by Durjoy Datta
For a moment the name escaped his mind. Ritika, he remembered. The names got blurred as he drove on.
Ritika. Before her it was Satvika. Another girl he had committed to love for life before it broke down and came to nothing.
‘Can you stop? I need to pee. Right now,’ shouted Aranya in Dhruv’s ear.
‘There’s a petrol pump after a few kilometres.’
‘NOW.’
‘You can’t pee here,’ shouted Dhruv and went faster weaving between trucks and buses.
‘That’s only going to make it worse!’
‘Where will you pee?’
‘ANY DAMN WHERE.’
Dhruv stopped the motorcycle at a sufficiently deserted stretch of road and gave her an earful, deriding all womankind and their weak bladders.
Aranya got off the bike, stepped closer to him and dug her index finger in his chest. ‘And listen closely. If you or anyone comes even close to me when I’m doing my business I will reach for your intestines through your mouth, pull them out, rip them apart and hang them around your neck. So don’t even dare to move an inch from here.’
She walked away till she was just a shadow. Dhruv heard the crunching of leaves and then nothing. He didn’t move an inch. Aranya came back after five minutes; a smile had replaced the murderous look. He drove without a word, though all he wanted to do was to keep looking at her and talk.
‘That was pretty intense back there, the intestines around my neck thing,’ said Dhruv after a while.
‘I don’t like people around when I’m not dressed. How is that hard to understand?’
‘But even when you’re not, you will always have those layers of fat covering you!’ Dhruv laughed and waited for a piercing retort. He had hit a raw nerve. He drove a few kilometres without a word. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘You’re not really fat, just a little healthy maybe.’ Dhruv added after a pause. ‘By my standards.’
‘. . . ’
‘How your body should look is no one else’s business really,’ said Dhruv.
‘. . . ’
‘It’s all media fed. Who cares if you’re fat or you have abs?’
‘. . . ’
‘As long as you’re not dying, it’s fine.’
‘. . . ’
‘And you’re not dying.’
‘Dhruv?’ said Aranya.
‘Huh?’
‘You need to shut up.’
For the rest of the drive, he forced himself to think of Ritika and how much he was missing her, which he wasn’t at all.
That’s the cliché about love. You don’t choose it. It chooses you.
I Love u Rachu
47
When they had started out from college, their reasons to be together were rather clear. Dhruv didn’t want to feel guilty any more and Aranya wanted her success to be free of Dhruv’s benevolence. As the night progressed, their reasons became increasingly ambiguous.
Dhruv, the guy who appraised people in body fat percentages, had just talked like a feminist. And sometimes when he drove too fast, Aranya held him tight without feeling the need to wash her arms with acid.
To cut the awkwardness of the conversation, Dhruv asked. ‘So why is Raghuvir that important?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Aranya.
‘You clearly lost your shit once he left.’
Aranya didn’t answer. It wasn’t as if Aranya hadn’t thought of what was there between Raghuvir and her. But the thought was so flawed that she didn’t dwell on it. Raghuvir had dated models. And she was . . .
Raghuvir had never acknowledged Aranya as anything more than an infatuated student. Which he had proved by running away.
They reached Noida at three in the night. They spent the next hour trying to find their way to Raghuvir’s house.
Dhruv parked his motorcycle fifty yards away from the steel gate of Raghuvir’s modest one-storey house and said, ‘I will wait here.’
Aranya had been thinking of what she could say to Raghuvir and she had zilch right now. She rang the bell thrice before there was any movement inside the house. A couple of minutes later, Raghuvir emerged in his A&F trackpants and an ill-fitting T-shirt.
Pleasantries were exchanged after Raghuvir expressed suitable shock. He invited her inside, still trying to get over her uninvited, creepy presence.
‘How did you get here?’
Raghuvir closed the door behind her. Through the steel gauze of the gate, Aranya could see Dhruv bent over his motorcycle, frowning.
‘Sit,’ said Raghuvir, collecting the stray papers on the couch into a bundle. Raghuvir switched on all the lights but they weren’t enough for the large living room. The house was dying. The walls were lined with bookshelves bent with the weight of the textbooks. Big books with cracked spines and incomprehensible symbols lay upturned everywhere. Minus the seepage on the walls, the ruddy smell, it was exactly like Aranya had imagined. She had imagined Raghuvir and her working together one day, half-filled blackboards and half-empty coffee mugs surrounding them. Raghuvir clearly wasn’t slacking. In fact he was on top of his game.
‘Why did you leave, Sir?’ asked Aranya.
‘I had to,’ Raghuvir answered.
‘Why?’
‘Mitra had wanted my head on a platter for a really long time. I gave him the opportunity and he struck. We had a slight disagreement and I had to leave.’
‘What disagreement?’
‘He wanted to throw you out. So instead, I volunteered. And I had a few offers lined up for me and I thought it’s best for me to take them up. I have been down for far too long. It’s time to get on the horse again,’ said Raghuvir with a smile.
‘So you can come back if you want to?’
‘Technically I can, but I have things to do now. I have already accepted a job offer in Bangalore. They are funding all my research. It’s a new start for me,’ answered Raghuvir.
‘You will never come back then?’ asked Aranya, her voice desperate.
‘No. Plus, I can’t assure them what happened that day won’t happen again. This student–professor thing really brings you down in the research community,’ said Raghuvir, peering into some notes now and scribbling in the margins with a pencil.
‘What?’
‘Four years is a long time to just like you and do nothing about it,’ said Raghuvir.
The words hit Aranya like a bus. Raghuvir looked at her, nonchalant. Aranya had tears in her eyes, God knew why, and she said, ‘That’s not funny. I didn’t come here to be made fun of. That happens enough already.’ She got up to leave.
‘Sit down.’
Aranya listened.
‘It wasn’t supposed to be funny.’ Raghuvir flipped through his notes like they weren’t having a conversation where he had admitted to liking her, which at best was an insensitive, cruel joke. ‘I just told you the reason, Aranya. I might just think you’re an interesting person right now, but I’m afraid it will grow stronger.’
‘What are you saying exactly?’
‘That there might come a day I might want to be with you a lot more often. Because I like you, Aranya,’ he said it like he had solved an equation, a predetermined sequence of symbols and numbers which would yield the same results without any deviation.
‘You’re joking. What is there to like in me?’
‘You’re smart, you’re driven, and you’re intelligent. There’s not one thing I would change about you. Not a single thing. If I were to stay in the college, it would be for you. And so I can’t,’ said Raghuvir.
‘. . .’
‘Don’t act so shocked.’
‘This is ridiculous, Sir. Please don’t joke around like this.’
How was all this not a joke? Or a dream she would wake up soon from? This was a fucking nightmare. He was making fun of her. Raghuvir? Liking her? The man who only dated goddamn goddesses? That was what it exactly was. She was a joke for everyone.
‘This isn’t a joke, Aranya
.’
‘I think it is and it’s not funny. If what you’re saying is true, why didn’t I see this tone in your voice in college? You have always been just a professor to me,’ growled Aranya. She felt her ears burn and she was moments away from crying. ‘Why this sudden change? What is it if not making fun of me? And of what I feel for you? You know that, right? Sir? You are saying all this because you have seen how I look at you? Is this what this is all about?’
‘You didn’t see it because I was trying to be a professor in college. I’m no longer one. If I think you’re an intelligent and interesting girl and I like you, I don’t think that’s hard to believe at all.’
‘If all that you’re saying is true, which it’s not, then why would you run? If you feel what you do, why not stay?’ Her voice barely audible, like someone had jammed a pen in her larynx.
Raghuvir took her hands in his. Aranya’s body shuddered. No man had held her hand with such warmth and acceptance; she even felt beautiful. ‘Let’s face it, Aranya. We both have things to do and places to go to. We can’t be stopping each other. There will be a time I will be a dead weight to you, a professor you were probably infatuated with, someone you thought you loved, someone who could fill up something in your life at that point in time. Or it could be the other way around. I have seen how attachments can lead you astray and I don’t want that to happen with you. Or with me. It happened to me once and look how it ended for me. You need to make your own mistakes and I will not be one of the mistakes you make, Aranya. You shouldn’t go down the path I have gone. If you’re with me, you will give the relationship everything that you’ve got and leave your ambition behind, something that I did too and I don’t want you to do that. There will be a time you will realize that love’s tiring and worthless. Relationships need to be worked at. They are hard work and there are a lot of compromises to be made. And I don’t want you to do it and I don’t want to do it either. When it comes to relationships, pragmatism trumps love. You are too young to understand that.’
‘You could have asked once what I wanted?! You never asked. You never asked!’ Aranya hyperventilated. She stood up and walked around the room holding her head mumbling to herself. ‘You will be a dead weight some day? I will leave you? What’s all this? Why? How would I leave you? What? You’re my professor? Am I in this room? You wanted to be with me? What? This is a nightmare. This is a very bad joke. This is a very bad joke. Why are you saying all this? Why are you saying this? Don’t say this. Just shut up! Why!’ She was crying into her palms now. Her shoulders heaved with every snort.
‘I’m not joking. And I didn’t need to ask you. I know how much you look up to me. I have been in your place. I have looked up to my professors, even loved them. But that’s all they were. And you know what people say about me, right? Of course you know about Smriti and the other PhD students? What’s to say I wouldn’t do that again, huh? I can’t promise that to you. What will happen if I stray? Love’s too risky, too complicated, Aranya, and maybe it’s not love at all.’
‘We could give it a shot? Make rules and stick by them? Be pragmatic as you said? Couldn’t we? And you said love and relationships are a compromise, didn’t you? You could choose to not have any more Smritis and I could choose to still pursue my ambitions and so could you and we could be together! Unless you’re joking. If you are, then I didn’t say what I just did.’
Raghuvir took a long pause as if thinking about it. They had laid out their cards on the table. ‘That night when you were drunk, you talked about Dhruv.’
‘I hate him,’ said Aranya, almost as a reflex.
‘Isn’t he outside? Leaning against his motorcycle? Not wanting to let you out of his sight? Hatred is a strong emotion, Aranya, and you don’t feel it for someone worthless. And if he’s worth something, he might be worth loving at some point. I don’t want to risk anything. If you get into a relationship with me, it will end whatever chance you have with Dhruv once and for all. I’m not saying you should be with him—because quite frankly, the guy is a prick—but the question is, would you be able to live with that choice? There are way too many questions for you to answer, Aranya. I don’t think you’re ready. Neither am I. I’m just starting to get my bearings back.’
‘So you gave up on me?’ asked Aranya, wanting to fall in love with Raghuvir, however make-believe it might be, making all the compromises he was talking about, aching to hold his hand again.
‘I didn’t give up on you, Aranya.’ He sat next to her and put his arm around her. She, despite her size, fit perfectly in his embrace. He sighed and said, ‘Dhruv doesn’t scare me. It’s not the person I’m afraid of; it’s the idea of perfect love that I’m scared of. I’m just afraid it doesn’t exist and I don’t want to give you an illusion that it does. I don’t want your world to revolve around me or mine around you. We will both end up dissatisfied with it.’
‘What if I told you that love is a concept alien to me as well and I’m ready to make every compromise to just stick with you?’ Aranya spit out her words, still wary that he would laugh out and say ‘gotcha’!
‘It doesn’t work that way, Aranya.’
And then they didn’t talk.
Aranya sat there reflecting on what she had just said. She saw Raghuvir get back to his work, scribbling equations.
What had happened right now? Would she snap her fingers and find herself in her hostel bed? Snap. No. Why would he say all these things?
He disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a flask of coffee for the journey. Of course, she could love him. She was halfway there already. And they would make a ridiculously talented team. That’s all that mattered.
‘So you will not come back?’ asked Aranya.
‘No.’
‘Just so you know, if you come back, I will be there for you. I haven’t experienced love, imperfect or perfect, and I don’t know how you can hurt me but I know this that if you ever think about us, I will be with you. Just know that I would be okay with making all the compromises that are to be made in a relationship. No matter how desperate that sounds!’
‘That doesn’t sound desperate at all.’
Aranya started giggling at the ridiculousness of it all, a pathetic, self-loathing, self-hating giggle. She plonked down on the couch, shook her head, trying to absorb everything. Something changed in her; she could feel it. Like gears set in motion, changing their orientation, slowly transforming her into another person, a better person. A few minutes later, she spoke. ‘You know what, Sir?’
‘What?’
‘When I was little, I always craved for attention from the boys in my class. But I also knew I was unattractive. Even as a child, I would look at other girls around me and wish I could be like them. I would check my desk every day for letters from boys who like me. There were none for me even as others got dozens.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because it matters.’
Raghuvir poured a cup of coffee for her from the flask and gave her the rest to carry back.
Aranya continued, ‘So I started writing letters to myself and would keep them where people could find them and give them to me. The teachers finally caught on to it. I had to change my section because I was teased and chased down hallways. My mother thought I had lost it. My father stopped talking to me for an entire year. And so I started to teach myself to hate boys. Slowly, I became good at it, so good that I hated almost everybody. I still wanted attention though,’ said Aranya, almost wanting to share the details of her Skype sessions. ‘You don’t want to know what I did for it.’
‘You’re lovely, Aranya. That’s all I’ve got to say.’
Aranya should have been happy right now. This should have been her moment when she could look back at the world and shout, ‘Fuck you, fuck you, world. Look at me now. Raghuvir is in love with me. RAGHUVIR. Fuck you for my body fat percentage, fuck you for the bad skin you gave me, fuck you for my complexion, fuck you for my shitty body. Fuck you naturally fair and beau
tiful girls with high metabolic rates. I have Raghuvir. What have you got?’
This was her revenge. This was where her movie should have ended. With a thumping victory. But it didn’t feel like she was standing on the corpse of the world that had been unfair to her.
She just felt light. Like none of it mattered. She had never been spiritual but it must feel like this—liberating. She felt she could have a billion cupcakes right now without guilt wearing her down. She was free. She was now smiling and then started laughing and crying—all at the same time. Something definitely changed inside her. The hatred she had harboured and nurtured for herself, she felt that melt away.
‘Are you okay?’
Aranya wiped her tears off. ‘I have never been better.’
Aranya hugged Raghuvir. She told him that she would wait for him to come back to college and wished him luck if they never saw each other again.
‘Thank you,’ said Aranya and walked to the door.
Raghuvir held the door open for her. She hugged Raghuvir again. ‘What did you thank me for?’
‘Coffee. And if you ever change your mind . . . because I’m crazy good at making compromises. Been doing that all my life,’ said Aranya and winked at him.
Raghuvir smiled weakly. She strode out of the door, smiling. She got on the motorcycle and asked Dhruv to drive.
‘What happened?’
‘He isn’t coming back but it’s okay. My work is done,’ Aranya said.
She saw her reflection in the rear-view mirror of Dhruv’s motorcycle and for the first time in years, she didn’t frown at what she saw. It felt like love. She stared at her face and saw how beautiful she was; her eyes like little black pearls, her ruddy cheeks which would still be young at forty, and a sharp nose to kill for.
She was fucking stunning.
Raghuvir’s words didn’t make her fall in love with him, but with herself. She opened her hair, stretched her arms and felt gorgeous. She was in love. Right now, she could have sex with herself.
