After All This Time

by Nikita Singh

  ‘Oh, I needed to. I did not want to stay a fat woman always!’ her mom retorted.

  ‘You weren’t fat!’ Lavanya and her father said together.

  They looked at each other in reflex, but Lavanya quickly glanced away. When she looked down at her plate, she did not see what was on it. What she saw instead was the grey in her father’s sideburns, the once black-and-white stubble that was now almost completely white, his thin lips that closed together to form a straight line, the expression on his face when he looked at her.

  ‘Oh, I was. We all know that,’ her mom said, not noticing anything amiss.

  ‘No, you weren’t,’ Lavanya said, waiting for a second before speaking.

  Shortly after, she went upstairs to her bedroom with her mom, who showed her where everything was, while Lavanya stood by, feeling like a guest in her own home. But she did not have the energy to care. Her eyelids were barely staying open. She yawned loudly as she climbed under her comforter and her mom closed the curtains.

  ‘Good night,’ Lavanya muttered as her head touched the pillow. ‘Or morning, whatever.’

  ‘Sweet dreams, Lavi. We missed you,’ her mom whispered before stepping out of the room and quietly closing the door behind her.

  Lavanya opened her drooping eyelids for a second, and let them roam around the room. She breathed in the smell and ran her fingers over the bed sheet. Things were not the same, but still somehow similar. She could hear her mother clearing the dishes off the table downstairs while her father spoke to her in a low tone, but she could not hear what they were saying. So far, she had mixed feelings about returning home. But it had certainly not been bad. Not bad at all.

  In fact, it felt really good to be home.

  Shourya reclined on the couch, exhausted. Getting the two women he loved the most in the world on the same page was an impossible task. His sister wanted a small wedding, and did not see why they had to invite long-lost relatives from far away and forgotten acquaintances of their parents she had never even met. Her reasoning made sense, but his mother was of the opinion that not having a grand wedding for their only daughter would be an insult to their reputation.

  Shreela, all five-feet-two-inches of her, with her cute, angular face and little nose, which flared when she was angry, like it was doing now, was trying her best to remain calm and somehow convince her mother to let her decide the guest list. Her cheeks were pink and she looked like she was barely controlling herself from pulling her own hair out.

  Their mother, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at peace as she presented her reasoning to her children. After all, she had raised Shreela—that would teach anyone patience, and compared to the time Shreela was a teenager, this was a piece of cake. Nevertheless, it was quite challenging to reason with the little packet of rebellion, short temper and stubbornness to boot.

  ‘Bhaiya, help me. You explain to her. She always listens to you!’ Shreela turned to Shourya, yet again, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration, as if this was the most important conversation of her life where she was being denied the only thing she’d ever wanted. Knowing her well he knew that as soon as this matter was resolved, something else would become equally critical.

  ‘I’m not getting involved.’ Shourya put his hands up, palms out, in surrender.

  ‘But why!’

  ‘Because the both of you are imposs—’ he stopped himself just in time. Not the right time to start another argument. ‘I’m just not getting caught in the middle of the two of you.’

  ‘This is so unfair. This is my wedding. I should get to choose who should be invited and who shouldn’t!’

  ‘You are our only daughter. This is our only chance to throw a grand wedding. What will people think of us if there are only two hundred people there?’ Mrs Kapoor said.

  Shourya looked at his mother. She looked hassled and careworn. Her hair was messy, strands had escaped from the thick braid she always wore it in, and her square, wire-rimmed spectacles rode low on her nose. She only needed them to read, but she always forgot to take them off afterwards, so when she spoke she would pull her chin in and look at people from above the rims. It made her seem older than she was, like an old schoolteacher in fact. Shourya found that endearing.

  ‘I don’t care about a large audience! This is not a circus. It’s my wedding. I want a small, private event, where I don’t have to meet and be introduced to seven hundred people I’ve never met before and will never meet again. It’s just torture!’

  ‘You’ll have to meet them for just a second—your dad and I will take care of them for the remainder of the night!’

  ‘This is my only wedding!’

  ‘This is our only daughter’s wedding too! Think about all the gifts you’re going to get!’

  ‘I don’t care about the stupid gifts! How many sets of china and photo frames and lamps and light bulbs and wall clocks do I need?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, no one is going to gift you light bulbs.’

  ‘Mo-om.’

  As much as he had tried to stay out of this one, Shourya knew he needed to intervene when he heard his sister drag out ‘mom’ the way she did. It was a sign that her frustration and her patience had reached a critical low. It was time for him to step in.

  ‘What if, instead of having a super private or a super grand wedding, we have an average-sized wedding? We invite only people all members of our family know, so we don’t offend someone who is important to any one of us by not inviting them,’ he said, looking at his mom, and then turned to his sister, ‘and Shreela, you won’t have to meet absolute strangers. A compromise.’

  Shreela looked at him as if he had gone crazy. Eyes narrow, mouth open in amazement, not saying anything, as if speechless at the silliness of what he had just proposed.

  ‘What? It’s a win-win situation!’ Shourya defended himself.

  ‘No, if we do that, nobody wins. It’s a lose-lose situation.’

  ‘It’s not about winning or losing.’

  ‘But you just said it’s a win-win situation.’

  ‘Okay, fine. Then let Mom win this one.’

  ‘Did I do something to you?’

  ‘All I’m saying is that if it really means that much to Mom, don’t you think you can smile at a few extra people at the wedding?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Wow! So considerate.’

  ‘Shut up!’

  ‘Polite too.’

  ‘Bhaiya, please no!’

  ‘Manav’s parents are going to have hundreds of guests unknown to you anyway. What’s a few hundred more?’ Shourya asked. ‘It is unfair, if you ask me—that you’ll let Manav’s parents invite all these strangers and not show the same love to your own mother.’

  ‘I’m getting married into that family, so I will have to meet and get to know the people they know anyway,’ she argued.

  ‘Oh, yeah? Do you think Manav knows all of them?’

  ‘I . . .’ Shreela started, in the same rushed, indignant, high-pitched tone she had used in the entire conversation, but then paused, as if thinking about it for the first time. ‘I don’t know.’ She sighed.

  ‘Of course he doesn’t! They’re his parents’ guests. His parents are allowed unlimited guests, then why doesn’t Mom get to invite the people she wants?’

  Shreela hesitated for a moment, shying away from her brother’s eyes. He knew he had finally won this. Of course it was about winning or losing.

  ‘Yeah?’ he prodded.

  All of a sudden, Shreela burst out, ‘But you don’t get it—it’s not like that! I can’t do anything about them! They are my in-laws!’

  ‘And this is your own mother. Your own blood. The woman who kept you in her belly for nine long months. You can’t let her invite her friends to her only daughter’s wedding for a few hours?’ Shourya shook his head repeatedly, lips pursed. ‘Never expected this from you. You disappoint me.’

  ‘Don’t say that!’ Shreela cried. ‘Fine! Mom, you can have your guests. Fine.’

&nb
sp; Shourya’s lips stretched in a small smile; he chewed on the inside of his cheek to stop it from spreading. He looked at Shreela, her almond eyes shining with unshed tears, her face red, her lips trembling, and saw that she was biting her lower lip to keep from breaking down. He loved his sister; she was a brat most of the time, but he did love her.

  Mrs Kapoor looked from her one child to another, unsure of what to say. Finally, she walked up to Shreela, kissed her lightly on the forehead, and said, ‘Thank you.’

  Shourya could barely hide the laughter bubbling inside him. ‘Come here,’ he said softly.

  Shreela got up from her bean bag and walked towards him reluctantly, still not looking at him.

  He got up and pulled her into his chest.

  She hugged him back, burrowing her head under his chin.

  ‘You’re too cute, you know that?’

  ‘But I disappoint you.’

  ‘Aw, man. Was that all I needed to say to get you to agree? I could’ve saved myself the fight had I known that!’

  ‘That was mean! Such a mean thing to say.’

  Shourya bent and kissed his kid sister on the top of her head. Then ruffled her hair with his fingers, making her madder at him.

  He was ashamed. At least that’s what Shourya told himself as he lay on his bed that night, sleep still miles away from his eyes. But he was not convinced, he never was any more. He knew he was lying. He had known he was going to do it, he had done it, and no matter how much he cursed and loathed himself for it now, he knew he was going to do it again. Soon probably, depending on how long it took for his ego to crash and fall at the floor.

  He would call her again.

  When he was around his family and friends all day, he fooled himself into believing that he was okay. Yet he was lying, cheating, betraying and breaking all the promises he’d made to himself, repeatedly. Every time he thought about her, he resolved to stop. Each time he called her, he swore it was the last time. Every night when he went to sleep, he vowed the next morning would be a new beginning. But when morning came, he would wake up, expecting to see her beside him.

  The most confusing part of all this for him was that he never really thought of the good times they had spent together, or missed the years of happiness. Whenever he thought of Deepti now, he thought of how it had ended, of what she had done and how it had affected him, changed who he was. And no matter how hard he tried, he knew he could never go back to being the person he was before his love and devotion were paid back for with betrayal and disloyalty. His heartbreak had him doubting that he could ever become whole again.

  After finishing the day’s shopping, when they had returned at 11 p.m., Shourya was exhausted. He had hoped he would fall asleep as soon as he lay down, but when, even after an hour, he found himself lying on his side and staring at the ancient wooden cupboard in the corner of his childhood room, he realized he was not going to sleep any time soon. And that he was going to call her again.

  One thing happened differently though; this time, Deepti answered. And that’s when matters got out of hand. Giving into temptation and calling one’s ex in a moment’s weakness is one thing—it shows the ex that you’re sad and pathetic and are still thinking about them, that you still haven’t moved on and built a new life for yourself since they’ve been gone. But if the ex does take the call, and is listening—oh, that’s when shit really hits the fan—that’s when instead of their just assuming all those things about you, you prove all their assumptions right, which is a thousand times worse.

  He was thrown at first, hearing her real voice; he usually got her voicemail. And then he did not know what to feel, what to say, how to talk to the girl he had planned on spending the rest of his life with. He was not angry, not much, that night. He was confused, he was lost, and he was sad. Mostly sad. He missed her, and for once, he did not have the energy to hide his vulnerability and anguish behind the veil of anger or annoyance.

  ‘Hello . . .?’ she said for the fifth time as he pulled himself together.

  ‘Deepti . . .’ he said.

  ‘Shourya? Yes, this is me.’

  ‘How are you?’ he asked softly, hoping she was doing as horribly as he was.

  ‘I’m okay . . .’

  Shourya nodded, pursing his lips.

  ‘How are you, Shourya?’

  ‘What do you care?’

  ‘I do care. You know that.’

  ‘You keep saying that. But I don’t.’

  ‘You do.’

  ‘I really don’t.’

  Deepti sighed loudly. ‘Please let’s not do this, Shourya. I’m tired too. I care about you, and you know that. I want to know how you are doing.’

  He was silent for a minute. ‘I’m not fine.’

  ‘Why not? I want you to be fine.’

  ‘Maybe you don’t always get want you want, after all?’

  ‘Shourya.’

  ‘You wanted me, and then you wanted him and didn’t want me any more, so you left me.’

  ‘I did not leave you.’

  ‘Yeah, right. You didn’t leave me. You simply started dating him too, behind my back, behind his back.’

  ‘He knows everything about me.’

  ‘Everything you have told him.’

  ‘I’ve told him everything.’

  ‘Like you told me everything?’

  ‘Shourya.’

  ‘Saying my name does not change anything.’

  ‘Fine! I lied to you. I accepted that. I have apologized to you for it so many times. We did not tell anyone about us, no one knew we had been dating for four years when we came here, including him. So it was not his fault; he had no idea I was with you when I fell in love with him. Please don’t feel like he betrayed your trust. You mean a lot to him. You were his best friend. It was my fault, I know that. I know I ruined everything. But it has been so long now. We know everything. We’ve all moved on. Can’t we just forget about it already?’

  Shourya shook his head slowly, repeatedly, his cell phone stuck to his cheek. He was amazed at how neatly Deepti had summed up the situation, as if there wasn’t a storm rising inside of him every time he remembered that she belonged to someone else. All he did was shake his head. He did not trust himself to speak. He would simply remind her of all she had put him through, and he knew how pitiable it would sound. For once, inflicting pain on her to make himself feel better held no appeal.

  He really did miss her.

  So he let her speak, and just listened as she tried, and failed, to make him feel better, as she broke down several times, trying to explain, to justify everything. At one point, he almost bought into it; he almost felt as if she had been the helpless, clueless victim in the situation, that she still loved him and cared for him as much as she had before. Just not more than she loved and cared for Avik, of course not. The way she put it, it felt as if she really did not understand his point of view. Listening to her side of the story, Shourya felt like she was talking about somebody else, so different had the experience been for each of them.

  For the next hour, she spoke mostly and he listened. He thought he felt better than he had before he had called her; that’s how he justified the phone call to himself. He was not going to deny himself that relief just because reaching out to the person who ripped you apart to help put you back together was a pitiable thing to do.

  But just when he thought he was arriving at a better place, he heard Avik’s voice in the background.

  ‘Why are you crying? What’s wrong?’ Avik was asking.

  Shourya heard Deepti mumble, ‘I’m okay, it’s nothing,’ before Avik took the phone from her.

  ‘Hello? Who’s this?’

  ‘It’s Shourya. Hey.’ It was twisted. It was complicated. But it was how it was, how it was going to remain. Avik really was not to blame for any of this anyway. Maybe Shourya was finally ready to let go and move on.

  ‘Shourya! I knew it. I knew it was you. Why do you keep calling her? This has been going on too long. Why won�
�t you just leave us alone? Look at her—she’s crying. Stop torturing her, man!’ Avik barked.

  ‘I did not do anything.’ Shourya ground his teeth together, suddenly furious too.

  ‘It doesn’t seem like it. She’s mine, okay? She decided that months ago. I take care of her now. You need to get the hell out of our lives and get one of your own.’

  ‘Avik!’ Shourya heard Deepti cry out.

  ‘She can decide whether she wants to talk to me or not. You don’t own her,’ Shourya snapped.

  ‘But I do have a say in what she does and doesn’t do. And I’m telling you—stop bothering my girl. She has been through enough al—’

  ‘Shourya,’ Deepti shouted, ‘don’t listen to Avik. He’s just upset because I was crying—’

  ‘Damn right I am. Why do you have to talk to him—?’

  ‘He’s my best friend—’

  ‘No, he isn’t. He was your best friend, and your boyfriend, once upon a time, but isn’t any more. Or have you forgotten that?’

  ‘I didn’t mean—’

  ‘Of course you didn’t mean it! You do nothing; things just happen around you.’

  ‘Avik, please—’ Shourya heard Deepti plead.

  ‘Tell me, Deepti, do you still love him?’

  ‘No, I don’t! I’ve told you a million times—’

  ‘You made your choice. You swore to me that you don’t love him any more—’ Avik said angrily.

  ‘And I don’t! I don’t love him. I told you, I fell out of love with him a long time ago, I was just . . . I was stuck with him. I didn’t know how to tell him . . . we’d been together for such a long time . . . I didn’t want to hurt him.’

  ‘But you did. It had to happen, and it happened. It was a long time ago. Then why are we still here—talking about this?’

  ‘It’s not that easy. There’s so much history . . . it’s so complicated . . .’ Deepti cried.

  ‘It’s complicated only because you make it complicated. I’ve told you a hundred times to put him in the past. Just forget about him already, damn it!’

  ‘I have! He means nothing to me. I love you . . . Avik, listen to me, look at me—I love you. Only you. You know that. No one else matters to me any more . . .’