Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head

A Listener, and a Friend

Note: This part doesn't have a Ram-Pihu interaction, but the next one will. I wanted to focus on Ram's therapy appointment for this part. The resolution I have planned for what I introduced in part 3 will happen in these next two parts.

"Ram, are you alright? You look a bit bothered by something," said Safa.

Ram was leaning back in his armchair, absentmindedly fiddling with a glass of water with a vacant expression on his face. He took a small sip, placed it on the side table, and turned to look at the woman across from him. Dr. Safa Ansari.

Ram had been seeing her for the past 4 ½ years. He had seen her name in a list of therapists he found online (with Brinda's help). Her name was one of the reasons Ram had decided to schedule a session with her.

Safa. Pure. It had been his mother's name too, incidentally. Ram thought it to be a very fitting name, because, now that he thought about it, Safa Kapoor truly had been the purest out of all the Kapoors, though Virendra, his father, was still a close second. In spite of what he'd learned about his father's business dealings 5 years ago, Ram couldn't find it in him to hate the man completely. All he could feel (and still felt) was a despondent empathy.

Virendra and him were really quite alike in a way. We both met the wrong types of people, thought Ram. And then we lost everything.

Still, Virendra had been a doting father to him, and later Shubham and Shivina. The memories Ram had of him were at least tangible, mostly whole, something he could hold on to. But the memories of Safa? Those always gave Ram a bit of sorrow. As he turned to look at Dr. Safa and straightened up in the armchair, she gave him a small smile and said, "Take your time." Ram paused for a moment. He wondered if his mother had ever said that to him, if her smile had been just as gentle.

He hoped those things were true, because...he couldn't really remember what she looked like. Or the cadence of her voice. Every time Ram tried to picture her face, it was hazy, faded. Safa Kapoor was a dull spark in Ram's mind now, a memory that slipped through his fingers like mist. Ram didn't think about her too often, as it always gave him a sense of discomfort.

In the past 5 years, however, he'd found himself reaching out for her memories again, for some way, any way, to ease the sense of...loneliness? No, Ram didn't think much of his loneliness, that had been a constant in his life. Then, what was it? The answer came to Ram almost immediately. Loss.

That was the other reason Ram had decided to see Dr. Safa. She specialized in grief counseling and, as Ram had found out after their third session, she had also lost her husband to pneumonia. She was familiar with loss as well, and Ram felt comfortable sharing his feelings with her. He knew she'd understand. At the moment, however, neither Safa nor the feeling of loss were on his mind. At least, not completely. Instead, Ram had been poring over the events occurring earlier in the afternoon, specifically focusing on a reaction he wasn't expecting.

"I'm thinking about Tarun," said Ram finally. "What about him?" asked Dr. Safa. Ram narrated the exchange between Tarun and Priya that had occurred 20 minutes prior to her, and as he did so, his mind started wandering again. Why did Tarun say that? Why was he so cold? Why...why did I find it comforting? Tarun must have guessed as much from his response, but Ram had been genuinely grateful that he had corrected Priya's assumption about where he would be that afternoon.

Maybe it was because he couldn't bring himself to admit to Priya, or anyone really, that he was going to therapy. There was a part of Ram that wanted to keep this to himself, out of fear that people would taunt him or call him weak for needing this kind of support. But, there was also another part of him that felt a bit, no, quite angry. Angry that people seemed to still think he was happy, disdain towards people who felt like he should be moving on by now.