Someone to Love

Home > Other > Someone to Love > Page 15
Someone to Love Page 15

by Ruchita Misra


  What games are you playing with me now?

  ‘I have not slept properly since you left. And the more I think about everything, the clearer the whole picture gets.’

  She continued staring at him, wondering where this was all going. Was he going to ask for money?

  ‘I was a monster.’

  She blinked.

  ‘The things I did, to you, to us … I can’t live with that.’

  She stared at him.

  ‘I … I…’ He held his head in his hands. ‘I am not a bad man … I think. I … but I am not taking away any blame for what I did … I was at fault and I’ve come to apologize to you.’

  Koyal was staring at him open-mouthed.

  ‘You were so nice and gentle and I love you…’ he said, his voice desperate.

  I love you?

  I freaking love you?

  ‘Yes, I love you, I still do, and no, don’t look so horrified, I am never going to ask you to come back to me. In fact, if in an alternate world you came to me, saying you wanted to come back, I wouldn’t let you. However, I will continue to love you.’

  Anger is red, a deep unequivocal shade of red. And it was this colour that the world now turned to for Koyal. For all the nights he had forced himself on her, for all the times he had hit her, for every time he had instilled mind-numbing fear in her heart.

  She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. And then she did not want to calm herself.

  She got up, slowly, angrily, and he got up too, looking confused.

  ‘What … wha…?’ he mumbled as he stared at Koyal walking up to him.

  He could only watch as she raised her hand and slapped him right across his cheeks.

  ‘That is for every time, every fucking time you killed a bit of my soul,’ she muttered, words coming out with difficulty because of the anger that consumed her. ‘You deserve to be cut into pieces. Don’t you dare show me your face ever again,’ she said to him, her eyes burning, ‘or I will make it the sole purpose of my life to destroy your miserable, cowardly existence. And trust me, I will be brilliant at it.’

  Amit looked at the woman who had for four years cowered in fear in front of him. She couldn’t have been more different now, thought Amit, surprised at the fear that he could now sense skimming through him.

  Red-eyed and red-faced, without another look at him, Koyal picked up her bag and stormed out, aware that every eye in the restaurant was on her.

  She had barely exited the building of the mall when a waiter from Zizzi came running after her.

  ‘Excuse me, ma’am,’ he said in a posh British accent. ‘The gentleman left this for you.’ He handed Koyal an envelope and vanished.

  A letter from Amit.

  She was still taking deep breaths when she opened the letter and began to read.

  She read quickly, skimming through the letter, her anger mounting at his words.

  But then, when she reached a certain section, she paused, shook her head, confused, and read it again.

  Her hand flew to her mouth in surprise.

  No, surely this couldn’t be true.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ she said aloud when she finished reading. She folded the letter and jammed it inside a pocket in her bag. ‘Oh my goodness,’ she mumbled again, still incandescent with anger, but stunned at what the letter had revealed to her – how that seemingly innocuous fight with that fat boy back in school had set into motion two of the most horrific things to happen to her.

  35

  Atharv stared at the woman sitting next to him, her eyes shining like stars as she craned her neck to have a better look at the stage.

  Koyal was wearing a blue dress that showed off her trim figure. Her long hair, left open, cascaded down her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face. Atharv had felt a mild degree of surprise when, on first seeing her that evening, he’d had to force himself to peel his eyes off her.

  Little girls, Mansha included, were beginning to line up on the stage in their beautiful pink and white tutus.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ Atharv whispered to Koyal and she smiled in reply.

  ‘I am very proud of what you do, Atharv,’ she said softly.

  Koyal had spent a few hours in the hospital before coming for Mansha’s dance recital and had had an opportunity to meet Atharv’s colleagues. She had felt immense pride at the amount of respect she could see his colleagues had for him. His work as a paediatric neurosurgeon was, to say the least, very impressive.

  He stared into her eyes, and felt the world around them disappear.

  ‘And your dad would be too,’ she concluded and briefly rested her head on his shoulder.

  As the music began to play, Atharv rested his head on Koyal’s.

  ‘We lost so many people in these ten years,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Yes, too many,’ he replied.

  Music began to stream in now, not quite reaching Atharv and Koyal who sat lost in thought.

  ‘I am very sorry about Nili,’ Koyal said, looking up again.

  ‘Do you know, I thought of you very often during that time,’ he said, staring into her eyes. ‘I needed you then to help me get through…’

  Koyal felt sadness and frustration. How she wished she could go back in time to be with Atharv in his darker days.

  ‘You know,’ Atharv whispered to her after a while, ‘that was the one time I regretted being a doctor.’

  ‘Why?’ she asked.

  ‘Because I knew exactly what each report meant. I had seen many patients with brain cancer, which Nili had, but never seen a survivor. As a doctor I knew hoping for a miracle was futile. Maybe if I were not a doctor, I’d have had some hope that would have made those weeks easier…’

  Koyal snuggled in closer as if that would take away some of his pain, her heart aching for him.

  ‘It’s funny how everything is now both a hazy blur and crystal clear. They said they wanted to take the baby out and scheduled surgery for Nili the next day…’

  Atharv was staring into space and Koyal was staring at him.

  ‘And then?’ Koyal asked.

  ‘She never came out alive out of the OT…’

  Koyal rested her head on Atharv’s shoulder again, her eyes wet.

  ‘You know what is the absolute worst thing in all this?’ Koyal looked up at him. ‘She spent every second thinking of and for the baby and she never even got to meet Mansha…’

  Atharv and Koyal, instinctively and at the same time, looked at the girls on the stage. There was Mansha twirling around happily, surrounded by the pink haze of her tutu, blissfully unaware of the sad story of her arrival into the world.

  ‘For the longest time,’ Atharv continued, ‘it was difficult for me to rejoice in Mansha’s birth. I loved her to bits, of course – just that the day of her birth was a tough one for me to deal with … till you came along…’ He now looked at her and smiled a small, sad smile.

  ‘They say,’ Koyal said, ‘that those you love and those who love you never really leave your side.’

  ‘Does that apply to friendship too?’ he asked. ‘Because I can think of one friend who did leave my side,’ he said, looking at her meaningfully.

  In the middle of a noisy auditorium consisting of excited parents cheering for their children, Koyal and Atharv sat, wrapped in silence that belonged to another world.

  ‘Do you know what was very hard for me?’ he said finally and she looked up at him.

  ‘To suddenly not be able to talk to someone you are used to talking to each day,’ he said slowly. Koyal didn’t know if he was talking about Nili or her.

  The theatre erupted in applause as the dance finished, but Koyal and Atharv did not hear a sound.

  ‘Koyal,’ he said, leaning closer, and Koyal could feel her senses fill with his smell – a bit of wood, a bit of hospital, a bit of wealth, a bit of heart. ‘Why?’

  She looked blankly at him.

  ‘Why did you leave me?’

  There was something about the way Atharv s
aid this that tore Koyal’s heart to shreds.

  ‘I am sorry, Atharv,’ she said, tearing up and finally saying what she had been thinking of for the longest time. ‘I am so, so, so sorry, Atharv.’

  Atharv pulled Koyal into a fierce hug just as the audience got to their feet to give a standing ovation to the little performers.

  ‘You will never tell me, will you?’ he asked, his face buried in her hair.

  She shook her head.

  I can’t, Atharv, I can’t.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled again just as the tears came on in full force and rendered any further speech impossible.

  Atharv wrapped his arms even more tightly around her waist.

  And for one mad minute, Koyal allowed herself to imagine that this was not a friend hugging her. Instead, this was Atharv, the imaginary Atharv who was madly in love with her, hugging her.

  And for that one mad minute the world became more beautiful than it had ever been.

  ‘Ughh,’ the woman standing behind them whispered to her husband. ‘I am sure their child perfomed well, but to burst into tears like that is a bit much, isn’t it?’

  ‘Dear, I don’t think this has anything to do with the perfomance,’ replied the husband. ‘I think they just need to get a room.’

  The two of them giggled like schoolgirls.

  The two they were laughing at stood like that, arms wrapped around each other, for an eternity, in an ocean of excited, noisy parents.

  36

  Surya and Hema were sitting in the Jayakrishnas’ living room when Koyal, Atharv and Mansha trooped in, excited and full of chatter.

  Mansha, still dressed in her tutu, was holding on to a huge bunch of colourful balloons and had the widest grin plastered across her face. She chattered nonstop to the two older ladies, telling them all about her performance. Atharv and Koyal hovered in the background, stealing glances at each other and smiling.

  ‘Time for bed now?’ Surya Aunty said to Mansha, looking pointedly at the clock.

  ‘Can I put her to bed?’ Koyal asked hesitatingly.

  ‘Yes, sure,’ Surya Aunty said slowly, thoughtfully.

  ‘Yay!’ squealed Mansha and extended an arm towards Koyal.

  ‘I’ll come too,’ Atharv mumbled and followed the girls after bidding a polite goodbye to Hema.

  For a few minutes after the three of them had gone, neither Hema nor Surya spoke.

  ‘Are you thinking what I am thinking?’ asked Hema, her brow furrowed.

  Surya looked at her friend, still lost in thought.

  ‘Hema,’ she said, ‘when you called me late that night, and told me about the girl who had collapsed at the party and was mumbling Atharv’s name…’

  ‘And you asked me straight away if the girl’s name was Koyal and I was stunned.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘At the party they had behaved like strangers. And then when I found Koyal semi-conscious and mumbling Atharv’s name, I was shocked…’ Hema said.

  ‘Weird, isn’t it?’ Surya mused. ‘That night, Hema, I couldn’t sleep.’

  ‘I am not surprised.’

  ‘And you remember the next day I called you, told you about their history and said we had to do what we could to get them at least talking to each other.’

  Hema smiled mischievously.

  ‘Of course! That is why I kept on telling Koyal she just had to go and thank Atharv for helping with the hospital admits.’

  ‘I know. Had you not chased that the way you did, I don’t think Koyal would have reached out to Atharv.’

  ‘I think she would have just fled the country.’

  Surya nodded, smiling. Hema might be joking, but she was probably closer to the truth than she realized.

  ‘And then that little plan, where I kept a tab on when she went looking for Atharv and I immediately told you,’ Hema said, eyes gleaming.

  ‘And I called Atharv and made sure he went to reception while I was on the phone with him.’

  Hema laughed. ‘And then I imagine you pretended to recognize the voice in the background.’

  Surya allowed herself a little giggle. ‘I half suspect Atharv knows what we did, but yes, that is exactly what happened. I told him that I could recognize the voice and was it Koyal and forced him into handing the phone over to Koyal.’

  ‘We are such crafty women!’ Hema hooted with laughter, but stopped when she saw that her friend was now looking very serious.

  ‘What’s wrong, Surya?’ Hema asked, putting a hand on Surya’s.

  ‘Hema, when you told me about Koyal that night, you saw how my first question was whether the girl was called Koyal?

  ‘Yes, it intrigued me. You were expecting her to come back into Atharv’s life?’

  ‘No, someone else was,’ Surya said quietly.

  ‘What do you mean? Who?’

  ‘Nili’s mother.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Surya. ‘Since Nili left us, her mother would call me every few months with the same question.’

  ‘Which was?’ Hema asked, leaning forward in her curiosity.

  ‘Whether I had heard from Koyal.’

  Hema looked at Surya with surprise.

  ‘That is very weird.’

  ‘It irritated me, to be honest. Why bring up something unpleasant that happened all those years ago? But then…’

  ‘Okay, this is freaking me out a bit,’ said Hema.

  ‘I know…’ Surya said slowly. ‘I asked her how she knew about Koyal in the first place and she never really gave me a proper answer…’

  ‘Hmm … then?’

  ‘So some days ago, I decided I should let her know about Koyal re-entering our lives.’

  ‘Oh! What did she say?’

  ‘Something very weird.’

  ‘Go on…’

  ‘She said she had something for Koyal.’

  ‘What?’

  Surya nodded. ‘From Nili.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Hema placed her hand on her heart in surprise. ‘That is spooky.’

  ‘And she posted it to me, with the request that it be handed only to Koyal.’

  ‘Do you have it now?’ Hema asked.

  ‘Do you know, this Atharv–Nili–Koyal story is deeper, more complex and a lot darker than you and I know,’ Surya said, nodding.

  ‘I agree,’ Hema said slowly. ‘Something about the way Koyal looks at Atharv, and to be fair, the way Atharv looks at Koyal too – it just breaks my heart, every bloody time, and I am left wondering why.’

  ‘I don’t like this, Surya,’ Hema said after a while.

  ‘I know what you mean. There is sadness.’

  Hema nodded. ‘I can feel it. What do you think is in the package?’

  ‘Let me bring it here,’ said Surya. She got up, left the room and came back with a surprisingly small package.

  Hema took the package and turned it around.

  ‘What do you think is in this?’ Surya asked.

  ‘There can only be one thing in this package,’ said Hema and Surya inched in closer.

  ‘A letter?’ Surya asked.

  ‘A letter,’ Hema said, nodding.

  ‘The only way the dead can speak,’ said Surya, staring at Hema.

  ‘The only way the dead can speak,’ repeated Hema, feeling goosebumps on her arms.

  37

  Atharv’s room was, as Kimberly knew it would be, steeped in darkness save for the light coming from a table lamp.

  He sat there reading on his laptop, preparing for a high-risk surgery scheduled for the end of the week. Looking at Atharv hunched over his laptop, an expression of intense concentration on his face, Kimberly felt something warm gush through her heart.

  Atharv was fast gaining a reputation as a top surgeon for some of the most complicated brain surgeries in children and Kimberly had watched his growth in the last five years with immense pride.

  His success felt like her own.

  Kimberly had often wondered what she liked best about At
harv. And she had to say it was his smile, the kind smile that always made her feel better even when it wasn’t directed at her. She loved every second she got with him, even the bits in the OT – especially the bits inside the OT where he was a magician with his scalpel.

  ‘The safest pairs of hands,’ a news article on his work had described him not too long ago, and Kimberly had thought they couldn’t have written a truer word. She had known Atharv long enough to know he was also one of the most ethical, hardworking and genuinely nice people she’d ever met.

  ‘Call for you, Atharv,’ she said and he looked up, a preoccupied look on his face.

  ‘Who is it?’ he asked, shutting his laptop.

  ‘Koyal,’ said Kimberly.

  His face brightened in an instant and Kimberly could only stare at the transformation. She shook her head – no, she couldn’t let that make her feel all weird, she wasn’t going to be that kind of woman.

  ‘Oh brilliant, thanks Kim,’ he said. He got up and walked out of his office to take the call, leaving behind Kimberly who slumped into the chair he’d been sitting in seconds ago.

  The door was open and she could hear Atharv’s voice.

  It sounded so happy.

  Too happy.

  ‘That is great,’ he was saying. His accent, she noted, was now more British than it was American.

  ‘Um … let me check my diary … hmm … how about Saturday evening?’

  Saturday evening.

  The evenings she most looked forward to. It had become a tradition for the single people in their department to head out for a classy dinner in central London. Most doctors led lives so consumed with work and patients that they ended up being one another’s social circle too – and that was such a brilliant excuse to spend more time with Atharv out of the hospital. God only knew what all Kimberly had said no to, just to be at the restaurant every Saturday evening.

  ‘That’s the only time I’m not operating,’ he was saying, laughing.

  ‘See you, bye.’

  Pause. She said something to which he laughed.

  ‘You are mad,’ he said, laughing in the nicest way possible.

 

‹ Prev