by Durjoy Datta
‘I want us to be happy. I have waited way too long for this. What I did was for you! And I didn’t even touch him. And you got your contract, didn’t you? Why are you doing this?’
‘Are you seriously asking me that? You called Karthik to your room, you asked him to pop his cock out. Who would have known had the door not been knocked on by Varnika? At what point were you going to stop?’ Daman snarled.
‘I wasn’t about to do anything. I got what I wanted,’ said Shreyasi. ‘I would have stopped right there even if there was no knock on the door.’
‘How the fuck would I know?’ shouted Daman.
‘Because I LOVE YOU, DAMMIT! You were destroying yourself a few weeks back. I had to do it. LOOK AT YOU NOW! You have already written three chapters—’
Daman cut in. ‘You know what? Take those chapters and shove it.’
‘Don’t you dare use that tone with me,’ retorted Shreyasi.
Daman rolled his eyes. He took out his phone and showed Shreyasi the text Karthik Iyer had sent him.
KARTHIK IYER
Hey man. You might have gotten me to push you back into Jayanti’s calendar. But your bitch wanted to touch my dick. She also said I was way bigger than you. Next time why don’t you come over as well and be the cuckold?
‘Now what am I supposed to reply to that?’
‘I will take care of it!’
‘By threatening him again? But how am I going to rid that asshole’s words from my head?’ asked
Daman.
‘It shouldn’t be embarrassing for you. It should be embarrassing for him. You just stand to gain from this entire episode.’
‘Oh, what lovely gain! A book contract for pimping out my girlfriend,’ said Daman and smiled.
‘You are over—’
‘What do I STAND TO GAIN for pimping you out to your husband every day? Will the payment be weekly, monthly, biannually or annually? I would insist on monthly—’
‘You’re filthy, Daman!’ shrieked Shreyasi and slapped Daman.
Daman spat on the ground. ‘Look who’s talking.’
‘I have given you three years of my life. Three years—’
‘Should I be grateful for that, huh? Whatever you did was because you wanted to. You’re the one who stalked me, you are the one who came over to Goa! So what you did was because you loved me. Do you get it? BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO!’
‘You make it all sound like a mistake,’ mumbled Shreyasi.
‘Maybe it was. So sad to break it to you that I’m not what you think I am. But isn’t that the hallmark of our relationship? Deceiving each other? Because you’re definitely not what I thought of you to be. At least I don’t prance around naked in front of Avni asking if I got her wet or tell her she has bigger breasts than you do. I think I should do that the next time. Let me make a note,’ mocked Daman.
‘This is unfair. I DON’T DESERVE THIS.’
‘At least there we think alike.’
Shreyasi picked up her bag and stormed out of Daman’s apartment. She took a cab and went straight to her home, fuming. Sleep evaded her. Daman calmed down in a couple of hours and like it had happened numerous times in the past few weeks, he went to her begging for forgiveness. I know you did it for me, he said. He barraged her phone with calls and texts, threatened to come up
and bang the door, and stayed outside her apartment gate till the next morning. And just like all the times before, Shreyasi forgave him, hugged him, and asked him to put the Karthik episode behind him. He apologized, called his behaviour abhorrent and swore it wouldn’t happen again. Shreyasi believed him like she did every time. She wasn’t about to let go of him so soon. Not after all she had put into this relationship. She had to make this work.
‘I will make it up to you,’ he said as he hugged her and cried.
‘Baby—’
‘I will write the best book I can. No one will forget our love. I promise you.’
Shreyasi slept with a smile the next night.
48
Before Shreyasi knew it Daman had locked her out of his life. I need to work on the book, baby, having you around is distracting, he told her. He had to concentrate on writing a detailed breakdown of the chapters of his next book. Shreyasi was sceptical of it at first, concerned and scared of the recurrent dreams Daman had been having, the one with two Shreyasis—one in the car next to him and one in the back seat of the taxi, the driver in the front. Although he had picked himself up, and put his mind to paper, and cranked out chapter after chapter, writing with an intensity she hadn’t seen in a year, the nightmares had gone from bad to worse.
He had refused to take his sleeping pills. I can’t concentrate, he had said. Shreyasi tailed him around for the first few days. Daman would visit the library, sit alone in cafes, stay locked up in his apartment and write like a madman. It brought back memories of the time before any of this had happened to her. The time when an inexplicable attraction had drawn her towards this college boy with a puppy face and glinting eyes and stories inside him that needed to be told. She was his first true fan. Even then, as now, the questions had haunted her. Why him? Why am I following him?
What am I getting out of this? Why do I love him? She had never found the answers and soon the questions were pushed back into the dark corner of her mind, never to be confronted again.
Sometimes late at night, he would call her and cry like a little baby. What happened? She would ask. I just wrote something and I felt like talking to you, he would say. And just like that, he would spend the rest of the night talking to her. When can I read it? she would ask. When I figure out the end, he would tell her. And then the day came. He is back, thought Shreyasi as she held the fifty-page detailed skeletal structure of Daman’s next book in her hands.
‘So?’ asked Daman, a smug smile on his face.
He knew what he had done. He had noticed the emotional expression on Shreyasi’s face.
‘It’s beautiful. It’s so beautiful . . .’ she said.
‘There are a few things that I need to change. There are chapters that look retrofitted. I will do that in the second draft of the book. Mark the chapters you think are a little odd,’ he said. He gave a pen to her.
‘I think it’s perfect. Have you mailed it to Jayanti?’
‘I have not yet. I want it to be perfect. Karthik may have bullied her into offering me a contract but she will try to give me hell for the book—’
‘She won’t,’ interrupted Shreyasi.
‘What did you do now?’ asked Daman. ‘No, I’m just asking before you freak me out again. Or better still, don’t tell me.’
Shreyasi laughed. ‘Baby, you’re so cute.’
Daman grinned and leant back into his chair.
‘I can’t wait for this book to come out,’ said Shreyasi. ‘Finish writing it, already!’
Daman’s sighed. He stared down at his hands.
‘What happened?’ asked Shreyasi.
‘The dreams, Shreyasi, I see them every day. I see a message in them,’ he said, a mad glint in his eyes.
‘Are you taking your medicines—’
‘I don’t need to take medicines any more, Shreyasi,’ he said.
‘What are you saying?’
‘Did you read it till the very end?’
‘This is just an outline of the chapters. You’re still to write it, right? Or have you? Show it to me?’ asked Shreyasi, excited.
‘I haven’t written it but I know where to end it,’ said Daman.
‘Where?’
‘At the accident. The accident that kills Shreyasi,’ he answered.
Shreyasi frowned. ‘But—’
He continued, ‘This is going to be the last Daman–Shreyasi book. She is going to die.’
‘Is that necessary?’
‘It is the only way to write this book. It’s a fitting end to their love story, is it not? Going up in flames? Like their relationship was? Like our relationship is? Short and fiery!’ he said, staring at her.
‘I disagree.’
‘You don’t, Shreyasi,’ grumbled Daman.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You believe it too, baby.’ He clutched her hand, eyes glinting.
‘I don’t!’
‘Is that not the reason why you’re not leaving your husband? You think our love will fizzle out, be ordinary after a while, don’t you?’
‘No, I—’
‘You do,’ he said and let go of her hand. ‘I don’t blame you for it. You’re right! It would fizzle out. And that’s why Shreyasi needs to die in the book.’
‘But . . . what will you write in the next book?’ asked Shreyasi, her voice stern.
‘I haven’t thought about it as of now.’
‘There will be a new girl? Daman? Will he be a part of it?’
‘He could be in mourning. Imagine how that would be.’
Shreyasi thought about it. A forlorn lover who lives his life thinking about the dead love of his life. It could be quite a love story. The biggest writers relied on death as a tool for eternal love stories. She said, ‘It could be a good story.’
‘Or there could be a girl who walks into his life. I haven’t given it a thought yet!’ Daman said.
‘I can’t allow that!’ snapped Shreyasi.
‘It’s the only way I see, baby,’ he said.
‘YOU ARE NOT WRITING ABOUT SOMEONE ELSE!’ she screamed.
Daman smirked and leant over. ‘That’s exactly what I wanted to hear from you,’ he said and clenched his fists. He smiled at her and ran his fingers over her face and kissed her parted lips.
‘I love you, baby,’ he said.
‘What are you saying?’
‘If Daman is to not be in the third book, he has to die in the second book, doesn’t he? Their love story has to come to an end, doesn’t it?’
‘You’re freaking me out. What’s wrong with you?’
‘Don’t you see it, Shreyasi?’ he asked. ‘This is what the dreams have been telling me all this while. Can you not see it? Can you not feel where our fate is leading us to?’ he asked, his eyes filled with tears.
‘What am I not seeing?’
‘We need to end this. Our relationship. If we have to make this love story a great one, one people would talk about, we need to immortalize it.’
‘But you already have. The books—’
‘Not the books, dammit! In real life. Do you know why I keep getting those dreams? Because that’s what is meant to happen!’ he said, his eyes glinting like a madman’s.
‘I’m really not getting what you’re saying right now,’ mumbled Shreyasi.
‘Imagine us in that accident again. But this time, we both don’t survive. You said that yourself, if
Shreyasi dies, Daman has to die as well. The book will be published after we are dead—’
‘What nonsense are you talking about?’
‘No, I’m not! It makes perfect sense! You wanted to make our story immortal, right? What better way to do it than this? We almost died once, let’s do it right this time. Let’s make it a story everyone remembers.’
‘Look, Daman. This is not funny.’
Daman frowned. ‘It is not supposed to be, baby. THIS IS THE ONLY LOGICAL END TO OUR
STORY!’
He pointed to the corner of the room.
‘What are those?’ asked Shreyasi.
‘High-octane fuel. When we crash the car, it will instantly go up in flames. No pain, just a beautiful, fiery death. A blazing ball of fire and that will be our sunset. It will be perfect, baby.
This is what the dreams have been—’
Shreyasi cut in. ‘You need to rest, Daman. We need to—’
‘NO! I HAVE DECIDED!’ screamed Daman.
Shreyasi lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘See, Daman, I know you’re a little overwhelmed.
You have been writing this for weeks now, so maybe you got just a little bit carried away. You need to calm down and think. There’s no need for all that you’re suggesting. I have a list of therapists we can go to, baby. Your paranoia can be treated. All we need to do is to see a doctor. I need to go to the office now. I will see you in the evening and we will decide on a doctor, okay? I will go with you to him, okay? We need to put an end to this madness.’
She got up. She kissed Daman’s cheek. He had fallen silent.
Just as she turned away, Daman spoke, his eyes bloodshot and teary. ‘There’s no other way. This is what we are doing. I have thought about it for weeks now. If you love me you’re going to be in the car with me.’
She turned to look at Daman.
He mumbled, ‘Or I can change the name of the girl in the book to Avni.’
‘Why on earth will you do that?’
‘Because Avni’s ready to see the end with me. Go up in flames with me. Immortalize her love.
That’s the only way,’ he said.
‘You called her?’
‘Just in case you backed out. Which you did, Shreyasi. Maybe she was right. She loves me more than you do and she’s ready to die for it.’
‘Listen—’
‘You’re going to threaten her with the video you took?’ He smirked. ‘You can’t. I deleted it off your phone and I know you don’t keep backups.’
‘You what—’
‘Yes, I did,’ said Daman, getting up.
He stepped close to Shreyasi. He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Tell me, do you want to see the end with me? Or will it be her? Are you ready to die with me?’
Shreyasi didn’t answer.
‘I will finish the next draft of the book by the end of next month,’ he said. ‘I would need the answer by then.’
49
Things were breaking down. Daman’s delirium didn’t die down. What Shreyasi had thought as a moment of insanity was more than that. A few days later when Shreyasi got back home, she found
Daman sitting in front of her husband who sat on the ground in a puddle of his own piss. There was a purple bruise on his left cheekbone and he bled from his lip. Daman tossed a knife from one hand to other.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Shreyasi.
‘I was having a nice chat with your husband. He’s not much of a talker.’
‘Put that knife away, Daman.’
‘Okay, baby.’
He invited Shreyasi to sit beside him. The husband had spilt everything about Shreyasi blackmailing him, about his relationship with her sister, the assault on her and the video of it that existed.
‘So I was right, wasn’t I? This is the peak of our love story, this is where it ends. Or what future do you see of us? Do we get married and have kids? Do I become like him? No, that’s not us,
Shreyasi, and you know that. Isn’t that why you didn’t leave your husband even when you could have because that’s not us? Is that not why you gave Avni the chance to be with me while you remained my mistress?’ said Daman and kissed Shreyasi.
Shreyasi’s husband looked on. He begged to be kept out of it. Daman left that day telling
Shreyasi that he would wait for her decision. And he waited for the next few days even as Shreyasi cried, begged and howled for him to change his mind. No matter what she did, she couldn’t draw
Daman out of his isolation, his madness. He started sending her articles, books, instances of how death immortalized a love story, how death was the only way how it should all end. He came to obsess over death and love and love and death. Even their calls at night would be about just that.
He would tell her how much he loved her—and she would melt into a little puddle—but he would also talk about them dying together.
‘What’s love if not this, Shreyasi? Sacrificing each other for the sake of our love story! We will always be remembered as the couple who loved and died loving each other,’ he would say.
‘But—’
‘Do you not love me enough? Do you not think I deserve this?’ he would ask and she would fall silent.
Shreyasi got desperate and arranged fo
r him to meet a psychiatrist at his place, someone who would pull him out of this insanity, but Daman beat him within an inch of his death. He dragged the psychiatrist down the stairs of his apartment building and outside the house, shouting that he was not mad, that he was not mad! Soon, Daman stopped waking up sweaty and shattered from the dreams. Instead he would wake up smiling and laughing. He wrote his book like a man possessed.
Hours would pass by and he wouldn’t look up from his laptop. His eyes would be sore and
watering when he retired to bed every night. He would send those chapters to Shreyasi who would read them repeatedly and cry. Those words were the most beautiful words she had ever read from him. But . . .
Then a few days later, Daman asked her to get a divorce from her husband before they carried out the ultimate gesture of love for each other.
‘I don’t want you to die with me as someone else’s wife,’ he said holding her hand.
This was Shreyasi’s way out. A divorce proceeding would be long drawn and could go on for months. He took her to a divorce lawyer. She noticed his face fall when the lawyer lay out how much time it would take. Just when Shreyasi thought she had time on her hands to help him change his mind, Daman said, ‘I can’t wait so long. Fuck divorce.’
Shreyasi tried to tell Daman how his parents would be wrecked if he went ahead with something like this and yet he remained unmoved.
‘They have gone through it once,’ he argued.
Out of options, Shreyasi finally called Sumit to meet her. Sumit had been reluctant at first but relented when Shreyasi told him it was about Daman.
‘Thank you for coming,’ said Shreyasi and shook Sumit’s hand.
‘What do you want?’ asked Sumit.
‘Can you at least sit? This is about your friend,’ she implored.
He sat down reluctantly. ‘Tell me?’
‘He’s planning to kill himself. He wants to recreate that day, the accident. And he wants me to be inside that car. He’s losing his mind,’ she said.
‘That’s nonsense,’ said Sumit, nonchalant. ‘Are we going to order food here? I’m kind of hungry.
