‘Yep.’
We stop at the gate and unload her suitcases. The bell boy of the hotel refuses to pick them up for free. They are huge and heavy. I fish out a hundred-rupee note and he smiles.
‘Seriously? This is where we’re going to stay?’ she asks again.
I nod and ask the manager for a room. The manager informs us that Tiya and Shrey moved into the last room available and that he might allow us to share that room if we pay a little extra. We do so and instruct the hotel guy to take the luggage to Shrey’s room. The waiter dumps all the suitcases in front of the room and goes away. He is half-dead and has a broken spine for sure. We knock on the door and Shrey opens it after the third knock.
‘Where the f … fu … fuck were you, man?’ Shrey shouts out as he opens the door. ‘And Avantika! Welcome to our trip! And our hotel … and our room.’
I look at him. He looks strange. I look at Tiya. She looks stranger. Oh fuck. They are drunk! Like majorly drunk; they look like they’re about to pass out. Their eyes are rolling over and they have silly smiles plastered across their faces.
‘Did you drink?’ I ask and Tiya waves a bottle from behind. She looks sloshed and her head keeps bobbing from side to side.
‘You can’t be serious,’ Avantika says and enters the room.
I get down to my job—the suitcases. Shrey and Tiya look at me with wide-open eyes as I pick the suitcases one by one and bring them inside the room. ‘How many?’ Tiya mocks in her drunken state.
‘Twelve,’ I say as I huff and pant. Still seven to go. My back snaps into two, my body revolts against the weight.
‘Actually it was a long business trip. So, I had to,’ Avantika defends herself.
‘Long trip? You were there for three days,’ Shrey adds and both of them, the drunken fools, laugh.
I want to join in the laughter but I can’t laugh at Avantika. She is my baby. Everything she does is forgiven.
‘Shut up, Shrey. I was going to be there for two weeks,’ Avantika says. ‘And you! You should be home.’
‘I am eighteen. I can run away from home if I want to,’ Tiya says and takes a gulp from the vodka bottle.
‘It seems fun now, but you’re going down the wrong road, trust me,’ Avantika says with authority in her voice.
‘Achha? We will see what happens! You’re just jealous that you’re not young and fun any more. Twelve suitcases for a three-day trip! Even the three of us combined don’t have more than four.’
Avantika looks at the tiny four bags, those that belong to the rest of us, collects herself, and says, ‘You’re going to puke soon.’
‘No, I’m not!’ she says and the vodka bottle finds her lips again, this time for a little longer.
‘Isn’t she super hot?’ Shrey says and hugs her. Avantika looks uncomfortable. I think she has taken what Tiya just said seriously. She sits on the bed and I hug her.
‘Is something wrong?’ I whisper in her ears. She shakes her head unconvincingly, flicks her hair and looks away.
Suddenly, Shrey shouts out, ‘OH SHIT!’
We look at him and notice that Tiya is starting to shudder. She has both her hands on her mouth and her eyes are bulging; she is going to puke. Shrey moves away from Tiya and Avantika rushes to her side. She helps Tiya to her feet and walks her to the washroom, while I pray to God that she doesn’t puke anywhere outside it. Avantika closes the door behind them. Shrey and I look at each other and exchange a dirty expression. It’s disgusting when girls drink and puke. Only guys have the right to be disgusting. We play that part better. Plus, you can no longer kiss a girl once she has puked! Ugh. We hear sounds from inside the washroom and initiate small talk to drown out her coughs and other detestable noises. Tiya automatically becomes a little less hot for me.
‘Tiya has some balls, man,’ I say.
‘Yes, she does. She talks back to Avantika. And no one does that! Not even her boyfriend.’
‘Very funny. But yes, she is crazy … and not in a good way.’
‘C’mon, she is so much like Avantika used to be! I still remember your college days. Those insane make-out sessions, the wacky night outs … I’ve always wanted all that. Avantika should have dated me and not an ugly geek like you,’ he mocks.
‘Who says we don’t have insane make-out sessions now?’ I say, offended. I don’t care if someone calls me ugly, because that’s partly true, but I’m very touchy about my sex life.
‘Whatever. I love the way Tiya is. The things she does. It’s freaky! Yes, she is a little young … but that doesn’t matter, right?’ he says.
‘But she is mad! She got drunk in fifteen minutes and puked. She doesn’t have any freaking sense.’
‘Fuck you, Deb. She will learn.’
‘Let’s see,’ I say.
We lie back and wait for the girls to come out. After about half an hour, Tiya stumbles out and we help her on to the bed. She looks half-dead. Avantika tucks her inside a blanket and looks at Shrey with murderous eyes.
‘Shrey are you mad? She is just a kid. And you’re encouraging her stupid decisions,’ she says.
‘I tried to stop her.’
‘You did? You just stood there and grinned. I’ve never seen someone more irresponsible. If you love her, then don’t ruin her life. And if you don’t, please find someone who is immune to your stupidity. If you have a little sense left, you better start taking care of her or leave her. I don’t know if you realize it, but you can and you are destroying her.’
Avantika’s outburst shakes us up a little. She gets on the bed and asks the two of us to manage something on the ground. Then she switches off the light. I look at Shrey and curse him. I could be hugging Avantika right now. As I’m going to sleep, my phone rings. It’s a text from Avantika.
Am I getting old? Boring?
I reply.
Are you crazy! No!
The phone beeps again.
I wish you could hug me right now. Love you, Deb.
1 November 2010
‘What good is intimacy if you don’t love the person you are intimate with? I have never understood it and I never will.’
Ragini is slowly taking over my life. She is all over my internet space too. I added her on Google Talk and the little green light, whenever I see it, makes my day. Today, we talked about relationships, even though I wanted to avoid it. I wasn’t scared about telling her about my past relationships, I have nothing to hide, but I was scared to know about hers. Anyway, we started to talk and she wanted to know everything about Sumi, my first girlfriend.
She was Pappus ex-girlfriend. Sumi and I came close when Pappu and I had drifted apart. Pappu was a big flirt and I don’t blame him. When you’re young and popular, it’s hard to stick around in one relationship. I was surprised when one day Pappu, drunk and out of his senses, abused me, and told me that I had snatched his girlfriend away from him. Anyway, Sumi was short, very fair and quite nice. I had really started liking her. We were together for two years and broke up in twelfth grade. She was in St Thomas and the school had really strict rules for twelfth grade students. We didn’t get much time to talk and be together. So we split. It was nothing unpleasant. We were friends for long even after the break-up. But we haven’t seen each other for long. I think I should call her one of these days.
Ragini was surprised, even chuckled, when I told her that I hadn’t kissed Sumi, or any other girl for that matter. She didn’t believe me when I told her that I felt physical intimacy is something that should be shared only between two people in love. And I know I love Ragini—not because she is pretty, has beautiful eyes and smells like the first blossom of spring. I love her for the person she is. The way she crinkles her nose when she sees a beggar on the street, how she closes her eyes whenever we cross a holy place, how she listens to whatever I say and acts empathetic … there are many reasons to love her and not one to not.
I have never shared anything about my life with anyone. Somehow, I have always maintained the bully exterior while in
side I have been a little boy craving for love and attention. Ragini asks questions and things about me that no one else has ever asked or cared about. Today, she asked me about my parents and why I never talked about them.
My relationship with my parents was not always strained. I had spent a considerable time at boarding school, but the years of separation is not why I am angry; I am angry for Nivedita. Nivedita is my sister. She does not exist for my parents, though she means everything to me. Nivedita was eleven and I had just turned fifteen when she was brought into our house. It was a few months after that man had been crushed to death under the wheels of the speeding truck. I was told that her biological parents, my maternal uncle and aunt, had died in a car crash, and Nivedita had suffered severe brain damage. Her growth had been stunted and she couldn’t talk or even walk like us. She was confined to a wheelchair and could only smile. For all practical purposes, she was dead. I had never met her before. They used to live in Dubai. The first time I set eyes on her was at the airport. She was in a wheelchair. She smiled at me and we forged an instant bond.
I used to ask many questions in those days. Why couldn’t she talk? Why couldn’t she walk? Why does she just stare and smile?
That’s all Nivedita did—she smiled. She was virtually dead for everyone, but not for me. I spent that summer sitting by the side of her wheelchair, holding her hand and talking to her. Everyone else thought she had only one smile, but I could count millions of different ones. I knew what each of them meant. I told her everything and her smiles were the only responses that mattered to me. We used to spend hours together and she was the very friend I needed. She was the treasurer of all my secrets and my guiding light.
But a few days after my vacation ended, my parents packed her off to a mental asylum. I did not know about this until two months later. I fought, cried and threatened, but nothing worked. They were not going to get her back. I cried for days on end. Then I stole some money and visited the asylum in Gandhinagar, Gujarat. It took me two days and five buses to reach there. When I first saw her in the mental asylum, her body weak, frail and slumped over the wheelchair, I cried uncontrollably. I asked her to take care of herself and promised her that I would see her every fifteen days, and in return, she smiled as if to tell me that she missed me.
Ever since that day, no matter how busy I am, I go to that place every fifteen days to meet my sister, my only family. My relationship with my parents has not been the same since. I am not sure whether they realize this or not and I don’t care. I love my sister and she is all that matters. I wish to shift out of my parents’ house and get her out of that place. I don’t like her being there alone.
I told Ragini all this and she cried. She said that I was a nice person and that she was lucky to have me as her friend. I saw no sense in that sentence. I was the lucky one, not her. It was four in the morning and she had to sleep, but she said she would try to meet me tomorrow.
I wish I could see her tomorrow.
3 November 2010
‘I would never want her to be referred to as my girlfriend, a term too polluted and often abused, because she is much more than that. Why call her anything else when she has a name so beautiful?’
Every day I find myself more in love in with her. Every day that passes by draws me closer to her. Over the last so many days that we have been talking, I have been meaning to ask her what I mean to her, if I do mean anything at all. I want to ask her whether she sees me as a potential boyfriend, but I will not, because I don’t believe in the terms ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’. These terms are too frivolous and are just used to introduce people. I believe more in the word ‘soulmate’. It makes so much sense. When you’re in love, it’s meant for life, isn’t it? If not, then what defines love? A cup of coffee shared together? A drink? A night of merriment and intimacy? I don’t think so.
I am not in a hurry to propose to her because that’s another thing I don’t believe in. I just want to tell her that I love her. If she loves me, it’s okay. If she doesn’t, I can’t force her. I don’t know how to put this across to her.
Yesterday, we bunked our classes and went for a quiet lunch, just the two of us. She ditched her zillion other friends for me and it felt nice. Apart from feeling wanted and loved, it tells me that I am important to her. I really don’t know where this relationship is heading, but I have a good feeling about it. I don’t know what she means when she looks at me and says she’s glad she found me, but I know that somewhere in her heart, she feels the way I do. It could be a fool’s dream but it makes me happy.
I look at other couples and feel sorry for them. I see the guy whisper in the girl’s ear when they enter a movie hall and I know they want to make out during the movie. What I feel for Ragini is very different. I love her. That’s the only emotion she evokes. I just want to be with her and hear her talk and listen to me. Everything else is incidental and unnecessary. I don’t think a kiss shared between us would in any way be superior to a long conversation between us. Having said that, I don’t think I will turn down a kiss either.
She wanted to tell me something today. She said it is serious and I would judge her and leave her. She is silly. The only thing that can make me leave her is she herself.
I wish I could see her tomorrow.
Haridwar
A warm breath grazes my neck, and I hear a soft whisper in my ear: ‘Get up.’ Avantika looks at me and smiles, her hair falls over my face and she smells of expensive moisturizers and shampoo.
Shrey and Tiya haven’t woken up yet. I get up and follow Avantika to the balcony, where she has already ordered tea for us. The tea tastes horrible but the early morning breeze is amazing. We look inside and Shrey has already moved to the bed. He hugs Tiya, who purrs in her sleep, and kisses her on her neck. Avantika looks at them and smiles. I wrap myself around Avantika and hold her close.
‘That girl is crazy,’ she says.
‘I know. I don’t know what Shrey is doing with her.’
‘Naah, she is a nice girl. She apologized yesterday’ she says.
‘She did?’
Avantika nods.
‘Deb … why Haridwar?’
‘Umm, just like that,’ I say.
‘You can hide it from them, but not from me,’ she says, as scepticism drips from her eyes. I try to lie but I’ve never lied to her. I give up. I knew this was coming and I was wondering last night what’s taking her so long.
‘Fine, I will tell you.’
We sit down with our legs hanging from the ledge and I start to tell her everything that has happened since the day of the blast. She is partly shocked, partly interested. But mostly she thinks I have gone mad.
‘Why didn’t you tell me before, Deb?’
‘I didn’t want you to think I’m crazy.’
‘I think I would have,’ she says and smiles. ‘Why are you doing this? Are you okay?’
‘See? That’s why I didn’t tell you. You think I’m crazy don’t you?’
‘Aww. I don’t, Deb. I just want to know why. I can ask that, right?’
‘Of course, you can, but I don’t know,’ I say. ‘I just want to know about this guy. I just think it could have been me.’
‘Don’t say that. Nothing will ever happen to you.’
‘But, Avantika … I have you. You know what I have for you. You know what my parents mean to me and what Shrey means to me. If tomorrow I am not there any more, you can tell them that. This guy died without telling anyone. Piyush, his girl … I could have been him. I could have gone without telling you how much I love you. This story is not yet finished,’ I say.
She has tears in her eyes. She doesn’t give a shit about the guy in the diary, she cares about me.
‘I would’ve known you love me,’ she says and I kiss away a sole teardrop resting on her cheek.
‘I know it’s crazy but I want to find the girl from the diary and hand this over to her. The guy deserves it, don’t you think?’ I ask.
‘I am coming w
ith you.’
‘Don’t you have office tomorrow?’
‘That can wait. It’s been so long since we took a vacation. Maybe this will rejuvenate me. And make me a little younger. Maybe fun too,’ she says a little sadly.
Aw! You will always be sixteen to me.’
She smiles. ‘Deb, can I read it? The diary?’
‘How can I ever say no to you?’ I say and fetch it from my bag.
As soon as I give it to her, I see the small pearls of tears accumulate at the corners of her eyes. I know what she’s thinking. The burnt edges of the diary bring vivid and scary images to one’s head. The person who possessed it burnt to death and the diary was probably what he was holding in his dying moments. It’s a powerful feeling and you can only feel it when it happens to you.
I keep her close as she starts to read the diary. I wrap a blanket around us as it’s a little chilly outside. She looks at me intermittently and she can barely keep herself from crying. It’s as if her eyes keep asking me the same question—‘Is he really dead?’ It’s amazing how much sympathy the dead guy evokes.
Anyway, I like these moments. Traditionally, the guy is supposed to take care of the girl he’s in love with. But with Avantika, it doesn’t work that way. Avantika has always been a strong woman and never needed my help in doing anything. She is as good with screwdrivers and laptops as she is with her make-up. But in these moments of vulnerability, like the one right now, I feel like a man. I can hold her, hug her and tell her that I will be there and I will make everything all right. I have always waited for times like these when I can make her feel like a little baby who needs to be cared for. Usually it’s only me who needs a lot of care.
Avantika and I had prepared for the CAT (Common Admission Test) together—the exam to get into most of the elite management colleges—and I know that she is a fast reader.
She used to be lightning-quick with the English passages we had to read through to answer multiple-choice questions. But she takes her own sweet time reading this diary, stopping and rereading certain sections.
If It’s Not Forever: It’s Not Love Page 8