Something I Never Told You

by Shravya Bhinder

  I admired the natural beauty on both sides of the road as we drove. Long stretches of green land, fewer cars than one is used to seeing in India and a bright-blue sky. It was 7 a.m., and the sun was out. The early morning sun had bathed everything golden. I rolled down the window on my side and let the pleasantly cool breeze caress my face. It was quite similar to the monsoon winds. Thinking about the monsoon winds, my tired but idle mind drifted back in time.

  NEW DELHI, INDIA

  AUGUST 2016

  Tamanna had just moved out of my nani’s house. Her parents had bought her an apartment in Greater Noida. She now lived there with one of her cousins and her younger brother, Sumit. Tamanna was offering Adira a space in her new home at a much lower price than she was paying Nani—this news travelled from Tamanna to Piyush to Rohit and finally to me.

  ‘What did Adira say? Is she moving out?’ I asked Rohit desperately.

  ‘What is it to you? It is not as if she stays here, you are going to ask her out, is it?’ He did not miss any opportunity to rub salt in my open wounds. After the disaster on Adira’s birthday, I had decided to move on with things at a pace I was comfortable with. And I knew that I was not comfortable talking to her, let alone asking her out.

  ‘Tamanna asked Adira to only pay her share of the household expenses and live with her, but Adira declined her offer as her father is not comfortable with her sharing a house with a boy, even if it is her best friend’s cousin,’ Rohit told me after a few moments of silence.

  I was happy to hear that because it meant Adira was not moving out, but I did not show it in front of Rohit. I pretended to remain grumpy until he said sorry for his harsh words earlier, although I knew he was not.

  We walked idly in front of Nani’s house, eating bhutta (corn) and chatting. I hoped to get a glimpse of Adira. I had not seen her for two weeks. She had gone to Chandigarh to visit her family for a week, and the day she came back, my parents decided it was time to go on a long-awaited trip to Vaishno Devi. We went by train to Punjab and halted at a relative’s place while going to Jammu as well as on the way back. I prayed to Goddess Durga to give me courage and enough charm to woo the girl of my dreams, half hoping that such requests were also considered matters of urgency and the wish would be granted to me swiftly.

  That evening did not turn out to be fruitful as Adira locked herself in her room. Nani’s maid knocked on Adira’s door, asking her to come out for lunch as well as dinner, but she asked her to bring some warm water and tea instead. I saw the maid walk out of Adira’s room and head towards the kitchen to prepare tea for her. That was when I began my interrogation.

  ‘What happened to the madam upstairs?’ I asked Nani’s maid, trying to sound as casual as possible.

  ‘I do not know. She looks unwell—a cold maybe,’ she informed me casually, and continued cooking in the kitchen.

  It was 9 p.m. My mother had called me a few times already, asking me to come home for dinner. She had made chicken that evening, which was my favourite. ‘I will be back soon,’ I told her, and hung up. I dashed to the nearby medical store and came back with a few paracetamol tablets, cold & flu tablets and cough drops.

  Very gently, I knocked on the door of Adira’s room. Nani did not like any boy, even her grandsons, going anywhere near her PG’s apartment, and I was playing with fire. Getting caught would mean being reported to my mother, which was also dangerous. But I had to check on her and give her those medicines.

  After a few knocks, she answered and told me that the door was open. I lightly pushed the door with my hands. The lights in the room had been dimmed, and I could barely see her. ‘Who is it?’ she asked. Her nose seemed stuffed, and her voice sounded funny but cute. I lifted my left foot to walk in and then placed it back on the ground; I did not want a scandal—neither for her nor for myself.

  ‘I have got some medicines for your cold, and there is one if you also have some fever,’ I said, standing at the door.

  ‘Oh, thanks. Rohit, is it?’ she asked me. I am sure she was not able to recognize me or my voice in the dark. And I did not bother to clarify; it did not matter who she thought I was. All that mattered was that she got the medicines as she was not well.

  ‘Nani doesn’t like a guy in her PG’s room, so I am handing over the medicines to the maid. She will bring them to you with some ginger tea,’ I told her, and turned around.

  ‘Thanks!’ I heard her murmur in a sleepy voice as I headed down the stairs.

  The next day, I went in the morning to check how she was feeling and whether she took the medicines I had bought for her the previous night. To my surprise, dressed in a matching pink pyjama set, she stood outside sipping tea with Rohit. She looked a little paler than usual, but her voice sounded much better than the night before. They were both chatting with ease.

  ‘Hello, Adira, how are you today?’ I mustered enough courage and blurted out the line I had practised the entire night.

  ‘I am good now, thanks!’ she answered me with a smile.

  ‘Okay, I will see you guys later,’ she said to Rohit in particular and waved at me. She gently touched Rohit’s shoulder and gave him an extra bright smile before leaving.

  ‘So, what was that all about?’ I asked the stupidly grinning monkey who happened to be my cousin.

  ‘She was telling me how she loves the rains and monsoon winds, and that she was out in the rain with her college friends which is the reason why she caught a cold,’ he said, looking slyly at me.

  ‘Okay.’ I enjoyed hearing about Adira any time of the day, but the sight of her hand brushing his shoulder made me uncomfortable.

  ‘—And she was thanking me,’ he added.

  ‘Why was she thanking you?’

  ‘For the medicines,’ he replied shamelessly.

  ‘What! You bastard! I was the one who got the medicines for her!’

  ‘I know, but she thinks it was me.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell her that it wasn’t?’ I inquired irritably.

  ‘To teach you a lesson that you need to tell her things yourself,’ he said, and ran as fast as he could. I ran in the same direction to beat the shit out of him.

  He was the least fit person I knew, and as expected, he was panting like a dog by the time he reached the end of the lane. I caught hold of him by his collar.

  ‘Achoooo!’ he sneezed loudly. It looked like Adira’s flu had passed on to him.

  ‘God has his ways, my friend. Enjoy the flu,’ I told him, and walked back home. He deserved the cold he had caught—a little punishment for hiding the truth. Since that day, I believe in karma.

  ‘Achoooo . . .’ The chauffeur’s sneeze brought me back to Melbourne.

  MELBOURNE CBD

  Welcome to the city, sir,’ Gurjeet said, looking at me in the rear-view mirror and smiling.

  I looked around. Unlike the places we crossed to reach our destination, the city was full of people and buildings. There were trams and buses everywhere. It was quite early in the morning, yet I could see a lot of people on the roads.

  ‘So, this is CBD, is it?’ I inquired.

  ‘Yes, sir, and you are going to love it,’ Gurjeet said with pride.

  I was too tired to love the place then, but I must tell you that I did fall in love with it eventually. It is a comforting place—as reassuring as a warm cup of coffee on an icy-cold evening. It had a special place in my heart, and I would cherish every moment spent there for the rest of my life.

  I was free that day and had to join the rest of the team at work the next day. We parked outside the hotel, and Gurjeet helped me carry my luggage. I read the name of the hotel just before entering it—Punthill Apartment Hotel, Flinders Street. I was given a card for my apartment, and a valet took my luggage upstairs to the fifth floor. Before I left, I was told that two people were to stay in one serviced apartment together.

  The red-haired valet and I reached the fifth floor. I placed my white key card on the reader, and the door of room number 350 opened. We walked
into a spacious living room. A brown three-seater leather couch and a beautiful wooden centre table made the room look comfortable and cosy. In front of the sofa were two big glass windows with an incredible view of the calm Yarra river. There was a large TV and a dining table as well as a few abstract paintings.

  It looked pleasant and quiet. As we moved towards the bedroom, I felt a wave of tiredness wash over me. Signalling the valet to leave the bags in the corner, I sat heavily on the white linen bedcover. As soon as he left the room, I flopped back on the cosy bed. I cannot recall anything after that because the last thing I know is that I had crashed with my face at an awkward angle on the pillow and my legs dangling under the bed.

  I woke up with a jolt after a bad dream. I saw myself hanging from a parachute as there was a problem with the plane I was in. The flight attendants asked us all to fold our legs, but as soon as I did so, my seat flew into the sky, and I was dropping freely. When I woke up, I was still dressed in the same clothes which I had put on the previous morning, and I was sweating profusely after the nightmare. I was in dire need of a shower. I got up from the bed and wiped the drool from the corner of my mouth.

  Behind the headboard was a wall, and on it was a painting of a flower which at first glance looked like a heart to me. This is the thing with the human brain—it shows you what you want to see, everywhere. Excited about the next many days to come, all I could see was hearts.

  I walked up to the window and thought about how life had planned everything for me: my meeting with Adira, her working at my office, my coming to Melbourne with her. Ideally, I should have come to Australia with a plan, but I had not. Why? Because I had recently learnt that you do not always need a plan. Sometimes all you need is a little trust. Trust what life offers you, take a deep breath and let go of all your inhibitions. Once you do that, life presents to you all the miracles it is capable of.

  This was precisely what I was going to do: relax and let life take control of itself.

  By 6 p.m., I had taken the much-needed shower, changed into a fresh set of clothes and made a call to my mother who was only concerned about the food which I had or hadn’t eaten. ‘I have had some sandwiches, Ma . . .’ I assured her, and started describing the view from my window. My mother, however, was stuck at the word ‘sandwiches’. For the next five minutes, she told me how careless my eating habits were. She only dropped the topic when I promised that I would eat something more substantial after the call. After about half an hour, there was a knock at the door. By then, I was sitting in front of the TV stuffing my mouth with a red velvet cake. The door opened, and I saw my roommate standing there—it was Rajbir.

  ‘Sir . . .’ I said, which sounded more like ‘fur’ with all the food stuffed in my mouth. Just then some crumbs from the cake also decided to fall from my mouth and land on the cream carpet. I stood there embarrassed.

  ‘I see you have made yourself comfortable already, haven’t you?’ his tone was sarcastic. I did not make any attempt to say anything more. Thankfully, leaving me in the company of food, Rajbir walked into his bedroom without saying anything more.

  Later that evening, Rajbir and I sat at the dining table facing each other. He looked relaxed in his PJs. I fiddled with a piece of decoration, a white and blue miniature sand clock, waiting for him to begin a conversation.

  ‘So, how was your flight?’ he finally asked me, taking his eyes off his phone.

  ‘It was good, thanks,’ I replied. There was nothing more to add.

  His phone rang. The team had planned to go out and eat south Indian food for dinner that evening. We got up to get dressed.

  ‘Chalo, let’s go,’ Rajbir said as soon as we were ready. We locked the door behind us. Adira and her friend, whose name was Sakshi, came out of their room. They were staying next door to us.

  I eyed Adira. She was dressed in a baby-blue dress, her hair was tied in a bun, and she looked beautifully carefree and relaxed. Sakshi was chatting animatedly next to her. I do not recall much of what she said to me when we met as I had eyes only for Adira.

  Then Adira extended her hand to greet me. ‘How was the flight?’ she asked me casually as I placed my hand in hers. Her soft palms touched mine, and for the first time it felt like something had happened that went beyond words. I froze at the contact. I bet she noticed it because I saw her blush. Why would she blush at a touch from you? Look at her and look at you. She is perfect while you are anything but perfect for her—I came back to my senses exactly when I felt Rajbir’s eyes on me. I was still holding Adira’s hand. I quickly withdrew it, and we all walked out. That touch had, however, made me even more conscious of Adira. As I walked with her next to me, I could feel her.

  At the restaurant, I was quiet during most of the dinner, mainly because I was very conscious of Rajbir’s attentiveness towards my actions. Somehow, he caught me every time I looked at Adira and raised his eyebrows. His reaction made me very nervous. I dropped everything which came into contact with my hands. Adira was her usual chirpy self. She laughed at every joke Angad made. Her closeness with Angad added to my discomfort, and I was unable to eat properly.

  ‘You have hardly eaten,’ Sakshi commented on my barely touched plate, and I blamed my lack of appetite on jet lag.

  Finally, Rajbir paid the bill. Three meals every day were to be paid by the company for every employee, and that dinner went on to the same account.

  All of us headed back to the hotel, and we quickly dispersed into our rooms as it was quite late by then.

  Rajbir worked on his laptop till late in the night, and I do not remember when I fell asleep looking at the book which I had started reading on the plane. Its cover had a picture of a very funny-looking Godman, and I drifted into my past, recalling my tryst with a Godman in India.

  MY ALMOST MEETING WITH A GODMAN NEW DELHI, INDIA

  OCTOBER 2016

  Nothing in my life was going as per my plans. I wondered if making plans made any sense. My studies had gone haywire, and Adira had found a boyfriend. It was a week ago when Rohit broke the news to me that Adira was dating a man who’d been dropping her at Nani’s house from her college quite frequently in his white Swift Dzire. The worst thing was that this courting was arranged by her parents—yes, she was meeting a man whom her parents thought to be good enough for her to get married to. Rumour had it that the beautiful pair was to get married as soon as she finished her studies, provided all went well between them. I was broken to say the least. I knew that I had taken forever to tell her how I felt about her, but I had my reasons. I was very low on confidence, and was scared that she would never give me a chance to even confess my feelings for her the way I wanted to. So I tried hard to forget her. Little did I know that my feelings for her were seeds which when buried deep in my heart, would grow into love.

  I tried to drink and smoke to forget her, but it didn’t bring any relief as her face remained in front of my eyes all the time, and the fact that she was going to be someone’s wife in a few months brought tears to my eyes. I bunked college on the days when I had to attend classes as per the pact with my friends. Soon those college friends too left my side.

  I thought of various ways to smother my love for her, but the truth is that true love never dies. It sleeps silently in aching hearts and wakes up on lonely nights. These nights were what I dreaded the most. I began sharing my pain and heartbreak with Rohit, but very soon he was on the brink of getting too frustrated with me to care.

  ‘Why did she do this to me, yaar?’ I asked him, again and again, one drunk night on the roof of his house.

  ‘She did nothing! The fact is that you did nothing when you could have,’ his words were harsh but true, and I agreed with him somewhere deep inside. I knew that I had not given myself a chance when there was time.

  ‘Can I do something now? Do you think if I tell her how I feel about her, would she be interested? Do you think I stand a chance at all?’

  ‘Are you crazy? Have you seen the guy her parents have chosen for her
?’ Why are all his words making sense tonight? The guy was rich, good-looking and from what I saw from afar, he cared for her too.

  ‘What if I tell this guy that Adira and I are having an affair and that he should get out of the way? No one wants to get married to someone else’s girlfriend!’ I blurted out the stupid plan that had been brewing in my head for the past week.

  ‘Listen to yourself! You have stooped so bloody low! How can you think of lying? Moreover, I do not think he will believe you. This is not a movie. Only a miracle can work things out for you now. And as we all know, there is no such thing in the world as a miracle, so it is better that you move on now. . . .’ he went on, but I lost him there.

  ‘Miracle, miracle . . .’ I repeated a few times before passing out.

  The next day when I woke up, the word miracle was still stuck in my head. I was sleeping on a folding bed on the rooftop. Rohit was snoring next to me on the floor. His father and mother were downstairs. It was quite early in the morning, so instead of waking up my super-intelligent cousin, I formulated a plan. A lot of Godmen claim to help lovers through some small upaaye (remedy). Lovers like me, the ones who love with all their heart, one-sidedly—my kind of lovers—approach Godmen to get the love of their lives to love them back, and then they live happily ever after! Magic was the only thing I could count on in my circumstances. I decided to find one such baba on the Internet and see if he could help me. Like a cat in super-stealth mode, I left Rohit’s house quietly and went home to organize the next step.

  In the afternoon, after having lunch with my parents, I stepped out of the house with a telephone number scribbled on a small piece of crumpled paper and called the baba. His secretary picked up the call and asked me to let her know about the problem. I told her my sad story, remembering to change the names of all the major characters. ‘Come and meet us at our office,’ she said after listening to my saga of love, as I prefer to call it. ‘And get at least thirty strands of the girl’s hair,’ she told me before hanging up. It is not a big deal; it is just hair, I told myself. My scared heart was suddenly not so sure of what I was getting myself and Adira into.