by S. , Sindhu
“I have forwarded you the mails, Anjali. Have fun!”
The messages were cheap. She tried to believe they were made up. Surely a prank by some spurned colleague of Lara. But why Siddharth, of all people? Why did she want to believe Siddharth was not capable of it even after his confession about Miranda? Probably Sunaina was another of them. But why was she so blind and forgiving?
Should she ask him about it now? What if he snapped at her? She could not afford to lose her peace at their last meeting. Control, she hushed her mind.
Siddharth appeared to have calmed down.
“We will continue to meet sometimes, won’t we?” he finally asked.
“We’ll keep in touch. But no, not the webcam thing you do with Lara.” Before she realised it, Anjali had blurted out.
His face lost colour as he clenched his jaw, while his breath came in ragged gasps. His usual tactic; when caught, turn aggressive.
“What? What webcam?” he shouted. “What’s the new drama? There you go again, your gut feeling!”
“Shut up, Siddh. It’s no imagination. Your chat messages and videos are being circulated among your old colleagues. Remember, I, too, happen to be one of them.” Tears welled up in her eyes. She willed them to freeze up. Her limbs trembled with excitement and exhaustion. She rubbed her stomach as if to straighten the knots inside, straining to breathe.
After a brief silence, Siddharth started off again. “So what? What’s the big deal? What if I had some fun with her? With anyone else, for that matter? What is your problem? Why is it wrong when others do it and right when you do?”
Anjali could not believe it was happening. Could she be dreaming? Was he out of his mind? Or was he joking? How could he?
He looked villainous at that moment. His eyes had a malicious sharpness when they stared at her, and his mouth was contorted.
Something cold in her stomach made her weak. She held onto the railing of the bench to stop her body from shaking violently. Her face went ashen. Everything around appeared blurred and then there was darkness.
When she opened her eyes, it was drizzling. A worried Siddharth was on his knees beside her.
“I’m sorry, Anjali. Please forgive me. I should not have been rude. But you are forever in a fantasy world. You need to face reality. You wouldn’t.”
Anjali sat up. She felt shaky.
Siddharth interrupted her thoughts. “All that had happened much before you entered my life. Listen, Anjali, I have spent the happiest moments of my life with you, here. Don’t say anything more and spoil it all for us.”
Anjali reached for his arm and placed her head on his shoulder. Warm tears soaked his shirt sleeve. He sat on the bench beside her and held her close. She could hear his heart pounding while hers seemed to slow down.
Would he forget her completely? She watched the thoughtful Siddharth. His eyes were moist and red. He was probably more worried about his reputation.
And then it began to snow. Tiny puffs fluttered down alongside raindrops and hail.
“It’s snowing after four long years,” a passerby remarked.
Anjali was lost for words as she sat watching the snow transform the world around them.
“Awesome!” she said as if in a dream. “This is heavenly.”
She forgot her sorrow and Siddharth. Once the fall slowed, she held his hand and looked at him with sad eyes.
She was witnessing something she had always wanted to, the blissful snowfall. She was overwhelmed by the event. It was like a sign from above.
He, too, seemed overwhelmed, but perhaps only at the irony of the situation. Had it been a year ago, it would have been different. Then they had been a perfectly happy couple.
Siddharth shifted his focus to the snowfall around them. Snow would cover the ground in a thick blanket for days. A day or two later, the fallen snow on the roadside would turn dirty, powerless to stop the clingy dust and slime.
It awoke him to the sad reality that Anjali would not be there with him to see the next snowfall.
Siddharth felt tears trickling down his cheeks. He tightened his grip on her hand. She moved away, pulling her hand free from his.
“I need to go now.”
“I’ll drop you off at the institute,” he said.
“No, no. Someone is coming to pick me up.”
Anjali turned around and walked away from him, like a stranger. He stood there watching her.
She hesitated near the steps and quickly walked back. Before he understood what was happening, she had walked away again, in calmness.
Siddharth moved his palm over his right cheek. Had she really slapped him, or was he imagining it? Where did she get all that strength from?
Siddharth stared at her as she walked down the slope. He did not want to return to the spot ever.
Anjali wiped her tears away with a cold, upturned palm. Why was she so weepy? She ought to be strong. She was free now, emotionally free. But why the hell did she miss him? Why was she still so miserable?
She admonished herself, disappointed with her emotions.
She must not meet him again. He was a closed CHAPTER.
She would not be alone, with Swapna, aai, and Rishi around. Besides, she was the winner in a certain sense.
But it just did not feel that way.
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28
CHAPTER
Stings
The taxi moved along the metro rail on its way to Kailash Colony and came to a halt in front of his apartment.
Siddharth cursed the day. Why did the car have to break down that morning? And why was his editor in a bad mood the same day? The year was beginning on a bad note. Hopefully the whole of 2003 would not follow the pattern set by January.
Chandni took a while to answer the doorbell.
Not a good sign, he told himself as she opened the door. She walked back to the study without even acknowledging his presence. He noticed her swollen face, flushed as if from crying.
It looked like yet another of her terrible lows. The usual suspect, menopause? Chandni was barely forty-three, not old enough for menopause. Pre-menopause, or was it thyroid?
Siddharth walked into the master bedroom next to the study. He could hear a familiar male voice comforting Chandni.
His usual cup of tea was missing on the side table. That was strange. It meant some serious trouble this time.
The hushed male voice in the study amidst Chandni’s sobs made him curious. Siddharth walked into the room to discover Avtar perched next to Chandni, with a consoling arm around her.
Siddharth controlled a rising rage, recalling the encounter in the coffeehouse in Shimla.
“OK, Siddh, I must go now. You better explain to her about your Shimla friend,” Avtar strutted towards the door, swelling with self importance.
As if prompted by his cold stare, Avtar added, “Chandni called me up to ask if I knew anything about your frequent Shimla trips. I told her that I had met you once at the Mall Road with your friend,” he said, throttling a chuckle.
Chandni’s sobs grew louder.
Siddharth wiped the sweat along his temples with the back of his hand.
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29
CHAPTER
Snowfall
Siddharth walked out of the station after seeing off Hriday.
The school alumni meeting had given them an opportunity to recall the good old days after thirty-five years.
This was the first time Hriday had attended the event. He could do it only because he happened to be vacationing in India on that day, for the first time since he had taken up a job in Bahrain.
Siddharth decided to stay in Shimla for a couple of days. It was Chandni’s idea to extend the occasion to a family holiday in the hills. “It’s been almost a year since we went on a holiday,” she had reasoned. Siddharth, too, thought it was a good idea to agree to a family retreat, though Shimla was the last place he wanted to spend time with Chandni.
He had been avoiding trips to Shimla for the pas
t four years, since his last meeting with Anjali at Scandal Point. He had been to the hills only twice for meetings. This was meant to be another such trip, until Chandni decided otherwise.
Shimla reminded Siddharth of Anjali. He could feel her presence all over the place. It brought back strong memories, the time spent with her — an unforgettable CHAPTER in his life. The veins that throbbed on her forehead when she got excited, the dimples that charmed him when she smiled, and the tears that waited to tumble out of her eyes when she was sad: he could see everything vividly when he was here. It disturbed him, made him feel guilty.
She had never answered any of his emails after that snowy day. He did not have any number to call her to find out if she was all right. He felt a lump in his throat as he walked out of the station, trying to dismiss his heavy heart as mere Shimla blues. Siddharth brushed back his hair and looked at the moving train as it left the station. A frail figure standing near the entrance of the booking office caught his attention. She looked familiar.
“Anjali?” His heart skipped a beat. It was Anjali. She stood there like a lost child.
Did she still live in Shimla? All these years… he could not believe his eyes.
“Anjali,” he called out, rushing towards her, crushing the initial hesitation.
Anjali turned around and stared at him with wide eyes, eyebrows raised. She looked as pretty as ever. She had perhaps become leaner. He noted the pained expression and felt his heart sink as he returned her strained smile.
Siddharth felt sad. He hoisted the heavy bag she was struggling with onto the wooden bench.
“You lived here all the while?” he asked.
“Oh! Yes. I just couldn’t stay away from this place for long. Actually, I am waiting for my friends now, to see them off,” she said, looking away.
Why was she so nervous?
“Mama, I’m cold!” He looked curiously at the little girl with a pink scarf wrapped around her head standing next to Anjali and tugging at her shawl.
“Is this your daughter?” he asked, eyes fixed on the child, feeling a sudden sadness. He could see the striking similarity to Anjali. The child hid shyly behind her mother when she became aware of the stranger’s scrutiny.
“She’s my daughter, Manaswini.”
“What does it mean, Manaswini, the name?” he tried to pretend that he was unaffected.
“The beloved,” she said, glancing at his greying head.
“You never told me that you were married.” He felt foolish to have complained.
She said nothing.
“And her father, is he here?
She nodded her head, half searching his eyes.
Siddharth did not wish to meet the man. He still felt possessive about her.
“After all these years…,” he began.
“There you are!” A couple came towards Anjali, interrupting him.
Siddharth watched as Anjali walked towards them, the child sprinting after her.
Manaswini looked comfortable with the couple. The woman scooped her up and started chatting away. The little girl seemed to be fond of her.
Anjali’s daughter was around three years old, which meant she was married soon after they parted. That probably explained why she never wanted to have any contact with him.
The man walked towards him, took Anjali’s bag from the bench, and carried it inside the train.
Siddharth watched Anjali as she hugged her daughter and kissed her greedily before the woman carried the child with them to the train.
The train was about to depart. Anjali held the child’s hand, talking to her through the window. Anjali was not going. The child was probably going away with them on a short holiday, he guessed.
Siddharth waited. Something was amiss. Anjali was weeping inconsolably as she turned away from the child and walked towards him. He placed his hand on her shoulder and looked at her with raised eyebrows and a racing heart. She wiped her tears, and turned towards her daughter, who was waving her scarf at her mother. Anjali managed to smile through her tears.
With eyes fixed on her child’s direction, Anjali almost whispered, “She is going away with them to the UK next week.”
“They have adopted her,” she added, a gasp escaping her frail body.
“What? And why?” Siddharth spat out his disbelief. “Don’t do it, Anjali, don’t.”
“I can’t, Siddh. I’m not well. I can’t even take care of myself. How can I give her love or attention? She is such a lovely child, you know,” she said amidst sobs. “She deserves a perfect family.”
Siddharth stared at her, overwhelmed. Was she out of her mind?
“That’s Swapna and her husband Raj,” Anjali said.
So her friend had remarried!
“My girl is safe with them,” Anjali’s words snapped him out of that thought.
She was justifying the decision to herself more than to him, it seemed.
“What about you? You won’t miss her?” he asked, perturbed.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. He could not believe Anjali could do something so foolish.
“She’ll be with me for her vacations. I can visit her whenever I wish to. If I ever feel like taking her back, I can.”
“What about her father? Where is he?” he asked, jaws clenched. How irresponsible!
“You separated?”
She didn’t answer.
The train rolled out of the station. The little girl at the window waved her hand nonstop at her mother. Anjali waved back, teary eyed.
He could still read her face. Standing there alone, her world passing by, she looked miserable. It pained him. He felt responsible in some way. But why?
He watched the child’s face as the train passed them. She seemed more familiar now, like a face from a recurring dream. He felt his heart would jump out.
Anjali stood there, still waving, though the train had rolled away towards the valley.
He remembered that she had told him nothing about her husband. He placed his hands on her shoulders, turned her towards him and asked in a shaky voice, “The child, is she…?” Words choked in his throat.
Anjali heaved a sigh. She moved away from him. She appeared composed. Siddharth watched the sudden transformation. It reminded him of old times.
“Yes, she’s yours,” she said. She smiled, and walked away, not waiting for his reaction.
He did not know what to do, or feel. The smiling face of the child, his daughter, the daughter he had always wanted, given away to strangers, was now a frozen image in his mind. He felt cheated.
He wanted to stop Anjali. He wanted his child.
Instead, he stood there watching her walk away from him, yet again. But this time, she was more than just another woman in his life. She was the mother of his child, just the way Chandni was.
He did not know how to feel. He realised that he had stopped feeling for some time now.
It was getting colder.
“It might snow in a day or two,” he heard a passerby tell his companion.
It would be the first snowfall of the year.
Siddharth remembered Anjali’s words like a whisper from the past: “How amazing, love, the way the snow makes the proud deodars bow.”
THE END