Life Is What You Make It A Story Of Love, Hope And How Determination Can Overcome Even Destiny

by Preeti Shenoy

  Later I thought about what Abhi had said. I concluded he was frustrated and jealous as he had not made it. How could he ask me to give up my dream? How could he ask me to give up something I had worked so hard for, just so I could be with him? CUSAT did not look appealing at all. In the dazzle and glamour of Bombay, what chances did it have? I did not feel any regret about leaving my friends behind.

  Bombay beckoned and I was more than ready to fly.

  9

  Never Belittle Love

  There was still a month left before we would finally move to Bombay. Everything seemed to have worked out perfectly for me. Like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, my life was falling into perfect order and was coming together in a way I never imagined. My parents felt that my dad's transfer to Bombay was the next best thing to have happened, after my getting into one of the finest MBA programmes that was on offer. They were also delighted that my brother had got into John Hopkins University in the USA and he would leave soon.

  Most days I went out to meet the gang and now my parents did not even question me when I said that I was going out. It was like I had earned the right to do what I pleased. Almost everybody from our gang of friends would be starting their courses in the next two months. For all those who were doing courses outside Kerala, these were the last few weeks in Cochin, which had been home to us, for the last three years. We felt a tinge of sadness we would be leaving it, even though the future seemed very bright.

  All of us wanted to make the most of the last few days left and our favourite haunt was a restaurant called ‘Appu aur Pappu’ which faced the backwaters. Despite its ridiculous name which we had shortened to Appu's, the ambience was great as it had outdoor seating around two large shady trees, facing the promenade. The salty sea breeze blowing gently around us seemed to knit us together as we sat nursing our mocktails and munching snacks that we ordered as we watched people walking on the promenade. The sunset made the sea sparkle with a million shades of orange and gold and we hung around, our faces glowing in the mellow light, talking, laughing, joking until it grew dark and we could see no more. Then we decided that it was time to go home.

  Abhi was there on all days. I had not met Abhi separately since the time I had angrily walked away from him, refusing to hear his apologies. I always made sure to meet him only as a part of the gang. I did not even want to hear what he had to say. So I always arrived a little later than the others and left a little earlier. One evening Suvi called me and told me to meet her at the hostel as she wanted some time alone with me. I met her.

  “What is with you and Abhi? You're acting like an ice maiden. I hope you know that,” she said.

  “What ice maiden? What do you want me to do? Write him a love letter in blood?” I retorted a bit sharply.

  “Come on Anks. Haven't you seen the way he looks at you like a lost puppy? Don't tell me your ambitions have blinded you that much that you can't see.”

  “God, you too! What is with you guys? Just because I made it and you all didn't, do I have to be penalised? Where have I become blind? And what does my ambition have anything to do with it?”

  “You idiot, you aren't even trying to understand what I' m trying to say. It is wrong if you keep behaving like this. At least talk to Abhi. Explain to him properly. You owe him that much. If you want to end it, end it. But don't keeping him dangling like this. It is cruel, Anks,” she said it slowly and patiently like explaining to a child and that strangely calmed me down too.

  “Suvi, I have really tried. He wants me to do MBA at CUSAT along with him. How can I? What kind of madness is that? Firstly I don't want to and even if by the remotest chance, I did agree, what in the world will I tell my parents? Has he thought of that?” I asked her.

  “I think you do need to meet him once and have a heart to heart chat. That should clear things up,” she said.

  I decided I would. I had also been uncomfortable playing this peek-a-boo game with him, talking but not communicating. It was high time to end this juvenile nonsense.

  I called up Abhi one evening when my parents weren't at home. They were busy these days and often went out as they had a number of things to do before we relocated in Bombay. Abhi's grandfather answered the phone. I introduced myself and of course he remembered me.

  “How lovely to hear from you, Molle ! Please hold on, I'll tell Abhi to pick it up in his room,” he said, using the Malayalam term affectionately which was the equivalent of ‘beti’ in Hindi. I found this gesture of his charming and I also realised that in his own discreet way he was trying to tell me that Abhi would be talking from his room, and therefore we had the privacy. I was moved by his sensitivity and envied Abhi a bit, for this easy relationship that he had with his grandpa.

  “Hey,” I said when Abhi answered.

  “Anks!” he exclaimed, taken completely by surprise, the joy evident in his voice. “Wow, wow! Look who is calling me! And before you say anything I am so so sorry. You did not even listen to me and I did call you thrice to explain. I spoke all three times to your mum.”

  “No apologies needed and you should know by now that if you spoke to my mom, I would never get the message. I am surprised she wasn't curt with you.”

  “She was but I would not give up. And I didn't want to mention all this in front of others and so never really got a chance to tell you this.”

  “Yes, thanks for that. Look, we must meet. I want to talk to you.”

  “Of course, Madam! Anytime, any place. Your wish is my command,” he said. The happiness in his voice almost broke my heart.

  I silently cursed Suvi. It was her bright idea, meeting him. The earlier situation was definitely easier. We could have maintained that and then slowly I would have moved to Bombay and we could have drifted apart naturally. This was painful. There was a lump in my throat at the genuine thrill and eagerness in his voice.

  “Do you want to meet at my place?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. I could not stand the intimacy of his room and breaking it to him at his own place sounded very cruel to me. “Let us meet in the morning tomorrow at Appu's. No one is around in the mornings, there.” I said.

  “Ok, Appu's it is. At ten?” he asked.

  “Yes, I'll be there,” I said.

  “I'll be there before you and hey Ankita, I love you,” he said and the tenderness in his voice felt like a jab in the pit of my stomach.

  “Bye,” I said as I hung up.

  T r ue to his word, he was waiting when I reached. He jumped up as soon as he saw me and planted a kiss on my cheek.

  “Abhi! What are you doing?! This is a public place!” I said shocked at his action. In a place like Cochin, a girl talking to a boy alone at a public place itself was really not acceptable. An action like this was the worst crime a guy and a girl could commit. I quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed and heaved a sigh of relief to see that the place was quite deserted.

  “I could not help it Anks, you look so lovely!”

  We sat in the shade, looking at the clear blue water sparkling and shining, with ships and boats in the back ground, sailing away to far off lands.

  “So, say! Why did you want to meet me?” asked Abhi. His eyes were still shining with love and the shadows of the trees were making criss-crosses on his face.

  Love, whatever form it takes, is a funny thing indeed. I knew at that moment that I could not tell him what I really wanted to say. At least not today, not now, I decided.

  “Just like that. We have hardly met after that day. So I thought we could spend some time together,” I said. I knew I was being a coward. My inner voice taunted me to go ahead and tell him that it was over. I could not.

  “Oh Ankita, I am so happy now . You know, I haven' t been sleeping well the last few days because I felt the distance was growing between us. But today I know, it does not matter. All that matters is now.”

  “Yes, God knows when we will meet, once I move to Bombay,” I said as gently as I could. I had to bring him back to reality.<
br />
  “So, you are hell bent on that?”

  “I have told you Abhi. There is no reason I can give my parents which is valid enough for me to stay back in Cochin and you know that. Let us not start this again, please.”

  “Ankita, Marry me! Let us get married before you go.” said Abhi.

  I was totally taken by surprise. Wa s he crazy?! Had he lost it?

  “What are you saying, Abhi? Are you serious?!” I exclaimed, shocked for the second time that day.

  “Look, I have thought about it. It can be a secret court marriage. Do you know Naina and Yamin? They did that. And you know what—their parents don't even know. Once Yamin gets a job, they intend telling their parents. Till then they are staying apart and meeting every day at college and everything goes on like normal,” he said.

  I knew about Naina and Yamin who were second year post graduate students at Mahaveers. But I did not have any inkling of their secret marriage.

  “What?! They are married?” I exclaimed.

  He nodded. “Well, they're both over 21 and you just need a month's time and two witnesses. In fact, even a month is not needed if you know the right people. And I know whose palms to grease. Being in college politics teaches you a lot,” he said matter-of-factly.

  This was getting out of hand and in a direction I had not anticipated.

  “Come on Abhi. We can't possibly do that,” I stalled for time, thinking of what to say.

  “Oh yes, we can. Why not? There are those who look at things the way they are and ask why. I dream of things that never were and ask why not. Why not? Why not?” he said, quoting Kennedy.

  Because it must have been love but it is over now .

  But somehow matching Kennedy's quote with a song from Roxette, especially at that moment seemed dastardly and I backed out. Instead, I matched it with a quote I remembered.

  “Adopt the pace of nature. Her secret is patience,” I said ambiguously. “Ralph Waldo Emerson, in case you did not know,” I added.

  He smiled. “I am willing to wait a lifetime for you Ankita, if you will say yes.”

  How could I promise? How could I tell him that my dreams had grown beyond the town of Cochin? They had tasted life outside. They had seen a wider world out there. I wanted a slice of that. It was mine for the asking. I could not be tied down like this. I could not commit. I could not give him my word. Heck, I could not even tell him that I loved him.

  “Oh Abhi. I can't promise anything. I wish I could.” I said, hating myself as I said it. But there it was. Out in the open. It was the truth and it hung in the air like a shroud.

  He looked crestfallen. He did not speak for what seemed like a long time.

  I looked away and stared at the sea. I did not know what to say to make this blow gentler.

  When he finally spoke, his words were a whisper. “At least keep in touch, that is all I ask,” he said. “That is all I ask.”

  The depth of those words would hit me only years later after I had undergone a lot more and after I had been wiser. That time I had not even said I would because I really did not know and saying things like these seemed a bit silly. We had bid good bye to each other. In the years to come, I would replay this scene in my mind over and over, again and again, his words echoing in my ears.

  The next day was a Sunday and my parents again had a round of relatives to visit. I was getting tired of it and opted to stay at home. That was when I got the phone call from Suvi.

  “Hey, what in the world happened between you and Abhi? Did you spend the night with him?” she asked. She knew I would be meeting him but I had not spoken to her after that.

  “Are you crazy? Won't I tell you if I did? You forget that I don't live in the hostel and am accountable to my parents. Are you calling to ask me to ask this absurd question?”

  “No, you ass. Abhi has been missing from home since last morning. He did not go home in the night. Dhiren just called me. Abhi's grandfather is frantic. The police are searching for him. His dad has been informed too.”

  “Oh my God,” I said. “No, I have no idea. Last I saw him was yesterday morning.”

  I didn't know what to do. I wanted to call up his grandfather and tell him what had happened between Abhi and me the previous morning. But that would not have helped at all. Maybe he was spending the night at a friend's and had got drunk and therefore not called his grandpa, I thought. But it sounded hollow to my own ears. Abhi was never like that. He was responsible and loved his grandpa far too much. A drink or two would have never been a problem in facing his grandfather, I knew. There was nothing I could do to fight that sinking feeling which was beginning to creep up and soak me like cold water that has spilled on a chair and which you have inadvertently sat upon.

  It was my mother who broke the news to me the next day. It was all over the newspapers.

  “Did you know this chap? What a pity. They recovered his body in Vypeen. So young, I don't know why these people drink.” she said as she handed me the newspaper.

  The sinking feeling had grown to a giant wave and I was submerged in it completely now. I was too stunned to react. I read the report which said that his bike and an empty bottle of whiskey were recovered from the beach at Fort Kochi by the police. They had traced the bike the previous day itself. But it was only late last evening that the body had washed ashore, miles away in Vypeen which was a neighbouring town.

  They say when a calamity strikes you it stuns your normal senses so much that emotions are held in check. Perhaps that is what happened with me.

  “Yes, I know him. I have seen him at youth festivals,” I heard myself saying calmly to my mom, handing her back the newspaper. I was surprised at my own clever line which was not completely a lie too.

  I went to my room and sat on my bed, my heart beats pounding away like an overworked pump. I was numb with pain. I had to see Suvi. I could not handle this on my own. I managed to put up a nonchalant facade as I told my mom that I was going out for the day and called Suvi.

  She was waiting at the hostel gate and she hugged me tight as soon as she saw me. Then we made our way towards the arches. It was only then that I finally broke down. Between sobs I told her what had happened the previous day. My nose was running and I was crying and wiping it on my sleeve. I was beyond caring.

  I told Suvi that I just had to speak to his grandfather now. I did not trust myself to talk. We made our way to a phone booth just outside the college gates. I asked her to ask for him and then hand me the phone when he came on line. I heard her asking in Malayalam for Abhi's appachan.

  When he came on the line I did not know what to say.

  “Hello, this is Ankita, Abhi's friend,” I said stupidly.

  “Molle,” he said his voice full of anguish. “I know he loved you. I don't know what happened between you two, but I have only one thing to say. You are young, you are pretty. Please remember molle, sneham mathram puchikaruthu. No matter from where it comes,” and he wept. The sound of a grown up man crying is one of the loneliest, saddest sounds I have ever heard. The words he said in Malayalam singed and burnt a hole in my soul. I would never ever forget those words or his voice my entire life. “Never belittle love,” is the closest translation that I can come up with for the words he spoke that day.

  He went on to say that the police had been around earlier and had specifically asked if he was romantically involved with anybody. They had said that suicide cases due to ‘love-affairs’ were common. His grandfather told me that Abhi would never have wanted my name dragged in and so he gave his statement on record, that there was no such thing as far as he knew. Silently and selfishly I thanked the largeness of his heart. I cried some more, but only after I had hung up.

  The post mortem reports concluded death by drowning with high levels of alcohol as a contributing factor. The funeral procession was the next day.

  I did not go for the funeral. I told Suvi that I couldn't come. She tried persuading me. I would not budge from my decision.

  “I don't
want to see a bloated dead body. I have seen him when he was alive and well and those shall be my last memories.” I said. I hated myself for it. Yet I could not bring myself to go.

  I wondered why he had drunk so much. Did the tide rise and then he was so drunk that he did not notice? Had he been washed away and it was too late ? Had he screamed for help in the night? Did his screams ring out? Why had he done such a foolish thing as drinking alone on the beach? My inner voice was screaming out the answers blaming me.

  But I silenced it, not allowing it to rise up, not wanting to hear it.

  I wished I had told him that I would keep in touch. I wished I had told him that a part of me loved him. I wish I had assured him that we would meet when I visited Cochin once a year for holidays. I wished a hundred million times. I wished a hundred million things.

  They remained just wishes which would taunt me all my life and which had taught me an important lesson which would stay with me for as long as I lived and shape all my future dealing with people— Never to belittle love, no matter where it came from and to be a little humbler, nicer and kinder with my words and actions.

  10

  Racing ahead

  Bombay is everything I imagined it to be and everything I never imagine it to be too. Bombay is like the proverbial elephant being described by five blind men. Everyone feels a tiny bit of it and is convinced that their version of it is the real Bombay.

  It was a giant cauldron of cultures, personalities, pockets and they blended effortlessly merging to create a new pot-pourri which welcomed everybody. It was almost magical. No matter which part of the country you came from, no matter whether you were a foreigner or a native, no matter what you wore or how you spoke, Bombay quietly understood, accepted and welcomed you into its fold. You felt right at home and you fitted in.

  In Bombay, people measured distances by time taken to commute. The suburban railway carried more than 6 million commuters on a daily basis. This was more than half the capacity of passengers on the Indian railways itself. I took to it, like a duck to water and became just one passenger in the 6 million. There were about 60 of us in my batch. The Institute did not have its own hostels but those students who were from outside, were accommodated in the Bombay University hostels. Others were mostly day scholars and just used the local trains.