After All This Time

by Nikita Singh

  By the time they were back, their bodies were in knots. The weird position their spines had to stay in for hours did not help. Superbikes may be a lot of fun, but practicality is hardly their best quality.

  ‘I get what you mean,’ Lavanya relented.

  Whenever she remembered that Shourya was be in Delhi for just one more week, she could not help but feel unnerved. She had not figured out what she was going to do yet. Whether she wanted to stay back here and get treatment, once the pretence of winter holidays was over, or return to New York and hide from her family again. Once Shourya left, she would have nothing to hide behind, and would either have to confront her parents or run away. She excelled in the latter, but was not sure if it was the answer, not this time.

  She sighed. ‘Still. We should do something. Or do you plan to waste the last one week you have here?’

  ‘Don’t worry. We will do something,’ Shourya promised.

  Sometimes, she was crippled with fear. Even though she spent most of her days actively trying not to think about AIDS, sometimes it became the only thing she thought about. And her days were getting more and more AIDS-y recently.

  She had it. She knew she had it. She could feel it in her stomach the same way she could feel the venom moving through her veins the day she got infected with HIV. She did not have to open the envelopes she was holding to find out how bad it was.

  Her hair was sticking to her scalp again. Lately, it had been sticking to any and every part of her body it could reach, at all times. She had never had a problem with sweating before, and she refused to let it pass as coincidental. It was a symptom.

  Just like the whiteness of her palms. She had no blood in her body. AIDS was drinking all of it. When she pulled down her lower eyelid, all she saw was the palest pink. There was no sign of blood. Just like her skin, which was becoming a sickly shade of yellow.

  She had the strongest feeling of having AIDS when she was at the hospital. On their first meeting, when Dr Shah had explained how HIV worked and how it caused AIDS, her stomach told her that the virus inside her had already caused AIDS. When she went back to the hospital to collect her reports, surrounded by sick people, she knew she was one of them.

  It had started to show on the outside. The sweatiness, the paleness. It wouldn’t be long before bigger symptoms started surfacing. She tried not to look at the other patients as she asked the receptionist if Dr Shah’s schedule had an earlier opening and she could meet Lavanya sooner than appointed. There wasn’t.

  Lavanya intentionally walked past Dr Shah’s office anyway, not sure what she was hoping to see. Through the tiny glass panel on the door, she could see the doctor speaking to two people sitting opposite her. Lavanya stayed there and watched Dr Shah gesture to explain something to her patients. How many times was Lavanya going to go to that cabin? How much time of her life would be spent there? Once they read the report and the level of her sickness was established, that was it. She would officially be an AIDS patient.

  She gulped.

  She could not run away from it.

  Even before Shourya could knock on Lavanya’s door, Toughy greeted him by hopping on him. He bent down to pick him up, but the puppy managed to wriggle out of his grasp and proceeded to limp around Shourya in circles. Shourya threw him off by running around him in circles instead, and the poor dog sat down, confused.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Lavanya asked. He found her standing against the half-open front door, head tilted questioningly.

  ‘Don’t judge! He started it.’

  ‘I expect it from him; he’s a dog. What’s your excuse?’

  ‘Loosen up!’ Shourya picked up Toughy and was rewarded with a long lick on his cheek and a reasonable amount of tail wagging.

  ‘He’s being punished right now. He has been a bad dog, haven’t you, Toughy?’ Lavanya came to them and scratched Toughy’s ear. ‘Aw, I can never stay mad at him. But he did poop on the carpet.’

  ‘And you thought locking him out in the lawn would be a fitting punishment? Look at him, he’s having a blast out here!

  ‘It’s just who he is. I don’t think he’s capable of being sad.’ She was looking lovingly at Toughy, a slow smile appearing on her lips. But it was she who looked sad. ‘Give him to me.’

  ‘Didn’t you just say you were punishing him?’ Shourya asked.

  ‘Loosen up, dude,’ Lavanya muttered and walked back inside.

  Shourya couldn’t see anyone else around in the house. Lavanya looked very subdued, and the fact that she had put Toughy out in the lawn and was alone at home made him suspicious. As he entered her room, Shourya asked, ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Yep,’ Lavanya replied from where she sat on a little plush sofa in the corner with Toughy.

  ‘Aunty, Uncle—everybody?’

  ‘Yep,’ she repeated, not meeting his eyes.

  Shourya fought the urge to ask her what she was doing, coming out of AIIMS that morning. He had a feeling that something was wrong with either her mother or father. Her refusal to look at him, and keeping things from him annoyed him.

  ‘What did you do all day?’ he asked, studying her closely.

  ‘The day has just started,’ she said and looked up at him. ‘What is the plan? Are we going to do something fun today, or just waste away the rest of your time here?’

  ‘We could stay in and watch something. Maybe take it easy for a day or two?’

  ‘If that’s what you want. How come you’ve become so dull lately? You sound like me nowadays. Always saying no to fun, exciting stuff and choosing to hang out and do boring shit.’

  ‘You are underestimating the power of doing lazy things. Have you seen Troy?’ Shourya asked.

  ‘You mean the city in New York? Haven’t been there.’

  ‘Lavanya Suryavanshi!’

  ‘What?’ she asked, looking at Shourya’s bewildered expression. ‘What is it? Why are you looking at me like that? What did I say?’

  ‘Are you telling me,’ Shourya said slowly, deliberately, ‘that you have not heard of Troy? The movie? One of the highest grossers at the box office? Brad Pitt as Achilles? Rings a bell?’

  ‘I think I must have heard of it somewhere around, but—’

  ‘You think you . . . No. No, absolutely not! Lavanya, this is unacceptable. You have to watch it. I cannot believe you have not seen it already. We’ll still be friends after this, but you need to rectify your mistake right now.’

  ‘God! What’s with all the drama!’ Lavanya got off the sofa and placed Toughy back on it. The puppy had dozed off, and Lavanya patted his neck once before walking to the TV and turning it on.

  ‘Dude! You’re taking this too lightly. It’s not like Troy is a masterpiece or anything, but it is for me. For most people actually, it is fairly average. But take my word for it, it is everything you look for in a movie. Everything you can ask for.’

  ‘Fine, let’s watch it. Do you know anywhere we can buy it online? Amazon?’

  ‘So much enthusiasm,’ Shourya said, but immediately started looking for the movie online. He knew she would understand once she watched it.

  ‘Don’t feel bad; it’s not this movie. It’s all of them. I don’t remember when the last time I saw a film was,’ Lavanya said. Then added, ‘Could have been here, with you.’

  ‘Seriously? You haven’t seen a single movie since school? Are you . . . never mind.’

  ‘Am I, what? Say it.’

  ‘Nothing. I was thinking you cannot be serious. But having got to know you again, I think you are capable of being that person,’ Shourya said. Back in school, they used to watch movies every weekend. When they did not have any pocket money left to go to cinema halls, they would wait for the movies to be leaked on illegal torrent sites and then download and watch them at home. Having movie marathons was their weekly ritual.

  ‘I have not changed that much. I just did not have time for all this.’ Lavanya was speaking mostly to herself.

  ‘Be that as it may. I’m puttin
g Troy in your to-do list, and we’re going to tick it off right now.’

  They bought Troy online and started watching it together. Mrs Suryavanshi came home after some time and was happy to provide them refreshments. Shourya watched Lavanya closely during the movie. As they entered the second hour, he noticed her become more and more involved in it. He thought the best way to start watching a movie was to begin with low expectations and then let it blow your mind. Although he had recommended it to her very highly, she had not seemed very impressed. In fact, Shourya had the feeling that she had agreed to watch it only because he asked her to, and she had nothing better planned. She had not seemed enthusiastic at all.

  He had bought the extended version, and once they were halfway through it, she refused to pause it even to let him take a phone call. By the time they reached the legendary Hector versus Achilles duel scene, Lavanya was sitting up on the bed and her eyes were glued to the screen. She kept muttering no, no, no.

  When they reached the part where Achilles and Briseis get intimate and Brad Pitt delivers full back nudity, Shourya was surprised that Lavanya did not show even the slightest discomfort watching it with him. In fact, she was so involved, he wasn’t sure she even realized that he was in the room with her.

  When the movie ended and the slow music played as credits rolled, Lavanya slumped back on the bed and sighed.

  ‘So?’ Shourya asked, even though he did not really need to—his answer was all over her face. ‘What did you think?’

  ‘Whoa!’ she said, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes.

  ‘I know, right? It is so underrated. It’s like the most underrated action movie of all time. But there’s just something about it. It’s a package. The perfect amount of action, romance, mythology, drama, thriller—everything. And gore. I need my movies gory.’

  ‘Troy wasn’t a super hit?’

  ‘It was, I guess. But it didn’t receive a lot of critical appreciation. They thought it was too glamourized and superficial or something.’

  ‘That’s insane. There was depth. The whole Hector–Achilles chemistry, and Briseis . . . that was deep, for sure,’ Lavanya said.

  Shourya could see her replaying it in her head. ‘Let me guess. Achilles was your favourite character, right?’

  ‘Nope. Hector’s my favourite.’

  ‘You’re just saying that because you don’t want to sound shallow by admitting that you fell for Brad Pitt’s good looks.’

  ‘Shut up!’ Lavanya sat up again. ‘I love Brad Pitt, of course—doesn’t everybody? And I loved Achilles because he reminded me of Salman Khan. But honestly, Hector was the only one in there with something in his head. He knew what was going to happen, right from the beginning, but no one listened to him. Not that loser Paris, or his own father, the king, whatever his name was. If they had just listened to what Hector was saying the entire time . . .’

  Lavanya sat there, shaking her head, as if deep in thought. Shourya smiled at her enthusiasm. He had missed being with her, having her around all the time. Then, much like now, they would spend all day together and not tire of each other’s company, even if they did nothing exciting.

  ‘I have five more days before my flight back . . . We can take a trip somewhere if you want, as long as I do not have to drive in the heat.’

  Lavanya’s spun around to face him. ‘Really? Like we can take a flight somewhere?’

  ‘I was thinking, more like go nearby with a tour company or something. Or drive down somewhere, but . . .’

  ‘Oh, Shourya, what happened to your sense of adventure?’ Lavanya stuck out her lower lip.

  ‘What is so adventurous about travelling in an airplane?’

  ‘It’s the destination that’s exciting. We can go to Goa! It’s the best time for it too. Spending New Year’s Eve there—it would be perfect. There are music festivals and so many beaches. It could be really fun.’

  ‘I’ve been to Goa before. There’s really not much to see a second time,’ Shourya said. Living in the Bay Area, he had developed a fascination for beaches, but from what he remembered of his trip to Goa with his family back when he was fourteen or fifteen, he had not had even the least bit of fun. His entire extended family was there, and they had spent most of their time arguing about what sites to visit and where to eat.

  ‘Fine. You stay here. I’m going to go alone,’ Lavanya said.

  ‘You’re not going alone!’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s not safe.’

  Lavanya snorted. ‘Like anything is. I am not going there to be safe. I am going there to have fun. And if you won’t come with me, I’ll go by myself.’

  ‘Why is it always the extremes with you?’ Shourya asked in exasperation. ‘Fine, I’ll come with you.’

  ‘I knew it.’

  ‘Yeah, manipulation is becoming your strong suit.’ Shourya rolled his eyes. ‘It isn’t a good colour on you though, just so you know.’

  ‘You’re just easy to manipulate,’ Lavanya responded, winking at him. ‘And I want to make the most of your time here. Who knows when we will get such a chance again?’

  When Shourya looked at her, he wanted to say something, to respond to her hypothetical question, but he didn’t know what to say. The way she talked about them having fewer opportunities to spend time with each other in the future made him wary. It felt like she was abandoning him again, and he was stuck there trying to say something, to explain to her . . . something that he himself did not understand.

  15

  Lavanya looked up at the apartment one more time. It was a colour that must have been white at one time, but had faded, become dirty and developed a mud-like quality to it. The balcony they were ogling was covered entirely with what looked like a thick brown canvas that hid everything from view. The word Roxan was painted in red, cursive letters underneath. She wondered what it meant. They had been there since morning, waiting for a glimpse.

  When she had first told Shourya that she had booked a flight to Goa via Mumbai, she hadn’t told him that there was a twelve-hour halt in Mumbai. They took an early morning flight to Mumbai and it was only when they landed there that Lavanya told him the truth. It was only 8.30 a.m. and their flight to Goa was at 9.15 p.m. Shourya was not amused.

  He asked her how she could not notice the difference in time between connecting flights before booking the tickets and she tried to fool him by saying she thought it said 9.15 a.m. He realized what it was really about when she suggested that since they were there and had a whole day, they should stake out Salman Khan’s apartment in Bandra.

  It was not easy to convince him, but Lavanya played her I’ll-go-alone card one more time. Lavanya thought he caved in because he didn’t see what good hanging back at the airport or roaming around Mumbai alone would achieve anyway. His only condition was that they had to have vada-pav before they did anything else.

  Lavanya’s stomach, which was always ready for food, did not seem to agree that morning. She could barely make it through one of them before her palms started sweating. She knew it was a symptom of her disease, but tried to suppress the thought. She had the rest of her life to worry about dying, but only five more days with Shourya. She could agonize about AIDS when they got back home.

  ‘Listen, Lavanya, I don’t know what kind of kick you’re getting out of this, but it’s hot out here. We have been roasting for the last six hours. Don’t you think we should just check out the beach, or Marine Drive or something and go back to the airport?’ Shourya asked. He was looking at her with pleading eyes. She could see the skin on his cheeks had turned red. They had discarded their sweaters and jackets as soon as they got out of the airport. The city of Mumbai was unfamiliar with the concept of winter.

  ‘We have to stay. He’s in there, I know it. You know my gut is never wrong,’ she said.

  ‘What about the time you thought India was going to win the cricket World Cup in 2003? We lost so badly. So badly, it’s not even funny.’

  ‘We made
it into the finals and we were going to win, it was written in the stars. It’s just that none of the players performed. None. Not one. How did they expect to win without playing?’

  ‘That’s not the point. The point is—your gut isn’t as trustworthy as you think it is. And I don’t want to waste another four hours outside this sad little apartment waiting to see an actor I don’t even like,’ Shourya declared.

  ‘Okay, wait.’ Lavanya had to take a minute to collect her thoughts before speaking. ‘So many things wrong with what you said. First, my gut is almost always right. Second, we are not wasting time, we are bonding—this is precious time that will not come back. Third, this apartment is not sad; it must cost crores and crores of rupees. Fourth, it is hardly little. Fifth, you can’t not like Salman. You don’t get the liberty to decide that.’

  Shourya glared at her. ‘Don’t care. I’m leaving. You can come if you want, otherwise I’ll see you at the airport, or in the airplane, depending on the amount of time you choose to waste in this wretched place.’

  ‘Again with the hating! You could have just said this place. Why call it bad names?’ When she received more glares in response, she switched tracks. ‘You’re not actually going to leave me here alone, are you?’

  ‘If you make me, yes.’

  ‘You won’t.’

  ‘Are you coming or not?’ Lavanya gauged Shourya’s expression. He looked pretty darn serious. Maybe she had pushed him too far this time. She weighed her options. She wanted to see Salman Khan desperately, but staying there did not guarantee that. And even if he was inside, which her instinct told her he was, there was no certainty that he was coming out any time soon.

  On the other hand, if Shourya went away, she would be left alone with her thoughts, which, frankly, had been nothing but depressing recently. Also, despite his mood, which had been irritable since arriving in Mumbai, she had been enjoying spending time with him and did not want him to go. She bit her lower lip. She was going to have to yield.