by Durjoy Datta
Ritika walked away from him, crying. A tired Dhruv walked to his room and crawled to his bed. Sanchit walked in and closed the door behind him.
‘Ritika called last night,’ said Sanchit, his voice solemnly serious. ‘I told her you were out. But I guess a friend told her you were out with Aranya.’ Dhruv was too drained to talk about it. He stared at Sanchit like a corpse. ‘When will you tell Aranya?’
‘What?’
‘That you love her, fucker.’
‘I love Ritika. I need to get her back.’
‘Why the fuck would you do that?’
‘Because I’m not my father, dammit. I can hold down a relationship and not destroy people. I will get Ritika back and be the best fucking boyfriend the world has ever seen.’
‘The world called. It said fuck you,’ Sanchit said. ‘And also, your father called. You need to call him back. He’s in the hospital.’ Sanchit left the room.
After much reluctance, Dhruv dialled his father’s number after a few hours.
‘Is that Dhruv?’ an unfamiliar voice said from the other side.
‘Yes. Who’s this?’ asked Dhruv.
‘It’s me, your father.’
‘You sound strange,’ Dhruv said irritably and was about to disconnect the call when his father told him he was dying.
He was at the hospital and wanted to see Dhruv before he died.
I Love u Rachu
51
Aranya see-sawed between feeling slightly guilty and strangely glad.
She wondered if Dhruv and Ritika had patched up. Her heart leaped with joy at the possibility of them failing to understand each other. But Ritika knew Dhruv could have fended off the accusations with no more than a groan. Ritika, the airhead, would have forgiven him. Her shoulders drooped and she frowned at this imagined amicable reunion of sorts.
She had just settled down to get some shut-eye when she heard the familiar screeching voice from the other room.
‘Hey?’ Aranya knocked on the common wall. ‘Are you okay, Ritika?’
‘GO AWAY!’ howled Ritika. Ritika threw things at the wall and Aranya smiled heartily. They were breaking up!
‘We can talk,’ offered Aranya.
She heard Ritika break down in uncontrollable sobs and felt like a heartless bitch when her lips curved into a celebratory smile.
After an hour of sobbing and cursing, Ritika invited Aranya over. Previously perilously pink and orange and delightfully decorated, the room lay in ruins and so did Ritika, legs splayed at odd angles and her hair a crow’s nest. Aranya tried to feel as bad for Ritika as she did for the room.
‘What happened?’ asked Aranya.
‘I fell in love with the worst boyfriend ever.’
‘Listen, Ritika, I would have been really sorry for last night had something happened, but nothing happened between us. I mean I can’t even think of it. I just had to talk to Raghuvir and he helped me with it.’
Ritika wiped her tears and drank greedily from the bottle of water Aranya had thrust in her face.
‘I know you think I’m like a dumb blonde, don’t you?’
‘Me? Huh? Not at all,’ lied Aranya.
‘You’re not that good at lying, are you, Aranya? And stop flattering yourself. It’s not you why I have had enough of him,’ Ritika said, steeling herself. ‘I have saved my boyfriends from the likes of you a billion times before.’
‘Likes of me?’ asked Aranya, trying hard not to get offended.
‘The pretentious, intelligent ones? The ones who think everyone around them is a goddamn fool. You think I slept my way into college? I scored 43 marks less than you in the entrance examination. And that’s after I did everything fun and crazy one could do in twelfth grade.’
Aranya’s chest heaved in anger but her debating instincts kicked in and she kept Ritika from digressing. ‘It’s not about you and me, Ritika. It’s about you and him, isn’t it? Do you want to talk about that?’
She felt important, suddenly, like a psychiatrist; she crossed her legs and rested her chin on her knuckles waiting for Ritika to pour her heart out.
Ritika chuckled and shook her head. ‘I knew this was going to happen. He was always going to ruin me.’
Ritika started to talk endlessly about Dhruv’s capability to make you feel immensely loved, even if it was for a fleeting moment. Ritika told her that no matter how hard she tried to hate him she couldn’t. ‘Because deep inside, he’s a child, a boy, a rebel you want to protect and save but don’t know how. Like all the other women in his life, I tried to change him. It was a selfish pursuit, I know that.’ Ritika looked Aranya’s way. ‘I thought to myself, what if I can exaggerate how he loves me, and tone down how much he protects me and our relationship, I will have a perfect guy. I was so close, so close.’
‘No offence, but aren’t you too young for, like, a perfect guy?’ asked Aranya.
‘So my love doesn’t count because I’m young?’ Ritika stared at Aranya as if she was a repulsive, pea-brained lizard.
What Aranya really wanted to tell her was to stay the hell away from Dhruv! Why? She wasn’t totally sure about the reason. Was she in love again? No! Was it pity for Dhruv? No, who would pity him? Then what was it? Aranya decided it wasn’t the perfect time for monologues.
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Yes, you did, Aranya. You’re one of those, aren’t you? Love’s for later? When your heart breaks, it feels just the same. It hurts more when you’re young and you don’t know the in and out of love, when you think it’s ideal and incorruptible. For grown-ups, what’s love if not a transaction? ’
‘I’m not one of those,’ protested Aranya, suddenly feeling a thousand years old. She added after a pause, something she had heard in every break-up ever filmed, ‘You deserve better.’
Ritika laughed and laughed and cried and laughed. ‘Do you even know what you’re talking about?’
‘Didn’t you just say he was the worst boyfriend in the world? So obviously you deserve better!’
‘But it’s still hard not to love him like life itself. I’m sure it’s hard for you to understand that. You have never been in love, have you?’
‘Why are you making it sound like it’s a crime?’
Ritika shrugged. ‘Of course it’s not.’
Ritika’s smiles were now irritating her and Aranya wanted to leave. ‘Look, Ritika. All I’m saying is you deserve someone better. Why do you want to change someone you fell in love with in the first place? Which just means you fell in love with the idea of falling in love with him. You fell in love with what you thought you would eventually change him into. Of the little time I have spent with Dhruv, he’s the meanest fucking bastard and he’s never going to change. If you keep expecting him to change and be in this relationship and toe your line, it’s not going to happen. And if you don’t know that you can’t claim to be in love with him. Stick by your decision of having broken up with him.’
‘I don’t think I’m that strong.’
‘Of course, you aren’t. Because it’s Dhruv and he can make you feel immensely loved, even if it’s for a fleeting moment,’ said Aranya and stormed off. She had meant to be sarcastic in that last sentence but she wasn’t so, not in the least bit, not at all.
The conversation with Ritika filled her with rage. Ritika didn’t know the first thing about Dhruv. What she really wanted to say was ‘He doesn’t deserve you.’ But she had yet to find out what Dhruv deserved and why he deserved anyone at all.
She had just managed to knock her conflicting feelings for that bastard Dhruv out of her head when Ritika came into her room and said, ‘You’re right. I need to stick by my decision. Dhruv and I aren’t meant to be.’
Aranya found herself smiling after she left.
I Love u Rachu
52
Aranya had slept peacefully that night. Little did she know what awaited her the next morning.
She had even smiled in her sleep thinking of the brief conversation she had had with
Dhruv.
Aranya had lived the conversation in her head for five hours when she had been rudely awakened by her father banging on the door. ‘I HAD WARNED YOU! I HAD WARNED YOU, ARANYA! Bola tha nazar rahegi tujh par!’ Aranya’s father had shouted that morning when he barged into Aranya’s room, unannounced.
Aranya sat there wordlessly, rubbing her sweaty palms together, staring at the strewn books and registers her father had brutally torn apart. Her room lay in dismal disarray.
She wanted to cry but the tears didn’t come, as if the boiling rage inside had consumed the tears as well. Her face still singed from where Dad had hit her. Her back hurt from when Dad pushed her against the chair demanding why she was still talking to Dhruv.
It wasn’t Dad’s fault, it was hers. She should have known better. Did she really think her little night out with Dhruv would go unnoticed? Nothing in her wretched life ever went unnoticed, no matter how hard she tried to be invisible!
Aranya had tried to tell Dad about Dhruv, about her hatred or indifference or whatever she felt for him but he had already called her a disgrace. If he weren’t her father, he would have called Aranya a whore, a word she had heard her father use for other girls who had boyfriends. She was sure he was thinking the same about her.
So she had let her father hit her. Fighting back would be foolish, she thought.
‘Do you think we don’t know what you’re doing in college? We know everything!’ Dad had shouted. ‘The warden told us. You were out of the hostel for an entire night, weren’t you? WEREN’T YOU?’ Aranya could hear girls of her hostel murmuring outside. Dad continued, ‘When will you straighten your ways, Aranya, when? Ya tu hume maar hi daalegi?’ He looked at Mom who had followed him in and stood crying the entire time. Dad had trained his eyes back at Aranya, his finger pointed at her. ‘Listen, Aranya, it’s not as if you’re doing well in your studies. This is your last chance. Do you hear me? If I don’t see your name on the merit list, I will cancel your admission and you will be a fucking receptionist somewhere. Bloody disgrace. Are you listening to me? ARE YOU?’
Aranya had nodded. Yet Dad’s swinging arm caught her on the left side of her face sending her body careening into the cupboard. Her body slumped like a ragdoll. Her mother screamed and ran to get to her but Dad stopped her and shouted, ‘LET HER BE.’
Next, Dad wrested her phone away. Before he left, he repeated the ultimatum, ‘If I don’t see you at the top of the merit list, don’t even think of coming back home.’
Her parents left Aranya sprawled on the floor, staring at herself in the mirror.
You deserve it, Aranya.
No, I don’t! What did I do? I did nothing wrong. I went to meet my professor. What’s wrong in that?
You also fell in love, Aranya.
I didn’t.
Yes, you did. Don’t kid yourself. You’re in love with Dhruv. That’s why you left that night.
I would never love that asshole.
But you do! You so do! And you shouldn’t. It isn’t allowed. How can you waver from your goal?
What goal are you talking about?
Being like a robot. A very successful robot.
But why should I be that? What would I get out of that?
Because your family wants that, that’s why!
Why should I do what my family wants! They don’t even love me. I don’t want to do what they want. Enough. I don’t want to see them again.
Haha. That’s bold. But what are you going to do?
I’m never going to see them again!
Haha! How are you going to do that? How are you going to run? Who is going to pay your fees? Three more years, Aranya, three more years.
I’m smart. I will find a way.
That’s too optimistic. You can’t leave your family, you know that. Even if they hate you, they at least love you more than anyone ever would.
I will find someone to love me and keep me forever. Like Raghuvir. Like Dhruv. They love me.
Till the time they find someone else, yes, they do. But are you willing to take that chance?
Maybe I am. For now I just need to get away from my father.
You wish.
Fuck you.
I’m you.
Mindlessly, she fired up her laptop to complete the assignment that was due the next day. PING. Her mailbox icon vibrated with one new mail.
From: T&P [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Summer Internship
Dear students,
This is to inform you that AMTECH, Bangalore, will be holding interviews for interns on 31 May 2014. Interested applicants may apply at the following link. http://on.fb.me/1sNmEgX.
The company would hire 1 student only from the first year.
Please attach a scanned copy of your passport with the application.
Regards
Arjun Johar
Training and Placement Department
DTU
She had three months to be battle-ready.
I Love u Rachu
53
‘Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him,’ shouted Dhruv. He paced around the room, kicked things, threw things, broke stuff and punched walls. ‘He’s just being fucking melodramatic. I’m sure nothing is going to happen to him.’
‘I called the hospital, dude,’ said Sanchit. ‘He’s under treatment.’
‘So?’
‘He’s not going to live for more than a couple of years.’
‘A couple of years is a long time,’ said Dhruv, pointing a finger right at Sanchit, as if convincing himself and not Sanchit. ‘And that bastard said he was dying. He wasn’t dying, he might die in a couple of years. There’s a big fucking difference between the two. Why all the drama now? Couldn’t he just have called me in two years when he was actually dying!’ Dhruv picked an old beer bottle lolling on the table and smashed it against the wall. ‘What, what would have happened? Suddenly it has dawned on him the wrongs he has done and he wants to make up for it! Well, screw him. I’m not going to go to him, sit by his side, listen to his side of the story, cry, forgive his imperfections and hold his hand in his dying days. It fucking won’t happen. This isn’t a damn movie!’
‘Well, not yet.’
‘What not yet?’
‘It’s not a movie yet but it could be if I decide to write about it. It could be a big hit, you know?’ remarked Sanchit.
Dhruv smacked Sanchit’s head. ‘What are you talking about? My father is dying and you think it’s a joke?’
‘Me? No. You think it’s a joke,’ said Sanchit, turning serious. ‘So what if he slept with hookers? So what if he didn’t fight for your mother? So what if you always hated your father? Why shouldn’t he get a last shot at loving you? You can spend the rest of your life hating him. He’s not going to stop you from doing that, will he? So just go. I’m sure he needs you right now, Dhruv. Stop thinking about yourself for once.’
‘. . .’
‘I’m trying to make you feel guilty if you haven’t noticed.’
‘. . .’
‘Well, it’s already working, Dhruv. No matter how badass you are, right now, you’re thinking what if he doesn’t see you for the next two years and dies taking your name over and over again. What if he spends every waking second of whatever is left of his life staring at the door, waiting for you? What if he spends every shred of his life crying? And when all he needed was one chance to apologize.’
Dhruv breathed deeply. ‘You’re manipulating me. I can’t fucking believe you.’
‘Neither can I. Your father is dying and you’re here talking to me.’
Dhruv slumped on the bed, face down, wanting to cry but the tears had dried out years before and said, ‘I’m not going.’
Yet six hours later, he was running through the corridors of Eight Hills Hospital looking for room no. 324. When he reached the door, he calmed himself down, pushed the door open and entered the room. His father lay on an uncomfortable bed reading a
magazine. There lay a set of machines by his side, not yet plugged in.
‘Dad,’ Dhruv said. He sat on the seat meant for distraught relatives—crying brothers and wailing sons, daughters and wives. Dad looked just fine. ‘You don’t look sick.’
‘It’s something with my liver. Too much drinking, they said. And I told them if it had been too much drinking I wouldn’t be here.’ Dad laughed and Dhruv failed to see the joke in it.
The words dried up and quite some time passed by before Dad said, ‘I’m sorry.’ Dhruv had already started to regret his decision to be there. He felt angry if anything at all.
‘You kind of should be. For all the shit that you have done and made all of us go through. I just came here because my friends told me I should give you a chance to apologize. And quite frankly, it doesn’t feel any different. Seeing you trapped in this bed doesn’t make me cry. If anything it makes me fucking happy.’
‘Don’t swear, Dhruv.’
‘You don’t have any power over me.’
‘I’m your father.’
‘Yeah, you fucking were!’
‘Don’t do that.’
‘I’m leaving. This was a mistake,’ snapped Dhruv, jumped out of his chair and left the room, still not sure why he even visited him in the first place. Outside, he sat on one of the benches, desperately trying to feel sad about his father’s imminent demise but all he could think of was the years of torment he had gone through. Was he being selfish?
He began to think how people cry even when their dogs die and Dhruv was failing to feel that emotion for his own father. How pathetic was that? Why? Why didn’t he feel anything? Had even sorrow left him?
He was sitting there, nodding, trying to feel alright about himself when the first tears started to flow. And as if his mind had taken offence, the times he had spent with his father, however little and fleeting, came flooding to his mind in a sepia-tinged montage and he cried and cried and cried.
I Love u Rachu