Note: From here, we start Part II of the novel.

I am sitting in a conference room of the University. It’s the orientation program of the new faculty. The conference room is well lit from the white light coming out of the circular white holes on the walls. The cushy orange movable chairs around a large oval desk make chirpy sounds now and then. The HR is helping us fill the joining form. I have come in new formals. It’s the start of a new life for me. The faculty sitting around me are of different specializations. Some are law school graduates, some liberal arts, a few from public policy, and others from business school. I am in the business school. There is one more faculty from the business school. The song, ‘Ek Akela is sheher mein, raat mein aur dopahar mein, Abudana dhoondhta hai, aashiyana dhoondhta hai,’ is playing in my mind. She has recently completed her PhD from India’s leading management Institute. She is an Organizational Behavior faculty. She is around 5 ft. tall with a light brown complexion and thin sticky figure. She has big black eyes that wander as if in a Brownian motion. She has a Nubian nose. Her hairs are short. Like me, she has been silent all the time. The orange chair and her light green sari give me an impression of a colorful mystic in a rather formal room.  Our eyes have met only once but we did not greet each other. I am avoiding eye contact lest the people know the anxiety embedded in me. We introduce ourselves at lunch.

‘This heat is killing me. Am I in a boxing match?’ she said and smiled. ‘I am Sabina Bose.’ She puts her hand forward.

‘Kabir Jha.’ I reply. There is a brief silence. ’Subjects you are teaching?’ I ask.

‘I am teaching Human Resource Management to the Undergraduates. What about you?’

‘Microeconomics for undergraduates. And an elective on carbon markets.’

The dining hall of the University is much more colorful than the conference room. The chairs are colored green, red, orange or yellow. The tables are creamy. Students are not there yet it is the summer break.

‘Too many forms. Want to finish fast.’ I say.

‘Why? Is there a girlfriend waiting for you? Lying thirsty on bed?’ she clasped both her hands together and laughed bending forwards without any sound.

‘No. Travelling.’

‘Oh, yeah travelling does tire you out man.’

We are sitting opposite each other. I look into her eyes only once. They look sad to me. ‘She is beautiful,’ said the elegant one. I remind myself that there is no elegant one, it’s my own voice. ‘#$% #$% #$%^ #$%^& $%^&*$ #$% #$ #$%^&* #$%^&,’ said the sexual voice. I am filled with anger, want to shout out loud, and wish to throw away the plate to the voice. But how do you deal with something you cannot see, which comes from within you?

 ‘Leaving. See you in the conference room.’ I rise up with my plate. She gives a feeble smile.

‘See you.’

Back in the conference room, the HR policies continue. They inform us of the Staff Development Fund and other research and teaching policies. They detail the leave policies. My focus is completely on the slides. I know if I look at someone, something inside me is going to speak. I am trying to keep my personality components together and let the session pass. The session ends around 5 p.m.

We are on the bus together as well. The University has given us an apartment close by. There is a regular bus service from the University to the Apartment complex. Apart from the wave of hands, none of us speak to each other through the whole ten minutes trip. She is not the talkative kind, I think. How will she survive in the business school? You are so chatty, The-light said in a sarcastic tone. I smile but control it looking around if someone saw me smiling. The trees passing outside have her attention. It is not The-light, it is my voice, I remind myself again. Sometimes I wish I did not have to do this exercise of reminding myself that all the voices are my own.

I unlock my three bhk apartment. The University has given me a semi furnished house. It has fresh white paint. There is a sofa set, television, a king-sized bed and the necessary appliances for the kitchen like Microwave, gas connection, fridge, and water purifier. There is a geyser in one of the three bathrooms, AC in the bedroom, and a study table. Heck, I said to myself, the first time I saw the apartment two days ago. Too good for a lazy ass like me!

I keep my bag on the bed. I am tired. After completing my PhD, this is the first day of so much work. But there is happiness in me. The day had gone well without any glitches. I had come out into the open, with real people and been able to pass of as a normal guy. I could do this. It is an auspicious new start. Don’t get so happy professor, we are going to fuck you for sure, a voice said. Who said it, I asked. Was it The-light? No, it was not her voice. There is no The-light, you son of a bitch. These are your voices. Never believe that others are talking to you. If you believe anything like that, you are going straight to the psychiatric ward again.

I open my laptop to watch a movie on Netflix. I get a call from my mother. She wants to know how the day has gone. I say it was good. She reminds me to take medicines today. She does this every day, God only knows why. She wastes her money on the phone and she wastes my time as well. I keep the conversation with her short every day.

I did not feel like watching a movie after the conversation. I pick up a short story book by the English short story writer William Trevor titled ‘After Rain’. Lying on the white sofa, I start reading from where I had left. After fifteen minutes, the phone rings again. It is a senior from the University, Ipsita calling.

‘Hello Prof. Jha. This is Ipsita, a faculty from the business school. I hope I am not disturbing you.’

‘No. How you?’

‘I am good. How have you been? How was your orientation?’

‘Good. Peaceful.’

‘Nice. Listen. We are hosting a party for the Business school faculty to meet the two of you. Will you be available?’

‘Yes.’

‘Great. The party will be in my apartment, Crimson block, Room 401. See you at 8 p.m.’

‘Be there.’

What should I wear for the party? Wear anything. Who cares! No look good, nobody should know about your schizophrenia. Be as good as you can. Let me check my clothes. Everything my parents bought for me are formals. They did not care to buy casuals for me. Will shorts work? No, it’s the party of faculty, not your college hostel party. ‘Fuck this bastard, fuck him. He has to die pretty soon. You cannot even decide what to wear. Such a miserable condition! So troubled all the time. Always doomed!’  No, you should wear casuals. ‘You eater of shit, fuck those casuals.’ I will go in whatever I am wearing. Too difficult to find a new dress for the party!