Story #5. It's Just Skin.

"Just what do you have in mind!" I demanded in irritation.

"Yaar, Pranav, don't get upset, please. I need your help. I can't… I can't face her. God, after her call from the clinic, I don't have it in me," Rajesh pleaded, tinny and pathetic over the line.

I tried to knead away the headache, my brow burning. It was 10 o’clock, Saturday morning, in the office beginning to bustle with the activity of a fresh new day.

I had been nursing my frozen shoulder, cursing the overheated laptop that let up finally after an all-night effort to finish the critical market report. My eyes burned with strain. I could smell my unwashed mouth, dry with too many cigarettes the night before. And I was fretting over the presentation due to start in an hour.

That was when my cell phone shuddered in its vibration mode.

Rajesh started an obscure lament about society and disability and what not; I was not paying attention to him. In fact, I was turning over in my sleepy mind my wife's cold silence over the phone last evening. I had desperately tried to explain why I couldn't make it to our anniversary dinner. That was when he caught my attention with Sheela’s name, and I realized something was wrong.

With a loud sigh, I tried to marshal my emotions.

"Rajesh, I understand you’re worried, man. But talk to Sheela first. I mean, it's not life threatening, right? Bloody hell, it’s just her skin! Why, the doctor’s assured her that things will be fine with her. You’re just hyper reacting, yaar."

"But what about future? What about our offspring?" his thin wail sailed over the line.

In a mind clear and bold in financial planning, he hid a vein of deep self-centredness. I should know, as his close, discerning friend over decades. I learned to work around it, after initial missteps.

But ever since he fell in love with Sheela, our one sensible common friend from college, he had seemed different. In her company, he relaxed more, gave freely, shared willingly. It was curious to watch the change in him, but I had felt glad for him, in private.

"C’mon, Rajesh. There’s no guarantee it will pass on to your children. We can ensure preventive treatment, just in case.”

The selfish streak that had lain dormant for years broke out in a rabid rash now. All it took was for Sheela to discover to her alarm a few white patches on her cheek that appeared out of nowhere. She had actually called me to ask if I knew any skin specialists.

But, with Rajesh, a simple extension of commitment was what it needed to rear its ugly head.

"No, Pranav. Out of the question. I can’t take chances like that," he said, surprising me.

"My family won't agree with this, yaar. I can't take it myself," he offered in a low tone.

I was incensed. "Family? You wretch! I thought you loved her. All the romance since college, what was that about?"

"I know, I know. But I never knew this… this thing would develop in her." He was agonizing, like a child.

“Are you telling me the only thing that mattered to you was a body without blemish?”

My sarcastic hiss silenced him for a few seconds. I pictured Sheela’s endearing beauty, and felt guilty immediately.

He resumed with a surprising calm, in a hardened voice. A line had been crossed somewhere.

"You know better than that. But I have limits to my compassion, friend. At least I have to think of my offspring, for my family's sake. You know, love is all good, but you need social acceptance."

I could see that coming. His father was an affluent financier well known in the city, more successful in the family trade than his forefathers. He was infamous for his compulsive religious orthodoxy. Rajesh often complained while in college over the time he lost in attending the elaborate family prayers in the estate shrine every morning. He used to say there was more ritual than faith.

“What social acceptance? This involves just you and Sheela, and she needs your support now. Are you saying you won’t accept her now because of a sudden loss of pigment?” I rallied.

“It’s not simple as that, all things considered. It’s … it’s embarrassing. Society won’t accept her with white patches and all. I know how particular my family is about religious beliefs. They will deem it a portent, a symbol of some sin or sacrilege in her previous life. We’re calling for misery. Why, remember how we used to taunt that poor tailor’s son in school? Those horrible jokes about the father of Pandavas, you know?”

“But Rajesh, it was wrong, we were wrong. We were kids and knew no better. And our society’s blind sometimes. You can’t rationalize superstition. There’s not a shred of logic in public acceptability. Listen, man, people stigmatize in ignorance-”

“Ha, you’re forgetting this is India, my good sir. It doesn’t matter what you believe personally. In fact pox on you if you harbour anything different. It’s all about conformity. My father grudged me my clean shave for years. You know how he dotes on a moustache, going on about how a real man should grow it thick and twirl it at the ends. I gave up and grew one. So much trauma over a stupid strip of facial hair! I’ve learnt independent thinking is all fine, but within limits. You outgrow it when you’re an adult. At any rate, my family won’t accept a physically unfit daughter-in-law, especially one who could pass something untoward to their heirs.”

He was grumbling with a blend of hate and helplessness. It felt like he was reveling in an insular logic.

“Sheela is what - just a child bearer to you? Next you’ll be telling me, you actually doubt if she will bear you boys, thanks to her vitiligo!”

He was silent for a few seconds.

“Pranav. What matters to me most is my family. Is it wrong to respect its legacy? You may not like it, but that’s what’s made me. That’s who I am. And do you think the decision is easy for me to make?”

I snorted bitterly.

"Oh, is this the same legacy you told me about? How much, did you say… three hundred million in silver? You’ve made your choice then? Between this LEGACY and your love!"

Later, I felt he had held back his venom at this outburst. But I was plodding on.

"All right. So you leave her for this legacy. Let’s say your parents find you another girl, and all’s well with the world, eh? Life’s not a zero-sum game, yaar. What if your parents’ choice develops a disability herself? What then? Your family’s willing to live with that? You are trying to escape from fate, Rajesh."

Quiet. The distance between us was growing every second.

“What if she bears girls, one after the other? What would happen to her? And your family with its dreams of boys and heirs, what would they do then?”

What he shot back next will remain with me a long time.

“In this country, girls make their own destiny.”

I couldn’t speak.

“Pranav, I am an only son. I owe it to them. And I know about zero-sum games. Just call it cutting losses. It’s social blight for anyone with disabilities. And I cannot partake in it,” he said quietly.

“You are unbelievable, Rajesh,” I recovered a little.

He sighed, irritated, “Yaar, this society decides our manhood. What’s new? I can’t justify my duty to anyone. It just is. In spite of myself.”

“Then do it, for God’s sake. Why tell me?!”

"I... I need your help."

"What? I thought you got all the help you need from your FAMILY!"

I knew that must have stung, but I was past caring. He ignored the barb and continued.

"I called her back, after her call. She was coming over to see me. I told her no, I'm meeting you in the next half-hour for lunch, so she might as well come to your office. She was happy, said something about friends being the best people to share troubles with. In fact, she should be there any time now."

There was a catch in his voice that my senses tingled at.

"What are you telling me, man?"

"I’m not coming. Tell her for me."

"Look, man. She loves you." That was more the truth, it was clear now. It was the last shot in spite of the heavy air of finality between us. It was a plea.

Click.

I sat shocked, cradling the receiver. The phone on my desk buzzed. The number blinking on it showed it was the front office calling.

Sheela must be here already, with her innocent smile.

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

Vitiligo - a specific type of leukoderma, depigmentation of epidermis. Common sign is white patches over face, neck, hands etc.