Viva was even then yet to finish swinging; Mann had lost his job. The boss had said, "sorry," and that was it. Mann did not tell her; he just choked on the phone as he spoke. She nevertheless caught it. "Mann, what's eating you? Talk." "I'm okay, Cassette," he said dryly. She cursed the distance for a minute, wishing she could see his face.
Without him, silence became her own war-her baba took a turn for the worse this time, and she had been left to fight it alone. She called him, her voice barely audible. "Mann, I'm sinking again." That broke him. "Me too- lost my job, lost it all but you."
There wasn't the slightest hesitation from her end. "Then we sink together; hold tight." They cried for hours, shamefully and unceasingly, tears of love and sorrow mingled in the air while maintaining the connection.
Then came the gut punch. Her baba didn't make it. She wrote: *"He's dead, Mann. I'm empty."* He scraped together every rupee he had, hopped onto any train he found, and finally found her under a banyan tree with rain running off her like part of her. "Cassette," he said, bringing her close, "I'm your empty now. Fill me up."
Love is a kick when you're down,
A hand searching the dark,
A whisper of promise, worlds undone,
A rope to hang on with for life.