Half Torn Hearts

by Novoneel Chakraborty

  A smirk appeared on Afsana’s face as she said, ‘My dear husband-to-be, my past is none of your business.’

  This new, audacious side of Afsana needled the chauvinist inside him.

  ‘So, you’re saying that if you were to realize that I’ve been having an extra-marital affair behind your back, it wouldn’t have bothered you?’

  ‘I’m saying I’m not having an affair. Not yet.’

  ‘You have nothing to prove that. But I’ve got a picture that shows you meeting him outside your building at night. Who knows where you two were before that picture was taken? Perhaps you guys had just emerged from your cosy apartment.’

  Afsana was ominously quiet. A part of her was glad that they were having this conversation now. It wasn’t just a conversation, it was turning into an eye-opener. By the end of it, she knew that both would know each other’s cores.

  ‘All I know is that you’re my fiancée and he is the other man who is out to destroy my life by trying to steal you from me emotionally,’ Shanay darted a fierce look at her and added, ‘and who knows, perhaps physically as well.’

  ‘Shut up, Shanay!’ Afsana snapped as she opened the car’s door and stepped out. It was getting suffocating inside.

  ‘Really?’ He got out as well. Looking at her over the hood of the car, he said, ‘Guess what, I won’t shut up because I’m not the sort to hand over his fiancée on a platter to her lover.’

  ‘I don’t want to discuss Nirmaan and me any more.’

  ‘Now that you’ve brought this conversation to this point, tell me one more thing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Tell me, has Nirmaan ever fucked you?’

  Afsana fumed at the man she was supposed to marry. At that moment he looked no different from any random stranger on the street.

  ‘Your silence tells me—’ Shanay began, but was interrupted by Afsana.

  ‘Yes. Nirmaan has fucked me,’ she retorted and watched Shanay’s face drain of all colour.

  ‘You’re right. That night we didn’t just meet outside my building. He visited my flat.’ She knew the lies would only pile up once they started, but she also knew that the truth had been discarded as a lie as well.

  ‘Not once,’ she was on a roll now, ‘not twice, but he fucked me so many times that every inch of my skin has been branded with the scent of his touch. And it doesn’t matter how much you, my husband-to-be, possess me, I’ll never smell of you. And no amount of your sanctimony will rinse me of Nirmaan.’

  ‘You’re saying this to humiliate me, right? Answer me!’ Shanay walked across and shook her roughly by the shoulder. She stood unresisting.

  ‘Tell me,’ he repeated, ‘that you’re kidding.’

  Afsana laughed mirthlessly, ‘I told you exactly what you wanted to hear, and now you want me to take back my words. Tsk, tsk, tsk.’

  She shook herself free from his hold and retorted, ‘Nobody can fuck me better than Nirmaan. And do you know why? That’s because I love him. I always have and always will. It’s the kind of love that I’m sure you’ve never felt or come across, and seriously doubt that you ever will with such shitty thoughts.’

  Shanay let go of her like he had been scalded.

  ‘You are such a—’

  ‘Bitch? Slut? Whore? Go on, say it. Say it, Shanay Bansal, that your fiancée, the woman you’re going to marry, is a slut. Just say it! That’s the most that your sort of men can stretch their bloated brains to when it comes to their women. But do you know why women like me are sluts? It’s because there’s a dearth of stalwarts like Nirmaan who can stand beside a woman and never use any flimsy excuse to ask for her body in return. Would you consider renouncing everything you always craved and become something else for me or for anybody? Like fuck you can. You can’t even suspend your insecurity and trust me. You can’t see the woman beyond my body.’

  In the silence of the night, Shanay could hear his heartbeat clearly. Afsana got back into her car and started the ignition. Popping her head out of the window she hollered, ‘You said Nirmaan is the other man. You’re wrong. The other man is you. I was married to Nirmaan long before my relationship with him even began. Our marriage wasn’t forged in fire, didn’t need the chanting of mantras or witnesses; it had two simple things: a yes from me and a yes from him. And we stuck together forever. That’s a marriage, Shanay. What you and I are supposed to have would only be a social licence to cohabit. A farcical attempt by the nomads to tame their savagery. So yeah, so-called husband-to-be of mine, you are the fuckin’ other man in my life. And it always will be so even if I apply vermilion on my forehead in your name for the rest of my life.’ Afsana drove off.

  Shanay stood still for a while and then turned away and gingerly made his way to the street lamp. He sat there weeping.

  The next day Afsana went to her boutique. She felt the urge to message Nirmaan, but didn’t. Her mother told her that Shanay had extended his stay in Kolkata until the wedding. That night Afsana was emotionally blackmailed by her mother to join her along with the women of the Bansal house for a dinner where they wanted to discuss certain marriage details. As the families met to dine at Marco Polo, in Park Street, Afsana received a message on her phone from Nirmaan:

  Can we please talk?

  She responded: sab baithe hain [everyone’s sitting around].

  Nirmaan read the message and replied: sorry. I’ll wait.

  You sure?

  Yes.

  As Nirmaan wrote the ‘yes’ and sent it, a teardrop fell on his phone. He stood up and went to the washroom in his hotel room. He looked at the reflection in the mirror and said intently, ‘Don’t you get it, Nirmaan? You are an illegitimate part of her life. And illegitimate people can never be anyone’s priority. Just understand this, Nirmaan, doesn’t matter how genuinely you love Afsana, you are an illegitimate part.’ He kept repeating the last part to his reflection with bloodshot eyes and then suddenly punched the mirror. An image popped up on his phone at that time. As asked by him, one of the nursing home personnel had sent him an image of a death certificate in the name of Raisa Barua.

  CHAPTER 9

  Post the dinner, instead of going to her flat, Afsana drove as fast as she could to The Park. Nirmaan wasn’t taking her calls and she sensed something bad had happened. She asked the girl at the reception to call him. After three attempts, and Afsana also rang his mobile phone, he responded to the room telephone. Afsana rode the elevator up to his room.

  As she stepped out of the lift, she spotted his door immediately. It was ajar. Afsana pushed it open and entered a darkened room. As she switched on the light, the first thing she noticed were cigarette butts littering the floor. A laptop was on the bed. The shades were drawn across the window framing a faint view of the Kolkata city line outside. A dishevelled Nirmaan was sitting on the floor by the bed. He held a lighter that he clicked on and off absently. His right hand was blood smeared. He looked up at Afsana.

  ‘Please shut the door,’ he said softly. Afsana complied, saying, ‘What happened to your hand?’

  She came close and knelt before him and their eyes met. She touched his injured hand, frowning. Their first contact after more than a decade. Nirmaan almost leapt to her. He buried his face in her bosom and wept.

  ‘Raisa is dead, Affu. Our Rice is no more!’ his voice was muffled in her chest.

  Afsana couldn’t keep her balance and they toppled on the floor with him on top of her. He held her, tight, close and intimate, his arms like bands around her, his rapid breaths warm against her exposed cleavage. It was an emotional arousal of the highest order. Her eyes were so drenched that she couldn’t see his pain or loneliness, but could feel his body shudder in her embrace. She wanted this moment to end immediately, because he was crying, and also stretch forever because he had chosen her for his catharsis. Both sobbing, their within welded together by the common pain.

  They didn’t realize how long they stayed like that. And just as suddenly as he had embraced, Nirmaan released her. Rubb
ing his eyes he said, ‘I’m sorry, Afsana.’

  She sat up, ‘I’ve got a request. Call me Affu.’

  Both smiled weakly through their tears. She called for first aid immediately. After his nursing was done by her, Nirmaan perched on the bed. Afsana parked herself in the armchair by the window. Her hands were still shaking. Raisa, her soul-sister, was no more. They both sat in silence for the longest time. The night had turned into morning without them realizing it.

  ‘How did all this happen?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘I had a chat with Lavisha who told me about it and I crosschecked with the nursing home. They said she had succumbed to a rare skin disease.’ He looked up at the ceiling, still trying to get to grips with it.

  ‘I don’t know why she didn’t tell me about her illness,’ he added.

  ‘Perhaps she knew that it would hurt you badly to learn of her terminal condition,’ Afsana said.

  ‘You know, the day she left me, I found a lipstick mark on my chest as if she had kissed me when I was asleep.’

  ‘She loved you, Nirmaan,’ said Afsana softly.

  ‘She never gave me those vibes.’

  ‘She didn’t want you to know. If a woman decides not to show her feelings, she won’t.’

  ‘After living together for so many years, what was her reason for not expressing her feelings?’

  ‘Only she can answer that. But would you have accepted her if she had told you about it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s why.’

  They sat in quietude for some more time. Afsana’s phone rang. It was her mother. She answered it.

  ‘Ji, Mumma.’

  ‘Shanay has been nominated for some big business award. That ceremony is two days before your wedding. I’m so proud. When are you coming home? Your dad is looking at some wedding card options. We need to shop for a lot of things as well.’

  ‘Mumma, stop stressing. I’m coming home right now. We’ll talk then.’ She hung up and noticed Nirmaan watching her. She shrugged.

  ‘I’m sorry, Affu, to have interrupted you. This isn’t right. You should leave. You’re supposed to get married and—’ He stopped.

  ‘And?’

  ‘You shouldn’t meet illegitimate people in a hotel room like this,’ he said realizing something inside him had burnt while he said it.

  Afsana gave him a studying look and then said, ‘If you are an illegitimate part of my life, then let me tell you everything legitimate in my life is an illusion.’

  ‘Just leave now, Affu.’

  ‘I’ll leave. But not alone. You’re coming with me.’

  ‘Me? Where?’

  ‘To my apartment. I live there alone. I can’t leave you here alone, like this. Not after knowing what we know. And what you are up to,’ she said looking at his wound.

  Despite Nirmaan’s half-hearted protests, Afsana packed his bags and they were ready to check out in a matter of minutes.

  Afsana made him comfortable in her flat and made him a cup of coffee with a couple of mild sleeping pills in it. She knew he needed to sleep but was too keyed up for it.

  ‘Sleep tight. I’ll be back as soon as possible,’ she said from the door. ‘I’ll lock it from outside.’

  ‘Thanks, Affu,’ he said softly.

  She grinned, ‘Thanks from you sounds like profanity so, please.’ Then she left.

  The news of Shanay’s marriage being brought forward spread like wildfire among his close circle of friends. They insisted on a bachelor bash and he booked Club Boudoir for the party. That was also the first time that he showed Afsana’s picture to his friends. They ribbed him good-humouredly.

  ‘You’re a lucky dog to find such a hot girl.’

  ‘So when are we going to meet bhabhi?’

  ‘Soon, soon,’ Shanay assured them.

  After several toasts, one of them noticed a girl eyeing them from the bar. They nudged one another.

  ‘Stop it, guys, behave!’ Shanay said.

  ‘We haven’t started anything yet,’ they protested with raucous laughter. They quietened down as the girl came over to them.

  ‘Hi, Shanay,’ she said.

  ‘Go for it, boy. One last fling before the wedding bells toll,’ his friend whispered to him.

  ‘Do we know each other?’ Shanay asked, standing up.

  ‘I’m Lavisha. May I have a word with you alone, please?’

  CHAPTER 10

  Given half a choice, Shanay would have cheerfully ignored the girl but in front of his friends he couldn’t risk it, because then he would have to answer a million of their stupid questions.

  ‘Sure,’ he led the way to the smoking area.

  ‘The last thing I need to hear is that Afsana or Nirmaan sent you here,’ Shanay snarled as they stood facing each other in a corner. They were the only two there who weren’t smoking.

  ‘No. I don’t think they know what I’m seeking and why,’ Lavisha replied.

  ‘Why and what are you seeking anyway?’ he asked.

  ‘For Raisa.’

  ‘She is no more.’

  ‘All the more reason to find the answers. That’s not why I came here, though. The reason I’ve contacted you and not Afsana or Nirmaan is because only you can decide how their story should end.’

  Shanay smirked, ‘To hell with you and whatever you are seeking. Do you even know what Afsana told me? She said I’m the other man. I, her husband-to-be, am the other man in her life. Can you beat that?’

  ‘I’m not surprised at all. From whatever Raisa told me about her, she was never the doormat kind. You needled her and got what you deserved.’

  ‘Deserved? Really? Who decides what I deserve? You? Or your dead friend, Raisa?’ Shanay was clearly on edge. It was also evident that his last meeting with Afsana had left a scar that he was still nursing.

  ‘I’ve already told you this and I’m telling you again, please forget Afsana. She’ll never belong with you. And it’s not about you per se. She’ll never belong with anyone for that matter, except—’

  Shanay cut her short, ‘She will belong to me. She concealed the fact that she had such a deep relationship with Nirmaan. She could have told me so the very first day and I wouldn’t have pursued her thus far. But she didn’t. In fact, if you hadn’t sent me those voice notes, I would have never known about it. Ever.’

  ‘Exactly. She didn’t conceal it intentionally. She didn’t know she would meet him again. In her mind it was over. She was carrying it in her heart, that’s all. Not all men are allowed into a woman’s heart. It doesn’t matter if that man is her husband-to-be or someone else,’ said Lavisha, her poise unfaltering.

  Shanay narrowed his eyes, ‘I suspect that it is you who brainwashed her, but let me tell you here and now, I mean to marry her and I’ll show her who the “other man” is. One day she’ll apologize and belong only to me.’

  She studied his face in silence and said, ‘So you’re marrying her to avenge the insult that you brought upon yourself. Brilliant! When I started narrating the story of Raisa, Nirmaan and Afsana to you, I didn’t realize that you were a petty person. Had I known, believe me, I wouldn’t have even tried. You say Afsana didn’t choose to tell you about Nirmaan. She was right. That’s her choice, not your prerogative. I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Mr Bansal. I guess some things should be left to destiny. You won’t hear from me again. Enjoy your bachelor party.’

  Shanay watched Lavisha walk out of the smoking zone. He took a deep breath, quickly thinking up a plausible explanation to satisfy his friends and then returned to them. On some level he was glad that this stupid and sad joke that this mystery girl had been trying to pull off was finally over and done with.

  It was close to eleven o’clock at night when Afsana unlocked the door of her flat. Her parents had taken her on a shopping spree after which they forced her to have dinner with them. They wanted her to stay the night with them, but she claimed that she had a project to complete and r
eturned to her apartment. For the first time she was returning home to someone; someone she never imagined even in her wildest dreams would come and reclaim, in a subtle, indirect and compassionate way, his place within her.

  Afsana went into the bedroom. The room was cold. The temperature of the air-conditioner was exactly the same as she had set it before leaving. Nirmaan was lying on his side, facing away from her. She went around the bed and noticed a moonbeam directly on his face. He was sleeping like a baby. She dragged a bean bag to the bed and sat on it. Afsana noticed that his lips were parted. She leaned forward until she could feel his breath on her face. For a moment she simply inhaled the air that he exhaled. She turned her face so his breath could touch every inch of her face. She felt an irresistible urge to touch him, but was irrationally afraid that he would disappear if she did. What if all this were a dream? A fantasy that would never materialize into reality. She feathered a kiss on the tip of his nose and then grew still.

  Raisa left a lipstick mark on my chest. Afsana straightened, feeling a knot in her gut. Raisa was obviously deeply in love with him, with the kind of love that bordered on devotion. That which is beyond touch and lovemaking. She rose and took out her diary from the drawer in her study table. She sat with it, looking at Nirmaan and scribbled a poem.

  Zamane se chupke,

  Ek band kamre mein,

  Parde kheech ke,

  Bistar pe beeche chadar ko kuchalke,

  Ishq nahi hota.

  Once done, she didn’t realize when she had dozed off.

  Afsana awoke with a start. Nirmaan wasn’t on the bed. A shadow moved on the floor and she turned to see him standing by the window with an amused expression.

  ‘I didn’t know you snored,’ he said with a naughty smile.

  ‘Shut up!’ Afsana stood up and stretched.

  ‘Whoa, that’s sexy.’

  ‘Shut up! Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Haven’t slept this well for a long time now,’ he replied.