by Atul Todi
Abhay was surprised that a little girl her age had a vocabulary of an adult. She used big words with great prowess.
Taking a moment, after thinking about it, she said, "I am fifteen, I just look young. And I know the meaning of that word. I am quite good with words actually, thanks to my mother who is a grammar Nazi."
Khushi proudly smiled, while Abhay looked on, amazed by the little girl.
Filled with inquisitiveness, he asked, "Are all the kids out there like you these days?"
Living on the vineyard, Abhay hardly ventured out and had limited access to information about what was happening out there in big cities. The world outside seemed to be evolving quickly.
"Yes, kids these days are quite smart. Smart enough to read your books. And you know why I think you are a narcissist: it is because the main character in all your books is always you. Always self-obsessed, you think that you always deserve to get the girl you love. But, it is not like that always you know?"
"Firstly, you clearly are not fifteen, and secondly, those books are really not meant for you; you are way too young for them. Your mother needs to be more careful, letting you read Bugsy's books. What is she thinking?"
"Well, don't worry, I am not your fan or anything. In fact, I think your work is quite bad. So, I am clearly not influenced by your work. Still, I need to know your story." She insisted.
Trying to control his laughter, he said, "I am not convinced by your reason to be looking for Bugsy. You obviously don't like him; so you must have a very good reason to be looking for him all the way here in India. Go ahead, tell me."
"Actually, I do have a good reason. Even though the school project got over, my obsession with you didn't. You see I love doodling and I have been doodling all your stories for the last six months, making small sketches trying to find clues about you in all your books. One thing I figured out was that you were still single. The lovers in all your books always separate and never get married; yet, they are always completely in love. Which seems quite strange, but it gives a lot of people out there hope, they believe that lovers always get a second chance. No one should ever compromise and marry someone they do not love. That's the message your books really stand for, am I right?"
Pouring himself a drink, he said, "I am very confused Khushi. Why are you talking about what those books stand for? They are just fictional stories. You were going to tell me why you are looking for Bugsy."
"Yes, see the reason is my mother. Even though she is a big believer in love, she has decided to marry this guy she does not love. It is something she is doing for me because she thinks every kid needs a father. It seriously is not cool."
Sipping on his whiskey, Abhay could not put the two-plus-two together. How was Bugsy going to help her.
He tells her, "How is she wrong Khushi? Maybe she will fall in love with this guy after marriage. It is quite normal in this part of the world you know. In India, almost everyone goes for an arranged marriage and fall in love later. Or at least they make themselves believe that they are in love. So, don't you worry, your mom is an adult and she knows what she is doing. Anyways, if you are done with your story, I have a wedding to attend."
"While I was looking for you, I thought that if I found you, you could really help stop my mother. I don't like this guy she is going to marry at all, and if you tell her, she would listen. Your novels are her inspiration for what love is."
Cutting her short, agitated by her stupid request, he yelled at her: "Tell her what Khushi? Are you crazy? She is an adult; she knows what is best. You are really out of your mind to come all this way thinking that some romance writer could just go to your mother and tell her that she should not get married."
"Well, I just want her to find true love; just like you talk about in your books. Am I wrong?"
"Those books are just fiction Khushi; they are not real. Trust me, I have experienced it. Love is simply fiction. And I am sorry for breaking it to you this young, but love is really something we cook up in our heads. It's something that makes you pathetic and helpless. It's better to stay far away from it. Don’t fall in love ever."
Surprised by Bugsy, the romance writer's views on love, Khushi seemed puzzled. She thought he would definitely believe in the power of love. She thought he would see her point and agree to help. His book preached about love to millions.
Not giving up on her plans, she said, "I know it's a far shot, but it's my only chance. My mother would do anything for Bugsy; she is so much in love with him that she once told me that if he said don't marry, she would not. Can you believe that?"
Her mother was crazy about Bugsy and Khushi tried hard to explain why her plan would work.
"Wow, I do not believe that. You have really lost your mind and so has your mom. This is just insane, I think I need another drink, maybe finish this whole bottle before the freaking wedding ceremony starts."
Abhay poured himself another drink, while getting dressed up for the function that was about to start. Talking to himself, he said, "This better be a dream and when I wake up this will all be over. This girl would be gone and everything would be back to normal."
Looking back at Khushi, he says, "and you are going to vanish when I wake up. Right?"
"This is not a dream, I really need your help Bugsy. I have come all the way from the US, with a lot of hope. You have no idea how hard it was to find you."
Agitated with her insistence, he takes a step towards her, holds her by her shoulders and says, "Khushi, my name is Abhay, not Bugsy, and there is not an ounce of a writer inside me. And even if I pretend to be that writer, why would your mother believe me? So off you go; go back home, focus on school and don't fall in love."
Turning away from Khushi, who looked upset, he asked her to leave him alone so he could get drunk and find the strength to go outside and attend his friend's marriage.
Abhay did not think too highly of marriage; even the thought of it scared him. To be with one person all his life was like a nightmare that would never end. He believed that if two people were really in love they would not need to get married to cement the relationship. The door in a relationship, according to him, should always be open, so people could leave if or when the love faded-away.
He didn't know what he was scared of: the commitment required in a marriage or his fear that love would eventually die and life after that would be miserable. It clearly had something to do with his childhood days. Seeing his parents, who too were once in love, fight and scream at each other left deep scars on his psyche.
Being persistent, Khushi tried again: "I know it is you; I traced the book royalty payment from the publisher to your bank account. Now why would they be paying you, if you were not Bugsy."
Gulping down the whiskey from his glass, Abhay stood there for a moment and silently looked at Khushi. She had a stern look and determination in her eyes. There was no way she was going to give up on her mission to find Bugsy and his story.
"So you are looking for this famous writer who has sold millions of books and you think it's me. Seriously you have gone crazy. Just give me your mom's phone number, I am going to call her right now and tell her to take you home and show a doctor."
Abhay wondered who could have put her on such a mission.
"I am not blackmailing you, but I know it is you. And I am just asking you to tell me your story and meet my mother once. If you tell her that true love exists, she would definitely listen. It is such a small request and I promise no one would find out about your secret."
"Khushi, look at me; I am single, drunk and hate marriages. You really think if I tell someone about love, they would even listen to me for a second? You are wasting your time."
"But, you must have your own love story, right? Otherwise, how can you write all those books about falling in love?" Khushi asked.
Khushi had tears trickling from her big eyes and down her cheeks. She said, "Just tell her your love story." It was her last resort. While she was smart and daring, her innocent looks an
d tears were her biggest weapons.
"Ok, now don't you try this trick on me. Don't you cry like that; it's not going to make me change my mind."
The sadness on Khushi’s innocent face could make anyone melt.
"Seriously stop! What do you want from me?"
"I want you to meet my mother once; tell her that she should not marry this guy. Maybe, tell her your love story and I am sure she would listen to you."
Abhay did not believe her story. It was innocent, but extremely stupid.
"Khushi I really want to help you, but this is not going to work. Even if I tell her that I am Bugsy and I don't want her to marry someone she has chosen, why would she listen? It would be foolish."
"Yes, it would be stupid, but I can't think of any other way to stop her. Maybe it would work, maybe when you tell her your love story, she would find a reason to not marry him."
"So you want me to go with you, meet your mom and try to persuade her to not marry this guy. Is that right?"
"I have a better plan. She knows that I am in India, visiting my aunt. When she finds out I am with you, she would come looking for me. Together we can make her change her mind. Also, I will make sure no one finds your secret. You can remain the mysterious writer you have always been."
"Are you trying to make a deal? You know I don't really care if you went out and told the world I am Bugsy. No one would believe you; you have no proof. So, no I am not doing this dealing with you."
Picking up his jacket Abhay left the room to join the marriage functions outside. Khushi followed him out still trying to reason with him.
Later that afternoon, the air was filled with marriage rituals. People were singing, shouting and teasing the soon to be couple. There was a well-organized garland ceremony, where the bride and groom walked down from opposite ends of an artificially built bridge and exchanged beautiful garlands. The ecstatic crowd showered them with rose petals. It was a typical Indian wedding with all the fanfare.
After the garland ritual, the couple sat together around a pyre. There was chanting of hymns by ‘pandits' to sanitize the bonding between the couple. Jolly and Zeinab had to follow the holy man's directions and repeat prayers after him. In the end, there was the fire ritual where the husband-wife had to walk around a little pyre seven times and take vows to live their life together.
It was a typical Hindu wedding ceremony that night. Jolly and Zeinab had planned to marry again under Muslim customs to ensure both sides of the family were happy.
Abhay felt dizzy watching all the proceedings from the side. He was happy for his friend, but watching a marriage ceremony, where the couple laughed and smiled without knowing what lay ahead, made him miserable.
Khushi disappeared for much of the afternoon, giving relief to Abhay, who was annoyed by the little girl following him around. Finally, as the evening set in, and the ceremonies went on, he sat by a bar counter at the wedding, getting some air. Just like him, hiding from the rituals, there was a girl at the bar. Zeinab's younger sister Ayana, a flamboyant fashion designer from New York. She too was not in favor of marriage; she believed that shackles of marriage chained down love.
They both bonded over their anti-marriage stance. Abhay flirted with the pretty girl and got to know her better. They had a couple of drinks together and Ayana was amused by his philosophy on life.
Charming her with his witty jokes and stories about his wild adventures in the South Indian jungles, he had her enchanted, listening intently to every word he said. She told him about her life in New York, the wild parties and the frantic life in the fashion industry.
She wanted to go see his vineyard and explore the wilderness.
Wanting to take the conversation a step further, Ayana said that she needed to get away from the marriage and asked Abhay for a smoke. They went together to the terrace, away from the flashing lights, making sure no one saw them leave.
Sneaking up to the terrace, they stood in a hidden corner. Smoking a cigarette, they didn't speak much. Enjoying the chilly wind, they awkwardly looked up at the sky that had cleared out. Blowing the smoke into the air, Abhay tapped his feet to the wedding music playing in the background. Seeing him being hesitant to make a move, Ayana came close to Abhay, held his collar and said, "It's really chilly tonight. Do you mind holding me?"
Her New York confidence was clearly evident; she knew what she wanted and was not scared to express herself. She liked to live in the moment.
Instinctively his hands slipped behind her back and pulled her forward. Looking into his eyes, biting her lips, her intentions were clear; sensing his reluctance, she waited for him to go in for a kiss. Abhay held back and pretended to have no clue about what she wanted. Instead, he talked about how much he liked the perfume she had on and how she reminded him of his New York days during college.
Ayana put her finger to his lips and made him stop talking. She meant business; she had no time for amusement. With her fingers feeling his neck, she whispered, "I don't care Abhay what you did back in college, just kiss me."
"Ayana, I am not good with these things. Are you sure you want to…"
Amused by what he said, she giggled and responded back, "Who said anything about ‘these things’? Don't kill the moment Abhay. Tomorrow I would be gone and so will you. No one needs to know anything. And, if you do fall in love with me after tonight, maybe you can come find me in New York. We would be a riot."
With a serious look, he said, "I won't be coming."
Stopping him from saying anything further, Ayana went in for a kiss. She didn't believe in the old tradition that a man should make the first move. She liked control and doing things her way.
With everyone busy with the wedding, they were lip-locked under the moonlit sky. Abhay was happy to please her, till the time there was no commitment involved. She too wanted just that. No commitment, no expectations, no heartbreak.
Before they could go any further, they heard the cracking noise of the terrace door. Suddenly out of nowhere, Ayana saw Khushi standing at the door from the corner of her eye. Pulling back, she said, "Someone is watching us. Do you know her?"
Lost for words Abhay tried to explain: "No, I don't know her."
Embarrassed, she pulled back and said, "I have seen her following you around. Are you married Abhay? Is she your daughter? Are you hiding something from me?"
"No she is not, but…" Abhay tried to explain.
When Ayana looked at Khushi, she was shaking her head as if to say yes. She had heard the question Ayana asked.
Shocked by Abhay's denial, she did not wait for an explanation. She left without listening to him.
The moment she left, there was a smile on Khushi's face and frustration on Abhay’s.
Giving Khushi a mean look, Abhay was not too happy with what she had done. Yet, he was not too concerned either about Ayana's leaving. She was just too controlling, clearly not his type. He had no feelings for her; it was just a moment of infatuation.
Turning away from Khushi, he lit another cigarette and said, "And why would you be smiling? You little devil!"
"Well, she was no good for you. I saw her making out with another guy in the morning. You deserve better; after-all you are the great romantic writer millions of women would like to be with."
Hearing her innocent explanation made him smile. Glaring back at her, he was lost in his thoughts. It had been ages since someone told him something sweet like that. He remembered a time back in college, when another mischievous girl had done something similar; he had fallen in love with her. The only one he ever cared about.
Looking at her, he said, "There is something strange about you. I have been thinking about it the whole day; it only stuck me right now. You really do remind me of her. She too was weird and annoying, just like you."
"Who, the girl from you books? The girl you loved?"
He did not respond back; he did not want to even talk about her. But to stop her pestering, he reluctantly said, "Yes!"
"Oh wow! T
hen I think you should definitely tell me about her; tell me about your love story. Maybe I can help you find her. It's a deal, I promise."
"What deal? I am not making any deals with you. I am not looking for anyone. I am happy alone; single and free. So no deal and please stop following me."
As the old thoughts poured back into his mind, he excused himself and called it a night. He did not want to talk to anyone about his past.
For the last twelve years, he had worked hard to just live in the moment, away from the skeleton of his old memories. Out of nowhere, there was a little girl, digging his grave, wanting to know his story. Reminding him of all the memories he had left far behind.
He had to get away from her before she caused more trouble. So in the middle of the night, while everyone was busy with the marriage ceremony, he left Jolly a message and drove back to the airport.