by Faraaz Kazi
Two days after his father’s confrontation, Rahul called Seema on her landline number. Luckily, she answered with an impatient ‘Hello’ and Rahul did not want the opportunity to go waste.
“Hi Seema, this is Rahul. How are you? How are studies going on?” he greeted her.
For a second, Seema gasped on hearing him but she soon disguised her shocked look with a friendly smile noticing her mother, who was within hearing distance.
“Haha, wrong question to ask you. Obviously, the preparations would have already started,” he said nervously, holding the receiver to his ear.
“Yeah, studies are fine,” Seema said a little loudly than usual, hoping it sounded plainly platonic.
“And how is everyone at home?” he said, trying to build a rapport.
“Fine,” Seema answered.
“What are they teaching you in tuitions these days?” he suddenly asked, hoping studies would interest her.
“Matrix Alegbra,” Seema said, disinterested.
“Oh, that’s a cool topic. I know it like the back of my hand, in fact I had certain notes which I had prepared personally and
I’m sure you’ll find them interesting. If you could meet me...” his
voice trailed.
“No, thanks. I’m pretty good at the topic myself,” Seema said haughtily and banged the receiver as she saw her mother step in the kitchen.
The next day he called again but keeping the topics on friendly lines was not much of a help either. She was just not ready to hear his voice croon in her ears.
This continued for some days. Rahul would call her, sweetening his voice to the extent of Sapna’s if someone other than her answered his call and when she came on the phone, Rahul would attempt to talk to her like any other friend and then try to convince her to meet him once to sort it out.
“Are you ok?” he asked her as soon as she came on the phone one evening, she had not gone for her tuitions that day and he had called her to check whether she was fine.
“Yes, I’m ok…” she said, making a bored expression, “…and I would be more than ok if you would stop troubling me,” she added before banging down the receiver.
He dialled her number again and pleaded with her not to disconnect the call again.
He then asked her about her studies and how she was dealing with subjects that were usually tough. He advised her to form a daily schedule and stick to it and also practice the speed at which she wrote her answers and to solve past year university papers in a simulated examination scene. He offered to help her in Science if she wanted. He asked her how many chapters they had been taught in school and how many had been completed in her tuitions. She kept on answering as if it was a structured questionnaire. ‘Yes’ and ‘No’ was all that she said.
“Give me a chance,” he heard himself plead out of the blue, the wish of his heart founding his tongue, as the conversation carried on.
“Argghhh…” Seema sounded irritated on the other side.
“I’m sorry… we can sort it out… I promise… give me a chance,” Rahul tried to find words that could explain what he had in his heart but his breaking voice would not let him.
“Listen, this is the final time I’m telling you. I give no second chances to anyone, not even to myself. You got yours and I don’t even want to think about it. I hate you for what you did to poor Bhavik last week and I hate you for… for everything! Please don’t disturb me and for God’s sake, don’t ever call me again,” she rebuffed him before keeping down the receiver at her end.
Seema was not able to concentrate on her studies because Rahul kept ‘disturbing’ her, as he had no option to lull his aching heart. She was annoyed and scolded him in a rash manner, threatening to complain about him to her mother. Rahul, who thought that things would calm down and sort themselves out, still saw a ray of hope for their future and so the calls had to stop, as he did not want any altercations with his prospective mother-in-law.
Soon, Rahul resumed his earlier schedule but now he would not be content of just staring at her but he wanted to talk to her whenever she was on her way for her tuitions. He stood at the nearby bus stop for hours in advance, in eager anticipation that someday she might come a little early and that time could be utilised to have a heart to heart talk.
And one fine day, Seema did leave home early to learn about India’s freedom struggle in her class. Midway, Rahul stopped her, but she did not listen.
“Please leave me alone. Don’t you understand? I have my boards this year,” she said.
‘What about mine? I had them too,’ he thought but did not voice it lest he would offend her again.
“What about next year? I can wait for you for a year, for a lifetime even,” he said without thinking.
She looked at him the way one eyes a fly in their soup.
“We could even take admission in the same college. I would perhaps be joining Khalsa soon. I know my score isn’t that good but papa will surely ensure that I get a good seat and I’m sure you would get there too next year. We can then …” he was interrupted by her saying in a slow irritated tone,
“Listen, I have to go now. Why don’t you come tomorrow? We can perhaps talk about it and moreover I have a surprise for you that you wouldn’t have thought of.”
“I will be here around the same time. Do take care and hey, good luck for whatever you learn today,” he shouted but she had already walked ahead and did not look back.
***
The next day, Rahul was there much before time, in anticipation of what seemed to be the turning of the tide. Seema came at the usual time; she seemed to be happy about something. She was carrying a couple of books in her hand and her usual black bag was missing.
She nodded to herself upon seeing him. Seeing that, Rahul’s joy
knew no bounds! He was excited. He thought after so much
striving, he had finally melted her heart but his happiness vanished as soon as Seema took out a rakhi, a short traditional thread
that as per ritual, sisters tie on the wrists of their brothers. She proceeded further, to place it around Rahul’s immobile wrist. Rahul remembered ‘Raksha Bandhan’ was nearing. He regained his senses and pulled his wrist away just in time before she could tie the knot.
“If you can’t be what I desire you to be, then you have no right to be anything else and never in my wildest dream, will I make you my sister,” he scolded.
“I’m glad that you finally realise that it is no use running after me and that I cannot be in any relation with you. I’m happy the way I am and I don’t need you or anyone to make me happy. If you really want me to be happy then don’t ever trouble me again. Let me live in peace and you leave in peace!” Seema said, looking into his eyes, maintaining her resolute face.
When Rahul could say nothing more, more out of shock than anything else, Seema left, but just before leaving she looked at him and threw a crumbled parchment on his face.
He picked it up and opened it as she walked away. It was the same sketch he had painfully drawn for her on her birthday – her sketch. The second paper, which contained the words of his love, was missing; evidently it had been torn away and discarded. He carefully folded it and kept it in his pocket, as the ground around him started to swim.
Rahul was inconsolable. The words echoed in his mind over and over again. The pain refused to cease. She had praised him so much for that sketch; she had said that it was her best birthday ever; she had been touched by his gestures. But what had happened now to change all that? Were his mistakes bigger than the grave sins, his enemies had indulged in?
The hollowness in Rahul’s chest multiplied manifold. To control the giddiness in his head, he momentarily sat down under the
shade of a tree and put his head between his hands. When he removed them, his hands were sodden, as if he had held them underwater for hours. The tears not only flowed from his eyes but also from the skies as the monsoon heralded its arrival of the season with a huge downpour.
&n
bsp; Suddenly, he remembered that he had not noticed Seema carrying an umbrella in her hand. He felt worried when he thought about the repercussions of her getting drenched in such a downpour. Rahul controlled his sorrow and somehow ran in the heavy downpour to procure an umbrella from his home. Within ten minutes, he was back at the same spot. The rain had only caught up in those moments. He remained standing under the umbrella, shivering in the cold rain, sneezing as the water seeped into his wet body. He saw children come out of their houses to dance and women enjoy the dull fragrance of the earth but for him the only reason to rejoice remained her happiness and the only fragrance to savour remained the sweet perfume of her locks.
After a couple of hours, Seema was walking towards a temporary parapet to stand beneath when Rahul spotted her. He made his way to her. On seeing him, she frowned with displeasure.
“Seema, it’s raining heavily. Come I’ll drop you till your colony,” Rahul offered.
“Thanks, but I need no favours from anyone,” Seema said sarcastically.
“Don’t be stupid. Otherwise, go ahead and take my umbrella. You can return it to me later,” Rahul said, extending the umbrella over Seema. She immediately pushed him away.
“Go away, I’ve called home. My sister would be coming soon with an umbrella. I’ll go with her. No need for you to worry,” Seema said over the roar of the rain.
“Seema, it’s not a good idea to wait here in the dark. Please go ahead with this umbrella. I promise I won’t follow you…” Rahul said, a small drop of water merging with the beads on his face.
“I don’t need your sympathy. Go away, before I shout for help,” Seema threatened.
“I’m placing the umbrella here, in case you need it,” Rahul said but she ignored him.
Rahul kept the umbrella near her feet and walked away slowly. He hid himself at a distance and watched the proceedings. Almost half an hour later, her elder sister came with a small umbrella and under it, both of them walked off to their home. Rahul slowly ambled across and collected his fallen umbrella, not caring to open it again. He made his way home slowly. That night it did not rain as much in the sky as it did in his heart. He turned and twisted in his bed, the fever and cold were but, temporary ailments.
***
Scrutinising Rahul’s recent behaviour, his father’s worries did not remain just confined to his work. After failing to evoke responses from him, he decided to send him abroad for his further studies to Pennsylvania. His uncle, who had a good job in North-east Pennsylvania, advocated the decision.
“Look at your condition! Shabby hair, failing health and a mute mouth. I can’t see you like this. Just because you are fighting a stupid heartbreak doesn’t mean that you can forget your family. You have stepped off the right path and are walking towards your own destruction. That’s not what I had in mind when I had an offspring, and that’s surely not what I want to see after slogging it out in the office and coming back home,” his father shouted. He was no doubt angry; his earlier coaxing had fallen on deaf ears.
Rahul did not protest as he used to in his childhood, when father and son would fight and debate on inconsequential topics under the roof. He did not have the energy to. It was as if someone had sapped the entire life out of him. It was as if he was a parasite living just on his thoughts. It was as if only his body existed but there was no soul to enliven it! His sangfroid had been mercilessly pulverised and his usual aplomb had become a thing of the past.
All the preparations were made for Rahul’s departure. All the paraphernalia he needed was packed in two large suitcases, after he had abandoned a big suitcase that mostly contained his leisurely possessions. All the other attachments that Rahul had with things at home left him slowly; but what should have left him long back, stayed with him in his heart. Within a month, Rahul’s visa arrived. Arrangements were made for his stay in a hostel close to his uncle’s house which was just an hour away from his would be school as his father did not want to trouble his brother, who had a family to look after.
His father tried to talk it out with him one final time. Rahul remained deathly quiet throughout the one-sided conversation
until his father left him alone in the room, more out of frustration than of sympathy. God too, did not prove his existence by showing any mercy on his soul. In every dream, he saw none other than Seema. He hoped for some respite but none came. He lost his appetite, the results of which showed up on his body. He longed for Seema, though he knew she never did the same. He begged to God to keep her happy always, even if it meant a lifetime of sorrows for him.
Then came late August, Rahul realised he would not be returning to his motherland for a long time. He decided any vacations he would get, would be spent in discovering his new location and once his studies were completed, he would find a job and rent a small home there. He did not want to come back, never wanted to face this predicament again.
If he would have been allowed to continue his studies here, then his college would have started long back in the earlier weeks of the month but now he was going, going far, to study and perhaps start his life afresh, as his father hoped for him. He realised he had to live now, for his parents and family, if not for himself. In that instant he was reminded of La Rochefoucauld’s immortal lines,
“The pleasure of love is in loving, and one is happier in the passion one feels than in the passion one arouses in another.”
Perhaps, he thought, he may never come back but whatever happened, he always wanted to see Seema happy and joyous. Now that he knew she was, he tried to keep himself happy too. He tried to fake within himself the excitement of settling in a new place, so far from his home. But he could not forget Seema, she was and she would be the happiest memory of his life, no matter the amount of sorrow that had and would cause him. Even if he would weigh the happy and sad memories on a scale, he knew the happy side would sink due to its intensity but his mind argued otherwise.
A rumour of her early engagement with some guy was doing the rounds. He tried to ignore it but it hurt him and brought down his fake excitement. Even though, he had no hope now, some part of him ached with the realisation that she was soon going to belong to someone else. He could not picture her with any other boy. In his eyes there would be none better than him. It was good that he was going away otherwise how he would have faced it, he wondered. He had lost all confidence but still had not lost the certitude to keep her happy. He hoped she would always be happy, if not with him, then without him. Hope was a strange customer and it had never left him, along with despair. If not towards his case to give him glimpses of what could be a happy future, it stayed back at least to warrant her happiness. Rahul decided he wanted to see her, just once, that once, one last time!
***
A RENDEZVOUS TO BID ADIEU!
There was a song that seemed to exist since ages between them and reminded him of their time together – clandestine phone calls, greeting cards stashed in bags to be read at home and gifts buried in study drawers, all came back when it started in the music player of his mind. It was doleful and seductive, and hurt his chest whenever he listened to it. It reminded him of her and eventually, how far away she was from his life.
“Why did I fall in love with you? I did not find you and now
I am lost.
You could neither go away from my dreams nor come in
my arms.”
It was weird that an American radio station was playing an Indian film song and it was not a recent number. Rahul, who had closed his eyes for ten minutes listening to the radio, immediately shot up when the song started. He was in his hostel room sleeping on his bed, having been discharged from the hospital last evening. He was taking rest as the doctor had advised, passively listening to the mundane radio when all of a sudden the lines popped up. It was the same song he would sing to himself when he realised it was the end of the road for him. It caused him invisible pain that did not bother him much but made him repeatedly realise that his love was still incomplete.
> But incomplete love stories are also complete in the sense that there is no one to complete them and their elliptical ending leaves marks that cannot be wiped away by the actions of mortals. Destiny also stops playing its part and fate surrenders the game to become an unworthy audience. His love story – even though incomplete, was complete, he had ensured so. He had ensured her happiness and he had guaranteed his decline, he had made sure to write his fate in ugly blotches of the ink of sorrow and he had ended his love story, though his love lived on.
For a moment, he considered tuning into another station which would perhaps be playing a popular Eminem number but his movements did not coordinate with his thoughts. Water swam in front of his eyes and the thoughts finally overtook the movements. They always did.
“NAY! If thou must depart, thou shalt depart;
But why so soon-oh, heart-blood of my heart?
Go then! Yet-going-turn and stay thy feet,
That I may once more see that face so sweet.
Once more-if never more; for swift days go
As hastening waters from their fountains flow;
And whether yet again shall meeting be
Who knows? Who knows? Ah, turn once more to me!”
-Edwin Arnold.
“Why did you call me here? I hope you stay true to your promise that this is the last time you would be disturbing my peace. I have come a bit early because my tuitions were rescheduled. Please don’t be under the misconception that I want to talk to you and I’m interested in you!” Seema remarked angrily, making sure she didn’t really occupy the trench near the alley which would hide them from passers-by, so that Rahul could not get complete privacy. Thus, both of them remained somewhat in public view, displaying how much the doubts in her mind had sunk in about Rahul’s character. He had no clue of half the tales she had accepted from people.
Rahul didn’t react, when he opened his mouth, Seema was determined to shut him up forever, she cut in again,