A Long Way Home

by Mitali Meelan

  ‘I don’t have to be this … this rock, letting the waves crash against my body and still holding my ground until I come to my breaking point, lock myself up in a room, take deep breaths and remind myself that I need to man up because there’s a family dependent on me, a team I need to lead.

  ‘With you, I don’t feel like I need to do it all by myself, sacrifice my dream for the happiness of everyone else, suffer in silence and not share my pain with another soul. Without even knowing, you have let me believe I can be more than just a tough guy. I can be a person with dreams, fears, hopes and real strength, the one that might not pick up Hercules hammer but the one that can change the world, and do all that by just being nothing more than myself. With you, I don’t feel the need to be anything more than who I am.’

  At the end of it, she was staring at me, her mouth partly open. At last, she closed it and said, ‘Oh.’

  ‘That’s all?’ I muttered. ‘An “oh” after my hour-long speech?’ Those really were too many words for me.

  ‘No, I just…’ she hesitated, plopped her hand on the back of the sofa, looking at me. ‘You never mentioned anything. So it’s coming out of nowhere and I’m still trying to process it.’

  I scoffed, then motioned forward to pour us another glass of wine. She needed it more than I did. I had run this scenario in my mind so many times, kissing her almost felt normal. Although surreal too. ‘I know I never mentioned it,’ I admitted, ‘but trust me when I say this isn’t coming out of nowhere. Everyone in the bar knew but you.’

  Her eyes widened slightly. ‘They do?’

  I held out her glass and shrugged. ‘I’m just good at hiding things.’

  We sat quietly for a minute, the fan spinning overhead, the sound of traffic on the road cutting in. ‘So,’ I said tentatively, taking a sip of my drink and placing it aside, ‘now that my heart is on the line, do you think you can, maybe, any time in this life, be my girlfriend, at all?’

  She raised her eyebrows, clearly mocking. ‘Is that how you planned on saying it?’

  ‘Honestly? I didn’t plan on saying it at all.’

  She took a moment too long, the clock ticking away slower than ever. ‘You’re a decent guy,’ she said, placing her glass down. ‘Hard working. Respectable. And good at kissing. At least better than most guys I’ve known. So I don’t mind giving this a try.’

  I had braced myself to hear rejection so her last sentence came as a surprise, but before I let my rational senses pull me back, I clutched both of her wrists and jerked her forward, bundling her up in my arms. It was a hug she wasn’t expecting. When we pulled back, her face registered surprise, but she also looked quite pleased.

  ‘Damn,’ I said, throwing my head against the back of the sofa and staring at the sky I could see through the window, still holding her hands, ‘this is my week of throwing caution to the wind, huh?’

  ‘Sometimes you need to do that,’ she said and smiled at me. ‘I’m glad you found your nerve.’

  ISHAAN

  S

  taying at Vartika’s house turned out to be more convenient than anything else. She still slept in her room on the single bed and I on the couch in the living room. We rarely had the energy to share anything but a goodnight kiss every night. Only on Sundays did we find the time to have a proper conversation and whenever we talked, we rarely mentioned anything about the events leading up to this day or the future. We only discussed my restaurant and what had to be done and what remained.

  But things between us had clearly changed. We now openly slapped each other with light hearted humour and backhanded insults. I would tickle her on the way to the bathroom and she’d sneak up behind me for a scare or turn off the light when I’d be showering. These things, I thought, kept the awkwardness of a new relationship at bay and it spurted out a good laugh on boring, work-loaded days.

  Although I did notice she hadn’t said she loved me or anything remotely close to that. Since the night I bared my heart to her two months ago, I hadn’t said it either, with the fear of sounding too needy and scaring her off. But that hadn’t stopped us from living like a couple.

  Our routine was pretty set as well. I left for office early in the morning while she was usually still asleep. So I made breakfast for both of us and my own lunch with the vegetables she’d peeled and chopped the previous night. We set this routine pretty much without discussing it beforehand. It all just fell into place, as if it was meant to.

  Sometimes, I found myself feeling guilty when I lay awake at night for liking this arrangement a little too much. I put my parents through a fallout, only to end up at a place that made me want to return to it at the end of the day. But I didn’t know how to overcome this guilt, so I simply lived with it.

  ‘Is it necessary?’ Vartika asked me one night after I showed her the pictures of a studio apartment I liked two stations downtown. It was within my budget and close enough to my office and the restaurant. But Vartika didn’t like it. Moving, she said, shouldn’t be my priority at the moment and I had argued it was, just as much as everything else.

  ‘I cannot take advantage of my girlfriend,’ I told her, kissing the top of her head. I didn’t call her by that name when we had an audience. It was only when we were in her office, the door locked to the outside world or in her house. ‘And I need this so I don’t have to lie to my mother about where I lived. She worries a lot. If she comes looking for me, all hell would break lose.’

  Mom had decided to give me a chance and, although she didn’t support my decision, she ‘valued her son and wouldn’t let a difference of opinion ruin her relation with him’. But whenever our conversation steered to my lack of understanding of how bad this decision was, I hung up. So, we usually avoided speaking about that. Dad’s topic didn’t come up all that much either because Mom had nothing new to say. She avoided bringing us up with him, knowing it only troubled him. That left us with very few topics to discuss, so we talked about Saloni and our relatives and occasional butt-in about my marriage.

  I talked to her usually during lunch hour when I knew she was alone at home and I had some breathing space. I usually hoped to talk to Vartika during that time, but she rarely called. Only yesterday, Mom had asked if she should send my lunch to my office or dinner at my friend’s place. She didn’t want to burden ‘my friend’s mother’ and had suggested an arrangement where she’d cook for me on alternate days.

  If she found out I’d lied again, I knew she’d truly quit talking to me, like my father had.

  Vartika pushed me away. ‘But why do you care what your mother thinks now? Hasn’t your father almost disowned you?’ She stopped, then backtracked as soon as she’d said it. ‘I didn’t mean…’

  ‘He has, but Mom hasn’t,’ I smiled, letting her know her slip-up hadn’t bothered me. But somewhere, it still pinched my heart. Wrapping up the conversation, I told her, ‘On the bright side, I only have one day of office remaining. Tomorrow, I’ll be free not only to work here more hours but also focus on what I’ve always wanted to do.’

  A smile touched her lips and she patted my cheek. Her touch still made me forget about everything else. ‘We’ll celebrate,’ she said. ‘Invite the girl who has a crush on you, if you want. What’s her name? Joycelin. Haven’t heard from her in a while. She still going to pay the two lakhs she promised?’

  ‘Yes. And Joy’s around. Just busy with work,’ I said, remembering the last conversation I had with her. It was in the HR cabin last week, when she handed me the reference letter signed by the CEO and my last pay cheque. We had little conversation at the time, with the rest of her team members around. But she did give me a sad smile while handing over the documents. ‘If not anyone else, I’ll surely miss having you around,’ she’d told me, to which I’d responded with a friendly smile. I hadn’t told her about Vartika yet, or what happened at my house and I didn’t plan on doing so. Not yet, anyway.

  ‘She asked me if I’d need the money,’ I told Vartika now, ‘but there’s still a week to
go before the interior gets started.’

  ‘Well, I think you should get it while you can.’

  ‘While I can?’ I scowled. ‘What do you even think about her? She’s a great friend, FYI.’

  Vartika tilted her head up at me. ‘Have you told her about us?’

  ‘We haven’t told anyone about us.’

  ‘And you think they can’t tell? You live with me. What other theory do you think they’ll come up with?’

  ‘I meant officially.’

  She brushed off my remark. ‘Even if they knew, they would be cool about it. But I’m not so sure about the Daughter of the Justice of Peace.’

  I sighed, resting my hand over her head and giving it a shake. ‘I think she’ll be fine.’

  Vartika was right. Joycelin wasn’t fine.

  We were celebrating my last official working day in the bar, which incidentally was the same day my licence was sanctioned. Each day, we were progressing on Project Restaurant one small step at a time, some news cropping up from one side or another, which made every day special.

  On the last evening in office, I received sophisticated wishes from my colleagues, an expensive Dior cologne from my team (and a secret chef cap with Melting Pot sewed on it from Siddharth). But it was truly in the bar that the joy was expressed. Vartika had bought a bottle of champagne. While everyone else clinked their beer bottles together and took celebratory sips, I offered to make another announcement.

  No one else but Joycelin was surprised to see Vartika and I were dating. And while the rest of them slapped our backs and shook hands with us, Joy forced a smile and muttered congratulations to me, barely audible through the chatter. Two drinks down, when most others congregated in the empty space in the middle to dance to EDM, I approached Joycelin. She had been unnaturally quiet.

  ‘Hey,’ I said to her. ‘Not enjoying?’

  ‘No, I’m good. Just that this is an unlikely place for me to hang out.’

  ‘I can guess. I’m sorry for not taking you to a better place.’

  ‘No, no, it’s nice. Really warm,’ she said. The corner of her mouth tugged up as she stared at the people shaking a leg. ‘You have a great group of friends you work with. It’s rare to see this in our firm.’ She glanced away, shaking her head at the comment, ‘I mean… my firm, now.’

  ‘It’ll always be mine too,’ I added. ‘Howsoever it was, it gave me the funds to start my dream project and most importantly, made me realize that is not what I want to do for the rest of my life.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, took a sip and stared into her glass. ‘I just wished we spent more time together,’ she said, a twinge in her voice. ‘If we didn’t have such strict rules, we probably would have. They hardly encouraged interactions outside work. We weren’t even allowed to date within the organization.’

  ‘What are you getting at?’ I think I had a fairly clear idea.

  She held her silence, then grunted. ‘God, it’s embarrassing to admit now.’

  ‘Try me,’ I said that in a kind tone, my eyes not leaving hers.

  She held my gaze, then sighed. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Ishaan. I think Vartika and you make a good couple, but I sort of thought we might hit it off.’ She laughed lightly, as if it was a ridiculous idea, but I didn’t join in, knowing it was coming from a place of truth and tremendous courage. Of all people, I knew how it was to be in that position. ‘Don’t take this otherwise. I really think you two are meant to be. I’m not trying to sabotage—’

  ‘You don’t have to clarify,’ I cut in and she turned to face me. She looked beautiful under the dimmed lights, her black eyes, the clip in her hair, the cherry glossed lips. Her beauty was the conventional kind, something I could never see Vartika be good at, and the fact that I liked it made it clear where my heart lay. ‘And… believe me, if I didn’t work here, if I had never met Vartika, I might have felt the same.’

  ‘Right,’ she muttered and for a second, she did look younger than me. There was about three years of difference between us, but I’d never felt it until then. I felt an urge to protect her from the inevitable heartbreak.

  ‘I’m sorry, Joy. If there’s anything I could do to make it better…’

  ‘Oh, no. Don’t be silly. I’m fine.’ She waved her hand, placing her drink on the counter. ‘We’re grown-ups.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean things don’t affect us.’

  She mused, then gave me a smile and pushed her weight off the counter. ‘If you don’t mind, I would like to go home. I’m getting late.’

  I understood her need to be away and nodded. She picked her purse off the table. I wondered with a slight horror if this was the last time I was seeing her. But as if putting my mind to rest, she added before leaving, ‘Text me when and how you’d need the money, via cheque or transfer. And… stay in touch.’

  ‘I will,’ I said. Across the room, I caught Vartika’s eye who was looking at us. When our eyes met, she gave me a small smile, then turned as if to give us some privacy. ‘Ah, Joy,’ I called and she turned, waiting. ‘I’m just as glad to have you in my life.’

  She smiled before vanishing out the door.

  ARIHANT

  We have gone through your synopsis and sample work meticulously. Unfortunately, it doesn’t fit into our publishing schedule at the moment. We wish you all the best with your current book and look forward to working with you in the future.

  T

  hat was the thirteenth mail in four months. I had been piling up rejection emails like seashells since the beginning of summer. My optimism was waning thin and I could feel it, my confidence slipping away. Maybe I wasn’t meant for this. I probably needed more than what I could offer to make a mark.

  ‘One boy wants to write and the other wants to cook for the rest of his life,’ my dad had said the last time we were in the same house. Somehow, I’d had a desire to prove him wrong. But the more I saw my friends bagging jobs with fat packages while I slogged for a meagre amount, it was getting increasingly difficult to keep this flame of hope alive.

  After reading the email, the first person I felt like talking to was Nyra.

  Where are you? I texted her, then minimized the screen, locked my computer and walked over to the coffee machine. Waiting my turn, I greeted Heena.

  ‘How’s work going?’ she asked. Making small talk was my specialty, but I didn’t feel like having one at the moment. Nonetheless, I gave her a shrug.

  ‘As usual.’

  ‘Kind of a boring day, huh?’ she said and I gave her a polite smile. She turned off the button when her paper cup filled with hot chocolate. Stepping aside, she patted my shoulder. ‘Hang in there. Only five more days until the weekend.’

  I scoffed. ‘You too.’ While I let the cup fill to the brim, I checked Nyra’s reply.

  In canteen. What’s up?

  It’d been three months since all the interns had successfully concluded their tenure and left, except Abhishek, who was offered a full-time position. Much to Nyra’s surprise, she was also given an option to stay back after a semi-positive appraisal from Heena. Turned out, she was hired for the internship less for her skills and more for her willingness to work at the lowest stipend compared to all the others who applied. It was barely a thousand.

  But Nyra declined the offer. She had other plans—finishing last year of her BMM studies and preparing for CAT. Unlike me, she apparently didn’t have the passion to pursue a hobby for the rest of her life. ‘I think I might end up disliking photography if I had to do it as a job. And I thank this internship for giving me the clarity,’ she’d told me once.

  Taking my coffee to my seat, I relaxed back in the chair and sipped it while indulging in our conversation. I sent her a picture of the email, highlighting the part where they’d apologized and she replied instantly.

  Shit. I’m sorry, read her text.

  Me: Don’t be. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t expecting it.

  Nyra: If you’re free, I can drop by your office today. Been long time.
>
  Since our quiet lunch date at the Bombay Brew, we had only met once, which was a weird feeling, considering the fact that I saw her every day before that. But I didn’t complain. Sometimes, there are no sparks but comfort in company that makes you like a person. Nyra and I weren’t together either, but this … friendship, or whatever it was, felt too comfortable to ruin it by premature confessions.

  ‘I hope we stay in touch after, you know, my internship ends,’ she’d said on the last day of her internship.

  ‘Of course,’ I said, so quickly it made her smile.

  ‘Give me updates on your book,’ she whispered as if it were a secret. ‘I still want to be the first one to read the finished draft.’

  ‘You will be,’ I replied. But our messages dwindled over the weeks. Two months later, I randomly asked her to give me her email address. She took one entire day to reply. Thinking nothing of it, I sent her my manuscript. But like many publishers, I was met with radio silence and that was when I decided I’d take criticism for my work over silence any day.

  I texted her a week after that, asking her where she’d been and what she’d been up to. I didn’t bring up the manuscript, not wanting her to feel obliged or guilty for not having read it, if at all. We exchanged some pleasantries. I learned that her college had reopened and I offered to meet that coming weekend, but she had plans with her college mates, which reaffirmed my doubts about job friendships not lasting for long. When she didn’t reschedule the plan, I guessed it was for the best.

  Then, out of the blue, she got back one day, asking if it was a good time to call me. I replied ‘yes’ and went outside to the office corridor to receive her call.

  ‘I was just showing your blog to two of my friends and we spent the entire forty-five minutes of the lecture reading it. They said they’d never been so entertained in an Economics lecture. It was as if, and I quote, “knowing you without even meeting you”.’