Love Lasts Forever

by Khanna, Vikrant

  ‘Oh Ronit!’ she waved her hands dismissively and crashed back in her seat. ‘How many times have I told you I don’t want to get married so soon? I’m just twenty three,’ she protested. ‘And you are what…twenty four?’

  ‘Twenty five, actually,’ I corrected her.

  ‘See!’ she squinched up her nose. ‘We are still so young. There’ll be so many fights after our marriage.’

  ‘No baby,’ I said in a soft whisper, ‘it’s us you are talking about. We’ll never have a fight. I just can’t wait to get married to you.’

  She didn’t look at me and neither did she respond.

  ‘Aisha, look,’ I said, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks. ‘I love you so much and can’t live without you. I don’t care if we are young; I just want to be around you all the time. I want to wake up next to you, have kids with you. I want you to be the first and last person I see every day. I want to hold you in my arms all day long and not wait for your parent’s permission so that you could meet me.’ I took a deep breath before resuming. ‘I can’t be taking flights to Mumbai every now and then just so I can see your lovely face. I miss you so much when I’m in Delhi. My life is perfect with you in it; you have brought out the best in me. Besides, it’s been seven years already, we don’t need any more time to be sure of each other.’

  ‘Aw,’ she said, ‘that was so sweet.’ She smiled, reached out for my hand, and squeezed it. ‘Alright then, Ronit, let’s do this.’

  ‘Really?’

  She nodded. I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked my stars. Finally I would marry the love of my life.

  Over food, we discussed about our parent’s meeting. Finally, I could see that elusive excitement over her face. Yes, we were getting married. Life couldn’t have been better. I decided to tell Joe Singh.

  NO! He always gave me the wrong advice.

  I couldn’t believe it. Our parents refused.

  No, not for the marriage (thankfully), but not so soon! According to Aisha’s parents, Priyank should get married first because she, I mean he, is the elder one.

  ‘We also have an elder son,’ Aisha’s mother stroked her hand affectionately over Priyank’s hair, ‘and we want to get him married first before Aisha. I hope you understand Mrs. Kapoor,’ she said to my mother earlier this afternoon.

  ‘Of course,’ my mother had replied. ‘We ourselves are not keen of it so soon. Ronit is just twenty-four.’

  ‘Twenty-five!’ I’d said through clenched teeth.

  The same evening I was pacing nervously in my room. I wasn’t going to give up so easily and decided to convince first my parents and then Aisha’s parents. I wanted to marry her as soon as possible. For a fleeting moment, her mother’s words played in my mind. We also have an elder son and we want to get him married first before Aisha. Seriously now I had to wait for Priyank to get married? Will that even happen in the first place? It would have been easier to look for a man to get married to him, I wanted to tell her.

  Shunning the thoughts, I sauntered to my mother’s room pondering over the various options in my head to break the ice with her. My mother was the quintessential doting Indian mother whose life revolved around her children. It wouldn’t be too difficult to convince her.

  ‘Mom, I want to get married to Aisha at the earliest,’ I gurgled out, feeling queasy in my stomach.

  She removed her glasses, set aside the magazine she was reading, and leaned forward. ‘What’s the hurry, Pinkoo?’

  Outlandish yes, but that was my pet name. So now you know why I hate the colour pink.

  ‘Because I have waited for her for seven years and because-’

  She agreed. She had to; no mother could see tears in the eyes of her child, howsoever fake. But only one condition she had told me - our kundlis or whatever they are called should match.

  They didn’t. Another bucket load of tears! She agreed. But one final condition – there should be an auspicious date.

  There wasn’t. Not until the next six months, I mean, and I wasn’t going to wait for Aisha for that long. And yet again I cried. Seriously was I becoming Priyank now?

  However this time my mother didn’t agree. She said it would be a bad omen without the kundlis and suitable date. I told her if not within the next month, I will never get married. Her heart melted and she agreed. So that was one target out of the way!

  Next in line were Aisha’s parents. Aisha had told me that her parents were very adamant about getting Priyank married first, they would never agree. So I asked Aisha to set a meeting with her, I mean him.

  We sat in a café near their house, and ordered three cappuccinos. Priyank ordered a couple of cookies.

  Slowly sipping my coffee, I fidgeted in my seat, and looked coyly at Priyank wondering how to even start. Aisha had not told him about the objective of the meeting at my behest. She bit her lip nervously rolling her eyes.

  ‘So Priyank,’ I began casually, ‘when do you plan to tie the knot?’

  He blushed. Seriously.

  ‘I don’t know…’ he said and scratched his eyebrows awkwardly, ‘…may be when I find a nice and homely girl.’

  Homely girl? ‘Okay, that’s nice to hear,’ I replied. ‘Priyank um…I was just wondering,’ I cleared my throat and Aisha looked elsewhere pretending not to be a part of the conversation, ‘if you could please tell your parents that you don’t want to get married for the next um…five years, may be till you become a Captain.’

  Priyank eyed me skeptically. He gave me one of those hmm-I-know-what-you-are-thinking looks. ‘And why would I do that?’

  ‘Don’t you love your sister?’ I asked him dramatically. Aisha snooped in with an innocent look on her face. ‘She’s dying to get married soon but with you in the way…um…you know, she can’t,’ I ended.

  Priyank looked at his sister in anger. ‘You want me to get married five years later?’ he asked with a look of disbelief.

  ‘Oh no, no brother, not at all…’ she said and held up her hands defensively, ‘you didn’t understand. What Ronit is trying to say is that you tell this to mother so that we can get married soon. You know she wouldn’t tell me to wait for five years then. And after our marriage you can do it whenever you want, no problem,’ she conceded, looking at me confused.

  ‘Oh my God! I’m the elder one and you want to get married before me.’

  I remembered our institute days. Bugger had to come first at everything after all. We proffered him an understanding nod and waited for him to calm down.

  ‘Please brother, for us, please,’ Aisha pleaded.

  ‘Please brother, please, please,’ I begged, folding my hands.

  He gritted his teeth and violently shook his head. ‘Never!’

  ‘Please brother, please, I’ll do anything for you.’ I found myself saying that again and regretted it a moment later. Last time those words had proved to be quite expensive.

  ‘Anything?’ His eyes shot up and he asked me in that familiar ominous gaze.

  I took a moment to answer. ‘Anything brother,’ I finally said.

  A minute later I called up Joe Singh and requested him for something. After forty five minutes of requesting, pleading, begging, he finally agreed.

  ‘Dude you owe me big time for this one,’ he yelled before snapping the phone.

  The next day I took Priyank over to Joe Singh’s place when he was alone.

  Priyank had mint tooth paste in his hands.

  And so I managed convincing everybody. Almost a month later on the 14th of February, 2011, we got married. I was the happiest man in the world.

  11. A month in captivity

  July 2011, Somewhere in Somalia

  Happiest man, my foot!

  Well, if you want to know how to dig your own grave, you know whom to ask.

  I can’t believe that I actually convinced everybody for my marriage The question has been ringing in my head again and again, and I can’t believe I actually did that. No one wanted us to get married so soon, not even Aisha. I
should have at least enjoyed a few more years of my bachelor hood, and then, who knows the relationship would have fizzled out on its own. That has to be the biggest irony of my life.

  My wife is partly the reason I am stuck with these pirates today. The amount of anger and frustration I had amassed just a few months after our marriage made me leave my house in a fit of rage. I remember so many times I was told by my company that this ship transits Somalia and they would give me a better option a month later. The crew manager of the company is my maternal uncle - hence the consideration - but I didn’t pay any heed. I just wanted to be away from my wife for a while, anywhere, even in hell. And well, here I am, actually in hell.

  It’s been a month now and we are still awaiting the response from our company. All of us have been kept huddled on the bridge with very limited access to food and water. Although we do get food but it’s only once every day in the form of steamed rice. Sometimes we get boiled potatoes along with it and rarely a vegetable which is anyway inedible. But there’s no fixed timing of when the food would arrive and that’s what makes it all the more excruciating. Other than that we get only half a bottle of water every day which is muddy brown in colour. We use a cloth to filter it as there’s no other choice to quench our thirst. We are not even allowed to move here without their permission. They let us call home just once last week to ask our families to put pressure on the company for the ransom. I had called my mother and cried on the phone with her. The thought of calling Aisha didn’t even occur to me.

  Fortunately they haven’t killed or hurt anymore of us after our cook. However, we live under constant mental strain with death threats if they don’t get their ransom.

  Over the last few days we have noticed a slight change in their behavior toward us. They appear more impatient and agitated as the company hasn’t agreed to their demands yet. They constantly drink in front of us but thankfully, at most, yell or abuse us.

  ‘Hey you, motherfucker!’ my thoughts are interrupted by the growl of one of them. Abuses have become a regular affair nowadays. All of us turn toward the surly voice.

  ‘Who are you staring at, bastard?’ One of the pirate barks at our third engineer. ‘Eyes down, motherfucker!’ the pirate gets up in an alcoholic haze and walks toward him. ‘Eyes down, I said.’

  The third engineer panics and roots his eyes to the ground. From the distance I can see his hands trembling.

  ‘Stand up, stand up bastard!’

  The third engineer looks around in fear. Beads of sweat form on his forehead and he runs a shaking hand across his face to wipe it. His body shudders and he struggles to rise on his feet. ‘S-s-sorry…sir.’

  ‘Who were you staring at bastard?’ The pirate launches himself at him and punches the third engineer in his face, once, twice…repeatedly. There is a crunching sound of a bone and the third engineer whines with pain. ‘S-sorry sir, p-p-please stop…’

  His whining enrages the pirate further and he punches him again and again, unleashing his fury at him. He swings his arms wildly and smashes his fist on the third engineer’s already broken nose and jaw alternately. His other companions continue with their drinks, laugh, and encourage him.

  All of us freeze in fear but we know we can do nothing to stop him. Blood oozes out from the third engineer’s face, and the pirate breaks some of his teeth before throwing him back on the floor. ‘You fucker, don’t you dare stare at me again!’

  The third engineer groans with pain covering his face with his hand. Blood spurts out from between his fingers. He squirms on the ground sobbing, screaming, begging…for help. My lips tremble at his agonizing sight and I resist my urge to offer him first-aid.

  The second officer thinks the better of it and scampers across the bridge over the medical drawer.

  ‘Hey you, asshole!’ the pirate screams at the second officer. ‘What the fuck! Where are you going?’

  ‘I’ll…give him some…medical help.’

  ‘Come here you bastard,’ the pirate bellows. ‘Come, come here!’ He hurls his arms out at him.

  Warily, the second officer trudges toward him, and sneaks a frightening glance at me and Captain. I draw out my hands helplessly and silently admonish him. Just then the pirate takes a big step forward and swings his arms violently across his face.

  ‘Bastard, who do you ask before you move, huh?’ He hollers and slaps the second officer repeatedly. ‘Who you ask?’ he shouts again, and when he doesn’t get the answer, flings his arms continuously at the second officer. He tells something in their language to one of his companion who nods and sprints outside to follow his orders.

  The pirate keeps thrashing the second officer interspersing the hitting with his question, ‘Why you no ask somebody, you motherfucker, huh, why you don’t take permission?’

  His companion returns a minute later with a canister of…OIL.

  Oh my God! What is he planning to do?

  I shoot a frightening look at Captain. The horror in his eyes is mirrored by my own. When I glance back at them my worst fear turns into a dreadful reality when the pirate splashes oil all over the second officer’s body. I glance at Captain again who waggles his finger signaling me not to act.

  I know that Captain but they are…

  But I know Captain is right. There is no way we can stop whatever these guys have thought.

  ‘P-p-lease sir, s-s-sorry sir, p-p-lease don’t do this, p-please…’ The second officer shivers in trepidation and begs the pirate who stands in front of him sneering with a match stick in his hand.

  ‘Ha, ha, ha, bastard,’ the pirate laughs, looking at his companions and the second officer back and forth. All of them laugh and support him. ‘You fuck with us, we’ll fuck you!’

  ‘S-s-sorry sir, very, very s-s-sorry,’ the second officer pleads again.

  All of us watch in horror. I feel like a spineless, impotent man who can do nothing to help my fellow mate. My heart throbs loud against my chest and my breathing has grown fast and shallow. I do a silent prayer in my head. Please God, help him, please, please.

  And just then the unthinkable happens…There is a collective loud gasp when the pirate flicks the match stick in direction of the second officer. Seconds later his whole body is in flames.

  ‘Oh God!’ I whisper to myself, my hands clasped against my mouth.

  Amidst the flames, the second officer is screaming and wincing. He cavorts all over the bridge, and helplessly searches for a cloth or water to smother the fire.

  The pirates continue laughing and smirking. ‘Look at him now, ha, ha,’ one of them says.

  ‘H-h-h-help me someone, p-p-lease, please…,’ he keeps yelling amidst the flames but we do nothing. Some of us cry and others have pressed their eyes shut with their hands clasped to their ears. I keep glancing at the pirates hoping they would stop this madness soon. But they don’t.

  Instead, few minutes later one of them pokes a driftwood in second officer’s chest, and guides him outside the bridge, moving ahead with him, toward the railings, and with a little help of his hands pushes him in the water.

  ‘CAPTAIN!’ The pirate who initiated the fire bellows and makes his way over to the side toward Captain. ‘Tell your people to behave and follow our orders. You understand!’ He glares at Captain who nods slowly. ‘And why we still not receive any money, huh? Why? Already one month now. Call your company and tell them we will kill you all one by one if we don’t get our money. OK! You understand that? Go, call now!’

  Captain gets up hurriedly and rushes toward the satellite phone for the call. I’m not sure if that can help us now.

  I swallow hard and the memory of that afternoon before the pirates boarded flashes in my mind. I was sitting with Captain in his room nattering about our love stories and marriage. It all started from there…All those questions about his incomplete love story for which I yet don’t have the answers emerged that afternoon.

  Only if we had been a little more careful that day…all this wouldn’t have happened in the
first place. The pirates wouldn’t have boarded and the second officer wouldn’t have been…

  The screams of the second officer ring loud in my ears, and those ghastly images frame my mind.

  I’m sure now; sooner or later we’ll all end up that way.

  PART - 2

  12. That afternoon before the pirates boarded - 1

  25th June 2011, Transiting Indian Ocean

  It had been close to two weeks since I joined this ship. I had never been so delighted to leave my country and my home. Why not? I was getting complete freedom from Aisha for three months.

  However, I did feel lonely now and then, and something inside me had died. After all I had loved Aisha for seven long years.

  That made my stay here quite the opposite of what I’d expected. Sure, I was free to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted; nobody told me not to put the wet towel on the bed, to put my socks in my shoes and not throw them just about anywhere, to hang my jeans and shirts on the hooks and so on, but I felt something tugging at my heart strings.

  Nevertheless, I’d made up my mind to divorce her the moment I set my foot back in India, and never to get married again. The pain and disappointment this marriage has inflicted upon me is certainly not worth the effort I had to make. Why did I not listen to Joe Singh? He’d warned me so many times. And now, I’ll have to bear the repercussions of it for the rest of my life. I haven’t even thought of how much alimony I’ll have to pay her, by the way.

  I’d been dawdling my time here not a tad interested in any work. I don’t speak to anyone, and my conversations with my fellow crew members are restricted to the incumbent hellos in the mess room. Whenever I find time, I plop down on my bed and try to catch some sleep. When I am awake I day dream.

  But I’ll be okay once I get past the initial hangover, I’d been telling myself. After all, I’d seen the worst in my relationship.

  Quite a few times I thought Captain could sense there is something wrong with me, by the way he looks at me through the corner of his eyes while we are seated in the mess room. He’s quite observant I believe. Either that or he is good at reading faces. He’d asked me a couple of times ‘Are you okay?’ I’d shrug and wave my hand dismissively. ‘Of course,’ I’d tell him.