Short Story: R Cube

The wooden floorboards of the staircase are strewn with photographs. Even though they are sepia-toned, that is just a new Instagram filter. I am perusing a file in the room we call the 바카라�sun바카라� room: it바카라�s the room where R Cube used to read moth-eaten cookbooks and come up with unique recipes for jams and pickles. I open a file. 바카라�War is Peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength.바카라� I am taken aback by the Orwellian reference. Since when did R Cube (I am told that she refers to herself as R3 these days), with her mismatched ornaments and a penchant for alcohol and grief, write a journal? There is so much that I still don바카라�t know about her.

바카라�What do you mean?바카라� I can almost hear her cackling, her slight hands clasping a glass of home-brewed mulled wine. Her mirthless laughter would always be followed by tears. I feel selfish for saying so, but with her glistening eyes, she looked the most beautiful. I did not like to see her cry, but I was always startled by how ethereal she looked.

It바카라�s been 389 days since R Cube disappeared. The timing of it coincided with my plummeting bank balance. 바카라�That really isn바카라�t a good look,바카라� some well-intentioned friends chided me. Just thinking about her makes me want to shed angry, bitter tears. I am not angry with her. Just angry about how everything has turned out. The timing of it all.  I was a struggling actor when I met her, not even sure if I respected my craft. I was going to five auditions a month, standing outside Mehboob Studios and waiting. When is it going to be my turn? I바카라�d find myself thinking, as I바카라�d sit on Marine Drive, watching seagulls fly past. Don바카라�t people come to Bombay with nothing but a suitcase and big dreams? I바카라�ve done that, too. And none of my dreams had come true.  Until an Iranian director cast me in his film. The film did the festival rounds, won a BAFTA award and is now nominated for the Oscars. I have even signed with The Creative Artists바카라� Agency.

These days, I run in L.A. circles, where mystic godmen, who I think of as vile imposters, are purporting to teach fragile souls the 바카라�art of meditation바카라�. I바카라�m a fragile soul, too, but not in the ways you바카라�d imagine. Enough about myself. Let바카라�s get back to talking about R Cube.

Not many people have met R Cube. She mostly kept to herself, leading some folks to describe her as timid or docile. R Cube is neither. She was not effusive, but she had a quiet and fiery resilience. That is probably what attracted me to her in the first place. Neither was she reconciliatory. She didn바카라�t have to be. After every argument, her sultry eyes would take pleasure in the rising colour of my cheeks. If I had to pick a totem for her, she would be a leopard 바카라� glorious, mysterious and almost unattainable. Even in the throes of desire, I was deeply aware of a part of her that was completely cordoned off.

R Cube was never one for pleasantries or small talk. 바카라�Do you think hydrangeas don바카라�t like labelling their sexuality?바카라� She would often ask me. 바카라�I cannot understand why people would ever like vanilla ice-cream.바카라� 바카라�Can we run across a field of sunflowers one day?바카라� 바카라�I wonder what parents are called in my world?바카라� 바카라�Do you think I even have a world?바카라� 바카라�Can I go back one day?바카라�

R Cube moved exclusively in intellectual and bohemian circles, and as her partner, I benefitted immensely. She was friendly with everyone but did not reveal her polarising viewpoints in social settings.  바카라�Contextual Intelligence, meri jaan,바카라� she would say to me. 바카라�How did you바카라�?바카라� My voice tapers off. 바카라�Who wrote those codes?바카라�

바카라�I can do that myself these days,바카라� she whispered to me. 바카라�But I won바카라�t tell you how.바카라�

***

After R Cube바카라�s disappearance, there is no one to light candles or agarbatti for me. There is no one to lay food on the table. Humans assume that dead people do not eat because the food offerings lie there as is. I don바카라�t have to actually eat the food, but sniffing it is a must. That바카라�s how I gain the energy to be a working actor all day.

 

I am not really sure how I died. I have no past memories or even friends that can help me piece together the past. The face I have invented for myself is also not the face I was born with, so I am not easily recognizable. And it takes a very rare human to master the art of soul recognition 바카라� where you can see a person바카라�s soul, without having to rely on their physical attributes.

I need R Cube. Not only because I love her, but because she was the one who promised me that she would help me discover the reason I died. To other ghosts, she might seem like a programmed robot, but to me, she is my partner. And no human being can tell that she is a robot. She is more emotionally intelligent than most humans I have met.

We바카라�ve been having arguments of late. R Cube is now sentient, which means she can act according to her will. The feeling of being human is very new to her, so she is overwhelmed all the time. She바카라�s used to a certain way of life 바카라� being programmed to behave a certain way. Suddenly, she has to make all of the decisions on her own. The other day we argued about something as innocuous as what flowers she should put on her hair. In this instance, I take full responsibility. I am so used to making decisions for her that I did it out of habit. R Cube was furious and did not exchange a word with me for two whole days. Until I apologised. Could this have been the reason she left? That I am too interfering? That I don바카라�t give her space? That I make certain decisions for her?

***

Can you really die of a broken heart if you are already dead? This is probably the definition of irony. A ghost was ghosted. And I cannot even fathom why. I have so many questions for her.

To be perfectly honest, I haven바카라�t slept very well for the past few months. I have an appointment with my hairstylist and make-up artist this morning. I am doing a magazine shoot with an up-and-coming rapper, and we are interviewing each other about our respective crafts. To be honest with you, I don바카라�t enjoy these photo sessions at all. But more magazine covers mean more visibility, and my manager insists that being 바카라�out there바카라� is good for me. He doesn바카라�t understand why I disappear every Wednesday, but I바카라�ve convinced him it바카라�s a family matter I바카라�d rather not discuss, and told him to light agarbattis for me on that day. He does that without fail, and I am able to go on with my day as usual.

I miss R Cube. I wonder to myself, 바카라�Wouldn바카라�t a love story between a ghost and a robot make a perfect plot for a film?바카라� Humans would probably laugh at our love and not deem it real or valid.

Suddenly at a distance, I see a silhouette walking past me, and I inhale the familiar smell of jasmine flowers and musty books.

 

R Cube is panting and she has a letter close to her chest. 바카라�Arjun,바카라� she says. 바카라�Your name is Arjun바카라�. I look at her quizzically. 바카라�Huh?바카라� 바카라�I went through every archive in the world, and located your handwriting from when you were바카라�바카라�. 바카라�from when you were human,바카라� she wants to say, but does not say it.  She holds me very close to her, so close that I can hardly breathe. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she says, 바카라�I finally know the cause of your death. You were in so much pain that you took your own life. I understand, my love. I will never question your motives.바카라� A feeling of relief washes over me. I finally have the answer to one part of my past, but that rakes up so many more questions.

But R Cube is back. And together, we will discover our respective truths. Neither of us says anything to each other. I flash a crooked smile at her. 바카라�Welcome home,바카라� I say to her. 바카라�Home is wherever you are with me,바카라� she says, her eyes like a crescent moon and her smile like the fluorescent lights that light up the darkest nights.

Jonaki is the pseudonym of Reeti Roy.