by Nikita Singh
“For the last time – it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything,” I replied.
“I should have done something. But I was engaged holding your handbag . . .” he said and we all burst out laughing.
Before leaving, he turned to me and said, “You know, I purposefully dived over you to land a little ahead of you. I was trying not to fall upon you . . . All that I had on my mind at that time was an image from a football match I witnessed at my school, where a senior fell upon a junior and the poor boy ended up having three broken bones!”
“You saved my life! How can I ever pay you back?” I laughed.
After a while, everyone left and it was just Jaanvi, Ankit and I in the room. We all looked at each other.
“Er . . . I’ll go . . . I’ll see about . . . dinner and . . . um . . . see off Nalini . . . Oh, what the hell! I’ll just leave you guys alone,” a pink faced Jaanvi said before leaving.
I looked at Ankit and met his eye.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
For the first time that day, I saw a genuine smile light up his face. “Take care,” he said, shaking his head and smiling, as if mocking me at my stupidity.
All too soon, he was gone. I missed him instantaneously.
Seriously, what is wrong with me?
Chat-29
Cold & Heartless
December 21st, 2010
To think that I had just six months left with Ankit was unbearable.
In the last few days, he had been immensely caring and understanding. In all the time he had spent with me, he didn’t bring up Ronit or Dasham matter even once. It was as if the whole episode had been nothing but a result of my active imagination.
Yet, there was something . . .
“I love him, don’t I?” I asked Jaanvi right after Ankit left.
I had returned home the day after the accident. No, I did not tell Maa what actually had transpired. We made up another plausible excuse to explain the bandaged arm. I don’t think she believed me, though; school teachers can almost smell if there’s something fishy! It’s kind of creepy!
However, she didn’t prod. That was mostly because she didn’t know about the wounds on the rest of my body. We kept it well hidden. My arm could get stuck in a rusty elevator’s door, but how could I justify the scratches at other parts of my body? I was stuck in an elevator with a wildcat, which scratched me all over my body and my arm twisted in the elevator door when I tried to escape? Even a four-year-old would see through that! (Worse, he’d never stop laughing whenever he sees you again!)
So to keep the wounds a secret, Jaanvi had stayed at my place for the next four nights, helping me fake normalcy. Blue-green patches of blood clot had made appearances all over my body and I was finding it incredibly challenging to even walk without limping.
Jaanvi had offered to help and once again, we had used studies as an excuse when our parents had raised eyebrows. They always buy the group-study story!
Ankit visited twice everyday to see how I was doing.
“Huh?” Jaanvi asked.
“I love Ankit.”
“Finally! I thought you’d never realise!”
“You know I suck at this emotional stuff. But . . .”
“But?”
“I’d been confused between Ronit and Ankit for such a long time . . . but now that I think of it, I feel why was I even considering Ronit?”
“Exactly!”
“Shut up. Let me speak.”
“Okay, go on.”
“I don’t know Ronit, I finally accept it. Even though I like to imagine him as the best kind of human being possible, the truth is – I don’t know. For all I know, he might have around five girlfriends, three secret marriages, alliance with the dons at Dubai, criminal record and is into some really nasty sex stuff.”
“Wow. Interesting thought!”
I glared at her to shut her up. “And even if he is pure as milk, I have no idea what kind of a person he is. I don’t know what he likes to do in his free time or . . .” I trailed off.
“What?” Jaanvi probed.
“Again. Why am I talking about Ronit? Why on earth am I so damn obsessed with him?”
“Beats me.”
“Ankit . . . he said at Dasham . . . he said ‘it might as well be my last chance . . .’ It made me think. We have just six months left with each other. What will I do after that? What if we go to different cities and he forgets all about me? What if he finds someone who loves him as much as he loves me? When I go to Mumbai, what am I going to do? I will be all alone. I’ll never be able to make friends . . . and once he has a girlfriend, he won’t have time for me. He won’t be able to talk to me every time I’m in a crisis. I won’t be able to meet him everyday . . . I won’t have him to help me out of my self-inflicted messes . . . I won’t be able to see him dance, or see him glare angrily when people stare at me or pass comments . . . I won’t have him. Period.”
Jaanvi was looking at me in a very odd way.
“Is it love?” I asked her.
“Will you miss me as much as you’ll miss him?”
I didn’t have to think about that. “No,” I replied. Not even close.
She smiled. “Yes sweetie, this is love!”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Whatever.”
I let out a breath. “So, this is it? This is what love actually feels like?”
“Depends on what you’re feeling.”
“Pain. I hurt him, Jaanvi. And I hurt him very badly. I won’t be able to make it up to him . . . and we’ll move to different cities in sometime . . .”
“Okay, first of all – you have hurt him bad, yeah. But sweet that he is, he has already forgiven you for that. He knows you didn’t mean it. And secondly – you don’t necessarily need to move to different cities.”
“How?”
“Mumbai has some pretty awesome B-schools. I’m sure he’ll get into a superb one.”
My heart felt lighter. “But that’ll come later. What if he rejects my proposal like I rejected his? So many times . . .”
“That might be a problem,” Jaanvi chuckled.
“And I’ll have to plan a romantic way . . .” I wondered.
“I thought I’d have to flirt with Ankit to make you jealous so that you realise how much you love him. I suggested a plan to him too, but he didn’t agree . . .”
“You’re almost as crazy as me.”
“Aww . . . am I getting better?” she asked and we laughed.
I sighed. “What was I thinking? I mean he was there, right in front of me, for four and a half years now . . . and I shrugged off his feelings because he didn’t like Eminem that much! Am I insane?”
“That you are.”
“Hey, I bash myself doesn’t mean you get to bash me too!”
“Okay. Let’s change the topic. Ronit.”
“What about him?”
“Speak about him now. I’m enjoying listening to you being amazed at your own stupidity.”
“I wasn’t stupid. I was confused.”
“Yeah yeah! So, how do you feel about him now?”
“I’m not sure. I just feel something for him. That something isn’t love, I’m sure. Maybe celebrity stalking feels like this! I just . . . I like chatting with him . . . but then, I like chatting with my pillow too. Doesn’t mean I’m in love with it,” I said. “At least not romantically!” I added as an afterthought.
“So you’ll stop chatting with him from now?”
“Do I have to?”
“You can’t have everything!”
“Hmmm . . . okay, I’ll stop trying to make something happen.”
“Thank God! I thought you were going to go the Paparazzi way!”
“What?”
“Lady Gaga’s song – I’m your biggest fan, I’ll follow you until you love me . . .”
“Shut up! I wasn’t doing that.” I was.
“You were!”
“You can’t blame me for that! It’s
a known fact that no matter how many decent guys we’re surrounded with, we girls always opt for bad guys. They have this certain charm . . . an air of authority about them, that’s so mouth-wateringly sexy. Supremely irresistible!”
Jaanvi nodded her head vigorously in agreement. “Totally!”
“But, anyway, my point is that now that I’ve come back to my senses, I realise . . . I don’t want to have a boyfriend who shouts back equally loud at me when I get upset and flip out!”
“And you love Ankit,” she reminded me.
“Oh yes! That too,” I grinned sheepishly.
She laughed. “So, you’re finally over Ronit now!”
“I guess! I haven’t logged in even once in these five days. Which reminds me, I told you to send him a Message telling about the accident. Did you?”
“Er . . . yes . . .”
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I have something to tell you. Don’t be angry . . .”
“What? You sent him another silly Message from my Account, didn’t you?”
“Not exactly ‘silly’ . . .”
“What is it?” I was getting anxious.
“Let me explain first. I thought you’d need my help in realising that he doesn’t care about you . . . so I sent him a Message to test . . . he did reply, but he didn’t seem concerned . . .”
“Show me,” I demanded. So, he didn’t care about me. Big deal. Bike accidents weren’t all that lethal.
Vatsala: I think I killed someone . . . I’m not sure . . . it couldn’t have been that fatal, but there was so much blood. . . and I didn’t have any choice . . . the alternative was getting raped/murdered. I had to do something to escape.
I have told no one. I don’t know whom to tell. I don’t want to involve police. I’m very scared. I can’t sleep. The guilt, fear, pain . . .
Ronit: Chill out. He will get what he deserves . . .
Vatsala: Trust me, it isn’t all that easy. Every time the thought that I might’ve been murdered, or worse, raped last night crosses my mind . . . I’m so freaked. It isn’t easy to forget . . . especially after the cuts and bruises he gave me. :’(
“He didn’t reply to that,” Jaanvi said softly.
Tears immediately filled my eyes. To think that I told him that that happened to me and he didn’t care enough to reply . . .
I would’ve replied even if some stranger sent me a Message like that.
“Why did you do that?” I cried.
“I just . . . I didn’t think he’d be so indifferent. He didn’t even ask what exactly happened . . . or about you . . . he didn’t ask how you were doing, even when he knew he was the only one who knows about . . . he didn’t even . . .”
“And I thought I loved him!”
Jaanvi hugged me. “Don’t cry. He’s not worth it,” she said, exactly what every friend says that after their friend’s break-up.
But I just kept crying. Illusions are odd. They make you believe something and when the truth comes out, they break your heart.
Ronit had given me reasons to believe that I meant something to him. When the time came when I (supposedly) needed him the most, he turned a deaf ear.
The term fair-weathered friend suddenly crossed my mind.
Gosh! Why did I suck so bad at judging people?
“I don’t care that the Message was a sham . . . he has proved himself as the biggest jerk ever.”
“Seconded.”
“I should’ve listened to him when he said he was cold and heartless.”
Chat-30
Light Bulb
December 28th, 2010
“Bloody hell,” I let out. How is this even possible? I called Jaanvi up.
“Hello.”
“It got selected.”
“What got selected?”
“I got a mail. Express Publications accepted the manuscript.”
“What?”
On the night when Ronit proved himself as a cold and heartless jerk, caught between a jumble of alien emotions, I’d said, “I can write a book about this,” to which Jaanvi had reacted with, “Sure, titled: Love @ Facebook!”
Two days later, I’d made Jaanvi type the sample three chapters and a synopsis of our story. My arm hardly in working condition, I’d spent the entire day thinking and dictating while Jaanvi had been kind enough to follow my weird request and type. I suspected she was enjoying it too, though she kept saying things like, ‘Why are we doing this, again?’
At 11 p.m. on 24th December, we hit the send button. We hadn’t expected an acceptance, let alone so soon.
“It’s insane, isn’t it?”
“You’re kidding me! How can they accept that? And so soon. 25th was Christmas and 26th a Sunday. At what time did you receive their mail today?”
“1 p.m.”
“So you’re saying they accepted it in four hours?”
“I’m as shocked as you.”
We expressed our disbelief for quite some time. We ruled out the chances that the publishers might be working from home and selected our manuscript in two days’ time. Four hours seemed way more impressive! After a lot of shrieking and laughing, the gravity of the situation hit us. I had to write that book now.
I mean, I, Vatsala Rathore, had to actually write a book about . . . what, exactly? Even the thought of writing something that was even remotely romantic . . . Oh, man! What have I gotten myself into this time!
“What are you going to do?”
“I have no idea. I didn’t seriously think, even for a minute that I’d actually have to write such a book someday.”
“Oh God! You’re going to be a writer!”
“Maybe. Right now, though, come over quickly. I’ll call Ankit too. We need to study. I don’t want to flunk tomorrow’s exam.”
We spent the rest of the day studying together. By the time Ankit stood up to leave, Jaanvi had dozed off. I went to see him to the door.
“What would I do without you?” I said.
“Ah! You’ll find a way,” he smiled.
“I have strong doubts relating that.”
He raised his eyebrows.
You’ll know. Soon. I shook my head and smiled, “See you.”
“Good night.”
When I returned to my room, Jaanvi wasn’t sleeping anymore. She was up and chatting. From my Account. With Ronit.
Vatsala: You won’t believe what happened!
Ronit: What?
“What are you doing?” I asked Jaanvi.
“Telling him about your novel.”
“Why?”
“Maybe he’ll help.”
“Like he helped when I asked him about video-jockeying?”
“You can’t blame him for not being able to keep track of personal lives of each one of thousands of his fans.”
I knew she was right, but I was still angry. “Whose side are you on?”
She ignored me and continued chatting. After a while, she murmured, “You need an ending . . .”
I thought about that. “No, I need two endings,” I said as I closed my eyes to sleep, leaving Jaanvi to Chat with Ronit in my name.
I didn’t ask what they talked about that night. I wasn’t interested anymore.
Chat-31
The Beginning
December 31st, 2010 & New Year 2011
“I need something red. This won’t do,” I said, throwing the dress Jaanvi had asked me to try on the bed.
“And you’re saying this now? What were you doing since the last three days?” Jaanvi shot back.
Good question. Since the last three days, I had been trying to be absolutely sure that I wasn’t making a mistake this time and Ankit really was the one. By the end of the third day, I didn’t have a single shred of doubt.
Especially given that I didn’t have the whole Ronit business to confuse me this time. To some extent, I was even grateful to Ronit’s indifference. For the last couple of months, I had been falling in love with Ronit every time I chatted with him a
nd with Ankit every time I met him. Now that I was in love with Ankit and had resolved not to chat with Ronit ever again, the decision got infinitely simpler.
So, all I had to do was take care not to chat with Ronit and forget him eventually. With Ankit by my side it’d be several times easier.
And anyway, I was royally pissed off at Ronit, so . . . Hey no, let’s not talk about him now. This is the only chapter of this book that doesn’t have a chat between Ronit and me.
I had planned to propose Ankit that night and was hoping he doesn’t reject it as a way of getting back at me. But I couldn’t afford letting such negative thoughts cloud my mood. I had to look good that night – that was my primary concern.
“I’m serious, Jaanvi. I need red.”
“It’s already nine o’ clock. We have just two hours. How are we supposed to arrange a red dress so quickly?”
“Nalini! Let’s call her. Or Shruti.”
But just as luck would have it, Nalini wasn’t in the town and Shruti had already left for her party. Help came from the most unexpected source – Evita. For once in her life, she wasn’t busy with Praveen as he was caught up in a hospital, owing to his sister’s bad health.
Selfish you might call me, but I thanked God for making Praveen’s sister sick at the right time.
However, Evita was being overly generous to me since the last few days. The only three people who had offered to complete my assignments (that I was unable to do because of the fracture) were Ankit, Jaanvi and Evita. Although all that needed to be done was doing a little copy-paste from Wikipedia and getting prints, no one else came forward to offer help. Times like this make you realise who your true friends are.
Evita got to my place by ten o’ clock with two red dresses, both of which were equally stunning. I ran to her and hugged her, “You’re my best friend ever.”
Jaanvi raised her eyebrows. I bit the tip of my tongue.
“Let’s get you ready now,” Evita said and both the girls started trying to make me look fractionally more beautiful.
Together, they took less than fifteen minutes to get me ready. They were surprised by how well the dresses fit me. They wondered where all that food I eat goes. What they didn’t know was that God has blessed me with the best virtue ever – I can eat all I want and never gain a pound. I love God!