A Handful of Sunshine

by Vikram Bhatt

  Thursday afternoon

  I checked my flight ticket, credit cards, the few hundred dollars I had saved from a trip taken earlier and shoved it all into the hastily packed suitcase.

  The first flight out of Heathrow to New York was at 3 p.m. I would be a few hours behind Mira but thankfully with the time difference I would still make it into Manhattan by early evening.

  ‘This was sudden,’ Kavita’s words fell into the crevice between a question and a statement. She handed me my travelling kit. I took it from her, nodding to acknowledge what she had said but not plucky enough to look her in the eye.

  ‘So what is this client about? Is Shazia coming with you?’ It was the most obvious thing and I hadn’t thought about it. Shazia had to be told. Shazia would have to be in on this.

  ‘Shazia cannot make it, but it would be a creative meeting in any case. It is a new banking client who wants the film yesterday as usual.’ I grabbed my phone and sent Shazia a message.

  Need to get to Heathrow. Give me ride there? Flight is in four hours so have to leave now!

  ‘Three days you said?’ Kavita continued with her interrogation and I nodded in response once again.

  I have always believed that a mere moment in your life can decide the kind of person you will be for the rest of it. I was a disloyal, undependable and relationship-challenged individual. I was cheating on Kavita to rush to Mira and yet I felt no guilt. Perhaps I was beyond what they called the ‘tipping point’. So damaged that nothing mattered.

  Then why did Mira matter? The answer was simple. Mira mattered so much that nothing and no one mattered as much after.

  Heathrow in an hour? What’s going on?

  I could imagine the frown on Shazia’s face even as I read the message.

  Can you? If can’t then radio silence about my whereabouts.

  Shazia took a moment to reply to that one and then it was as if she figured it out.

  Allah! Mira?

  Yes.

  You are so dead!

  Can you? Can’t you?

  See you in forty-five.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ Kavita asked me out of the blue.

  ‘Yes, why?’ I tried to sound as casual as possible.

  Kavita walked across the room and held me tight. ‘Now that I have us the way I have always wanted us to be, it scares me that something might go wrong.’

  I closed my eyes and sighed. The words of an old Connie Francis song came to mind: ‘Everybody is somebody’s fool . . .’

  ‘You mean a prospective client in New York is going to convince me that Kavita is not good for me?’ I teased her with the aid of my best smile. Kavita laughed out loud. ‘I know I’m just being silly.’

  Something had to be said about a woman’s intuition. Millions of years of the erring man had embedded a bullshit detector in her DNA. She knew when he was straying. Sadly, she also liked to believe that her man was different from other men.

  Shazia rolled in five minutes early. She assisted me with the bags, not because she wanted to help me but because she wanted to avoid any kind of small talk with Kavita. She was in on the secret and she was guilty. Mercifully, Kavita did not have any bullshit detector embedded in her DNA when it came to the friends of the erring man. She kissed me goodbye. I tried to disentangle myself from the kiss sooner than usual. If Kavita noticed, she did well to hide it.

  ‘Going to New York to be with Mira? Is this really happening?’ Shazia couldn’t even wait to get on to the street before pummelling me with the moral police behaviour.

  ‘Yes.’ I did not offer more in the way of an explanation.

  ‘What does that mean, yes?’

  ‘What do you want me to say, Shazia?’ I was matching her anger with my irritation.

  ‘She is married to a nice man, I am given to understand, and you are giving this Kavita thing a second chance, a very honest, sincere chance, so how does this extramarital affair begin to justify itself?’

  It was the first time I had heard the word ‘affair’ for Mira and me. It sounded odd. No, it sounded wrong. What Mira and I had was the only real thing in the world. It was every other damn relationship that was the affair, not us! Being with Mira was not cheating, being with the world without Mira was the cheating.

  ‘Well, tell me, how are you going to justify the dalliance?’ Shazia was clearly a woman on a mission to keep me on the straight and narrow.

  ‘Look, Shazia, there is no affair, there is no nothing. Mira is in New York and without the compulsions of home. You know how things ended between us all those years back in Mumbai, and then added to that our recent interactions have been stormy to say the least. Perhaps both of us just need some time with each other to have a conversation, to bring a sense of closure to what we once shared. That is all there is to this.’

  ‘Are you seriously kidding me, Veer? You think I came to town on a turnip truck? She calls you to New York and you go all the way there just to have conversation? It’s a goddamn affair and it’s not right!’

  Snap! The word affair found its way into my head and exploded like a grenade.

  ‘It’s love, Shazia! It’s not an affair. It is called love! And I do hope that one day you find this all-prevailing, all-consuming, painful and hard-to-bear kind of love. A love so compelling that you would do just about anything and everything in your power to keep it in your life. A love that would have you lie and cheat and connive and scheme and kill to have her look at you the way she once did. A love that does not care what society says, what the law says, what God says, a love that is ready to court slander and brave a thousand humiliations just to have her touch you the way she once did. A love for which you can die a thousand times and kill as many times just to hear her say your name the way she used to. When you find that love, Shazia, come and talk to me about what is right and what is wrong. You self-proclaimed keepers of social morality, you should get off your lofty pedestals and quit pontificating till you have allowed such a love to scorch you. You people have nothing but mediocre lives, mediocre feelings and mediocre loves. Affair, my arse!’ I was out of breath, tearful and a little embarrassed about my sudden outburst.

  Shazia did not fight back or offer a counter-opinion on love. I could see the hint of tears in her eyes. I had either moved her or hurt her. Perhaps I had gone too far.

  ‘I am sorry. I don’t know where all that came from.’ My apology was sincere.

  She nodded and said nothing in response. This was typical of friends and their reactions to your socially unacceptable behaviour. Some would judge you and leave you, while others would reprimand you and stick by you. I wondered what category Shazia would fall under. I would know soon, I reasoned.

  Shazia did not get out of the car to help me with the bags or to give me a goodbye hug. Neither did I bother too much with apologies. I had meant what I said. It was harsh but not as cruel as Shazia’s society leashing lovers to the pole of moral conduct. Yeah, to hell with it, I thought.

  I took my phone out of my pocket and sent Mira a message hoping she would have landed in New York by then.

  On my way!

  An hour later, as I was taking off, I received a response from her.

  I love you too!

  MIRA

  Thursday evening

  I have landed.

  The trade show faded away into nothingness after that message from Veer. A bearded man was talking about the new variety of spices but I couldn’t care less. My stomach felt unsettled and my mind woozy, I was like a teenage girl in love. It was like the time Veer and I had gone to the Mozart concert. I was once again on a first date with Veer. Veer was mine once again. I wanted to cry and jump with joy at the same time.

  I had sent him a message saying that I was staying at the Waldorf Astoria. I did not want to ask where he was staying.

  Will get done around six. Will message once done.

  All right.

  It suddenly struck me that so far Veer and I had been communicating only through text messages
. We had gone from trying to forget about a moment of weakness to planning days of weakness in under a day. Love was like a tsunami—barricades of sandbags put together by the world around us weren’t going to help much under that kind of fearsome assault.

  It was about 7.30 p.m. by the time I got done. I sent a message to Veer asking him to meet me at a Chinese restaurant on 47th street between Madison and Fifth Avenue. I knew it was just a couple of minutes’ walk from the Waldorf and that would give me enough time to shower and get a grip on my feeling of awkwardness mixed with a large dollop of sheer nervousness.

  New York was cold at that time of year. I pulled my jacket tighter around myself and quickened my pace towards the restaurant. Soon I was asking the maître d’ for the table I had reserved, and he in turn informed me that a guest had already arrived and was waiting for me.

  I have no idea if this happens to others but for me the walk to the table after the person at the table has noticed me is the most self-conscious experience ever. On that day it was much worse because the person in question was Veer.

  He had a black woollen scarf around his neck over a deep red shirt; it made him look even more distinguished than he usually did. I could see his eyes glide over me, from my high-heeled black leather boots, black stockings, my thigh-length skirt and the loose cashmere sweater, and I could see he approved.

  We tried a hug, gave up on it and settled for a clumsy handshake. A handshake for crying out loud! I was not the only one in the grip of paralysing nervousness.

  ‘So here we are, Mira,’ he said with a smile as we sat across from each other at the table by the window.

  ‘Yes, here we are,’ I smiled back.

  A pretty, blonde stewardess left the menus on our table indicating with a smile that we could take our own time to decide. I picked up the menu almost immediately, a ruse to steady my erratic heartbeat. Veer did no such thing. Instead, he looked at me and smiled. He knew me too well.

  ‘Should I tell you a story of Lord Krishna and Radha?’ he asked with sincerity.

  I looked up at him, intrigued. ‘Sure.’ I put the menu aside.

  ‘Radha’s parents had promised Radha’s hand in marriage to a cowherd by the name of Ayan when Radha was just a baby. As they grew up, Ayan went away to fight wars and Radha fell in love with Lord Krishna. When Ayan got back, talk of the marriage began once again; but this time, the wedding was staring Radha in the face. There was no way that she was going to get out of the marriage. One night when she was alone with Lord Krishna, she asked him if it was right for them to meet this way, for her to cheat on a man who was supposed to be her husband.’

  I knew where this was going but I let Veer complete his story.

  ‘And Lord Krishna said to Radha that she was wrong in thinking that Ayan and she happened first. It was Lord Krishna and Radha who had happened first. They had been together through aeons and a zillion lifetimes. She was cheating on Lord Krishna with Ayan and not the other way around.’

  I smiled, but found myself wanting in the words department. Then Veer held my hand gently from across the table.

  ‘I am no Lord Krishna,’ he said with a wry smile, ‘but you are certainly my Radha. I told you the first time I saw you that we have known each other for many lifetimes. We have been cheating on each other all our lives. It cannot be the other way around.’

  I so adored this man, his way with words and lopsided logic. ‘I agree with one thing you said, Veer,’ I said with a grin, ‘you are no Lord Krishna.’

  Veer laughed. We were beginning to feel more at ease with each other.

  ‘Come to think of it,’ I teased, ‘you remind of that passage from The Merchant of Venice: “. . . the devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. An evil soul producing holy witness.”’

  He nodded, still laughing. I did not pull my hand away. I liked his hand on mine.

  ‘I don’t know about right or wrong, Veer. Can we not talk about it for the three days that we have here?’

  Veer’s laughter gave way to a sincere smile and he nodded. It began to snow outside. The white flakes falling gently on the road bathed in the glow of the street lights. They looked like a million fireflies gathering outside the window in a celestial dance. It completed the picture of the dream, Veer and I, hand in hand in the winter of New York.

  ‘Chance is still your perfume, I gather,’ Veer’s words brought me back to our table from the world outside.

  ‘No, it is not. I never used it after we parted in Mumbai but I do have a confession to make in that regard,’ I said shyly.

  ‘Please go on.’

  ‘I have only used it when I knew I was going to see you. I used it that day, when you made the presentation, in Yorkshire, and now, today. When I wear it without you it brings back too many memories of us and then I can’t go on like nothing matters.’

  I could see his eyes moisten and in turn felt something tearing me apart.

  ‘We really screwed this up, didn’t we?’ I asked.

  ‘We did a pretty fine job, yes,’ he agreed.

  The waitress returned, ready to take our orders, and helped us get back to the mundane and unemotional aspects of life like ordering dinner.

  ‘I have tried very hard to make my relationships work but after us nothing has mattered to me. I have just become Mr Imperfect,’ Veer confessed over soup without any preamble. ‘Not that I want to be that way but it is just who I have become.’

  ‘And I have gone to the other end, making sure everything works, Miss Perfect,’ I admitted to him.

  ‘It is strange how the same tragedy can make us so different.’

  ‘Not so much of a tragedy if you and I are here today, sitting in front of each other and sharing this meal, right?’ I posed with a slight smile.

  ‘Mira,’ he said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I love you more than you will ever know.’

  ‘I know.’

  Veer had decided to stay at the same hotel as me. He made my heart skip a few beats when he told me that. His room was on another floor mercifully. We were riding the elevator together and I knew my floor would come first but I wasn’t really watching the indicators of the floors light up. My mind was busy trying to comprehend how I would feel spending a night knowing that Veer was in a room a mere elevator ride away from me.

  I did not have to wait long to find out.

  Veer held my hand as the elevator door eased open on my floor, forcing me to turn towards him.

  ‘Don’t go, Mira,’ he whispered.

  I had not seen so much love and longing on a face before. I stood hypnotized by the power of that love. The open doors of the elevator seemed to say, ‘Come on, Mira, I am not going to wait all day!’ Yet, I could not move. My heart began to pound against my chest and then it was the only thing I could hear. Veer continued to look at me, scorching me with the intensity of his need.

  I heard the elevator doors whoosh slowly, somewhere behind the cacophony of my beating heart, and seal my chances of pulling away from Veer.

  Veer smiled at me warmly, his eyes now filled with gratitude. I tried to smile but failed.

  The elevator halted on the floor Veer was staying on. He held my hand and led me into the corridor and I followed. Veer’s need had begun to infect me and I wanted him more than I ever did.

  He ushered me into his room and gently closed the door behind him. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I was afraid he would disappear if I did and this moment would have just been a dream.

  Veer drew me close to himself and held my face gently, his fingers running through my hair. I closed my eyes and felt his lips on mine. So many times we had imagined this in our loneliness, so many times we had wished it would happen again, so many times we had regretted having lost this, and now here it was, and I had a feeling I was going to sob so I only pressed my eyes shut a lot tighter.

  He was gentle in his kissing, his lips and tongue finding my quivering upper lip and steadying it with their passion. I leaned into him and a
llowed him to kiss me even more deeply while I let my hands grab his scarf and throw it away, allowing me to reach for the buttons of his shirt.

  I allowed him to undress me. I wanted him to see me. I wanted him to know that I was his.

  Veer sat himself down on the armchair in his room and pulled my naked body on to his. We kissed again. We did not let go, we couldn’t let go. Then I felt him cup my breasts and I threw my head back in anticipation of what would come next. He was in no hurry and I did not want to rush him either. I could hear myself moan over and over after what seemed like an endless passage of time.

  The lights from the street threw an orange glow in the dark room and I saw the lace curtains make a yellow pattern on the wall. The pattern moved in rhythm with the fire that was building inside me. His fingers ran through my hair and gently pulled my head back. I felt his lips on my neck. I was feeling dizzy.

  Veer got up slowly from the chair with me still sitting on him. I locked my legs behind him to steady myself as he walked towards the bed still kissing me. I held on, burying my nails in the tenderness of his back. He laid me on the bed and allowed himself to lean over me. I closed my eyes as he spread my legs and thrust deep into me.

  ‘Mira,’ he whispered, ‘open your eyes.’

  I did.

  ‘I don’t want us to move. I want to be like this, inside you, entwined with you, one with you for as long as we can be.’

  ‘Then be my love,’ I whispered back.

  I have no idea how long we stayed that way—as one. After what seemed like an eternity, Veer began to move over me and I felt a wave of headiness build somewhere in my toes and slowly make its way upwards till it tore through my body and sprang forth with a scream.

  ‘I love you, Veer,’ I found the words coming from the depths of my soul.

  VEER

  Friday morning

  I have no idea what time it was when we finally went to sleep in each other arms. From the moment Mira and I walked into my room, it was as if we had closed the door on the world and moved outside of time. We were not on the same plane of existence as the rest of the world. As a matter of fact, we were not on any earthly plane at all! It was as if we were suspended in time and space.