by Durjoy Datta
‘Deb, I want to talk about Neeti. You know much more about relationships than I do. But Astha told me about what happened between the two of you. Neeti cried the whole night and couldn’t stop talking about it. And Astha didn’t like it. And all of a sudden you went out with her today. Why, Deb? You’ve never done that before. I do not doubt you. I really like you. But I also really like Neeti and I can’t see her or Astha cry. I am sorry if I am wrong. But I thought it would be wrong not to tell you about this. I am very sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I can understand your concern.’
I did. I wasn’t hearing this for the first time. I was thankful I hadn’t kissed her the previous night. Even though she was looking quite kissable by fifth-grade standards, I did not do it. It was like a second shot, and I had done well at that. It wasn’t tough, I thought.
‘So, why did you go out with her today?’ he asked.
‘You will know soon,’ I said. In those moments, I felt I had grown up and become responsible all of a sudden. I wasn’t the same brash, sick bastard I had once been and I felt good about it. I didn’t kiss her, not because she wasn’t my type or because I suspected she had dropped a few screws as a child. It was because I loved the little man and let him know that. I had learnt something. I had made a friend and I valued him. It was strange to actually look beyond the obvious. I felt like a sage. I had been so wrong before. I missed Vernita, even Tanmay and Avantika. One changes with time, from fighting for a window seat to the time when you are old and prefer an aisle seat closer to the washroom. I had chosen the aisle closer to Amit, letting go of the window to Neeti’s life.
‘Deb, there is also something else I wanted to tell you. Please don’t be angry about it. I am sorry I did that. But that day when you locked me up in your room, I read your personal diary. There was a link you had bookmarked. I am sorry, but I couldn’t help it,’ he said. He was more apologetic than I would have been had I actually ruined her life. I don’t think I would have been apologetic at all. My insensate tool desperately needed to get in somewhere.
‘I would have been very angry …’
‘Deb, I am really sorry. I didn’t mean to see it. You just kept …’
‘Amit! Will you let me finish? I don’t have a diary. What you must have read was a blog I once maintained. I forgot its password so I stopped writing,’ I explained.
I had not forgotten it. Thepassword was—Ilovedeb. I hated it enough not to type it and loved it enough not to change it.
‘You forgot your own password? You are kidding me. I am sorry, I told you. You don’t have to lie to me. I have seen recent posts too.’
‘Shut up, man. You know the Gitanjali I told you about? She was the only reader I had, amongst a few others. She kept trashing it, so I stopped writing. I was just a really bad writer. Yes, I knew the password but I didn’t feel like writing any more. That’s about it. Now chill. It’s no big deal.’ I said.
‘Whose story is it?’
‘Mine,’ I said, trying to recollect what all I had written. I remember Gitanjali refusing to read it any further. Do not depress me, Deb, and for god’s sake, get over her.
‘You really loved M, didn’t you? Why did you address her by an alphabet M and not her real name? Okay, I think I shouldn’t ask that. But do you still love her?’
‘I still do.’ I said. I loved the girl I called ‘M’ in the blog. It was Avantika.
The doorbell rang.
‘I will get that,’ I said as I jumped out of his bed.
‘Who is that?’ he shouted.
‘I have something for you. Quick!’
He came out shouting: ‘Deb, I told you not to order from outside today. I called the tiffin service earlier and they will deliver the food soon.’
I opened the door and let them in.
‘Who is that?’ he asked and then saw them. ‘Shit! What? What are you doing here? Deb, did you know they would come? What a surprise, Astha! Deb!’ He looked at me, and seeing me unmoved by all that was happening, continued, ‘Oh so you knew. Why didn’t you tell me? It is such a big surprise. Hi, Astha! Sorry. I didn’t expect this.’
‘Hi, Amit! Hi, Deb! I didn’t know about this too. Neeti dragged me here,’ she said.
Seeing them talk felt like a better achievement than seeing Mr Goyal lose his balls. After all, it was my doing and I was proud of it.
‘Okay, before we waste any more time, we have planned something for the two of you. We now know something about the two of you that you would take ages to tell each other. So, we thought we would just speed up the process for you. Welcome to your room for tonight.’
And I swung open the supposedly mosquito-infested room and for a few seconds, I admired my second attempt at something mushy and love-laden. The room was filled with white and red balloons bobbing in it with a huge cake bang in the middle of the bed. Two massive teddy bears (Amit told me she liked them!) on either side of the cake with a bunch of roses in their hands completed the picture. There were frills criss-crossing the walls. The room was lit up with scores of aromatic candles.
It was my first expense since I had started earning and it was worth it. It might have been silly, but it was infinitely romantic. Piping sheets were much easier to pull off.
Amit and Astha waded into the room through all those balloons, awestruck at what they saw. I just loved it. Neeti winked at me in appreciation. The wink brought back memories of her. I had set this room for her, just that she wasn’t here. But her wink was here and I was here, only she wasn’t.
I switched on the light. A gigantic poster awaited them, done beautifully in sparkling blue over a huge red sheet. It read:
The day Astha and Amit decide to marry each other. Cheers to you guys.
—Neeti and Deb
‘Takes care of your dad’s worries, doesn’t it?’ I whispered into Astha’s ear. Apparently, she too had been crying the previous night for the same reason that Amit had been. Only a lot harder and Neeti told me that it had been troubling her for a while. Her parents were pressing her to get married for quite some time now and she was running out of reasons for why she couldn’t get married. All this while, she had wanted to know how strongly Amit felt about her.
I was the happiest person that night out of all present in that room.
It seemed like their vocal chords had given way.
‘Okay, I am bolting the door from outside. You are not going home tonight. And we won’t open the door till the time you’ve done justice to the cake and the balloons and the candles. Bye now and don’t you worry. Dinner is served and it’s in the microwave right there,’ I said and before they could shake themselves enough to say anything to me, Neeti and I rushed out and bolted them in. No sounds this time around. He won’t struggle to come out of that room now.
Neeti and I pinned our ears to the door for the next half an hour or so to catch any kind of sound and we couldn’t hear anything. We hadn’t quite expected them to make out, but these guys weren’t even talking. We both ate, sitting on the floor, right outside their door, just in case. Neeti drifted off before I could thank her for the cutest dinner I had ever had. I picked her up, placed her on Amit’s bed, and saw her ensconced comfortably there. She looked beautiful sleeping. I was glad I had kept my hands off her. Or was I? I missed being in a relationship. It sucked to be single and alone when other people were happy being in love.
I fell asleep after a little while.
This time, I came in the way of a bullet that pierced my heart and saved Avantika. Yet again. I woke up and walked up to their door. I saw more through prior knowledge than my still not fully opened eyes.
I creaked open the door.
‘Good morning, Deb!’ they said in unison. Quite clearly, they had not slept the night before. The balloons were still in their places. They were sitting on the floor facing each other. Like Neeti and I were last night, trying to eavesdrop.
‘Good morning, people. And why the hell do you think my parents invested in that huge bed? It’
s for sleeping!’
‘Deb, we didn’t want to disturb it. It is so beautiful. Moreover we had no camera in this room and we didn’t want to let the most memorable moment of our lives go uncaptured. Thank you, Deb. Thank you very much. And I am sorry for doubting your intentions towards Neeti,’ Amit said.
‘I am sorry too, Deb. I was the one who started it. I am really sorry,’ Astha added.
‘It’s fine, guys! So tell me. What did you decide? I hope we won’t be disappointed by whatever you have decided,’ I said.
‘I hope not. We are leaving for Bihar tonight to talk to her father. Can you believe that, Deb? We are actually going tonight. I think I beat you there; I am meeting Astha’s father within two days of my first date. Deb, I am actually going! Don’t look at me like that,’ Amit shrieked and burst with a heady concoction of pride, elation and goddamned happiness.
‘Is this true, Astha?’ He had actually beaten me to it and I was so happy he had. Anyway, I wouldn’t have dreamt of doing anything like that, maybe except in Avantika’s case.
‘Yes, Deb.’ She was stripped naked in front of me. That’s how she made me feel, at least, when she looked away shyly and blushed.
We hugged and shouted our tops off and woke up Neeti in the ensuing commotion. When she heard the news, she gave a shriek so loud that I wouldn’t have been surprised if a couple of hyenas had turned up at my door.
It was hard to believe that they were actually getting married. One date and that is all they took. It was the kind of love that gets written about. A love pure and pristine, with no doubts or hesitation. All they took was one night to decide that they wanted to be with each other for the rest of their lives.
It was just in the nick of time, or Astha’s father would have selected a husband for her. And two broken hearts in one house was the last thing I wanted.
They were at my place the whole day. They clicked pictures and discussed what they had to do when they reached Bhagalpur, her village in Bihar. Neeti and I, in the meanwhile, packed Amit’s bags.
‘You know what, Deb? I have never seen a guy like you. You are such a good friend. You are so caring, so sweet. I am obviously sad that we couldn’t be what they are. But we are still more than good friends, no? And I am so happy about that. You are perfect, Deb,’ Neeti said. ‘Now what is that? You are stuffing the undergarments in the same compartment as the toothbrush? Give them to me. Let me do it.’
So much for being perfect.
Finally, the time came for them to leave. It was heart-warming to see how they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other. While I belonged to the group of people who call themselves progressive and think a couple should date and get to know each other better before they take a huge step in a relationship, I couldn’t find a single speck of doubt in their decision. Isn’t this how love should be? When the decisions are easy and there are no pretensions? Maybe that’s the difference between being in a relationship and being in love.
Just as they reached the main gate, they all shouted out in unison. ‘Three cheers for our best friend, Deb.’
And they went on to do the Hip Hip thing, which I always felt shouldn’t be done more than twice; it becomes a drag the third time. But I loved it that time. I finally had friends, those who stayed up all night for me, that too for some silly challenge I had picked up.
We all hugged and thanked each other for being wonderful friends and they left.
I was alone again. They would not be back for a week at least, I was sure. So I had decided I would skip office for a week and wallow in self-pity. Also, I had been a good man for the last three days and I wanted to soak in my own goodness.
‘I will pay you back some day, for you are my best friend ever,’ Amit told me and left.
Quite embarrassingly, he left me feeling loved, missed and in tears.
Chapter 22
I spent the next few days lazing around at my place. Six days and fourteen hours to be exact. But without Amit, I didn’t feel like going to office. Anyway, with the guard doing his duty, I didn’t need to. I tried to rearrange my things, but gave up soon after realizing that I couldn’t do any better with the room after what Amit had done.
I called up Neeti more than a few times to lend an ear to her shrieks, but even she wasn’t that free any more. I had watched all the porn I had. I snooped on Amit’s computer. It was cleaner than a nun’s.
Pipes were his only love, after Astha. I regretted not to have learnt anything about piping. At least I would have had something to do. It was supposedly the ideal life I had always imagined myself in. I had no expenses, I was doing nothing and I was responsible for nothing. All I needed was Avantika.
I hadn’t quite gotten over her. It wasn’t that I was exercising my tear glands every day, but I still thought about her all the time. I daydreamed for hours on end and imagined us together in the future. At times, I did feel like contacting her, but I knew that would only add to the pain.
I always believed that one fine day she would return to my life … with a new boyfriend in tow and eventually drive me to suicide. That would be perfect. Two ex-boyfriends in different jails and one dead. Sri Guru would be right too, then. She would then be the cause of all our sorrows.
But that was just one aspect. I daydreamed about a million times during those months about the zillion ways in which we could cross each other’s paths again some time, any time in the next many decades. And then walk into the sunset hand-in-hand, boyfriends, husbands, teenage kids, cancer notwithstanding.
I desperately needed to move on.
Just as I was about to drift off again, the bell rang. It was a courier. The details were missing on the package and I had no idea where it had come from. I signed the sheet and the courier guy handed me a big brown envelope. I tore it open and found a big spiral-bound document, which was about two hundred pages thick. I dreaded the thought that it had something to do with the pipes for the BINA refinery project and someone needed some clarification on it. Now that Amit was not reachable, I had no idea how I’d answer them.
‘Deb, the dummy support you have provided here, do you think it will take the stress?’ … ‘Deb, we ran it on Caesar 2 and it is showing some major deviations. Would you kindly check it and tell us?’
I reached for the cell phone to switch it off. As I did so, I flicked the first page open, expecting semicircles and 3-D cylinders to jump up at my face and torment me.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Our Story—it screamed in big letters. To Deb, it said below.
I flicked through the page to reach the index. I read it. Twenty-one chapters labelled neatly. I spotted names that were familiar to me on the pages. Deb, Shrey, Avantika, Tanmay …
It was me. It was my story. They were my incidents. Everything that had happened to me was right there, in my hands. Somebody had recorded it and documented it. It was my life. On paper. The words had me by the collar and transported me to the times they were set in. Everything started happening again and a montage ran in front of my eyes. I watched everything go by: Smriti and I near India Gate, Shrey having a smoke, me standing naked in Splash, kissing Avantika on the stairs, Mom and Dad leaving for Hyderabad … everything. It all came back and I was dumbstruck.
I started to flip through the pages, not to read, but just to see what all was in there.
Everything. Every goddamned thing.
The words came out and struck me. They were all either said or written by me. Some time or the other. Each one of them. It was my blog on paper, only instead of fake names and fake places, real names had been used. No details were skipped and it was a comprehensive throwback of my life. The blog was haphazard and the timeline of the posts were awry, but on the paper in my hands, it was painfully chronological.
I skipped to the last chapter.
Deb and Amit.
It was Amit! I couldn’t believe it. Is this why he had asked me questions about my past life? Is this why he had spent hours listening to me talk about Sm
riti and Shrey? Is this why he had wanted to know about my relationship? Is this why he was interested in my blog and had so many questions about it? I remember him asking so many questions after he had apologized for having stumbled across my blog.
Was this how he was paying me back? He had strung it all together. I so loved the little man. I switched on my phone to call him up, but there was no answer.
I was trembling as I turned the first page to read from those pages. Chapter One. I was still numb. I had barely known him for a few months and I didn’t think he could do this for me.
My eyes welled up as I started reading it. Everything I had ever told him was in it. He remembered everything, every word, and every sentence. I started living every moment again. He had hung on to every word that I told him. Everything that I ever loved, ever wanted, ever hated, ever felt. It was right there, in front of me. Amit was beyond pipes. He was my best friend. I would not give him up for a thousand jobs and a million girlfriends.
I was on the last chapter. It had been seven hours since I had begun reading it, never looking up unless it was for sniffing my fluids in. I was reading everything thrice and often even more than that. A lot of things were blog posts I had written on my own, but everything was so beautifully knit together that every new sentence made me nostalgic. However strange it had been to listen to my stories of my girlfriends, he hadn’t missed a single thing I had told him. It often reminded me of things I didn’t remember myself. He had given me the good times back.
I finished the last chapter. Deb and Amit.
I read the last line of it. Deb, thanks for everything. You are the best.
I cried a little more and thought about Amit a little more. I thanked god for having found a friend like him and prayed for his success and well-being. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. The experience of knowing you have a friend who would be with you, come hell or high water, was overwhelming. I drifted off.
Our Story lay open on my bed.
