It was a heavy monsoon day and the city was flooded. Even though it was only 4 in the afternoon, the sky was gloomy, and the low chassis buses skimmed through knee deep water. Not many people in the bus today, as I boarded. I headed for a popular, crowded dosa-idli joint in South Ex and waited for my anonymous friend to arrive. I tried my best to be comfortable, with my shirt and trousers hanging on me, wet with the heavy shower.
A tall, heavyset young man wandered towards me, his clean shaven face honest and smiling, his hand extended. “Zubin”, he said, introducing himself. I said my most improbable name, and he laughed.
His story...
He had loving parents, and both were busy working, until he became depressed. He could not take the pressure of studies in the elite MBA school. In the second year he cracked up. They brought him back and put him in an institution. Matter of factly, he narrated the many times his parents put him away in the institution. He said this quietly, without judgment or remorse or any expression of anger towards his parents. He seemed okay with that or he was not telling. His hands were trembling and shaking without any relief. He was many times what I had imagined to have been his pre-meds size.
He talked mildly about being sexually abused in a popular lock up facility in Mumbai. His voice fell and he went still. His eyes were downcast. His shoulders stooped. But his voice was non judgmental.
He talked about friends inside the also popular lock up facility in New Delhi: One of them was a writer. Her brother had migrated to the US, and had incarcerated both his mom and his sister. Zubin was sad about this and wanted to do something. He had checked with lawyers. They said to file habeas corpus. He didn’t know if his parents would allow that. Another one was there because his family could not take his spiritual pursuits. This other man was about 55 years of age, and Zubin felt that was the correct age for thinking about God. However that man’s family had disinherited him and put him away.
Zubin needed to talk to someone about this. So that's why we met. Story over, he got up to leave.
Sadly, I watched Zubin walk away. Never heard from him after that. He didn’t respond to my emails. Hope he is okay.
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