The World's Best Boyfriend

by Durjoy Datta

  54

  Dhruv had waited for night to come. All that crying outside on the bench turned his heart to mush and he wanted to see his father. Maybe even apologize. But he didn’t have it in him to just walk in, sit by his side, and have a heart-to-heart conversation.

  Instead, he had decided he would go in late at night when his father would be fast asleep, he would say what he needed to, complain, bicker, curse, abuse and drown him in his frustration.

  It was two in the night. The deserted corridors looked straight out of a horror movie. Gingerly, he opened the door again; it creaked like in a cheap Ramsay movie. His father was sleeping.

  He sat on the same chair he had sat in in the morning, feeling nothing, absolutely nothing at all but now, a few hours later, he felt like the ten-year-old Dhruv who would cry himself to sleep in his arms. He started to talk.

  ‘Dad. You ruined my childhood. You ruined everything for me. I don’t even know if I love you any more,’ Dhruv whispered into the night. ‘I hate you. That I’m sure of. But thinking of you makes me cry and I don’t know how to label that. I have spent days thinking why you would do what you did and I still do hope it would all make some sense some day but it doesn’t now. Why didn’t you fight for Mom? If not for yourself, then at least for me? I still can’t wrap my head around why you slept around after she left. Did you not think about what you were doing to me, Dad? I was little! I was so young! Why? Why did you do it? I know you wouldn’t have an answer and that’s okay. I have learned to live with it. At least you taught me not to trivialize relationships and to take responsibility for my actions by fucking my childhood over.’ He held his head and cried for a few minutes. ‘Anyway, Dad, I need to go now. I have college to attend. Oh, by the way, thank you for calling my professor. Thanks.’

  Dhruv stood up and turned away when he heard his father voice. ‘Stay.’

  ‘. . .’

  His father looked at him, not groggy and definitely awake. That sly bastard had listened to the entire thing. He called Dhruv over to sit by his side. His eyes were unnaturally kind. For the first time in years, Dhruv had seen his father sober.

  ‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ his father said. He held Dhruv’s arm, firmly. ‘Sit,’ he said.

  Dhruv sat down.

  ‘I really loved your mother.’

  ‘You sure did. It showed.’ Dhruv felt the fury find its roots again.

  ‘I did. I was in love with your mother from the first day I saw her,’ Dad said, his eyes liquid. ‘But she was never in love with me.’

  ‘That’s so typical of you. Still shirking responsibility! Blaming her! That’s a cheap shot, Dad. Even for you.’

  ‘Listen to me.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Dhruv, leaning far back into the chair, and looking outside the window. The room depressed him.

  ‘We were really young. Our marriage was arranged by your grandparents and we were supposed to fall in love. And I did.’ Dad sighed. ‘But your mom didn’t. Not when we got married and not in the countless days we spent together. But she never complained about it. She was always the good wife. At first, I really tried hard to make her love me as much as I loved her but realized it doesn’t work that way. You can’t force someone to be in love with you.’

  ‘So you gave up?’ asked Dhruv, exasperated, throwing his hands in the air.

  ‘Yes, I did. It was hard not to. Years went by and it started making both of us unhappy, her more than me. I thought things would change when we had you.’

  ‘Did they?’ asked Dhruv, leaning forward, obviously interested how his conception was just a ruse to make his parents happier.

  ‘Your mother and I loved you more than life. You brought joy and love into our lives. You were this little cute ball of happiness.’ Dad’s eyes lit up. ‘Those years were the happiest for us, your mother and I. But slowly the sadness, the lack of love crept in again. It took me eight years to realize your mother would never love me. I realized I had to let her go, sooner or later.’ He shook his head, a sad smile on his regretful face. ‘Can you pass the water?’

  Dhruv poured out a glass and gave it to him. ‘What are you talking about? You were married. How does anything else matter? You can’t just . . . ’

  Dad started to smile. ‘You have to, Dhruv. You have to learn to let people go for their happiness and for your own.’

  ‘So? What did you do?’

  ‘I drove her away, Dhruv. I made sure she would never look back.’

  ‘. . .’

  ‘I slept with women, I started getting drunk more often, I shouted, I screamed and I fought with her. I made her hate me. I made myself loathsome.’

  Dhruv listened to it, dumbfounded, trying to make sense of it all.

  ‘She put up with it for a couple of years. But then she found love.’

  ‘That’s why you didn’t fight for her? Because you actually tried to push her away?’

  His father nodded. ‘I couldn’t see her unhappy any more.’ His father laughed sadly at his devious, destructive, stupid, brilliant plan. Dhruv tried to piece together the memories of his childhood.

  ‘Does she know you did this for her happiness?’

  ‘Look at me. Do I look like a man who’s strong enough?’

  Dhruv couldn’t think straight. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Obviously, I told her! I, like a complete fool, told her how much I had sacrificed for her. I went to her place and said this in front of her husband.’

  ‘Why did you do that?’ asked Dhruv, looking at his father, the flawed hero.

  ‘I was drunk. And maybe I thought she would fall in love with me seeing me being selfless! Maybe it was all a selfish pursuit.’

  ‘Huh.’

  ‘Men are petty, Dhruv. We need recognition for the sacrifices we make for our women. Your mother never complained about the ten years she had spent with me without a shred of happiness. But I complained every day.’ Dad started laughing, slightly at first and then loudly, and Dhruv joined in and they both laughed and laughed and laughed.

  I Love u Rachu

  55

  Aranya had never felt so distracted. It was like her brain was in a blender. There were days she felt helpless and under a lot of pressure. She would see her father’s face right in front of her, cursing and tormenting her for the entire two months she would have to spend at home if she didn’t get this internship.

  She would end up texting Raghuvir and they would stay up all night writing to each other. Not that it meant anything, but it kept her a little sane. She might have slipped a few times though, when she was at her weakest, asking him if they were a possibility. Sometimes Raghuvir would say ‘Yes’. But at such times she thought it was out of pity more than anything else . . .

  But then one day, things changed.

  ARANYA

  I miss you in college sometimes.

  RAGHUVIR

  My sentiments exactly.

  ARANYA

  Which company have you joined?

  RAGHUVIR

  You will know soon.

  ARANYA

  Why such a secret?

  RAGHUVIR

  Just like that, don’t want to jinx it. How’s your prep going?

  ARANYA

  Good. But scared. What if . . .

  RAGHUVIR

  You won’t have to go home. You’re good.

  ARANYA

  Found a replacement for Smriti yet? *wink*

  RAGHUVIR

  Haha. No. Not looking for one. Trying to turn over a new leaf.

  ARANYA

  *millions of hearts break* Why is the only Casanova from our domain hanging up his boots? Making a compromise for someone?

  RAGHUVIR

  You’re too smart for your own good, Aranya.

  ARANYA

  TELL ME! Who’s it for?

  Though Aranya felt infinitely jealous thinking there might be someone else in Raghuvir’s life, someone who had convinced him that their relationship could work, she told hersel
f not to feel bad about it. Of course Raghuvir had found someone else.

  RAGHUVIR

  Shouldn’t you be studying?

  ARANYA

  Fine, if you don’t want to tell.

  RAGHUVIR

  Will tell you if I can keep up with it.

  ARANYA

  Name, please? Don’t keep me hanging!

  RAGHUVIR

  Don’t do this.

  ARANYA

  Don’t want to jinx it?

  RAGHUVIR

  Exactly.

  ARANYA

  I would jinx it? Just to let you know that in Tanzania people like me are considered lucky.

  RAGHUVIR

  ARANYA

  Smilies mean you don’t want to talk any more, so goodnight.

  RAGHUVIR

  Goodnight.

  ARANYA

  #foreveralone

  RAGHUVIR

  You’re funny.

  Aranya switched off her phone and got back to her preparations. She told herself not to text Raghuvir ever again, leaving him to his turning over a new leaf by not fucking around with pretty PhD students any more and having found someone who would have a perfect, logical relationship with him. Whatever happened to him thinking of Aranya as an interesting girl? He didn’t take long to move on! Men are uniformly disappointing, she thought.

  I Love u Rachu

  56

  The day of the interview for the internship at AMTECH was nearing and she was yet to finish a considerable part of the course. AMTECH traditionally hired unconventional people with varied skill sets. Aranya had won thirty-four debates, not counting the ones she had come second in, and she was a zonal-level TT player. She was sure she would get through.

  But despite her apparent nervous excitement, something was amiss. The smart girl she was, it didn’t take her long to pin-point it—it was Dhruv’s prolonged absence.

  Ritika, who looked like shit now and had slowly been recovering from the break-up, told Aranya about Dhruv’s father’s situation. She had broken down in Aranya’s arms, as if she herself were the root cause. ‘I wish I was with him right now. I wonder how he’s taking it. I haven’t been good to him.’

  ‘He will be okay. I’m sure he will call you if he needs you,’ said Aranya and quietened her, stroking her like a stray dog, compassionate but still wary of catching rabies.

  The thought of Ritika cradling a crying Dhruv was discomforting. Every night she would find a pretext to sneak out and see if Ritika was still in her room. In college, her eyes would follow Ritika to see if Dhruv was back, and if he had found a shoulder to cry on in her. Luckily nothing of that sort happened. She would rather have Dhruv’s father die a long, prolonged death, than have him in the college, in Ritika’s arms mourning his father’s illness/demise.

  When Dhruv missed three consecutive assignments, something she had been waiting and planning for, Aranya got the opportunity to talk to Sanchit about Dhruv’s prolonged absence.

  ‘I need to talk to him. He has not been submitting assignments. The professors keep asking me and I don’t know what to tell them,’ lied Aranya.

  Sanchit laughed. ‘It’s not about the assignments. You’re just missing him, aren’t you? Aww. That’s so cute, Aranya. Finally you found your heart beneath your umm . . . err . . . how do I put it without sounding gross or offensive . . . womanly chest?’

  Aranya rolled her eyes. ‘It’s about the assignments. And they are called breasts.’

  ‘Can you say that again for me?’

  ‘Breasts. You’re such a child.’

  ‘That sounded so good! And if assignments are all you want, I will do them for him and give them to you by today evening but I know that’s not all. There’s no harm in saying you miss him. Hell, I miss him, too. He’s the only friend I have. And that’s when we are not even friends.’

  Aranya shrugged like she didn’t care. How blatantly Sanchit could proclaim his love for Dhruv, a flawed asshole at best? ‘It’s about the assignments, Sanchit.’

  ‘I’m your senior, Aranya.’ Sanchit lit a cigarette. ‘And I was as loved by the professors as you were. I have their numbers on speed dial. Not only do I know that Dhruv’s assignments are completed and submitted, but his attendance too is cent per cent. Now I wonder who made that possible.’

  Aranya went red in the face; she felt dizzy and embarrassed as hell. ‘I . . . I . . . was just helping out.’

  ‘If you have already taken care of them, why are you standing here asking me about Dhruv’s attendance and his assignments? Do you think I’m a six-year-old?’

  Aranya didn’t think there was any merit in continuing the conversation. So she just started to walk away. Sanchit followed her and said, ‘He asked about you. Quite a few times.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yes, but in the same way you did. He had an even sillier pretext but let’s not get into that.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘I told him you were distracted and you keep asking about him. I told him I was sure you miss him.’

  ‘Are you crazy? I don’t miss him at all,’ said Ananya showing fake anger; secretly she was happy about Dhruv missing her.

  Sanchit smiled. ‘Chill. He didn’t ask anything about you and I didn’t tell.’

  Her heart sank. ‘Good,’ said Aranya and hurried into the library.

  She heard Sanchit chuckle in the background and shout, ‘Let me know if you need help doing his assignments. And can you say breasts again?’

  I Love u Rachu

  57

  Dhruv’s father didn’t last two years.

  Hell, he didn’t last two months. It was all so sudden. One night he was there and the next all that was left of him was white dust. Dhruv lost track of time and often he found it hard to believe that all of it actually happened. Relatives had flown down and suddenly there were so many tears that there were none left for Dhruv.

  His mother had cried and so had others. He had not known what to say to his mother when he had met her. They counted days and performed rituals together, both stealing glances at each other, grappling for words they might use. The silence was deafening.

  After the fourteenth day, his mother went back to her family. ‘Will you be okay?’ she had asked Dhruv while leaving and Dhruv had put up a brave front. Dhruv had lived most of his life hating his parents, crucifying them. But the twelve weeks he had spent with his dying father watching movies and reading to him had left Dhruv lurching with an identity crisis. His father took away all the bad memories with him, leaving behind a lump of good ones, reducing him to tears every time he thought about him.

  He truly was an orphan now.

  ‘Why don’t you call your mother?’ Sanchit had asked a number of times.

  ‘What would I say to her, Sanchit? That I have suddenly forgiven her? That I’m sorry I hated her for twelve years but it was my fault? What should I talk to her about? She doesn’t know me any more,’ Dhruv would say, trying hard not to reduce to a puddle of desperate tears.

  Dhruv was most scared of the days to come, the loneliness that would soon follow when the semester ended, when everyone would go back to their happy families and spend two happy summer months. Where would Dhruv go? To that empty house? To his mother’s? What would happen to him? Why did he always fucking end up alone?

  Dhruv didn’t miss a single class. He spent days locked inside his room, studying. Time was slipping by like sand from a closed fist. The semester exams were near. The hostels would be empty after the exams, leaving him alone, he knew that. The loneliness would eat at him. He couldn’t go back to an empty house. His mother had offered to host him with her family for the two-month break but it wasn’t even an option. Her family—the words pierced through his heart every time he even thought of it. He would have to remind himself not to hate his mother now. Suddenly, his chaotic life of hatred had an unsettling stillness to it. Death left behind a stench.

  ‘You don’t have to stay in the hostel. You can come back with me,
’ Sanchit had offered even though Dhruv hadn’t shared his fear of being alone in the hostel with him. ‘My mom makes the best bharta.’

  ‘Get some when you’re back,’ Dhruv had said. ‘Thanks for the offer though.’

  ‘But where are you going to go?’

  ‘I still don’t have an answer for that.’

  The news of Dhruv’s father’s death had spread. His classmates didn’t know how to respond to it so they changed ways to avoid bumping into him. What do you really say? I’m sorry? How would that change anything?

  Ritika had tried talking to Dhruv a few times but Sanchit had asked her to stay away from him. Dhruv had enough on his plate already. Aranya, too, after a few failed attempts to bump into him consciously kept herself away from him. Dhruv didn’t want pity; he wasn’t even sure what he wanted anyway. Moreover, she would be busy with the exams, Dhruv figured. But he really did fucking want her. Maybe.

  The fourth-year students, except Sanchit, were the first ones to leave; the third floor was empty. The day crept close when the first-year students would leave, too. He would be alone once again.

  That day Dhruv was in his room revising induction motors when he heard what he thought was a girl shriek from the other room. On further inspection it turned out to be Amit, third-year mechanical, departmental rank three. It was him crying for he had lost his passport and he had until the evening to find it. Dhruv’s nonchalance met with a caustic response. The boy shouted. ‘What the hell do you mean it doesn’t matter? How will I go for the internship? How will I apply? They WANT THE PASSPORT NOW!’ He had started crying again and Dhruv thought it was best to leave.

  Back in his room, Sanchit was waiting and before he could ask, Dhruv explained his absence. ‘The guy in the next room was crying. He has misplaced his passport, so he can’t apply for some internship.’

  ‘Oh yeah, that internship has everyone’s panties in a bunch. They are asking for passports so it’s pretty sure they are looking for a long-term investment, someone they can hire for their headquarters in San Fransisco later on. But what the fuckers don’t realize is that they would be ground to death, every rupee strained out of them. But then again, an American sweatshop is better than an Indian one.’