“I killed my father.”
I did not react. I just kept on looking at her. No reaction. I did not want to judge her, I wanted to understand her.
“I killed my father, with these very hands.”
She lifted her hands in despair. This was the first time she had told this to anybody, in fact, I think this was the first time she had said this out loud, she needed time to recuperate. I waited.
“I killed my father with these very hands. He was not a good man, my father. He never loved me or my mother but we made peace with it. He frequented brothels, tried to have affairs, but we made peace with it all. You know, traditional Indian woman would never go against her husband even if he was a fucking man whore. But then, the beating started. When I was around 19, he would come home everyday, and would start beating my mother. I wanted to goto the police, protect her, protect myself, but my mother did not let me. We slowly started making peace with that as well. But then, one day, my mother lost it. My father was dead drunk when he came back home and the usual beating started, but then he did something he had never done before, he hit me. “
“He hit me with a bottle and I started bleeding. My mother lost it after that. She was a devoted Indian wife, but before that, she was an Indian mother. She slapped my father.”
There was silence for a minute. Her eyes closed. I knew this was very hard on her. I did not press.
“My father went berserk after that. He slapped my mother, kicked her, did everything possible and I just lay there crying. He kicked her till she was almost dead and then all of a sudden, I got up, took the bottle which he had used, and put it right through him. To end it once and for all.”
More silence.
“I went to my mother and we both cried, cried the whole night. But morning came, and we had to do something, and do it fast. She decided to send me to some other country so that I would not be involved in the legal cases. I never regret killing my father, but every living second I regret leaving my mother all alone to fight the battle. I wished I had done things differently, but I was very young at that time, and very frightened. My mother’s cousin brother, the same uncle who had picked me at your college, used to send people to US on a fake visa. He had a whole illegal thing going and he knew people who would take care of me in US. So I left my little town, that very morning, never to come back again. The police case about my father’s death had escalated and had I been in the country, they might have held me as well. So my mother ensured that my passport was never with me and that I never could come back. In fact, I got to know about her death two months after it actually happened. My uncle was too protective to tell me what had happened. My mother killed herself by hanging from a rope in the mental institution. I guess the guilt of not being a good Indian wife got to her.”
I just looked at her, and she just looked at me. She spoke again.
“This is the first time in over ten years that I have come to India. And yes, it does feel nice. The police case got settled soon after, but there was nothing which would bring me back. I had no one here, I had no one there. I was a lost soul. And that is the time I met you in US.”
I knew this was the first time she had ever told anyone about this. But she had no tears in her eyes, no emotions in her voice. Just a plain cold look. And it stayed that way for more than five minutes. I wanted to hold her, to console her. But I knew, that she did not tell me this because she wanted consolation, she told me this because she wanted to. It was a burden on her soul and baring herself in front of me the way she had, made her feel better. I just sat with her, letting the past get out of her, get out of her for good.
She spoke again. But this time, there was a spark in her eyes. And the tone was completely changed.
“During those days I thought about you a lot. In fact, you were the only source of hope in my life. I had tried to get back to music, but I had failed in it. I could not understand how two meetings with one person can make you love them so much. But it had happened. I was madly in love with you, and I guess the hope to see you again kept me going on some level. I had left it to fate. After it had been so unfair to me, it had to make me meet you again.”
“And it did.”
“Yes it did. But the timing was terrible. At that time, I was personally at my lowest. I was getting used to the fact that I had killed my father, and used to the fact that I had deserted my mother. And that is when I met you. And you made a difference.”
“I am glad I could help.”
“You know, it was not that something happened the day I saw you. It was just that I had met someone I knew after ages. There was a connection with you, you reminded me of my childhood, of my dreams, of music, of love. But I ran away from it all. After seeing what all I had in my life, I thought that you would come, and then just leave. Like everything else.”
“What happened then?”
“Then I knew that fate would make us meet again. So honestly, I wanted to make myself worthy of you so that the next time we would meet, I could stand up and say that I love you. As I said earlier, at that time, I needed you more than you needed me. And I did not want it that way. You may think that it is all crap but seriously, I needed something to go on in life. You made me reconnect with myself.”
“So this meeting, as you said is not by fate.”
“No, I think I trusted fate a little too much to meet you. With the advent of social media, facebook, etc, it is not difficult to find a person with a name as weird as yours.”
“Come on, it’s not that weird.”
“I thank God every day that it is. I had left it all on fate till about a week ago. And then I thought that I had had enough. I found you and came to know you are getting engaged. So here I am, purposely a day after your engagement, to say thank you . And....”
“And what?”
“And to tell you that I love you.”
We sat there, looking into each other’s eyes. And I knew she meant every word she had just said.
“I really don’t know what to do.”
“Neither do I. But I feel great that I have told you. In fact, I feel great that finally I have talked about my past.”
We both sat on the bench and stared into the dark sky. She then got up.
“I should leave now.”
“Where to?”
“I don’t know. I thought that I will not run away from you this time. That this time, I will make sure that we are together. But I don’t think I can do that. I am just happy that I told you. But I guess it is too late.”
“I really don’t know what to say. Maybe it is too late. I really like Kriti.”
“Just what I thought.”
She smiled. If there ever was a fake smile, that was it.
“A little too late. What would have happened had we met yesterday. I had initially thought of meeting you yesterday. Would that have changed your decision?”
“I guess we will never know.”
I did not want to break her heart. But I really had no option. She gave me the fake smile again, picked herself up, and left. And left me behind, staring at her, and thinking what could have been.
I woke up to a morning sun, birds chirping in my ears, people jogging around me to stay fit, and old people laughing out loud in unison to stay mentally stable. My eyes opened partly, the sun rays rushing in, and then closed again. Was I living a dream? Had I actually spent the night at a park right next to national highway the day I had got engaged? Startled I sat up and looked around for the comfort of my bedroom. I searched by pocket for my phone. It was 6:45 am. 4 missed calls from Kriti, I could handle that. I could lie that I had too much to drink and lost all senses and crashed at Hari’s place. I always had an alibi in Hari. I didn’t really know what to do. My head was spinning, I was kind of hungry, and the thoughts of Shalini had started making appearances in my head again. I closed my eyes, took out my handkerchief and put it over my eyes, and lay down to sleep again.
I woke up after 2 hours, still on the very same garden.
The sun was out in full force now, the people who were jogging in the morning could now be seen running after busses on the highway, the chirping birds had been replaced by barking dogs in search of food, and the old people were back to sleep. I checked my phone, 7 missed calls, all Kriti. I kept my phone in my pocket, got up and reached out to the highway for a taxi. A taxi stopped, I got on, and he started. He asked me where I wanted to go and I told him to take me towards Delhi.
The phone rang again. It was Kriti again. This time, I picked it up. “Where have you been? I have been calling you since morning. How much did you drink yesterday? I even tried calling Hari but even his phone was switched off.”
I cursed Hari. He should have taken more care. But Kriti’s tone right now was more of concern than of nagging. The nagging would start once we got married I thought.
“I met an old friend, and got talking.”
“Oh! Who was the old friend? Some one I would know?” The tone was now inquisitive, still not nagging.
“No, I don’t think you would.”
“Hmm, would you care to tell. Male or female?”
I thought she would be a little more subtle in asking, but she wasn’t.
“Female. Her name was Shalini.”
Kriti hung up. No shouting, just hung up. The cab driver asked me where I wanted to go. I just asked him to go straight, we were crossing Delhi and were taking the Grand Trunk Road which leads to Chandigarh. The phone rang again. It was Kriti.
“Did you spend the night with her?”
“I did. But nothing of the sort what you think happened. We just talked.”
“And where did you sleep?”
“In a park.”
I don’t know why, but I just didn’t feel like lying. I could have easily told her that I was with Hari, we had too much to drink, and then slept off. No more questions would have been asked. But I just kept on telling her things that would make her mad.
“In a park? Are you crazy? Did she sleep with you in the park?” and then as an afterthought “Are you crazy?”
“No, she left around 3, I just didn’t feel like coming back home so I slept there.”
Kriti hung up again, not to call back. The cab driver asked me where I wanted to go. I closed my eyes and tried to relive the last night. I asked him to go straight. Myriad thoughts were going through my mind. Thoughts concerning me, concerning Kriti, concerning Shalini. Was I doing the right thing marrying Kriti when I knew that Shalini could be mine? Did I really want Shalini to be mine- after all how much did I know her. Was it true whatever Shalini had told me yesterday night? Did she really love me? Did Kriti really love me or was she marrying me for a secure future? Did I really love Kriti or was I marrying her for a lack of effort to find someone else? Did I love Shalini or was it the mystery in her which had attracted me to her?
My head started spinning again and I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but sleep never comes at the time you really want it to. I continued to stare outside. We had left the city now and were in hinterland India. Everything all of a sudden seemed so beautiful, the crops growing in the fields, the woman with earthen pots filled with water on their head, the buffaloes and cows grazing under the trees, small kids running after even smaller dogs, overcrowded jeeps and buses.
All these things, which had seemed irrelevant and redundant till yesterday, now seemed so beautiful and serene. I looked at the rearview mirror. There was a smile on my face, a smile which I had not seen for a long time, a smile which was definitely not there when I woke up for gym every morning, which was definitely not there when I was having Italian food or shopping, a smile which was definitely not there when I was talking to Kriti, a smile which was definitely not there when I was getting engaged.
I checked my pocket and found the engagement ring. I took it out, opened the window, and threw it away.
Just like that.
I noticed the smile, it had not gone away, it had just widened. The taxi driver again asked me where I wanted to go. This time I said Ambala, my hometown.
The taxi continued on its journey towards Ambala. I had to find Shalini. I could not let her go away like the times I had let her go earlier. The first time we had met at the railway station, was at my hometown Ambala. I knew, that after coming back to India after so many years, and after opening up about her past to me yesterday, she would go back to kill the demons which still lived in her head. There were no direct trains from her hometown to Delhi, that is why we had met in the first place, because her family was taking a connecting train to Delhi from Ambala. I hoped that there would still not be any direct trains and she would have to get off at Ambala.
And that is where I would find her.
After thinking of Shalini for some time, the thought of Kriti came to my mind. I never had loved her, but I did care for her. I guess the words I had said during our engagement were a testimony to that. I knew I was doing a terrible thing to her. I knew I could never make up for it, but it was my happiness over hers. And I was selfish.
I guess everyone is. But at that time, I felt it was Shalini’s happiness over Kriti’s. And I went for Shalini. I knew Kriti would not forgive me, I just hoped she would forget.
The journey towards my hometown continued and as we got near, the anxiety grew even more. In a short while I was there. The taxi dropped me at the railway station. I had old memories of this small city and I occupied a bench amidst all the frenzy in the railway station. I kept on looking at people as they came and went. Hope in my eyes. Hours passed by, but I knew that I would see her again. Fate could not be so unkind to me. And then after around five hours, a lonely figure came walking around the platform.
She was in a dark green dress. She was fair, had a dimpled chin which gave a something special to her smile, long eyelashes, curly at the end, like a princess would want them, kajal around her eyes, kajal to keep away the bad omen from her beautiful face, a small parrot nose, which twitched when she frowned, and black flowing hair, which I would later know, she thought were brown.
It was Shalini.
She looked at me, our eyes met, and I could see a tear roll down her cheek. I guess she knew why I was there.
“You came.”
She ran towards me and we hugged.
“I love you Shalini, I love your beautiful eyes, your dimpled chin, you parrot nose, you black hair. I love you.”
She had tears in her eyes but still managed to say “My hair are brown, not black.”
ONE YEAR LATER
H
ari
Hari was now the proud father of three children. His wife thought that their son was getting bored alone so they needed another kid.
They had twins.
Hari, I think has grown up now.
Pooja and Rannvijay
I did not talk to Pooja after she had dumped me for her ex. But after meeting Shalini, I understood what she did. We are not best friends now but we do exchange Christmas (Diwali) greetings.
Kriti
Kriti has not forgiven me, but I do hope she has forgotten me. We are not in touch but I do get to hear about her from some friends. She is not married yet but I hope she finds someone.
And I hope someday she forgives me for what I did. My parents
My parents are still based in Ambala and even after infinite requests to move in with us, they continue to stay there. We once took a two week break and lived with them in Ambala the entire duration. I have not seen them as happy as they were in those two weeks for quite some time.
Shalini and I
Shalini now divides her time between me and her music. She is going to release her first album very soon in India and as a tribute to us, has named it ‘Seven years.’
Well, for me, life turned out pretty much the way I wanted it. Nice job, nice house, nice car and a wonderful wife.
The car can still be bigger though.
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, It Wasn't Love at First Shalini and I
It Wasn't Love at First Shalini and I Page 13
