‘It’s okay. I’m great.’ I force a smile.
‘I was worried. I hope you’re over it,’ he says and gets under the umbrella, since it has started drizzling.
I feel my legs freezing up. ‘I’m over you. Actually, I’m here with someone.’
His expression changes like he’s mad at me, and then he looks up.
‘Should we leave, honey?’ Mayank’s hand feels warm on my cold body, and I nod.
‘Hi, I’m Robbie.’ Robbie extends his hand and Mayank takes it.
‘I’m Mayank.’ He smiles.
‘You’re with her?’ he asks him like he cares.
‘Yeah, heard a lot about you, though. I’m a professional, so it’s a little out of line, but you seriously suck for messing with her. She’s a gem,’ he says, and grabs my hand. I keep looking at him as we leave.
‘Stand here.’ Mayank takes out his phone.
‘It’s drizzling,’ I say, so that he doesn’t click but he does.
‘A woman like you should be kept safe. All the things you like about yourself and everything you don’t should be kept safe to make you realize the person you are and the person you’re becoming.’
He smiles and I quietly start to walk towards the car with him. I can’t stop replaying it all in my head and blushing. I am not sure when it happened but I feel something, some way, when I am around Mayank, like we are connected and all I can do now is pray that he feels the same way. I grab his hand; he doesn’t look back. But I know . . . I know something has happened. Something has happened in the rain, and I’m not letting go.
21
A Tender Ray of Love
Nandita Warrier
She was three; he was five. He found her silly; she found him bossy. Their mothers were soul sisters. So their families met often.
She was six; he was eight. He found her irritating and called her a ‘complaint box’; she found him obnoxious and called him a ‘monster’. They fought in every get-together.
She was nine; he was eleven. He found her intelligent but boring; she found him incredibly cute and funny.
She was twelve; he was fourteen. He secretly detested her scholarly attitude; she was swept by his charm and wrote about him in her secret diary.
She was fifteen; he was seventeen. He just couldn’t connect with the bookworm she had become and ran out of topics whenever they met; she was head over heels in love with this dashing young lad—chirpy, energetic, popular, confident and so much more. Boy, she could’ve given a limb for his attention.
She was eighteen; he was twenty. She aspired to be a doctor; he was determined to be one of the ‘Men in Blue’.
Their paths were growing apart, just like their personalities. They rarely met, and when they did, she was more awkward than before. He didn’t seem interested in her and she was torn whether or not to share her feelings with him.
And then something happened. He did something terrible—unforgivable! She had held him in such high regard all along, loved him with all her heart, but he had treated her like trash. She was shattered.
But instead of confronting him, she chose to remain silent. What was the point of hurting herself even more?
From that day, she studiously avoided him.
She was twenty-four; he was twenty-six. She was a doctor, preparing for MD. Over the years, she’d become more self-assured and cheerful. He was a disillusioned Ranji player, stuck playing for his state. Over the years, his confidence and drive had seen a steady dip.
She was twenty-seven; he was twenty-nine. She was a bright, young surgeon winning people over; he was a lost and bitter soul, spewing venom at everyone.
She was twenty-eight; he was thirty. She was full of dreams; he was broken.
That night, she slept early because she had a morning duty in the ICU. That night, he slept late after emptying a bottle of sleeping pills.
Just as Ramya reached the hospital, she was summoned to the OT for an emergency procedure. ‘Suicide attempt,’ someone whispered. Dr Iyer was instructing the team when Ramya joined them in her OT scrubs. She threw a casual look at the patient and immediately recoiled. It was Rohan! Oh no, how could this be? Memories from her childhood, locked away in some corner, defiantly barged in, making her want to sob.
He looked so pale and pitiable—a mere shadow of the handsome young man she remembered from their last meeting years back! Rohan had had everything going for him—what could have possibly gone so wrong? Sensing her discomfort, Dr Iyer enquired, ‘You know him?’
‘Family friend,’ she uttered nonchalantly, hiding the wave of sadness sweeping over her.
Once Rohan was resuscitated, Dr Iyer assigned his case to Ramya. ‘He needs emotional support more than medical care. You can help his family deal with the situation—they seem comfortable with you.’
‘BUT I AM NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THIS CASE!’ she wanted to shout. ‘I HAVE TAKEN YEARS TO GET OVER THIS MAN. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW PAINFUL ONE-SIDED LOVE IS? AND I STILL HAVEN’T GOTTEN OVER WHAT HE DID. PLEASE SPARE ME!’
Instead, she took the case papers from Dr Iyer with a nod and made a resolve: ‘No room for the past. As a doctor, I’ll do my best.’
‘So how are we today?’ Ramya smiled enthusiastically. Rohan turned the other way without responding. This was becoming a routine, but Ramya wasn’t going to give up so easily.
Outside the room, she met his worried mother. ‘Rohan has lost all will to live. I’m afraid he’ll do something again as soon as we go home.’
‘Aunty, our resident psychiatrist, Dr Awasthi, will discharge Rohan only when he is emotionally stable. Don’t worry,’ Ramya assured her.
After her duty hours, when Ramya went to check on Rohan, his mother looked unwell. Out of concern, she touched the old woman’s forehead. ‘Oh God, Aunty, you’re running a high fever. You must go home and rest.’ She also got her a paracetamol and checked her vitals.
‘I will, beta, after Rohan’s brother relieves me. He’ll be here around 10.’
Ramya protested. ‘Mom will kill me if I allow you to stay here in this condition. Don’t worry, I’ll manage.’
After much cajoling, the old woman was escorted home and Ramya sat next to Rohan, well anchored by her sense of duty.
‘You used to be so bossy, always trying to control me,’ she complained.
Rohan ignored her.
‘Don’t you remember?’ she persisted.
Rohan gave her an irritated look. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Of course you know what I am talking about.’ A mischievous smile danced upon her lips. Ramya had decided to use childhood memories to break the ice. ‘Even in Snakes & Ladders, you used to decide all the rules.’
‘I never made any rules; I only explained them to you,’ he said point-blank.
Happy that he had taken the bait, Ramya prodded on, ‘Really? I thought you conveniently twisted them to your advantage.’
‘That is so not true! Controlling maybe, for you were a silly little girl who knew nothing. But manipulating?’ He sat up and looked straight at her.
Ramya explained, ‘I clearly remember that when you got a six, you would get a bonus chance—but not me!’
‘That’s because if six points take you to a snake, you don’t get a bonus,’ he clarified.
For the first time in all these days, Rohan looked engaged. She was relieved at the ease of their conversation.
‘Kudos! You still remember the rules,’ Ramya laughed.
‘Kudos to you—for remembering minor details from a quarter-century back, and also for your confidence in the recall!’ His eyes shone with sarcasm. And he was almost ready to smile. She continued the mock fight and, soon, they were pulling each other’s leg, remembering funny incidents—some embarrassing ones too.
‘Childhood is so pure, so complete. I wish I could go back to the good old days.’ Rohan sighed.
‘Pure? Yes, absolutely.’ Ramya squirmed, controlling her emotions.
This was a big shift for Roh
an. From not wanting to live, not wishing for anything at all, he was longing for something, albeit from his childhood. Something was alive!
Rohan’s mother’s illness kept her at home. His brother could chip in only after office hours. So a big part of Rohan’s responsibility came to Ramya. Dr Iyer understood that the patient needed support, so Ramya started visiting Rohan whenever possible.
‘Do you want to step out to the terrace?’ she asked one evening.
‘Terrace? I didn’t know we had access to one here.’ Rohan smiled.
‘Yeah, they didn’t want you to know,’ Ramya blurted out and immediately bit her lip.
‘I get that. Don’t worry,’ Rohan assured her.
It was November and a cool breeze welcomed them as they walked out. Carrying their coffee, they settled in a corner. ‘Remember we used to play hide-and-seek on your terrace?’ Ramya reminisced.
Rohan nodded with a tiny smile and looked far away. Gathering all her courage, Ramya asked, ‘What happened to you, Rohan?’
The concern in her voice travelled straight to his heart.
‘There was nothing to look forward to, Ramya. Ever since I can remember, I had only one dream—to play for India. I was so focused on it that the rest of my life became a blur. But, slowly, my dream started slipping out of my hands. Still, I kept giving myself hope. One day, even hope refused to hold my hand; nobody wants to stand with a failure.’
Not knowing what to say, Ramya listened. And Rohan poured out his disappointment, anger—and tears. Somehow, he wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed. With Ramya, he felt safe . . . and understood.
They had no idea when the golden sky turned orange, then pink, then grey—and finally black.
Ramya was in a spin—part of her hated Rohan and wanted to punish him. Another part went further back, constantly reminding her of the tenderness she had once felt for him. Much to her horror, a tiny flicker of that emotion still touched her. And then there was a third part that wanted her to fulfil her duty and just move on.
If there was one thing she felt certain about, it was her need for closure. After all, she wasn’t that timid, fearful girl any more, lacking the courage to speak up! Her decision to stay silent had not allowed her to move on in life. Neither was she at peace with Rohan, nor was she able to trust other men completely. The few relationships she’d had couldn’t blossom since she always held herself back.
About time she sorted things out, Ramya decided. But she understood that Rohan was still in recovery, and it wouldn’t be right to disturb that. Once stable, he would have some explaining to do.
‘What is this?’ Rohan looked at the packet in Ramya’s hands.
‘Something you’ll enjoy, I’m sure.’ She grinned.
And with the excitement of a five-year-old, she pulled out a game of Snakes & Ladders.
‘Are you serious?’ He laughed.
‘Of course, but this time I will make the rules.’
Only after Rohan promised to play did she reveal the rules. ‘Every time we hit a snake, we will talk about a mistake and what we’ve learnt from it. And every time we reach a ladder, we will talk of a blessing and how it supports us. Rest of the rules are as before.’
Stunned for a moment, Rohan wanted to crawl back into his shell. But he reminded himself that Ramya was only being helpful. This could be cathartic, for all he knew! He hesitantly agreed and, once the game started, slowly began enjoying it. Before long, they were both accessing private corners of their hearts, revealing what had been fiercely guarded from the world. And when the biggest snake bit Rohan, moving him from 97 to 13, he not only spoke about the suicide attempt as his biggest mistake but also promised to never go on that path.
‘I’ve learnt how deeply I’m loved. People stood by me even when I abandoned myself. I won’t let them down again.’
Ramya was moved by the pain in his voice. Instinctively, she reached out and touched his arm. It felt nice, surprisingly nice—warm and reassuring, to both of them.
Dr Awasthi was quite pleased with Rohan’s progress and gave instructions for his discharge the next day. Ramya rushed to share the good news and Rohan was ready to celebrate.
‘Coffee on the terrace?’
She gladly agreed and soon they were sitting in their usual spot, paper cups in hand, breeze in their hair.
‘I had never thought that I would come to love this syrupy coffee so much.’ Rohan laughed, but Ramya seemed lost in her own thought. Clearing his throat, Rohan continued, ‘You know, these coffee conversations have helped me heal at so many levels. I was so focused on my failure that I had lost all sense of possibilities. The childhood memories reconnected me with who I really am.’
Taking a pause, Rohan sipped on some coffee and glanced at Ramya. Immediately, his expression softened out of affection for this lovely girl whom he had never valued before. ‘You shared so many incidents with me, Ramya, always painting me as the hero! It helped me view myself differently—someone with a lot of promise, talent and blessings. This is who I am, even today. I just need to believe this and create a new dream! How can I ever thank you for bringing the spark back?’
Rohan looked at her with such tenderness that she felt unsettled.
But Ramya had made up her mind—now or never!
‘You know what, Rohan? I didn’t paint you as a hero—I truly believed you were one. And you knew that I hero-worshipped you, didn’t you?’
Oblivious to what was brewing inside her, Rohan nodded.
‘Is that why you called me a pet poodle, always wagging my tail at you?’ Her tone changed, and so did their expressions. ‘Is that why you read the secrets from my diary and made fun of me in front of your friends?’
Ramya’s face went red with anger while Rohan’s face was white like ash.
‘Is that why you bragged to your friends that you could have me any day—just that I wasn’t your type?’
Rohan sat with his head in his hands, too ashamed to look at Ramya. Eventually, when he found his voice, it was a mere whisper. ‘Oh God, you had this inside of you all along and still cared for me with such warmth . . .’
He fell silent and Ramya couldn’t hold back her tears. She had hoped to feel light after the outburst, but Rohan’s reaction had taken her by surprise. She had expected him to outright deny everything, and here he was, worried about how she must have felt through all of this!
After what seemed like eternity, when Rohan finally looked up, his face mirrored Ramya’s agony. ‘I wish I could go back in time and undo this, Ramya. I am so sorry, so ashamed of what I did. I don’t want to blame it on booze or my age; nor do I want to dismiss it as locker-room talk. I take the blame. I was a self-absorbed jerk!’
Ramya was struck by Rohan’s honesty, courage and the sheer grace to accept his folly without any ego or justification.
‘After insulting your feelings with such cheap talk, I don’t even know how to ask for forgiveness. I wish I could free you of the hurt you’ve carried all these years, Ramya.’
When their eyes met, Ramya saw her own pain roll down Rohan’s cheek as a disobedient tear.
In that moment, she knew that she hadn’t connected with anyone as deeply before.
Ramya woke up thinking about Rohan, just like old times. She had a compelling urge to protect him, help him create a new dream. Oh God, was she falling in love with him all over again?
Rohan woke up with mixed feelings. His heart was heavy with remorse for hurting Ramya, yet he was ready to fly. Ramya’s tenderness, her smile, her touch, her warmth—everything about her made him feel alive! He wanted to take life head-on and figure out a new path.
Oh God, was he falling in love? Was he chasing another dream that may not come true?
She was twenty-eight; and he was thirty. They had both been touched by something pure and beautiful. And yet they were terrified of acknowledging it.
22
Our Story
Garima Bohra
As we were about to enter the enormous silve
r-polished gates of the classic Kubergarh Resort, my husband pulled me aside and tried to explain for the hundredth time . . .
‘Look, it was a mistake, okay? And mistakes do happen. I mean, the names were the same, and that’s why I got confused, which ultimately led to the exchange of orders.’
‘Enough, Omi! You say one more word about that incident and I will walk out of this goddamned party!’ I threatened him.
‘Okay, fine. But can you smile? For me, please . . .’ Omi said sheepishly.
His earnest request could not move me. I shrugged and walked in, holding my clutch tight to divert my anger.
The venue was magnificently spruced up with delicate white lilies and stunning pink gerberas. Lights shimmering from the giant chandeliers made the floor glitter like gold. For a second I stared around in awe, feeling fascinated. It was a bash to celebrate the success of one of the beauty products Omi’s company had launched a month back. Apart from the regular employees, the hall was full of well-known socialites and top models. Many people had gathered in thick packs around the rich and famous, trying hard to make connections.
We headed to the corner where Omi’s friends were waiting for us with glasses of wine already clutched in their hands. The regular chit-chat and random jokes were circling around the table but a strange uneasiness enveloped me . . . The ear-bursting loud music began to cause the veins in my head to pound.
‘Do you want something?’ Omi sounded concerned as I stood up.
‘Just need some fresh air. I will be back soon.’
‘Wait, I will come with you.’
‘No, you stay with your friends. I won’t take long,’ I said, dismissively.
‘Please don’t be mad at me for all that happened today,’ Omi whispered in my ear.
I could not help rolling my eyes as I pushed him back into his chair and walked out into the garden.
The cool breeze was soothing. There was a juice bar under a freshly flowered nagchampa tree and I ordered some fresh orange juice for myself and gulped down half of it thinking about the eventful morning.
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