and no ornate rituals are observed.

[7] Saree is the Indian dress for women, while dhoti-kurta is the Indian dress for men.