‘Mumbai?’ I ask Avantika.
‘Gandhinagar first,’ she says.
‘And we don’t have to call him the dead guy any more.’
‘Yes. Ritam sounds much better.’
Nivedita.
Avantika has a heart as big as anyone you can imagine. Her office project is lagging behind and she is getting a little restless with the road trip. She has to get back to office, but I know she wouldn’t do that before she meets Nivedita. I can tell that she really wants to meet her. Gandhinagar—another thirteen-hour drive stares us in the face. I wish we could’ve taken buses like Ritam did every fifteen days to meet his crippled sister. But, instead, we have Shrey’s creaky, rotten car.
15 November 2010
‘When you know that your happiness is like a sacrificial lamb for the happiness of the person you care about, you should realize that you’re in love. The most incurable form of love.’
Ragini has been a little sad since the past few days. I knew the reason but I insisted she tell me and she did. It was not something I enjoyed doing but I found my bits of happiness in my own small way. I imagined her talking about me the way she talked about Nigel. How lucky I would be if I could make her eyes sparkle the way Nigel did. I wanted to be the guy she loved, but life had other plans.
The sparkle didn’t last too long. After a while, she started to cry and said she missed him too much. She told me that Nigel had been trying to get her an internship at the bank he works in but things were going nowhere. Our vacations are scheduled to start in another fifteen days and it was too short a time to go through the entire procedure for securing an internship. I don’t know how I feel about that. I have mixed feelings. I would be happy to see her happy. I would be sad to see her happy with someone else. After a little while, she stopped crying and smiled at my efforts to make her smile.
I wish I could have frozen that moment in time. I wish I had, because the very next moment, her phone rang and it was from Nigel’s company. During the entire duration of the phone call, she looked at me with wide-open eyes, bit her nails and smiled at me. She shrieked like a little kid after disconnecting the call and hugged me. Her application had been accepted. Being in love is difficult. When she was right in front of me and smiled, I was glad. Now that I am alone, I am consumed by my loneliness and the hollowness of the times to come. She was going to Bangalore. And not to meet Nigel just once but to stay. For two months. Her little gamble had paid off.
Nigel called to confirm the news. Suddenly, she was ecstatic. She passed her phone to me and Nigel asked if I too wanted to apply. I turned it down. Ragini begged me and insisted I come with her. I said no. It hurt me to say so, but going with her would have hurt more. And she would not need me anyway. She would have Nigel to take care of her. He was all she ever needed.
I feel like being alone for a while. But still, I wish I could see her tomorrow
18 November 2010
‘And when you agree to hurt yourself for the happiness of the other, you know you’re never going to stop loving that person.’
Ragini was supposed to be happy, but she wasn’t. After all, the way things were panning out, it seemed like even God was in on their plans. She said she was in a bad mood and would be okay soon. I didn’t buy that. Something was wrong and I had to know. I probed. She broke down and held on to me for dear life. She asked me if I considered her a good friend and whether I would do anything to help her. I feel lost when she asks me questions like these. Sometimes, I am very tempted to tell her the truth, but pull back thinking it’s too early and too stupid.
I told her I would do anything to make her happy. She stopped crying and told me that her parents weren’t allowing her to go to Bangalore alone. Unwillingly, I asked her how I could help. Her parents had told her that she would be allowed to go only if someone else from the college was going to Bangalore for the internship too. With tears in her eyes, she asked me if I would. I was the reason for her tears. It was because of me that those beautiful eyes had shed tears, the cute nose had crinkled and the sweetest girl in the world was sad. I was angry at myself for it and I made up my mind. Yes, I would accompany her to Bangalore. I couldn’t have been selfish and said no to her. While she smiled, my life came to a standstill. Two months. Nigel and Ragini, in front of my eyes. I shudder to think what would become of me.
All the paperwork is to be done and we have to leave in ten days. I didn’t see Ragini in college later today. She was way too excited about going to Bangalore and had lots of shopping to do. After all, she had a boyfriend to impress. Since the day her internship was confirmed, she has changed. She looks … hot, yes, that’s what people would call her. She has done something with her hair … the natural waves and cute curls are missing. All that is left is stick-straight hair, which falls all over her face and gives her a sharp look. The sweetness is gone. Did Nigel ask her to? I knew she loved her curls and would never destroy them. Maybe I am thinking too much.
She told me all about her day and how much fun she had shopping. But after a while, she fell silent and had a dreamy look on her face. On our way back home, I saw her look out of the window, wordlessly. She had stopped talking. She must have been tired. But her eyes weren’t. They were still dreamy and thinking about someone. And as I saw her look out of the window, I noticed her lips curve into a little smile. I wish she would remain like this, happy, forever. Even if her happiness was because of someone else.
I wish I could see her tomorrow.
To Gandhinagar
I find us packing our stuff as soon as we get to the hotel. The adrenaline is getting to us. We are finally getting somewhere. Though the thought of Ritam’s crippled sister saddens us. But at least we have a name. Ritam Dey. That’s a start. I am sure we will be at Ragini’s doorstep soon.
‘Are we leaving already?’ I ask. ‘It’s a nice city. Can we rest a while? Have a few walks along the city lanes? Nice dinner?’
‘Deb,’ Avantika says and throws my bag to me.
‘What?’
‘Nivedita. It must have been weeks since her brother hasn’t met her. What if Ritam’s parents didn’t let Nivedita know? What if they never tell her that Ritam is never coming back?’ she says with concern.
‘I was just kidding. I wanted to see how kicked you were.’
From what I inferred from the diary Ritam’s parents had never bothered to contact Nivedita after they sent her away. It’s a little strange to take his name over and over again. Ritam. Earlier, it was just the dead guy. But now, he has a name and a personality to go with it. It makes me feel even closer to him. It’s like I know him now, like he’s a friend … a friend I am responsible for, a friend who died an unfortunate death, leaving behind his story in a diary.
Fifteen minutes later, we are already in the car. We both buy ‘I Love Madhya Pradesh T-shirts, for a hundred bucks each, as we leave the city and throw our old ones (We Love Haridwar) in the dustbin. She ties the T-shirt a little above her navel and we continue our journey on the open, dusty roads again.
It’s a fifteen-hour journey and I check our supplies—mineral water, packed food, chips, knives, condoms, etc. Life seems crazy now. Come to think of it, only a week back we were a boring couple who used to sit at home, watch television, order pizzas and have a lot of sex. And this morning, we didn’t even think of taking a shower together. I don’t know how that’s a good sign in a relationship, but that’s what’s happening. And I have come to love it.
While I drive, Avantika fiddles with the diary and reads parts of it again and again.
‘He was a sweet guy,’ she says and looks into the distance. ‘Ritam Dey.’
‘Hmmm.’
‘It’s so nice, right, Deb? He doesn’t even think twice before agreeing to go to Bangalore for her.’
‘Yes,’ I reply shortly.
‘Neither did he react when Ragini told him everything. She had an abortion at sixteen, and Ritam could only say how brave she had been? This is true love,’ she says.
‘You don’t find guys like that any more,’ she says.
‘Yes, I’m sure it is.’
‘You don’t find guys like that any more,’ she says.
‘What? I would have done the same for you,’ I protest.
‘You wouldn’t have.’
‘I would have,’ I say. ‘You told me that you had kissed many guys before me. I never reacted to that.’
‘Because you knew I was never in my senses when I used to do it. You can’t call them kisses,’ she says while referring to the times she used to kiss random guys at parties under the influence of drugs.
‘Whatever.’
‘And the only time I lied to you about kissing someone other than you, you left me.’
There is an awkward silence. I have nothing to say. Why don’t girls ever forget anything? Two years back, Avantika and I had broken up and it was because of me. We were in the Management Development Institute (MDI) doing a management course. One day, I had gotten drunk and kissed a classmate of mine. Avantika had stopped talking to me for a little while, but we were back together within a few days. I’d apologized and she’d forgiven me.
During those days in between, when she was apart, she hung around with a guy named Kabir. It was only after we got back together that she told me they had made out. In a ft of rage, I dumped her! I walked away from her and vowed that I would never come back. I told her that she disgusted me and I would never like to see her again.
Our distances increased and she started staying alone in college. She kept apologizing, but it was way too hard for me to forgive. I used to see her with Kabir on occasions, and I used to feel sick. That’s when I started to spend a lot of time with the girl I had kissed—Malini. She was hot and very intriguing. She had come to India from Canada after spending a few years there and I was the only person she spoke to. She helped me through the times when I used to be angry and disappointed. We had a sort of a relationship and we even made out a few times, though both of us knew that she would never replace Avantika.
The silence and the awkwardness in the car make me uncomfortable. I have always tried to avoid conversations about Malini or that period when Avantika and I were not together.
‘Do you still think about Malini?’ Avantika asks.
‘No, I don’t.’
‘You’re lying, Deb.’
‘I do, sometimes. She was a friend. It was a tough time for me and she helped,’ I say.
‘It was tougher for me …’
‘I know. But you didn’t have to lie about it,’ I say. I had met Kabir months after Avantika and I had broken up. He told me he had never ever kissed her, let alone make out with her. Avantika had lied about it.
‘Do you think it was easy for me to lie?’
‘Then why did you?’
‘Deb, I was in love with you. I was ready to spend every waking moment of my life with you. I had the right to know whether I meant as much to you as you meant to me. When you kissed Malini, I forgave you almost instantly. Whereas when I told you that Kabir and I had made out, you just left me like that. You told me that I disgust you. How do you think I felt back then?’ she says.
‘I am sorry … I was just so mad at you.’
‘Never mind. I don’t want to think about it,’ she says and looks away.
It was a horrible time for me. Avantika was in Mumbai when I got to know that she had lied about it. The very next day, I was on a flight to Mumbai to woo her back. It took me months before Avantika finally agreed to date me again. It’s not that I didn’t miss her when I believed that she had cheated on me. I still missed her as much, if not more. I still have a text saved that I had written for her in those days.
If I’d only known,
That this is the last time we’ve met,
I would have stopped the break of dawn,
And stopped the sun to set.
If I’d only known,
That I wouldn’t ever see you again,
I would have framed a picture of you within,
To end my suffering, to end my pain.
If I’d only known,
That this is the last time I sit by your side,
I would have told you how much I loved you,
Keeping other things aside.
If I’d only known,
That we would never hold hands again,
I would have held them strong,
And never let anything go wrong.
If I’d only known,
That you would always stand by my side,
I would have fought the world for you,
Breaking all the walls through.
If I’d only known,
That your love was true,
If I’d only known that you would come back soon,
I would have waited for you to come by.
If I’d only known any of this,
That you were what I was breathing for,
I would have breathed my last for you,
Seen you enough and bid you adieu.
While all I can do now,
Is sit here …
… and wait.
Love you.
If I’d only known.
Anyway I look at Avantika and have nothing to say. Ritam was a better person than I will ever be. He had accepted Ragini just the way she was. Well, I have my flaws. No one’s perfect, after all. Except Avantika, of course. She is flawlessly divine.
‘I love you,’ I say.
‘I know you do,’ she says and smiles at me.
Ever since that blast, I have never missed a chance to say that to Avantika. Who knows what will happen the next moment? And I love you needs to be one of the last words that I say to Avantika. So I have made it a point to tell her that whenever I get a chance, just to be sure.
The drive is long and tiring. The first nine hours are still okay. We take shifts and drive, but after that, we are exhausted. It’s a tough job driving Shrey’s car. But we are lucky it hasn’t broken down yet. We park it and move into a hotel, at two in the night. I see the bed and all I can think of is sleep. I crash, arms and legs wide open.
Suddenly, it seems like we’ve been doing this forever-driving through empty, unchartered roads, falling in love with each other all over again, staying in dirty hotels and meeting new people—it’s like a new lease of life for us. I am beginning to love this. It’s addictive and it’s fun. It will be tough to get back to our routine lives after this ends.
But today, I am just fucking tired. While I look like a roadside labourer, Avantika still manages to look smashing. I don’t have the energy to change, so I go to sleep like that. A little later, I sniff something fabulous—Avantika. She snuggles up next to me inside the blanket. She has taken a shower and smells fantastically fruity.
She turns towards me, kisses me on my nose and whispers, ‘I love you.’
‘I love you more,’ I reply. She smiles, snuggles closer and I put my hands around her.
‘I love you.’
‘I love you more.’
‘I love you so much.’
‘I love you so much more.’
‘I love you so freaking much.’
‘I love you so freaking much more.’
Yes, we are silly and we like saying these things to each other. We are in love and we are allowed to be like that. People who are not in love can just be jealous and say things like, ‘They are so creepy!’ or ‘Shit. So cheesy But I don’t give a shit. It’s not my fault that you don’t have a super pretty girl as your girlfriend. But I do, and I will dance naked in a dress made out of leaves and shout that I love her, if it makes her happy. Slowly, we drift off to sleep.
We’ve been sleeping for long when my sleep is broken by the heavy beating on the door.
‘Kholo!’ The voice says from the other side. Once. Twice. The voice keeps getting louder. I wake up Avantika.
‘Huh?’
She hears it too. The bangs on the door keep getting heavier and more
determined. We get up. I am a little scared, but Avantika is not. She checks her face in the mirror coolly. I hold her hand as she walks to the door and shouts, ‘Kaun?’
‘POLICE!’ they shout from the other side.
What?
We look at each other. Although we haven’t done anything, but with the Indian police, you never know. You might be innocent and still spend years rotting behind bars. Yeah, that’s how 90 per cent cases are closed. So, yes, we are scared.
‘Yes?’ says Avantika as she opens the door.
There are two rustic-looking men standing outside. Moustached, not too old, and with slight paunches. I am confident that slowly and steadily their paunches will grow to become hot-air balloons. And their teeth will be stained red and yellow. For now, they are marginally presentable. They must be new in the force.
‘COME OUTSIDE. We need to see IDs,’ one of them says in a stern voice.
‘Fine,’ Avantika says rudely and goes to fetch the IDs.
The two policemen look at me. One of them looks at Avantika lewdly. I want to poke his fucking eye out. He looks at me and raises an eyebrow.
‘Ladki kaun hai?’ he asks me.
‘I’m getting married to her. We’re engaged.’ I wave the ring.
‘Hmmm,’ he says with his eyes stuck on her.
‘Kya karte ho?’ he asks.
‘I am in the media. The press,’ I say. I don’t work in the media, but it helps me get out of sticky situations. It’s a no-brainer. No one messes with the media. You never know when Aaj Tak people might come out with cameras shouting ‘Sabse Tez’ and label anyone a sex offender or child killer—whatever catches their fancy. So, yes, that works.
Finally the policeman takes his eyes off Avantika and looks at me. We don’t exchange a word. I smile. My smile says, ‘Yes, Media, you asshole. Eat that!’ Policemen never mess with people from the press. Soon, Avantika comes with our IDs and hands them over to the policemen. He looks at the IDs and looks at us, matches the faces and hands them over to us.
If It’s Not Forever: It’s Not Love Page 11
