Is he an old boyfriend? He has seen me naked…
At first she had decided to stay away from him. Then her firm resolve had begun to weaken. Her last conversation with Akash had changed everything.
Sagarika was sinking. Into a deep, dark, bottomless pit. Every now and then, various images, sensations and thoughts went through her mind like a bolt of lightning. The frequency of her memory flashes had increased. Twice, she had been almost hypnotized by Shekhar’s perfume and she was embarrassed about the scene she had created. But when memory struck, it was so powerfully overwhelming that she couldn’t help herself. The scent of that perfume had triggered a very strong emotional reaction. And then there was the incident in the bathroom, where she had seen Akash’s face in the mirror – it was too unsettling. So she sent him a message. When no reply came, she decided she needed some time off from the confines of the house.
I need to get out. A nice cup of steaming coffee would do me good. Deepa had mentioned a coffee shop nearby.
She quickly dressed up, called for the car and headed towards the mall located just across their residential complex.
As she walked into the building, she realized she couldn’t remember the name of the coffee shop. She tried jogging her memory, but in vain. Irritated with herself and her memory, she decided to call Deepa.
‘Hey, Deepa … what’s that coffee shop you’d mentioned in the mall near my house? The one you said was really good.’
‘Coffee Bite. Why?’
‘I just decided to step out for a cup of coffee. Sick of being indoors all the time.’ Sagarika walked along languidly staring at the colourful shops, enjoying herself.
‘Oh! So you’re here … I mean, you’re at the mall?’ Deepa said, sounding flustered. ‘Okay, listen … I gotta run … there’s a call coming in.’ She hung up abruptly.
Sagarika stared at the phone in her hand and a small frown appeared on her brow. She didn’t know what to make of the hurried phone call with her cousin.
Why is everyone so odd with me? People around me behave in such a weird manner. Is it them or just me who finds everything and everyone weird?
When she finally spotted Coffee Bite, she started walking towards it. The janitor was wiping the spot right in front of the café’s entrance. As she patiently waited for him to finish, she noticed a woman wearing a leather jacket with a red scarf around her neck. She was running down the escalator, nudging people out of way. In a mall full of people walking casually, the woman stood out for all the wrong reasons.
Why are people in such a hurry? She could trip and fall. Someone else can also fall.
At that very moment, the woman turned around and her eyes fell on Sagarika.
Sagarika froze. It was Deepa. She just got a fleeting glimpse but there wasn’t any doubt.
Instinctively Sagarika yelled out. ‘DEEPA!’
The woman ignored Sagarika’s cry, bounded down the steps and ran across the atrium, and past the door that opened to the basement parking area.
For Sagarika, the thrill of having a good cup of coffee dissipated. She turned around and headed back home.
That was Deepa. Why did she run away like that? And if she’s here, why didn’t she meet me?
She returned home; troubled, confused and irritated all at once.
Deepa is weird. A stranger on Facebook appears in memory flashes; he even calls me by a name that drives me mad. The smell of Shekhar’s perfume sends me into a tizzy … Can life be any more complex than it is now?
Sagarika almost wished she could go back into coma. She pushed her hands deep into her curly hair, pressing hard on her scalp. She could feel the incision mark, a huge gash. She continued massaging her head slowly.
I will come out of this. Put this horrible mess behind me one day.
She made a quiet resolve to come out of this. She logged in to Facebook to see if Akash had replied. She began typing.
Waiting for u.
–
Ya. I am here.
–
I want to know more about my life. Before … it happened. The accident.
–
What do u want to know? U got angry with what I told u last time. So wot do u want to know?
Sagarika decided it was time to step into choppy waters and ask the questions that had been bothering her.
Some things have been coming back. In a flash.
–
That’s very good. What have u been remembering?
–
A smell. A perfume. Feels very familiar.
–
Hmmm. Can u describe it?
Miles away in Mumbai, Akash was holding his breath. He knew what was coming.
If this is my Cheeni … I know what it is.
I can’t describe it. I love that smell. Every time I get a whiff of it, I just go insane. As if . . . I can’t describe what happens.
Akash closed his eyes. He held his breath though he could feel his heart pounding hard. He could do nothing to prove that the scent of the cologne that drove Sagarika to a frenzy was the one he used. Essenza Di Wills Mikkel. She used to love it.
Anything else, Sagarika? Any other thing that you have been remembering.
He wanted to change the topic. It was too painful. There was no way he could prove anything about the smell.
Tell me about images. People, Sagarika.
–
There was another thing. Don’t know how to say it.
–
What? Just say it. Don’t think. Just say.
–
I was washing my hands. With soap. I saw…
Sagarika didn’t know how to complete the sentence. She didn’t have to.
You saw someone wash your palms with soap. Slowly rubbing your fingers. Your soft palms. Slowly rubbing the soap all over … am I right?
–
Yeah. But how do you know?
–
Whom did you see? Did you see any face?
–
Yes. Yours.
Akash closed his eyes. Sometimes it was just too painful. He was more than a thousand miles away, but she was in his heart. And no matter how peculiar Sagarika’s condition, it was true that he was still somewhere on the periphery of her memory.
He wanted to be with Sagarika, hold her tight in his arms and tell her that the perfume that haunted her was the one he used, the one she loved. He wanted to tell her about the beautiful days and nights they had spent together, the long walks, the never-ending chats over cups of coffee, the continuous pinging on cellphones, the jokes, the teasing, the light-hearted banter between them, the passionate kisses on the staircase, the frenzied lovemaking in her car, getting drenched in the rain … There were so many memories.
He remembered every moment. And she remembered none.
Akash decided it was time to take charge of things.
Sagarika. It’s time I met you.
–
No. I can’t.
–
Yes. You can and you will.
–
But Akash …
–
It’s time for you to return. Time for you to come home.
–
What??
–
Don’t worry. I don’t want you to worry and get sick. Everything will be all right. I promise.
My sweet Cheeni. Bye.
Before Sagarika could protest about being called Cheeni again, Akash logged out.
‘Stupid name,’ she mumbled. She wanted to be angry. But smiled instead.
‘Time for you to come home.’
She liked the sound of that. It made her feel that there was at least someone who cared; someone, who would hold her hand and lead her out of the dark abyss. And that’s all that mattered to her.
The last time Sagarika had chosen to gravitate towards Akash, she had been in love with him and believed it was their destiny to be together. Having arrived at the crossroads of her life, she had decided to leave Rishab and give herself a sec
ond chance at being in an emotionally and physically fulfilling relationship.
But this time, when the recuperating Sagarika decided to reach out to Akash to help retrace her life, it wasn’t to find love. She did it to reclaim her own life.
31
Deepa sat shivering in her car, in spite of her thick jacket and the heating system.
‘Shit, shit. This will upset him very much.’ She shuddered at the prospect of reporting the incident. But it had to be done. She sent him a message and waited for him to call back and scream his lungs out.
Her phone rang. It was him. She answered it right away, wanting to desperately get over with it.
‘What’s so bloody important that I had to be interrupted at work?’ The ice-cold tone was full of controlled anger and it sent a shiver up her spine.
‘I think she saw me.’
‘You think?!’
‘She saw me.’
‘That’s extremely good news and we should meet up later in the evening to discuss the outcome in detail.’
The line went dead. Deepa put her head on the steering wheel and gripped it tight. She knew she was in serious trouble.
‘Is there anything you’re capable of doing without screwing it up?’ Rishab entered Deepa’s hotel room and kicked the door shut. ‘Tell me what happened. And don’t miss a single thing.’ He pulled up a chair and sat next to her. She told him everything.
Rishab listened to her patiently. Once she was done, he stretched his long legs and smiled at her. It was the coldest smile she had ever seen.
‘Tell me something,’ he said. ‘Were you born this stupid … or did repeated ironing of your hair flatten your brain? I mean, how idiotic and moronic can one be?’
Deepa knew she had messed up, but she wished he would yell rather than be so sarcastic and humiliating. Over the past year that she had known Rishab, she had learnt that he could cut a person down, without ever raising his voice. The angrier he got, the lower his decibel level dipped.
‘Firstly, of all the places in the world, you had to go to the mall right opposite my house. Then, when you realized she was there, why did you run? You could have met her and cooked up a story. Or is it too much to ask and expect you to use your fucking brains?’
‘I … no … I mean … I didn’t know…’ Deepa began stammering in fear.
‘Or did you do this on purpose to get more money? ANSWER ME! I picked you up from a hotel lobby … you were a pathetic escort … I gave you money which you hadn’t even dreamt of … and you couldn’t even think on your feet just once! Bloody bitch,’ he said, slapping her hard. Her lips began to bleed. Terror writ large on her face, she was too stunned to even cry.
‘You and I, we had an agreement. All you had to do was win Rika’s faith and trust, become her friend, her best friend and keep reminding her how great her life with me was and will be. HOW DIFFICULT IS THAT? For a few months of work you got a house, a car and loads of cash to keep you comfortable for the rest of your pathetic life.’
‘Rishab … please … I’m sorry … please, I will fix this,’ Deepa said. She slunk away from him towards the far end of the room.
‘Thank you very much,’ Rishab said. ‘But no, thanks. You will do no such thing. From now on, whatever needs to be done, I’ll handle it. For now,’ he said, unbuttoning his shirt and unzipping his trousers, ‘I suggest you do the only thing you’re good at.’
32
W hat did Akash mean by the words ‘Time to come home’?
She sat on a sofa in the living room and breathed in the aroma of dal and bhindi sabzi being cooked in the kitchen. Tired of the weekly menu Rishab had pinned on a board in the kitchen, Sagarika had decided to treat herself to some comfort food.
She looked at the furniture around her – the rich tapestry, the upholstery, the lush carpeting on the floor, the cushions placed at all the right places. The opulent sofa set, the gigantic dining table with a marble inlay design at the centre, the artefacts that dotted various corners of the room: everything about this house was stunning.
This doesn’t feel like home. Every room is more beautiful than the other. Everything seems perfect and in its place. And it’s all very exclusive and expensive.
What was worse, not a single object around her evoked any memories. The couch by the window, the rug on the floor, the cushions – none of them had a been-used look. It felt like living inside a hi-end furniture showroom; she found the experience utterly strange.
‘Why does nothing feel familiar?’ she thought, standing in front of the couch in one of the rooms. ‘Have I ever curled up here with a book? Or sat reading the day’s paper with a mug of coffee?’ No. None of it produced even a spark of familiarity or recognition.
She didn’t know that Rishab had kept everything from their earlier home in a warehouse in Mumbai. Every single piece of furniture linked to their past had been carefully wrapped in bubble paper and put in cardboard boxes.
Although Rika had lost her memory, she instinctively knew that home was where one felt at ease: sinking into the beaten down couch, tucking the familiar soft cushion near the small of the back, resting your head on the fluffy pillow that felt just right. But the novelty of everything around her was so intense that none of it felt like home. Her home.
It worried her and scared her.
So when Akash wrote that it was time for her to come ‘home’, she began wondering: what does home feel like?
Just at that moment, her cellphone beeped and even without seeing it, she knew it was Akash. She instantly asked Vina to get her food to her bedroom and logged in to Facebook.
Sagarika, there’s a beautiful flower show every year in one of the parks in Gurgaon. It’s happening this year too. Next week. I want you to go there.
–
Eh!? Flower show…?
–
Don’t ask me why? Just do it. Please. Listen to me, Cheeni. And don’t get upset when I call u Cheeni. I can’t call u by any other name.
–
Why do u call me Cheeni? Is that my nickname?
On reading her reply, Akash fell silent.
No. it’s just what I call u by. Anyway … note down the details about the flower show.
He gave her the day, date, venue and the time when he would wait for her at the flower show and logged out. It was painful for Akash to remember all the sweet memories they shared. He began thinking about how Sagarika became his Cheeni…
Sagarika loved eating sugar cubes. Whenever Rishab and she met for coffee, she would sprinkle only a little sugar and a dash of milk on her coffee, but from the pot of sugar cubes, she would invariably have a few.
‘My goodness, Sagarika … how can you have sugar cubes?’ Akash asked her the first time he saw her do it. ‘And what’s the point of having almost sugarless coffee and then gulping sugar cubes!’
Sagarika laughed, throwing her head back. Akash loved how her curls kissed her bare shoulders every time she did that. Had it not been a public place, Akash would have grabbed and kissed her.
The next time they met there, Akash passed her the pot of sugar cubes and said, ‘Yeh le, cheeni!’
The cheeni connection deepened further when some months later, after an evening of passionate lovemaking at his house, he lay in bed half asleep and Sagarika was in the kitchen, humming a tune while making a bowl of Maggi noodles.
‘What’s that song you’re humming?’ he asked.
‘It’s a famous one by Tagore.’ She began to sing it. ‘Aami cheeni go cheeni tomare ogo bideshini; tumi thaako shindhu pare, ogo bideshini…’
Her clear, full-throated rendition was terribly out of tune and Akash didn’t even understand the lyrics but there was a sense of innocence in the way she sang, lost in the song’s beauty and essence. The words came straight from her heart, it seemed. Akash lay in bed, a crumpled bedsheet covering him, while she stood in the kitchen, wearing his oversized shirt, barely buttoned, her tussled curls and milky-white legs – he knew this was an image which would
remain with him for a long time.
After that day, he often asked Sagarika, ‘Why don’t you sing that cheeni cheeni song…’
That’s how the name stuck. Cheeni.
‘My silly, gorgeous, lovely Cheeni. My Cheeni,’ he often said, bundling her in his arms, holding her tight. Sagarika always made a face when he called her Cheeni. But secretly she loved it. Akash knew she did.
‘I’m going to give you an equally silly name,’ she told him one rainy evening as they sat at Worli Sea Face, munching on sweet and salty corn.
‘Achcha, what name will that be, Cheeni?’ he teased her.
‘I will think and come up with something really weird and silly.’
A few days later, around midnight, she pinged him to say that she had found the right name for him.
‘Chikoo!’ she said.
‘What!’ he said, laughing aloud.
Sagarika loved chikoo, the fruit, but stayed away from it because of its high calorie content. But its grainy texture left a sweet and rough feel on her tongue and lasted long after she had consumed it. Every time she went to Natural for ice cream, she asked for chikoo flavour. Sometimes, after a vigorous session at the gym, she even indulged in a chikoo milkshake.
One night, when she stepped out for a late-night ice cream at Natural on Marine Drive, it finally struck her.
He is my Chikoo. My sweet, delicious Chikoo.
As Akash settled down in his berth in the Rajdhani Express headed for Delhi, he smiled at the memory.
It seems just like yesterday when she sent me that message saying she would call me Chikoo.
It hurt to remember.
33
Sagarika was a nervous wreck. She had an hour to get dressed and reach the flower show. She decided not to inform Rishab about her plans for the day. He always left for office very early and returned late in the night.
‘How will I recognize you?’ she had asked Akash on Facebook.
‘You don’t have to. I’ll find you,’ he had replied.
‘What is this man planning on doing?’ Sagarika thought to herself, a bit worried. She took a good look at his Facebook profile picture before leaving home.
A Forgotten Affair Page 11
