Here's a simple principle about life I've cracked from experience – life is a stack of dominos arranged in a perfect circle, and situations are the pieces of dominos; when one falls, somehow everything falls. Life believes in unleashing its potential at once, without taking a break, I believe; when it's time for something bad to happen, everything that happens to us is bad, and it happens the other way round, too. The bad-times in Mumbai had officially begun for me, and every little thing that happened tumbled down towards the downside of life; I felt that even if I touched glass, it would shatter; or if I touched water, it would freeze.

'Hey. I've reached home :)', I dropped a message for Darshan on WhatsApp, while I stood at the doorstep of our apartment, once I knocked twice on the wooden door. Vaish unlocked the main-door open and looked at me worriedly, dragging the door behind. Standing still to my ground, I studied the tensed expression on Vaish's face, until she wrapped her hand around my wrist, tugging me inside and banged the main-door shut. As I struggled to shove my iPhone inside my handbag, I looked around at the living room, which was turned upside down; cushions were thrown on the floor, shattered pieces of a flower vase were scattered all over and the coffee table was way out of its usual spot. Something had happened, for sure. On the couch, the first-aid box was kept open and wrappers of Band-Aids piled up beside the box.

"Vaish, what happened?", I questioned in a grave tone, and rescanned the whole living room, which looked no less than a war-zone. "Vaish, I'm talking to you!", I raised my voice, when Vaish remained silent for too long. Nervously, Vaish took a sharp breath in and cracked her knuckles. "The—", she paused and exhaled loudly, before looking at me. "There's a boy on this floor...Jasprit...he lives in the flat that's in the corner of the corridor; the Punjabi family, you know them, right?", Vaish fumbled, without getting to the point. "What about him?", I prompted, and Vaish took yet another eternity to answer. "After returning from the movie, Nash and I went to the post-office, Chanch was at home. I think Jasprit was keeping an eye on the apartment, or something, but once we left, he entered the apartment and tried to...he tried to harm, Chanch", Vaish revealed the truth, and within nanoseconds, anger gushed through my veins. "He tried kissing her, and touching her...when she cried and scream loud enough, he left the apartment", Vaish completed and I clenched my hands into tightly balled fists. "Where's Chanch?", I tried hard to force calmness in my voice and Vaish pointed at the bedroom.

Chanch nailed herself against the wall, hugged her knees to her chest and sobbed in silence, shaking hard. Her arms were scratched and filled with bright red bruises; the sight simply added more ghee to the fire that blazed within me. "Chanch, stop crying", Nash comforted and stroked her hair, but Chanch shook Nash's hand off. "We should call the cops", I stated and Chanch's head jerked up, revealing her badly bruised face. One side of her cheek was swollen and red, as though that bastard slapped her hard. "No, Dityaa!", Chanch exclaimed in a cry. "If the Police are involved, my parents will somehow find out. They won't let me stay in Mumbai and complete my studies if they find out about this", Chanch explained. "But that doesn't mean you'll let him get away with this, Chanch! See, we need to approach the Police, without thinking about what's going to happen next. If your parents find out, we'll handle them. We'll explain that this wasn't your fault", I tried convincing her. "Of course they'll understand that it is not my fault, but they still won't let me stay. Dityaa, no means no!", Chanch imposed her decision on me and it angered me. "Chuck it, Dityaa. Nash and I tried talking to her to reach out for help, but she's not listening", Vaish sighed. "But you shouldn't spare him!", I stressed on my point. "What can we do? Even if we complain to the Police, what's the most that's going to happen? He'll put the blame on me and he'll keep walking. Nothing will change for him and I will lose my life. Why don't you understand, Dityaa? There's nothing we can do. Just let him go", Chanch snapped, angrily, as long streams of tears flowed out of her eyes, and I couldn't argue with her because it was her decision and I had to find a way to make peace with it. She had a valid reason; even the most 'advanced' era, victims suffered ten folds more than the abusers. Her choice to scream would cost her dreams and freedom, and lead her to entrapment and judgments, even when she wasn't at fault; that was the society we lived in. The solution to the problems female victims face is to simply cage the victims with the four-walls of their houses or marry them off to someone, stupidly believing that it would lessen the burden in their hearts and cease the pain they're going through.

"Did he slap you?", I interrogated, and slowly, Chanch answered with a nod of her head. "Slap him back", I ordered and Chanch gawked at me, without moving a muscle. "Listen, this is the least you could do for yourself, Chanchal. I understand why you cannot reach out to the police, and that's valid; I'm not going to force you to file a complaint. But you'll have to answer him back. Chanch my dad is an army-officer and he always says, 'When our enemy attacks us, we attack them back because it instills fear in them and it silences them. That's why it is important for you to fight back when something wrong happens; silence is good, but sometimes, it instigates people to cross the line'. If something does not satisfy you.... learn to give back what you get, Chanchal", I told her. "She's right. Your silence will encourage him to come back to you, or ruin another girl's life", Nash backed me up. "ChanChan, answer him. Do this for yourself. Do this because you respect yourself. Do this for your dignity and your peace of mind", Vaish encouraged.

♥

The four of us ganged up in front of Jasprit Singh's flat; Chanch stood right in front of the door and the three of us circled her. Vaish loudly banged the main-door, until it shook for a brief moment. "Shut your eyes and slap him; don't worry about anything, we'll handle it", Nash softly whispered into Chanch's ear. "And if you don't slap him, I will, Chanch. If you slap him, the fight will finish with one slap. But if I lay my hands on him, I'll make sure he lands in the ICU...I have a black-belt in karate, think about it, Chanch", I warned. "Can all of you shut up? Stop scaring me", Chanch hissed, when the main-door swung open and an old-lady with a walking stick staggered her way out of the apartment. Blankly, she stared at us, expecting us to say something. "Is Jasprit in?", Vaish politely questioned, and cracked her knuckles. The old-lady took an eternity to turn around and in a quivering voice, she scream, "JASSI". Minutes later, a lean and tall boy with a turban wrapped around his head walked out, while he busily fidgeted with his phone. "Yes, Dadi?", he absently questioned, with his eyes still glued to his iPhone screen. "These girls came looking for you", the second the words left his Grandma's mouth, his head snapped up and his eyes gawked at us in terror. I crossed my arms against my chest and clenched my hands into balled fists, because I was certain that I would hit him, or harm him in some way. "Wh—who are they? I don't know them", he stammered, and we looked on in silence. "I don't know you. Go away", he fearfully said, and looked around hesitantly. "Slap him before I do", I told Chanch, who stood as still as ice and I expected that from her. "Chanch, do it", Vaish nudged, but the petrified little kid didn't even move her gaze, let alone a muscle. "Slap him, Chanchal. Stop staring!", Nash hissed, and midst the ongoing drama, Jasprit and his grandma looked at us, attempting to grasp our whispers. Seconds later, Chanch clasped her hands together, before taking one step forward and swung her arm in the air. She slammed her palm on his cheek and he stumbled to his side. The old-lady dramatically gasped, and called out for Jasprit's parents. "HOW DARE YOU?!", Jasprit barked and stormed towards Chanch with his hand raised in the air, but I stood in between them. In fear, Chanch almost curled up into a ball and hid her face from Jasprit. "Dare you raise your hand on her!", I said through my gritted teeth and pushed him back, forcefully.

Jasprit's parents and our neighbours barged into the scene, and crowded around us. "How dare you slap my son? I'm calling the Police!", his mom barked. "Oh, you'll call the Police? We should be calling the Police because...look what he did to her!", Vaish snapped, and dragged Chanch into the scene. His mom stared at Chanch's face for a long while, before looking at Jasprit. "Mom, they're lying", he conveniently shook off the accusation. "Of course they're lying. I know you would never do that", he mom rooted for him, because obviously, in front of the whole building, she couldn't accept her son's disgusting acts. "I'm sure these girls did something. They live on their own, and girl like them do not have manners. Shameless!", she muttered under her breath, but was loud enough for everyone to hear. "What did you say?", I walked towards the lady, and Nash held me back. "Look, Sharma Ji, I told you; look at their behaviour!", his mom smirked, while talking to the building's Secretary. "Don't you feel ashamed saying all this, being a woman, yourself? What if someone did this to you? Would you blame your character?", I darted questions in her direction and she did not have an answer. "Just because this cheap human being is your son, you'll overlook his wrong doings?", Nash asked. "Mom, don't bother talking to them. Bitches!", Jasprit spat and that was exactly when I lost it; I slapped him hard and pushed him back, nailing him onto the wall. "Dityaa, don't!", Nash exclaimed and clung onto my upper-arm.

The Secretary barged into the scene, Jasprit's mom argued and the people in our building complained; eventually, they decided to kick us out. "You'll have to clear your apartment in two days", the Secretary informed. "TWO DAYS?!", Nash screamed. "Sir, how will we do anything in two days?", Vaish questioned. "There's nothing to clear; the furniture aren't yours, so I believe you can clear the house in two days. I don't know what you'll do, but in two days, you'll have to pack your bags and leave. I've had enough and more with the four of you; every day someone or the other is complaining about you. You should leave; that's the best option", the Secretary said. "But what have we done to any of them? Moreover, why the complaints? Do we bring boys to our house, or do we party all night? We don't even play loud music anymore! Our neighbours are louder than us. Everyone has a problem with us just because we live on our own, and apparently, girls who live on their own are spoilt and shameless. Grow up, all of you! This is very unfair. Know what? More than anything, it's saddening because midst this crowd, we have doctors, lawyers and engineers with narrow-minds and I honestly feel bad for your daughters!", Vaish spat in anger, right on top of her voice for everyone to hear every word she uttered. "Let go, Vaish; you can knock sense into people only when they're willing to understand", Nash scoffed. "And Sir...", I turned to face the Secretary, whose face was flushed with embarrassment. "You have a daughter, right? If this ever happens to her – God forbid it from happening – but if it ever happens to her, then I hope you won't kick her out of your house", I snapped on his face and stormed away.

♥

I was jobless, broke and homeless, and I had absolutely no idea about the next storm Mumbai had in store for me; it was frightening. Chanch sat on the edge of the couch and cried, blaming herself for our condition, while Vaish and Nash contacted brokers they knew, looking for another apartment. But everything was out of our budget. It honestly was time to sell one of our kidneys to rent an apartment; it was the end of the month and all of us were miserable and penniless. "I managed to save 4,000 rupees from the shows I did this month; I don't have a penny more than this, and I don't mind asking my parents, but spent all they had on my sister's engagement", Vaish explained. "Right now, 2,000 rupee is all I have. But I can withdraw cash from my bank account", Chanch said. "That's your University fee, Chanch; don't touch that!", Nash scolded. "I spent the last bit of my savings on the flight ticket...but I can ask Omar for cash...", Nash hesitantly said. "No, don't do that, Nash; don't involve him this, we'll manage", Chanch said. "Nash, which flight ticket?", Vaish questioned, confusedly, and Nash and I exchanged silent glances. Slowly, I shook my head to the sides, indicating her to stay silent because it wasn't the right time to blurt out the truth to them. "Nothing...nothing serious, I'll let you know later", Nash shook off the topic, and took a deep breath in; our worlds were meant to cripple apart, and there was nothing we could do about it. "I don't have anything, trust me. I lost my job this morning, literally", I confessed, throwing my head back and regretted talking back to Mr. Joshua. "Great, we're officially fucked up", Vaish sighed, burying her face on her palms. "It's all because of me. We're homeless because of me", Chanch began chanting. "Chanch, stop!", the three of us said in unison, silencing her. "This is not your fault; you had to give him an answer, otherwise, he'll come for you, again. Stop blaming yourself", Nash said. "And for God sake, stop crying; no one has died, we're homeless, that's all. We'll find a way", I told her in annoyance, as Vaish lent her a box of tissues.

"A friend from the fandom lives in Mumbai and she's in mad search for a concert ticket. I'll sell the concert ticket to her and we'll have 8,000 rupees", Vaish absently muttered. "Vaish, don't do that. That concert ticket is for you; you really wanted to attend the concert, didn't you?", Nash said. "Exactly, Vaish; that's your belonging and source of happiness, you cannot sell that off", I backed Nash. "Guys, this is way more important than the concert and I know he makes me happy, and all of that, but that doesn't mean I'll be inconsiderate towards the situation. It's okay; he's going to keep coming back. You guys matter more than the concert now", Vaish smiled, and I hugged her tight. "I don't know how long it'd take to connect to my dad, but I'll talk to him and ask him to somehow arrange some money for us", I said, and headed towards the balcony with my iPhone. There was absolutely no way I could talk about it with my mom; she would take the next train to Mumbai and drag me back home.

Without any surprise or changes in the way things worked, it took me well over an hour to get Pops on line. Pops kept screaming 'Hello' into the phone for five minutes straight, until his signal magically strengthened. "HELLO, CAN YOU HEAR ME, DIA?", Pops bellowed into the phone so loudly that I had to move my iPhone away from my ear. "Pops, lower your voice", I said. "Okay, now can you hear me?", he questioned, after lowering his tone. "Better. Pops, I am in big trouble, I need your help!", I said in one breath, bearing in mind about the limited time we had on call and my heart prayed for the signal on his side to remain strong for the next ten minutes, or so. "And I cannot talk to mom about this, she's going to take me out of Mumbai, for sure...which means, you're not allowed to say a word about this conversation to her. This is going to be between us and only you have to help me", I strictly said, and Pops was silent. "Are you on line?", I asked, throwing my head back in annoyance. "What happened? Everything's good with you, right?", Pops' voice dropped in fear. "I am okay, but my life is not...", I cut the long story cut and told him about the helpless situation I was caught up in; right from the joblessness to the homelessness, and Pops listened, without interrupting, that from time-to-time I kept questioning if he was on-line because I had terrible trust issues with the signal on his side of the world. "I'm stranded in Mumbai", I sighed.

"What do you want me to do now?", Pops met the point. "I want you to arrange some money, probably 10,000 rupees or...8,000 at the least. We're looking for a new house, and I don't know how much it's going to cost. Can you get in touch with some of your friends and ask them to deposit it to my bank account? I'll pay them back, once I get a job", I said. "Don't be stupid. You don't have to pay them back, as long as I'm here", Pops scolded and I smiled, gazing at the bright streets of Mumbai at midnight; it was one calming sight. "I'll talk to Jignesh. He'll help you out. Till then, why don't you stay with your aunt in Mumbai...", Pops almost suggested and I cut him off with a sigh. "I would rather live on the streets! She'll tell mom, and moreover...I hate her sons", I stated. "And...I'm sorry", I apologized, guiltily. "For?", Pops questioned, confusedly. "I thought I'll move to Mumbai, work hard, pay off your loans and give you a lavish life. But...I'm pushing you deeper into trouble", I justified my apology. "You don't have to take the burden of our lives on your shoulders. Focus on building your life, and that's going to be more than enough for us", Pops said, calmly. "The game isn't over yet, Dia; one wicket down, still nine more to go – don't leave the pitch! In a cricket match, when five wickets are down and when the main batsmen are sent to the dug-out, does the game end? The tail-enders still strive to score runs, even when they're struggling and do not know how to bat, right? That's life – one day you'll be the opening-batsman and hitting the ball for a long six will be cakewalk for you; one day you'll be the last batsman in, and the ball won't even hit the bat. Keep knocking the ball around, and miss a few deliveries, it is okay; but face every ball that comes your way", Pops gave a quick pep talk from the other end of India, probably sitting midst a blanket of thick white snow, and I missed him that moment, my eyes turned moist but I had a smile on my face. "The pitch won't be the same every day. The size of the ground changes with the stadiums; sometimes, it's going to be easy to hit boundaries, sometimes you'll have to knock the ball around. Acclimatize to the conditions and keep the score-board ticking", Pops concluded. "Looks like you miss watching cricket", I lightly said, wiping the tears off the corner of my eye. "I'm coming back home when the India tour of Australia starts; I'm counting days!", Pops said. "And mom believes you come back for her", I teased. "Don't tell the truth to her; she'll lock me outside", Pops whispered loudly, and I chuckled. "Listen, Dia, I need to go right now. But I'll talk to Jignesh about you, and until you're settled, whenever you need money, ask him. Don't think about the loans that'll pile up, or anything of that sort, I'll handle it. You just make sure you're settled and financially stable", Pops instructed. "And, don't worry about mom; she won't know a thing about this. I need to go now; take care, Dia. I love you", Pops said in one breath, before cutting the call.

I wished he was never that far and distant, in both senses.