twenty-two Begin Again #2
Me: Hi, Arjun. I’m truly sorry to be the kind of person who does this over text, but I fear I may never find the courage to say what I need to if we were sitting across from each other.
The truth is, I’ve been thinking a lot about you.
About us, and who we used to be. Those years we spent together in Mussoorie gave me some of the fondest memories of my life and I’ll always be grateful to the universe for that version of us.
But I’ve realized that trying to go back to that is kind of like trying to fit into our school’s alumni hoodies …
no amount of tailoring can change the fact that we’ve simply outgrown them.
So, I want to do you the kindness and be clear in a way I maybe haven’t been before.
There is no ‘maybe’ here anymore. We’re not getting back together, not now, not ever.
I’d like to believe that there is a future where we can be friends again, but it can’t be until you’ve completely let go of the past. And who knows, by then you might realize I’m not worth all this trouble anyway.
Rooting for you, always,
Kavya.
I placed the phone face down next to me on the bed and lay down. There was another message I needed to send, but I had no clue where to start. Not because I didn’t know what I wanted to say, but because the shame and the guilt made it hard to string the words together.
So, I reached for my phone and dialled a number instead.
‘Hello?’ My mother’s voice was almost drowned out by the noise behind her. ‘I’ve come to the market, beta. Can I call you back?’
‘Mumma,’ I said, the word slipping out the way it used to when I was a child who relied on her for every little thing.
There was a pause as I heard shuffling noises through the line. Chatter. Honking. A scooter revving too close to the phone. ‘Kavu?’ I heard a car door bang shut and the noise faded away. ‘I’m here, beta. Tell me what’s wrong.’
My heart welled up. She always had been able to read me like a book.
‘I messed up at work. Badly,’ I began.
‘How?’
‘I …’ I trailed off. How would she feel when she found about my lie? What if she felt ashamed of me? The thought alone was enough to make me whimper.
‘Beta,’ her voice on the other end was unbearably calm. ‘You can tell me anything. You know that, right?’
I nodded tearfully, forgetting that she couldn’t see me through the phone. Not that she needed to. ‘Then talk to me, Kavu.’
‘I, um … I had lied about something to get my job at Jharokha. And they’ve found out about it.’ There. It was out in the open.
I’d half expected her to bombard me with questions. But she simply asked, ‘Why did you lie?’
‘Because I thought they wouldn’t hire me otherwise,’ I said, my voice small.
‘Then the real problem isn’t the lie.’ A faint sigh escaped her. ‘It’s that you didn’t believe in yourself.’
I closed my eyes and swallowed, letting her words crash over me. ‘What should I do now, mom?’
‘I can’t tell you that, beta. But whatever you decide, I’m with you. We all are.’ There was so much strength in her voice that it made it easy to borrow some of it. ‘We don’t care about a fancy job, promotion, or what people will say. All we care about is your happiness and peace.’
The weight on my chest already felt lighter.
But we spoke for a little while longer, until she felt confident that she’d talked me off the metaphorical cliff.
After assuring her that I’d call again if I needed to talk and promising to speak to my brother—who had apparently been in a foul mood since the day we’d fought—I finally felt strong enough to hang up and do what I needed to do.
I opened my laptop and began typing.
Resignation Letter
K 05/07/25 6:30pm
to Varun, Rajat
cc:
Hi Varun, Hi Rajat,
I hope this email finds you as well as it can.
It would be wrong to start this letter with anything other than an unconditional apology, so I’d like to begin there. I’m truly sorry for my behaviour.
When I applied for this job, I fooled myself into thinking that a tiny white lie wouldn’t matter if I worked hard enough to earn my place in the company.
That if I proved myself every single day, it would make my lie a little less inconsequential, a little less untrue.
But I understand now that you can’t build something solid on a fractured foundation.
There are many things I wish I had handled differently in my time here, especially over the last few weeks.
I know I’ve fallen short in ways big and small, and I’m not proud of any of it.
Given all of this, I think it’s only right that I step aside.
Please consider this my formal resignation, effective immediately.
I’ll cooperate fully with anything you need from my end during the transition.
Jharokha has been one of the most meaningful experiences of my life, and I’m grateful for every opportunity the two of you have given me.
Yours sincerely,
Kavya
Sr. Graphic Designer
Jharokha
I hit send and sank back into the bed, fully prepared for the world to come crashing down around me. But instead, all I felt was overwhelming relief and the faintest feeling that maybe … I’d be okay after all.