Something I Never Told You

by Shravya Bhinder

  The main reason why she had maintained her employment in our house was the fact that she knew everything that happened in the homes in the neighbourhood and was my mother’s personal news agency. Like most housewives, my mother wanted to be aware of what was cooking in the other people’s kitchens and lives. Shanti, unlike her name, was never shant or quiet. She was the Ashanti of our neighbourhood.

  The ringing doorbell sounded like a siren, and it felt as if I were being raided by moral police for being alone with a girl in my own house. I sprang out of bed and looked at Adira who was still asleep. ‘Great!’ I recall saying, but I cannot remember why I said it. I bolted the door behind me, tucked my T-shirt in, and contemplated whether letting the chatterbox into the house at all was a good idea. I cared too much about what people would say or think back then, and despite the house being in a mess, with the sink full of dirty dishes from last night and before, and a layer of dust on top of the floor under my slippers—I decided to give her the day off.

  ‘Aaj chutti, kal ana (take a day off and come tomorrow),’ I told her, peeking from the side of the main gate, not meeting her eyes just in case if she could read people’s minds to find their hidden secrets to meet her daily requirement of gossip.

  ‘Kyun (why)?’ she asked, reinforcing my belief.

  ‘Because there are no dirty dishes and I cleaned the floor just before you rang the bell,’ I lied outright, and unexpectedly, she believed me. Muttering something about my failure at not informing her on time and wasting more than a few hours of her time, she turned on her heels and off she went towards her next destination.

  I hurried back in and bolted the door behind me. My stomach was rumbling again, and I could not figure out if it was asking for food or going to give me more trouble. It was 9.30 a.m., and Adira was still sleeping. Must have been reading all night long! I knew that she was a night owl and loved to bury herself in a good book. It is quite a sunny day, and there are so many people out on the street already. How on earth am I going to sneak her out of the house? I decided to think about it in the bathroom.

  When I came out, I was not feeling that great, but Adira had to go to work that day. So, I gathered all the strength that was left in me and opened the door to wake her up. She was awake and looked surprised as I entered the room.

  ‘You locked me in your room? Why?’ she asked me sternly, but her face changed expressions looking at my state. I flopped on the bed and blinked my eyes twice.

  ‘Let me drop you back home so that you can go to work,’ I said before resting my head against the headboard.

  ‘You are not well, and I am not leaving you alone. We need to see a doctor,’ she declared, and started typing on her phone. I was too drained to argue with her or even ask her what she was doing on the phone. I sat back as she called a few people: her boss, her maid, Tamanna, a doctor.

  ‘Let’s go,’ she said, stretching out her hand.

  ‘Where?’ I almost knew the answer.

  ‘To a doctor, where else?’

  She has seen me in a condition in which I would hate to look at myself in the mirror, and she has not run away yet. I don’t think she will run away now. She has been so caring and loving. I was worried that she would be disgusted by me and my ailment. Instead, she stood by me, cooked for me, took care of me; and now she is taking me to a doctor. Who gets a girl like that nowadays? I wondered, as pride and happiness filled my heart even in the painful condition that I was in.

  ‘You can’t go out of the house in broad daylight,’ I told her in a shaky voice, but she chose to ignore my free advice.

  ‘Let’s go,’ she repeated, almost looming over me.

  ‘I do not want people to talk,’ I told her.

  ‘People who have time to talk about others are not important enough to be concerned about. Moreover, I have called Tamanna over. She will park her car outside, and we can both go with her without many tongues wagging . . .’ I lost her there. My stomach was at it again, and this time the pain was so intense that I passed out.

  When I woke up, I was in hospital with an IV drip attached to my arm. Tamanna, Piyush and Adira were around me. The doctors thought that it was a blend of some bug and food poisoning. I was to be admitted into hospital for two days. Piyush and Adira took turns to be with me. Piyush had called my mother who was happy to know that they were all by my side.

  A lot of people remember things from the time that they spend in hospital but not me. All I know is that Adira was next to me every time I woke up. She came back with me when I was discharged and under the care of Piyush’s family for the rest of the week. The love, dedication and care that I saw in her eyes are all that come back to me when I try to recall the two days on that hospital bed.

  She, however, remembered more, and later she told me how I was behaving like a child and did not let any nurse inject me or change the IV needle I had managed to rip off, or even my clothes.

  31 JULY 2017

  I had completely recovered and was grateful to God for the girl who stood by me. My sister and her baby were doing fine too. I received a daily update from my mother about their well-being. A video chat with my niece was an everyday activity for me now. I missed being with my family when they were having such a great time. My parents had extended their stay till September, and then my sister, her husband and the newest addition to their near-perfect family were due to make a trip to India with my parents. I was excited at the thought of meeting them all.

  While I was still at the hospital, Piyush’s mother called mine. I was shocked when I had the phone shoved into my face as soon as I woke up. My mother was on a video call with Piyush, worried sick, sitting miles away from me and sobbing like a child. ‘I am going to be okay, Mummy,’ I recall telling her but she wouldn’t stop crying.

  Thankfully, Tamanna intervened and took the phone away to tell her that I was way better than I looked, not forgetting to assure her that I was in safe hands, Adira’s hands, and thus began my mother’s love relationship with the girl who stole my heart. Within hours of my conversation with her, my mother had slyly found out all that she could about Adira through relatives—mainly Tamanna’s parents. She later declared that she found her ‘agreeable enough’. I knew she was lying, she knew that Adira was my perfect match. After that day, during every conversation, Mummy remembered to talk about Adira and how she would love to meet the girl who had taken such good care of me in her absence. ‘She is just a friend,’ I told my mother every time we talked, an unnecessary explanation which gave me away. No matter how smart you think you are, when you fall in love, your mother is the first one who gets to know. I believe mothers sniff out love affairs, and mine could smell the fragrance of love in my life despite being thousands of miles away from me.

  Every time Mummy reminded me of her anticipated meeting with Adira, I wondered how Adira would be as a daughter-in-law. We had recently started dating, but I knew that she was the only one I ever wanted to be with. By then we had started talking a little about the future and how we saw our life five years down the line. She wanted to have kids—three kids, she had declared just last night when we were texting.

  Do you like kids? she asked me. Did I like kids? I did, but did I fancy the idea of kids of my own? I had not given it much thought until then.

  Maybe, I replied honestly, and my honesty irked her.

  So, you do not like kids? she was putting words in my mouth.

  I never said that I do not like them! I spoke in my defence. I like kids, I love my sister’s baby even before I have met her. But I have not thought about my kids as such. I didn’t know how to explain it better to her.

  K, came her reply, and that was that. This was something that was bothering me a lot. Every time we had an argument or a disagreement, or if one did not like anything about the other, she used to go silent, or respond in monosyllables, sometimes even sounds—hmmm . . . ah . . . oh . . . what kind of a response was this?

  Adira had gone quiet after our talk about our imaginary
kids, and I decided to meet her and cheer her up.

  Half an hour after I left home, I stood outside her building. She requested the guard to let me in. I had gone there after many months. The last time I was there, her mother had called. I had avoided going to her place since, and I usually dropped her at the main gate after our dates. There is no need to be scared, I told my troubled heart, and took the elevator to her floor.

  She was waiting for me in the corridor dressed in a white off-the-shoulder dress, looking divine as always. She hugged me hard and took me into her house, holding my hand very tightly. Her smile and the warmth of her skin as it touched mine felt like home. In a comforting sort of way she was all that I ever needed.

  Her house was the same as I remembered it to be apart from a photo frame in the living room with a framed picture of her parents, in their happy times.

  ‘What do you want to have? Tea?’ she asked me, smiling, and I could think of nothing else but her. I picked her up in my arms and carried her into her room as she giggled against my chest.

  NEXT THREE WEEKS—THAT WENT BY IN A HEARTBEAT . . .

  We kept meeting each other more often, mostly at my house. I was getting comfortable meeting her at her home too, but after she told me that the house belonged to her mother’s best friend who lived only a few kilometres away, I decided to maintain my distance. I used to sneak Adira into my house after sunset, not that I had never taken her home during the daytime, but we usually met after work on Fridays and had dinner somewhere. I gave my maid time off from work all weekend. I learnt that Adira was not just a stunner but an excellent cook, apart from her chai which was the least appealing thing that she made in the kitchen. She cooked all my favourite vegetarian dishes, usually singing old Hindi songs. Dressed in my work shirts, in the morning she made breakfast for the two of us as I helped by cleaning the dishes or chopping veggies.

  In August she applied for a week of paid leave and stayed over with me every day—she wanted to see how it would be if we were to live together, as loving and living together are not the same thing. We fared quite well as those turned out to be the best days of my life and gave me memories so precious that I would not want to share them with anyone. The time with her made me fall further in love with her, this time madly. She was worried as she did not want to end up like her mother, separated from the man whom she once loved because they were not compatible. I took a week off too and proved to her that we were perfect for each other, just like two pieces of a puzzle. That week also made me see her as my future; she was the one that I could do anything to be with.

  We loved, learnt, argued and made up—all of this built the foundation of a very strong friendship. Our relationship was beyond lust, affection and adoration. It was love in its most beautiful form. Every evening when my parents called, she sat opposite me and read her book, smiling at the mention of her name, and I smothered a laugh when my mother teased me and asked me if she should talk to Adira’s family. I loved watching her get ready and kissed the Om which was tattooed at the nape of her neck at every opportunity. I did have to visit my office twice for a couple of hours during those seven days, and both times, when I unlocked the door upon my return, I found her humming an old Hindi song and cooking for me. Every time I told her that I loved her, she patted me lovingly on my head and said, ‘You are silly.’ It was her version of I love you too.

  While she stayed with me, whenever we went in or out of the house, I made her sit in the back seat of our car, covered from head to toe in a dark blanket. My concern for her reputation and fear of what people would say had not left me.

  We did spend evenings at our balcony, away from the preying eyes of my neighbours. That is my favourite place in the house, and we sat having tea and talking, or planning our lives ahead and discussing our future together. Sometimes we just spent our time sitting intertwined with each other, her legs within mine, holding hands, saying nothing, just absorbing it all. Those were the days when I would click random, candid pictures of hers all evening to freeze the memories so that I could revisit them later. She never really liked the camera in her face and would get angry after a couple of shots. Later, looking at the same shots of hers; she would insist on me to buy a professional camera and make something out of my hobby. It was her way of telling me how beautiful she thought her pictures were. ‘Yes, someday I will,’ I told her every time, looking at her face as she scanned the pictures with admiration in her eyes.

  Every night, as she sat reading in bed, I played with her shiny hair, kissed her forehead and wondered why it had taken us so long to reach where we were. I loved kissing her forehead as she furrowed her brow while reading her novels. She used to be so into them, as if she were one of the characters. Also, those seven days we stayed together, I was a pure vegetarian as she had asked me to try it for a week and if I did not feel lighter and better, I could go back to my ‘chicken-eating ways’ as she put it. I am still a vegetarian. It was all so perfect that it scared me. When things are so right, something terrible is just lurking around the corner waiting for a chance to come and end it all for you in a single blow.

  We did not have to wait long—her mother knew what it took to take my peace of mind away, and she managed to execute her plan very well.

  26 AUGUST 2017

  My memories of that day are as fresh as this morning’s in my mind. It was a Saturday, the Saturday which I wish had never happened in my life. I had changed a lot from the person I was a few months ago, before Adira had fallen in love with me. I was more self-confident and was sure of her feelings towards me. This certainty added an uncalled-for sense of superiority in my behaviour—mostly towards her. She trusted me and gave me the power to hurt her, and I have no pride when I say that I unintentionally exploited that power, more than a few times.

  I had mentioned her ex during the last fight we’d had the day before, and that was not the first time I had done that. We were at a coffee shop in Gurgaon when the topic of her mother popped up in the conversation. I was really done with her mother’s hatred for me and had gotten into a habit of taunting Adira in my frustration. From the person who once held her hand and made her believe in love again—‘Just because of something which happened in the past, do not stop believing in love, do not stop looking for love, do not stop loving.’—I reiterated this to her on numerous occasions, but later I became the boyfriend who blamed her and her mother for everything that happened in the past.

  ‘She does not know how to judge men. She made an error in her own life, and she is determined to screw yours too by telling you to keep a distance from me. You cannot see beyond your mother and her happiness,’ I remember saying in a not-so-hushed tone. I was embarrassed as soon as the words left my mouth, but the damage was done. Heads turned towards us, eyes moved, waves of laughter were suppressed, and a few giggles reached our ears. I saw Adira’s face lose all its colour. She was the palest I had ever seen her. Her eyes were filled with tears, but none dared to trickle down and show her weakness to the world. She bowed her head and pretended to check her phone. A minute later, she stood up, leaving her coffee at the table. To repay my behaviour that evening, she took an auto and went back to her apartment, alone. My ego was too inflated to go after her and apologize, because it had been a while since I had said sorry to her, even when I was wrong. Adira always forgave me without me asking for forgiveness. She usually allowed me to get away with my mistakes; she was beyond the petty things that were taking me over at a rigorous speed. Whenever we fought, we made up with no apologies from either side. It was like a mutual understanding—one called, and the other could not disconnect. We chatted about what happened without stretching it too far. I was the wrong party, mostly, and all I had to do was to make her smile.

  Filled with vain pride and ego, I now know that I had turned into the worst version of myself when life had given me a chance to be with the person I once only dreamt of being with. I did not call her that evening. I was angry at her. Why? One might ask as I was clearly t
he one who was at fault. Honestly, I do not have any explanation or reason now. Back then, I thought that her mother had been really mean to me and was taking Adira away from me. I wanted to use my anger to tell her how much I disapproved of her disapproval of me. In fact, it was me and my actions that were taking her away from me and maybe also contributing towards her mother’s dislike for me. I know better now.

  That Saturday, the twenty-sixth, both Adira and I were invited to attend a party hosted by Tamanna and Piyush. They were all set to be parents soon, and before beginning their diaper duties, some six months later, they wanted to let us all know how excited they were.

  4.30 p.m.

  I reached Piyush’s posh house in Gurgaon a little early and waited patiently for Adira to arrive. She did not, and I got worried after waiting for half an hour. I checked with Tamanna, who rightly told me that I should be the one to know about Adira’s recent whereabouts and not her. I was confident that she was aware of even the small rifts between Adira and me in the recent past, and being Adira’s friend, she was by default at her side and not mine.

  Finally, Adira walked in, with a few of her friends. She did not have a car, or any other ride, and Gurgaon is quite far away from Noida. I always picked her up and dropped her to places, even on weekdays, but that evening I did not check how she would manage to get there on her own. She had always been an independent girl and could very well commute on her own, but I had always felt it was my responsibility to be by her side, to ensure that her travels and commutes were safe.

  But not that day, because I was becoming more and more of an arsehole every day. Resorting to childish ways to make her realize my importance is one of the things that today I am not very proud of. The other mistakes include taking her for granted, not prioritizing her happiness and not thinking beyond what I wanted. At that stage of our relationship, it was all about me, my ego and my self-appraised value.