TWO HEARTS: broken by a dream

by Atul Todi

  Going outside for a smoke, they went and sat on top of a car, away from the loud gathering. Lying down on the car roof, looking at the sky, they spoke like two enlightened souls.

  "Jolly, lot has changed since I left America. I am not the same guy you knew. Still, I am glad I am here for your big day. It feels so good to see you again."

  "Shut-up bro, it feels like you never left. It feels like we were in college yesterday. But I am so sure you are still not married, just like you always wanted: single and scandalous. Am I right?"

  Laughing out loud Abhay said, "That's right man, just can't find someone who can hold my attention for more than a night. You know that. Right?”

  Jolly laughed hearing his friend, who seemed to not have changed.

  Abhay continued, “But you seem to be doing quite well in the love department. Finally settling down in life and all. You guys really look good together; she must be a special person."

  "Yah bro! She helps me think straight. With her around, I don't feel like I need anyone else. We have been going out for a while now and getting married felt like the right thing to do; it all just happened naturally."

  Abhay could not help but give his friend a hug; he was very happy for him. To find love was precious.

  "Anyways, forget about my love life, where have you been all this while? What have you been up to? I missed you so much man; tried so hard to find you after that incident with her, but you left no clues behind. You just vanished. Why couldn't you just message me once? Did you never think of me even once?"

  "I am sorry for disappearing on you like that Jolly. It all just happened so quickly. I was completely lost; life seemed meaningless at that time. With a failed startup, no money and unhappy family, I was directionless. I thought it was all over. I had given up."

  "Just shut-up! The AB I know would never given up. But, I would have done anything for you bro; you should have just said something. I was always there for you…"

  There was silence in the air. Abhay did not know what to tell his friend.

  Finally he said, "It's very difficult to explain Jolly, but let's not kill our buzz with my sadness. At least not tonight, let's save it for another day. Right now we should be going crazy; it's your freaking wedding. You are going to become a married man tomorrow."

  Agreeing to talk later, they decided to drink till they dropped. The party went on till early in the morning, and both Jolly and Abhay had to be carried away to their rooms.

  -------x-------

  Next morning there was a festive scene all over the farmhouse. It was the big-fat Indian wedding day. There were the ‘shehnai-walas' (folk musicians) who had been specially called to play old wedding tunes; decorators were putting the final touches to make the place look royal. Women, both young and old, were getting ready for the day full of rituals. Little kids, unconcerned about the event, were playing around and having their fair share of fun.

  Various pre-wedding rituals went on at the farmhouse all morning. Meanwhile, Abhay was still sleeping when the clock hit twelve. He did not want to get out of bed. It was partly because of the alcohol and partly because he hated attending marriages; the whole idea of a wedding and what it meant scared him. He could not fathom how anyone could pledge to live with one person all their life. To him it was like a cage with no exit and he loved his freedom too much.

  Looking for him, Jolly came with a bucket of cold water. Knowing how to wake his old friend up, he splashed the water on him.

  "Get your ass up AB; it's my fucking wedding. What's wrong with you? Wake up!"

  While Abhay tried to get back to his senses and realise what had just happened, Jolly stood in front of him with a young girl in her teens. Her name was Khushi and the smile on her face did justice to the meaning of her name: happiness.

  With freckles on her cheeks, big black eyes and curly brown hair like a spider's web, she appeared charmingly innocent. The puppy eyes with which she looked at Abhay seemed like they knew him very well. As if waiting to be hugged by him, she held tightly to her little bag.

  Abhay was completely lost. He had not been around kids for a long-long time and the way she looked at him, made him squeamish. Not too fond of kids, he wondered what she was doing there with Jolly.

  Before Abhay could ask Jolly who the young lady with him was, he said, "See who I have brought along to meet you. She is the only one who believed that you were alive and would come for my wedding. Can you believe that? This precious little thing really got me hope."

  With his eyes squinted, Abhay was shocked. Looking at the girl, he wondered if he had seen her before. She looked nothing like any of his relatives or their kids.

  With her head tilted, Khushi looked into his eyes. She had little expression on her face, but it was apparent that if he did not do something soon, she was going to start bawling.

  The awkward moment stretched for what seemed like eternity. Not seeing any reaction from either Abhay or the little girl, Jolly decided to break the trance.

  Not giving Abhay a chance to say anything, he revealed his big surprise: "I am not sure how she found me, but she claims to be your daughter. Have no clue who her mother is, but I am guessing someone you knew very well. So now you guys sort your connection quickly.”

  The confused look on Abhay’s face turned to blank expression. He was shocked with what Jolly had said.

  Getting no response from Abhay, Jolly continued: “I tried finding out more, but she wouldn’t tell me anything. So I am going to leave you guys alone to figure out your relationship. But do me a favor and don't be late. All the wedding functions start within an hour."

  Trying to stop Jolly from leaving, Abhay said, "What the hell are you talking about? I don't know her Jolly. What stupid prank is this? Who is she?"

  Abhay had no clue what was going on there. He thought it was one of Jolly's silly tricks. Trying to laugh it off, he waited for Jolly to reveal who the girl really was.

  Silence filled the room, while wedding tunes played on in the background.

  Backing-off, Jolly left the room, leaving them alone to figure out their relationship.

  Abhay stared at Khushi in utter confusion. He clearly had no idea who she was and what she had told Jolly. She on the other hand simply stood there and smiled back at him.

  Once Jolly left the room, the look on Khushi’s face changed. Dropping her bag, she walked up close to Abhay and said, "Don't look so puzzled, I know you don't know me and I am obviously not your daughter. Thank God for that!”

  Abhay tried to comprehend what she was saying and waited for her to reveal the big secret: What was she doing there?

  “While you don’t know me, I happen to know you very well. I am here because I need your help."

  There was complete confusion as Abhay tried to come to terms with what was going on there. He wondered what help could he be of to her.

  Khushi just looked innocent, but she sounded like a snotty little brat, who was up-to some mischief. With her American accent, confident looks in her big black eyes and charming head tilts as she spoke, she looked like a little diva with a dangerous plan.

  Hoping that he was still dreaming, he said, "What do you mean by you know me very well? Why did you tell Jolly that you are my daughter? That's just insane. I don’t think I can help you with anything."

  Giving Abhay a minute to breath and shut up, she said, "I just told him that you left my mom before I was born. It was like you both had a little fling, and then you were gone. So technically not your fault I guess. But since she passed away, I was trying to find you after I found some letters she left behind. A little motherless daughter, looking for her father: Not all that bad a story, right? Classic Bollywood story."

  Taken aback by the little girl's audacity, Abhay was not pleased with the story Khushi had cooked up. With an angry tone of voice, he said, "That's just a very lame story and it's not true. I had no fling with your mother, whoever she might be. What’s going on here, who are you?"

  Looking outs
ide the window, he tried to find whose prank it was.

  "I know it was a little too dramatic, but it worked liked a charm. He really believed me."

  Khushi tried to laugh off what she had done, but Abhay was not amused; in fact he was really confused, not sure what was happening there. The little girl was freaking him out.

  Trying to get a grip on the whole situation, he asked, "and why would you do that? Your story is very evil because I am not your dad, and I definitely don't know you or your mom. So, go ahead and get to the point; tell me who you are and what do you want?"

  "Right! You are not my dad. Would you rather want me to tell them that you are the infamous tragic romance writer Bugsy: The writer who has been hiding for years. It would be such a shame to disclose such a big secret like that. Don't you think? I really could not do that to you. Could I?"

  Khushi was evil and her sweet smile was misleading. Abhay tried to laugh off the strange claim she was making.

  Abhay was lost for words, hoping it was all just a dream. His hangover from the previous night faded away; he sat up on the bed, staring at Khushi. With complete silence in the room, he looked hard at her, trying to figure out what was happening there. Wondering who that promiscuous little girl was.

  A little girl was blackmailing him and he did not know what to do. The absurdity of the situation left him speechless.

  CHAPTER 3: SHE JUST WON’T GIVE UP

  After a few moments of silence, he said, "You think I am Bugsy, the best-selling writer and you have come here, in the middle of this wedding, looking for him.

  Fighting a hangover, Abhay tried to laugh-off the little girl's claim.

  “You gotta be crazy. Who has put up you to this prank? I am sure it is not Jolly? Who is it? Come on, tell me."

  Abhay could hardly hide his state of mind; he was clearly taken aback by what Khushi said. He played down the seriousness of the situation. Khushi stared back at him with a straight face. Her unwavering eyes were not joking around; she was not playing any pranks, she meant business. She had proof to back her claim, but was not revealing her source of information.

  To find some answers, Abhay asked, "This is going to be really amusing. So tell me what makes you think I am Bugsy, the novelist who writes about love. And if I was really him, why would I not go out and tell the whole world myself? He makes a truckload of money from his books and people around the world admire him. So, let's hear your story. Tell me have you met Bugsy before, does he look like me or something? Who has been saying this rubbish?"

  Khushi just stood there with a smirk on her face; she was in no rush to burst his bubble. They shared mean, unnerving looks, testing each other's patience. Finally, she said, "Stop pretending Bugsy; you can't fool me. I have been tracking you for months and I know it is you. If it makes you feel any better, I personally met your publisher, who confirmed your identity. Then my friend, who is a hacker, traced your secret bank account. Quite Simple! I know it's you."

  Abhay was awestruck by the efforts of a little girl to find Bugsy. With no expression on his face, he quietly paid attention to what she had to say. He waited for her to tell him more and why she was looking for the writer.

  "While I found your real identity quite some time back, but I didn't know where to find you. I knew that your best friend was going to get married, so I forced him to send you the wedding card with a note and publicize his marriage. I was certain that if you found out about the wedding, you would definitely come. And you did; isn't that awesome?"

  Khushi and Jolly planned all the media coverage of the wedding.

  She talked like a detective who had solved a major criminal plot and smiled like a lawyer who had won her maiden case. Abhay sat there without blinking an eye, stunned and confused. Shaking his head, he did not know if he should admire the girl or laugh at the absurdness of her plan.

  Khushi continued to brag about how her plan worked and got Bugsy out of his hiding. She talked about how she plotted cues from his novels to be sure that he was in India.

  Listening to her, his annoyance was becoming evident on his face. She was turning out to be a little nightmare.

  Unconcerned about his reaction, Khushi continued talking: "Why would you not go out and tell the world about yourself is something I want to know. I am sure it is a very interesting story you are hiding and that is what I have been after for months.”

  “Finally, you are right here in front of me. So, please go ahead and tell me why? Why do you write such sad love stories and why have you been hiding from the world? I am curious to know it all." Khushi was excited.

  "You are completely out of your mind Khushi. If you really want to find this guy, go to Paris, New York or some exotic place. Why are you wasting your time here in India? A writer like Bugsy would not be living a miserable life here when he could be cruising around the world. Seriously, looking for him at a wedding is absurd.

  Lost for words, he continued to reject her claim. He said, “Tracking a secret bank account, which I don't own, and asking Jolly to invite me to his wedding to find Bugsy; that's just silly. And I can’t believe Jolly gave in to your request."

  "But it worked; you came for his wedding."

  Abhay was speechless.

  "I have come all the way from the US looking for you. I must have done my background check on you; don't you think so? So let's not be silly here and stop playing hide and seek."

  Khushi was very clear about her intentions and did not want to waste any time. Sounding like an adult, she seemed smarter than her age.

  "What I think is that you are a little crazy to be here looking for a writer no one knows about. You need to take a flight back home; your parents must be getting worried. And, by the way, the story about your mother and me, that's not true, right? Have I met her before?"

  Abhay tried to laugh, thinking that his comment was funny. He hoped that his humor would lighten things up and make her reveal who had put her up to it. Instead, it made the situation a lot more awkward than it already was. Khushi was not amused.

  "No, that was not true, she is just fine and has no relation with you. But I am not leaving without your story. I have worked too hard to get to you, lied to people, made up false stories and even travelled thousands of miles to get to you. So please Bugsy I need your help. What are you hiding from? Who are you running away from?"

  "Why are you so interested in this writer's story anyways? I am sure he is just another writer making money by selling people over-dramatic love stories and feeding on their emotions. And I am sure that is the reason why he has not revealed his identity. He knows that people might stop reading his crappy books if they found out who he was. What do you think?" Abhay tried to reason with the little girl.

  Khushi remained silent, but Abhay continued, "Or maybe he is just a heartbroken man, writing to express his pain to his estranged lover. Actually, Bugsy could also be a girl, if you think about it; she understands emotions quite well I think. But, whatever might be Bugsy's reason for being anonymous, what's your reason for looking for him?"

  "It's quite a strange reason actually. I hated Bugsy while growing up. My mother was addicted to his books and every time a new book was published she would completely abandon me and bury herself in the book; often reading them multiple times. She cried every single time she did, making me really upset. Also, her time would get divided between Bugsy and me, and I didn't like it at all. I wanted to burn all your books. I really hated you, until that one afternoon."

  Abhay listened to her in disbelief, waiting for her to continue.

  "Last year, for my English class, every student had to select a writer they wanted to read and write about. All my friends choose fairy tale novels, but I didn’t. They only writer I knew of happened to be you because of my mother. She often told me some bits and pieces of adventure from your books. So even though my teachers asked me to select a different writer, as your books were not appropriate for my age, I really wanted to write about you and what you wrote. I wanted to fin
d out why my mother liked your books.”

  “So without my mother knowing about it, I started reading your first book: ‘The Purple Scarlet’. With so much pain, tragedy and over emphasized love; I just could not understand how you had sold millions of copies."

  Abhay could not believe a teenager was reading Bugsy's books.

  "The problem was that the project required me to write about the writer and because you wrote under a pen name, no one knew who you were. Even though I failed that project, your one book turned into the next, and soon I had read all your books, looking for clues to find you. If it makes you feel any better, I did not cry like my mother. I just felt sorry for people reading your narcissist books."

  "Oh wow! You calling Bugsy narcissist. How old are you really? Ten? Do you even know what that word means?"