Love@Facebook

by Nikita Singh

  One of his pictures had come up on my Homepage that morning. He wanted all his fans to suggest if it was good enough to go in the inside cover of his Eyeliner & Cigarettes.

  It wasn’t. I added a link to one of his smoking hot photos (the all-black-with-blurred-lights-in-background one!) and suggested he put that one instead.

  He sent me a Message.

  Ronit: I had chosen the exact same picture. :)

  Vatsala: Yeah, that one’s epic! I sent you a message about it the day you uploaded it . . . ;)

  I have no idea if he remembered or not, as he didn’t care to reply to my Message. I didn’t know what to think, so all I thought was – he’s such an odd person!

  But that was not the big trouble. It started with my phone ringing.

  “Hello!”

  “Hey! Busy?” Ankit asked.

  “If you count lazing around as being busy, I sure am!”

  “Care to meet?”

  “Where?”

  “I’ll pick you up.”

  Half an hour later, his car horn blew and I rushed out of my house.

  “You look . . . different!” Hotter, I thought. Unlike the casual tees he usually preferred, he was wearing a crisp violet shirt, teamed with black jeans. What was the occasion? Was I missing something? Bloody hell! Was it his birthday?

  I removed my mobile phone from my pocket and tried to check the reminders discreetly. No, it wasn’t his birthday. Phew!

  “What are you doing?” Ankit asked and startled me; I dropped the phone, between his legs. And stupid that I was, I bent down to pick it up before realising that it was too embarrassing. I sat back to my seat awkwardly as he picked it up and passed it to me. Wordlessly.

  When I turned to look at him, I saw that he was biting the inside of his cheeks to check his laughter. I punched his arm.

  “What?” he asked, faking innocence.

  “Nothing!”

  He was looking exceptionally handsome. I looked down at what I was wearing – an old black LinkinPark sweatshirt, paired with a pair of hideously faded basic blue jeans and black high-topped converse. I looked at Ankit’s feet and was relieved to see his Pumas; he wasn’t wearing formal shoes, at least. I bit my lower lip.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Temptations.”

  “Oh, thank God! The way you’re dressed, I thought we were having tea at Dhoni’s place!” The term ‘Dhoni’ was preferred over ‘President’ at Ranchi.

  When we reached Temptations, I ordered two flavours of their largest sundaes – one for both Ankit and me. We exchanged our treats midway. (Translation – I snatched his and made him eat mine, as his was better!)

  Nothing beats ice creams in winters.

  “Where are we going?” I asked again when I noticed he wasn’t taking the turn back home.

  “There’s a place . . .”

  “Where?”

  “Near Ranchi.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’ll know.”

  “Tell me now.”

  “No.”

  “Tell me right now.”

  “Hey, come on! It’s a surprise.”

  “Fuck off, man! Screw your surprise. I hate surprises.” I was getting nervous. More often than not, surprises turned out to be shocks.

  “Do you just have to know everything?”

  “Yes.”

  “Alright then. We’re going to Dasham Fall.”

  “WHY? People die there!”

  “We won’t get inside the water.”

  “So, what’ll we do then?”

  He gave me a deadly look and I shut up.

  Not for long, though. “I’ve never been to Devdi Mandir. Or the Sun Temple,” I wondered loudly when I saw a road sign giving directions to Devdi Mandir.

  “I know. You aren’t highly spiritual.”

  “I want to go. For how long do we have the car?”

  “All day. I’ll return it to Dad at night.”

  “So, done, we’ll visit both the temples today.” I made the decision for the two of us.

  “Why the sudden affinity to temples?”

  “Just like that,” I shrugged. “Dhoni visits Devdi Mandir every time he comes home. He has turned it into a freaking tourist spot. It’s a shame I haven’t been there even once in my life.”

  That wasn’t my reason for going there that day, though. I’d just wanted to delay the trip to Dasham. Or cancel it altogether if I got that lucky.

  When I’d said people die there, I hadn’t been kidding. Dasham wasn’t a safe place for couples, owing to the frequent naxalite attacks. Sure, I and Ankit weren’t a couple, but the naxalite people didn’t know so. Just thinking about the stuff they did to young couples when they got caught, sent shivers up my spine.

  By the time we visited both the temples, stopped at a roadside dhaba as I was suddenly starved and made stops at a couple of other places as I found the scenery (which was mostly just regular road and similar looking trees) unusually compelling, it was four o’ clock. We were just one kilometre away from Dasham.

  Do something, quick! My mind screamed at me. But my brain was too rusty and I couldn’t think of an appropriate excuse. Honesty was my only option.

  “Can’t we skip Dasham?”

  “Why?”

  “You know . . . it isn’t all that safe . . .”

  “We’ll stay away from water.”

  “No, I didn’t mean that way. I meant . . . the naxalites . . .”

  “What? They won’t bother us!” he laughed.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know. They’re not exactly the way you’ve pictured them.”

  “But what if—”

  “Hush! Nothing will happen.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Trust me. And you don’t have to worry anyway. I’m here.”

  “Hmmm . . . what if I still don’t want to go?”

  “Then we won’t. Your call.”

  I took a minute to decide. Ankit really had his heart set on Dasham and I didn’t feel like denying him that. And he did have some impressive muscles . . . would he be able to take them, when (and if) the naxalites attack?

  “Let’s go,” I made my decision. I accept I was a little excited at the prospect of coming face to face with the naxalites for the first time, having heard so much about them. And watching Ankit fight them would be even more mind blasting!

  We didn’t get a chance, though. When we got there, the place was almost deserted. Who visits a waterfall on a cold winter evening?

  “Wow! This is beautiful,” I found myself exclaiming. “I didn’t expect it to be so calm and serene.”

  “You probably expected a Border scene here! Guns and gore, women screaming, kids crying, men dying—”

  “Shut up!” Yes, I had been expecting that and I was mildly disappointed too.

  We sat there on a rock and talked aimlessly for a while, before Ankit excused himself to fetch something from the car.

  I knew what was coming. I wasn’t blind.

  He presented me a bouquet of beautifully arranged two dozen roses, half deep red, half white.

  I could never understand why people made so much hype about a-single-bud-of-red-rose. I believed that a dozen was definitely better than one. And two dozen? Way better than that!

  “They’re lovely.”

  “Not lovelier than you.” Can you be any cheesier?

  “Whatever. So Mr. Ankit Rai . . . ice creams, long drive, waterfall, roses . . . planning to propose me or what?” I preferred to invite trouble, as opposed to sitting and waiting for the bomb to explode.

  “Actually, I was thinking along those lines. When I took CAT, I realised . . . we don’t have much time left . . . together . . . this might as well be my last chance . . .”

  I chose to stay silent.

  “Look at me.”

  I met his eyes.

  “You have beautiful eyes. Very honest and expressive.”

  “Thank you,�
�� I said automatically. When you’re a daughter of a school teacher, manners are something you never forget. I took a deep breath, preparing myself.

  “You’re the best person I’ve ever known. You’re gentle and kind and I’ve been in love with you for over four years now. I think I know you more than you know yourself. You project yourself as someone you’re not. I know who you actually are and I’m in love with that girl. Frankly, I’m in love with both the sides of you.”

  This is how selfless and altruistic he could get. I was touched. I felt loved.

  But I didn’t know how to react. After my mother, Ankit was the person I loved most in the world. But not in the romantic way. Okay, that wasn’t true anymore. Feelings were budding at the romantic front too, but compared to what I felt for Ronit . . .

  “Let’s go. It’s getting cold,” I said but made no move to get up.

  “I need an answer, Vatsala,” he said softly.

  Then I said the worst thing possible. In my defence, I was just being honest.

  “I love Ronit.”

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  “I’m serious. I love him and I intend to make him fall in love with me too.”

  “Do you have any idea how childish you sound?”

  “You don’t understand, Ankit! Ronit is someone I connect to—”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. For four years, you have been brushing off my feelings saying you don’t believe in love. Now, out of the blue—” he seemed more confused than angry.

  “You’re just jealous.”

  “Damn right I’m jealous. He’s a guy I’m losing the girl I love to. Tell me how not to be jealous?”

  “But Ankit, I really love him.”

  “What is love, Vatsala?”

  “You know what; I’m fed up of all this. You and Jaanvi . . . you guys think I don’t understand what love is. But, breaking news, I do. I know it’s real with Ronit. He’s my type—”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I like talking to him. He’s smart and funny . . . we have similar choices in . . . he . . . he . . .” I had nothing to say. I realised then and there that even though I liked pretending otherwise, Ronit and I had nothing in common. (Everyone likes Brad Pitt, so that didn’t count). I liked to think that the future held something wonderful for the two of us, but I knew I was living a lie. Not that I was going to accept that in front of Ankit. “He likes heavy metal.”

  “And I don’t, so I’m not man enough?”

  “I didn’t say that.” In fact if we compare Ankit to Ronit, Ankit seemed like more of a man. Avi called Ronit gay so many times that at times even I found him a weeny bit gay-ish! And even though I knew he didn’t apply lipstick, his lips really were exceptionally pink, by guys’ standard. But I loved him nevertheless.

  “Listen Vatsala, just say you don’t love me. Believe me, this is the last time. Making excuses like you love Ronit is plain ridiculous. Just tell me you don’t love me. That would be enough. I’ll stop bothering you.”

  I couldn’t. I couldn’t look him in the eye and say that I didn’t love him. I wasn’t sure what to think or say anymore. My feelings were getting more and more jumbled with every passing second.

  “I don’t want to lose you,” I mumbled at last. No, Vatsala Rathore, you won’t cry. You’ll not let a single teardrop escape your eyes.

  “You won’t. I’ll always be there for you, I promise. But I’ll just stop hoping for you to fall in love with me . . . I need some sanity.”

  I couldn’t bear to continue the conversation. I knew I was breaking his heart, but I had no better alternative. Ankit had to move on . . .

  What I did next is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It was more like a string of hard things . . . first I met his eyes and said unblinkingly, my tone soft at first but getting harsher with every word, “I don’t love you Ankit. I never have, I never will. I ain’t sure what is going on between me and Ronit, but I intend to find out. And soon. In the meantime, I want to be left alone. I have never been a person who wanted or needed human company. And rude as it may sound, you have been imposing on my privacy for way too long. I need my space . . . I need my life back. It has been more than four years, get over me already. Get a life. And stop interfering in mine.”

  As he nodded silently, I had to see the look on his face, and it broke my heart. He was hurt. I hated myself for causing it.

  And apart from the obvious anger and hurt, he seemed disappointed.

  Then I made him drive me back home. I chose to sit in the backseat and adjusted the rearview mirror such that we couldn’t see each other. I held back tears threatening to flood my eyes, so that Ankit doesn’t realise it was a sham.

  We didn’t exchange a single word in the drive that took an eternity to come to an end.

  When he parked outside my house, I silently got out of the car and left, without sparing a glance at him.

  I left the flowers behind.

  DECEMBER

  Chat-26

  Sabbatical

  December 10th, 2010

  The first ten days of December went by without me exchanging a single word with either Ankit or Ronit.

  At Dasham, sitting at the rock, holding a bunch of roses, the first flower I’d ever received, my feelings had been in frenzy. I had convinced myself I was in love with Ronit and that I did not love Ankit, but as soon as Ankit expressed his love for me and asked for a response, I panicked. I had been confused, unsure and frustrated.

  I was torn between Ankit and Ronit. Between my inability to understand my obsession for Ronit and craving to have a real relationship with Ankit, who loved me so much, I couldn’t understand what to do. So, on surface I feigned nonchalance and shrugged Ankit’s proposal away.

  After getting home, I had cried nonstop for hours at an end. It was the first time I cried after my father’s funeral.

  In the ten days I spent at home, I’d expected to get an insight to the whole situation. I didn’t.

  In those ten days, I took bath only thrice. Once when I spent three days straight in the same clothes and Maa forced me to take bath or no food. Once when Maa agreed to never watch ‘Pyar Ki Ye Ek Kahaani’ (a BAD TV serial adaptation of The Twilight Saga, which if Stephenie Meyer makes a mistake to watch, she’d be forced to commit suicide, in case she doesn’t die of sheer shock. Edward had fangs and became a vampire only at full moons. WTF!) again, and once, when I was in a mood to.

  All I did was watch The Bachelor whenever the match wasn’t on. Five ODIs were held between India and New Zealand in those ten days. I watched all of them religiously. Not that it was highly gripping, with India being a much better team. In fact, the entire series was one-sided; we won it by 5-0. By the time it ended, I could name all the sponsors of the series and ended up developing a minor crush at Gambhir.

  I wished I had college to pass time with, but one-month-long preparation leave was going on. We had the fifth semester end-semester exams from 29th December up to 11th January. Who schedules exams at the peak of winters? It is the time of the year when I go into hibernation! Aarrghh.

  I hadn’t logged into FB since the last ten days and when I did, it suddenly struck me that Ronit must be back in India. And he was online too, just like he always was.

  Vatsala: Hey . . .

  Ronit: Hey!

  Vatsala: How does it feel?

  Ronit: Being back?

  Vatsala: Yeah . . .

  Ronit: Good! :) :)

  Hey, brb

  Be right back, he had said, not ttyl or g2g. That lifted my mood a little.

  However, I didn’t wait. I wasn’t in a mood to chat with him.

  Definitely a first.

  I bid him goodbye, logged out quickly and dialled Ankit’s number. I wasn’t sure what I would’ve said, had he taken any of my calls. When he didn’t, I called Rohan.

  “Hello.”

  “Rohan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is Ankit there?”

  “Let me see,”
he said and put me on hold. He retrieved the call moments later and said, “He’s asleep. He had a killer headache.”

  “He asked you to say so?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmmm . . . tell me something, Rohan . . . is he okay?”

  “As in?”

  “Just generally . . .”

  “I guess so. He has been acting a little weird though . . .”

  “Weird?”

  “He never stays at home anymore. It seems like he’s enjoying his life a lot, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh,” was all I said before hanging up. I didn’t know what he meant and I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know.

  I had put myself in jail for ten long days to try and figure out my feelings. But it wasn’t until after the call that the realisation dawned upon me – I was in love with two guys, at the same time.

  Jaanvi’s observation, that I was in deep shit, made even more sense now.

  The crush I’d had on Ronit had blown out of proportions. Big time. From minor to major, it had then turned into love, followed by obsession and had promptly gotten converted into madness by then. It was one thing being attracted to someone and another being devoted to him. He was someone I looked up to, someone I wanted to be like. He was also the first guy I’d flirted with, the only guy who made me want to fall in love.

  He was a dream.

  And Ankit was someone I genuinely loved. Despite our personalities being in complete contrast with each other, I had bonded with him in our very first meeting and he’d never left my side, always being with me through thick and thins. His caring and thoughtful nature never failed to make me feel loved. I liked spending time with him, and lately, a lot.

  He was my rock.

  I just wished I had Jaanvi with me then, but she was caught up in her own crazy love life; she and Nilaap were starting to have troubles.

  So, by the end of the day, the only thing I was sure about was that I was in love with two guys.

  Now, if only I could decide whom I loved more . . .

  Chat-27

  Die-hard Fan

  December 14th, 2010

  Ronit was the one. There wasn’t a single doubt clouding my mind anymore. I agree that he probably didn’t know me, but I wasn’t unknown to him either. I meant something to him. He gave me a reason to believe so, by Tagging me in his new Note, No Love Lost-No Love Found.