No Time for Goodbyes

by Andaleeb Wajid

  ‘Ooh, that’s a good one,’ he comments at the book in my hand. God, he is so persistent. I choose to remain silent.

  ‘That history lesson was killing me. I wish you’d got kicked out earlier so I could have come out sooner,’ he says.

  ‘Why are you even doing Arts?’ I ask him, feeling irritable.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asks, looking at me with interest.

  ‘I mean, guys usually go for Science, Maths or Computers. What will you do with yourself once you do Arts?’ I try to sound as derisive as I can.

  He looks a little annoyed by my question and I can guess he’s been subjected to it many times.

  ‘I believe in doing what I like, not what others expect me to do,’ he says looking slightly deflated as he rotates his right toe in a circle above the ground.

  ‘Me too,’ I say without thinking.

  ‘Good,’ he says and then there’s silence. This is weird. Thankfully the bell rings and I exhale in relief, getting up from the bench. Reshma will be expecting to sit down with me for lunch but I’m still a little peeved at her for getting me into trouble. Well, sort of. I don’t know her well enough to hold much resentment but it was going to be a bit awkward between us for a couple of days at least.

  ‘You’re new right?’ I ask, turning around to face him and realising that I don’t know his name yet.

  ‘Yep!’ he says, getting up from the bench and suddenly I don’t want him to go. He stretches a little and I realise that he’s pretty tall for someone who’s only 16 or 17.

  ‘See ya,’ he says, waving a bye and stepping away and I grimace a little as I call out to him.

  ‘Hey!’

  He turns around, a little surprised but makes no further comment.

  ‘I didn’t get your name,’ I say almost apologetically. Instead of answering, he just shakes his head, smiles and continues walking away.

  All the students from various classes are streaming out and in my hurry to avoid an awkward scene with Reshma, I get up quickly and head towards the library. I don’t know why I’ve come here but it’s probably because I know Reshma will never venture inside. Even as I enter the cool silence of the library, I realise that the guy on the bench has intrigued me after all.

  Thirty-six

  UNFORTUNATELY, RESHMA AND I are sitting together again the following day in our Economics class. She’s decided not to conduct any more whispered conversations thankfully but I can just about understand that she’s dying to say something. When the bell sounds and the lecturer leaves the classroom, she finally lets out a huge breath.

  ‘What happened yesterday with Rajat?’ she whispers even though there’s no lecturer in the room. In the minutes before the next one comes in, the classroom erupts into noisy chatter and the pinging of various phones as messages come in.

  ‘Rajat?’ I ask, buying time but I know who she’s talking about. He disappeared after lunch yesterday and I haven’t seen him in class from morning.

  ‘He made some lame excuse to leave the classroom but it definitely seemed like he was going right after you,’ she says.

  ‘Well, we talked for a while,’ I admit and realise what a mistake I’ve made when she clenches my hand.

  ‘What? What did you two talk about?’ she asks, looking excited in an almost feral manner.

  ‘Ow! Let go!’ I swing my hand free from her grip and shake it a bit.

  ‘What did he say?’ she asks again.

  ‘Nothing. We just made small talk and then he left,’ I tell her.

  ‘That’s it?’ she asks, her face falling a bit. What was she expecting? I don’t know this guy and he just happened to be staring at me in class yesterday.

  Thankfully the next lecturer walks in holding her attendance register and I’m almost relieved that at least now Reshma will be silent.

  ‘We’re such good girls,’ she comments after lunch as we head back to the classroom.

  ‘And that’s obviously not a good thing,’ I add drily.

  ‘It’s boring,’ she says, making a face. ‘We’ve attended ALL the classes today. And yesterday and the day before that. I mean, college is supposed to be fun. It seems just like school to me without the uniforms and the sickly braids.’

  She’s right in a way. College life seems insipid although I’d never really expected anything from it either. Remember, I was the one who preferred school to college.

  ‘We should bunk the next hour and do something stupid,’ she says even as we’re entering class.

  ‘Like what?’ I ask her as we head to our usual place at the back of the room.

  She’s saved from answering when she spots Rajat sitting in the same place where he was sitting yesterday.

  ‘Look who’s back!’ she whispers and I know that no reply is needed.

  ‘You should have at least taken his number!’ she adds. Minutes later, my phone display flashes discreetly and I pull it out cautiously. Mobile phones are not allowed inside class but no one listens to that diktat. We just keep them on silent mode.

  ‘Is your friend troubling you? Maybe you’d like to sit with me instead? ;-)’

  I’m completely taken aback that he has my number and he’s sent me such an impertinent message. I delete the message quickly and slowly look up and turn towards Rajat. Of course he’s staring this way again and one eyebrow is raised in a questioning manner.

  ‘Who was it?’ Reshma asks and I shake my head and mouth ‘nothing’ because class has started. I look straight ahead for the rest of the class, only then realising that I haven’t thought of Manoj all day.

  When college gets over that day, I say my goodbyes and leave the classroom without looking in Rajat’s direction. I have to start thinking of how I can get hold of more of those Polaroid pictures. Otherwise I’ll never see Manoj again.

  ‘Tamanna!’ a voice calls out and I turn around, annoyed and angry. It’s Rajat.

  ‘I’m sorry for that text!’ he says coming to a stop, looking sheepish. ‘We got off on the wrong foot and I just made it worse, I know. Let me make it up to you.’

  Right. I start shaking my head when he looks at me intently.

  ‘Please. I don’t know what I was thinking. Just this once. Have an ice cream with me and you can start ignoring me from tomorrow again,’ he says.

  ‘Excuse me? I’m going to ignore you right now. There’s no way I’m having an ice cream with you,’ I tell him, feeling important.

  ‘Fine,’ he shrugs and walks away and I’m left standing there like an idiot. What is with this guy?

  ‘That look on your face!’ he says turning around and grinning. ‘Priceless.’

  I walk outside quickly, realising that a group of students are watching us with interest. He’s walking in step with me and I don’t know what I can do to lose him.

  ‘God, you’re like an insistent and annoying … puppy!’ I say, unable to think of anything else.

  ‘Puppies are cute!’ he retorts. ‘I’m a little old for that adjective.’

  ‘Whatever. I’m going home,’ I tell him, looking for an auto. Even as I hail one, I remember how much I had looked forward to eating ice cream with Manoj in Chit Chat the other day. In 1982.

  I don’t know why I change my mind suddenly and turn to Rajat.

  ‘Fine. One ice cream,’ I tell him and his face lights up in a grin.

  Maybe it’s the realisation that this is 2012. No matter how much I wish for it, I may never go back to 1982. I may never see Manoj again. I have to stop remembering the past and start focussing on the future. Maybe this is the first step towards that.

  Thirty-seven

  ‘WHY ICE CREAM? WHY not coffee?’ I ask Rajat as we walk inside the Corner House parlour in Jayanagar.

  ‘Why not ice cream? No one is too old for it, right?’ he asks as he heads towards the counter to place the order. I walk up with him because I intend to pay for mine.

  He protests at first but then lets me pay for my Death by Chocolate and we find a place to sit down. Even thoug
h I’m enjoying my ice cream, I don’t know what to say and it just seems like a waste of time.

  ‘We really got off on the wrong foot,’ Rajat says, trying to make conversation and I shrug. What can I say?

  ‘I’m normally more well-behaved,’ he adds but when I look at his face I can see that he’s struggling not to laugh.

  ‘You’re an idiot,’ I tell him smiling. If anything, he’s just helped me put thoughts of Manoj on the back burner.

  ‘I noticed you the first day I started college,’ he says. Well …

  ‘You seemed drawn and not really into anything.’

  ‘And you made it your life’s mission to make me see how wonderful life is,’ I added sardonically.

  He makes a face as he digs into his ice cream and licks the spoon clean.

  ‘Well, something like that.’

  You know, normally I’d be thrilled to be sitting with a hot (according to Reshma at least) guy, eating ice cream and wondering what would happen next. I’m like most girls. But then, most girls haven’t gone back in time to the 80s. Neither do they have someone like Manoj waiting for them. Or not.

  I haven’t found another photo and it’s not for the lack of looking and I’m on the verge of giving up and that is what has depressed me so much these past few days.

  ‘Your ice cream is melting,’ Rajat says and I look down in dismay at the chocolate puddle layered with cake.

  ‘I think I’ll go,’ I tell him, pushing my chair back but he looks so disappointed I continue sitting.

  ‘Rajat, I have to tell you, I’m not into any of this,’ I tell him, wishing I could explain things to him.

  ‘Of course I got that. Remember the love letter that got you kicked out?’ he says, placing his cup on the table. Right. That heart with Manoj’s name.

  ‘It’s not like that,’ I protest. ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘So you’re in love with someone. What’s the big deal with that?’ he asks easily. If only he knew.

  ‘It’s not like that,’ I repeat lamely.

  ‘Is it one-sided? You like him but he doesn’t know? Or care?’ he asks and I wish he’d stop because I can remember Manoj’s kiss with perfect clarity.

  ‘No, no!’ I tell him, looking down at the table, my face feeling flushed. When I look up at Rajat, he looks puzzled.

  ‘Whatever it is, you can work it out, I’m sure,’ he adds, a helpful expression on his face.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I mutter.

  ‘Why so fatalistic?’ he asks with a shrug and I wish he’d shut up. He has no idea.

  ‘It will never work out.’ I can’t believe I’m discussing my relationship or whatever it was with Manoj with someone I met just yesterday. But then I’d been with Manoj for just a week and it didn’t take long for all those feelings to develop.

  ‘Never?’ he asks.

  ‘Okay, the thing is … he’s older than me. A lot older than me,’ I say, unable to meet Rajat’s eyes.

  ‘How old?’ he sounds curious and I look up.

  ‘I can’t tell you,’ I say defiantly and his eyes light up.

  ‘Whoa. Is he a vampire?’ he asks.

  ‘What? No!’ The very idea is so ridiculous that it makes me giggle a little. Manoj would not take kindly to being called a vampire. Back in the 80s, vampires were not the … err … sexy creatures they are now.

  ‘My sister made me watch Twilight,’ he says sitting up. ‘And then she made me sit through two episodes of Vampire Diaries. Those dudes are always more than a hundred years old. So if you can’t tell me how old this guy is …’

  I hold my hands to my face and start laughing, my shoulders shaking.

  ‘I never would have thought you to be a Twilight fan,’ I tell him, hoping to divert his attention from Manoj’s age.

  He looks horrified. ‘No way! I’m not a fan!’

  ‘It’s a given if you don’t like Twilight, you must be a Harry Potter fan,’ I tell him and he looks relieved.

  ‘Always,’ he adds with a lofty smirk.

  ‘Ooh! A Snape fan. I like!’ I say and soon we start talking books and before I know it, my phone starts ringing.

  ‘Uh oh! We’ve been here for an hour! Mom must be wondering where I am!’ I mutter as I answer the phone and tell her that I’ll be home soon. I end the call and look at Rajat apologetically.

  ‘Hey, this was fun!’ I smile at him and he shakes his head.

  ‘I’m going to figure out the age of this guy one day. Don’t think I got side tracked,’ he says. I make a face at him and get up when something on the wall above his head catches my attention.

  It’s a framed black and white photo of old Bangalore. The date is smudged but I know it must be a really old photo. I whip my head around and realise that there are plenty of such photos on the walls. And that’s when something clicks in my head.

  Thirty-eight

  THE FOLLOWING DAY I’M in the library much before college begins. I haven’t been able to sleep all night wondering if my theory would be right. What will I do if it isn’t? I don’t want to think of it and I walk inside, looking around frantically.

  ‘Hey! Where do you think you’re going? Library isn’t open!’ a young man, who I assume is the library assistant, tells me and I look at him exasperated.

  ‘I … I left something here last evening. I need to pick it up before class starts,’ I improvise and he looks at me suspiciously before letting me continue. Before he can spot me again, I’m between two huge shelves and I disappear from his view.

  My heart is thumping loudly as I make my way towards the wall where I’ve seen the framed picture of the college in the old days. I squint my eyes and look at the photo and my heart sinks. According to the caption this picture was taken in 1975, not in the 80s. I don’t know what I was thinking anyway. Even if Manoj had taken a picture of the college, how could he have blown it up and got it framed and kept it in the library?

  Despite my disappointment, I’m unable to look away from the picture and that’s when I notice that the frame is really old. The edges are crumbling into bits. This picture was probably around when Manoj was studying here.

  I look around a little nervously before leaning up and running my hands around the sides of the frame. Only a thick layer of dust comes away in my hand along with a fat spider. I shake it off irritably and dust my hands feeling disappointed. Obviously no one has bothered to come to this little corner of the library and dust this photo frame. And that’s a good thing I realise because I’ve apparently dislodged something from one corner.

  I’m breathing heavily and for probably the shortest vain moment in my life, I look down at my clothes and shoes. I’m wearing comfortable sneakers, jeans and a jacket over a green short sleeved top so I can just chuck the jacket if it’s hot back there.

  Hoping that I’m correct, I lift the frame a little and something falls face down. It’s a Polaroid picture. Before picking it up, I think up the choicest gaalis to give Manoj for hiding a picture here of all places. As I bend down to retrieve the photo, the library assistant comes into view.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he asks me.

  ‘I … uh … something fell from that frame,’ I tell him bending down once more but he stops me.

  ‘No wait. It’s college property,’ he informs me importantly and picks it up himself. I look at him in horror. Does it mean he will go into the past? No! But he turns the picture over and back once again before looking up puzzled.

  ‘This was behind that frame?’ he asks me, waving the Polaroid in front of my eyes and it’s all I can do to not grab it from him. How come it didn’t work on him?

  ‘I think so,’ I tell him, my eyes focused on the photo completely. ‘What is it?’ I ask, hoping that he will let me satisfy my supposed curiosity and offer me a closer look.

  ‘Nothing that should concern you. Please go back to your class. The bell is about to ring now,’ he says and promptly pockets the photograph and walks away!

  I can’t brea
the suddenly because I’m mad at everyone especially myself for not having picked up the photo immediately.

  ‘Listen!’ I call out to him and he turns, looking annoyed.

  ‘You’re still here?’ he asks, shaking his head.

  ‘I need that photo,’ I tell him.

  ‘Excuse me?’ he looks incredulous. ‘You need it?’

  ‘Well. I’m doing a project and I need to use that photo,’ I quickly lie.

  ‘But you don’t even know what’s in the photo!’ he objects and narrows his eyes.

  ‘Just show it to me once,’ I plead, hoping that the time travel will kick start if I get close enough to the photo.

  ‘What is this about?’ he asks, putting his hands on his hips. ‘I think I’ll have to call the senior librarian if you’re not going to leave.’

  Normally I’m not the kind of person to cry easily but I find tears falling down my face rapidly and by now the assistant is completely riled.

  ‘Sir! Come and see this girl!’ he calls out to someone and I look around horrified. The senior librarian walks up to me along with the assistant and the two of them look at each other uncomfortably.

  ‘Why are you crying?’ the senior librarian asks me and I shake my head through my hiccups.

  ‘She wants this photo,’ the assistant whispers to the librarian, pulling out the photo from his pocket and showing it to the librarian.

  ‘Why? What’s special about it?’ he asks the assistant who shrugs and looks at me with dislike.

  It’s my last chance and I know I’ll probably never be allowed inside the library again but I pluck the photo from the assistant’s hand and make a run for the door.

  ‘Hey!’ they call out but I’m already outside, breathing heavily. I look around, wondering where I can go. I haven’t turned it around yet but I know this is one of those Polaroids. I don’t know whether it’s the sound of the sea in my ears or my heart beating loudly but I quickly walk towards an empty classroom and sit down.

  I know I can’t go back for long again and this will probably piss off Manoj once more but I can’t be found asleep in the middle of a class. Nevertheless, I hope Manoj will tell me more about the other locations once I see him. With that hope I turn over the Polaroid and take a deep breath.