It Wasn't Love at First Shalini and I

by Prashant Sharma

  She continued staring into nothing. I saw a tear slide down her cheeks. She wiped it and changed modes, tried a fake smile.

  “Leave all that. Got a little too much didn’t it.”

  “Can you sing for me?”

  “What?”

  “Can you sing for me. Just for me. I will not say that it is good, I

  will not say that it is bad. I just want you to sing for me. Once. Please.”

  “You and your filmy ways.”

  “Please. You know I want to say things like ‘don’t worry, things will be fine’ but you know when people say that, they actually mean that things will not be fine and that you have to learn to live with it. I will not say any such thing. All I am asking you to do is sing for me.”

  She smiled, and this time the smile reached the eyes. She got up and stood in front of me.

  “Okay, I will sing a song from a hindi movie. I try to stay away from music these days, but, I just can’t.”

  “Now shut up with the gyaan and start singing.”

  “It’s from a movie- Zakhm with Ajay Devgan in it.” “I am not interested in the details. Just sing.”

  “Tum aaye to aaya mujhe yaad,

  Gali me aaj chand nikla”

  And she sang the full song.

  She ran towards me and hugged me and started crying. I just put her head on my shoulder and let her. Maybe it was because she was lonely, maybe it was because she felt she was close to me, or maybe because it had been long overdue, but she trusted me and cried in my arms. After around five minutes she let go of me.

  “I am sorry. I don’t know why I did this. You are the first person who I have told about my life. In fact, you are the first friend I have met since I have come to this country. Thank you.”

  I said nothing, just smiled. This was difficult on her. I did not want to make it worse.

  “Let’s go.”

  She said this and took charge, we were off again. In the square streets of Manhattan, out in the cold at 3 am on a Saturday night. “Most places here open till 4, I will take you to a place which opens till 7.”

  We stopped a passing cab and she said “42nd Street Broadway please.”

  The cab driver was an Indian and said “Ji Madam ji” and he got us there in fifteen minutes. She tipped him a dollar. He was happy.

  We entered into a pub like what I had never seen before. There were seven different parts to the pub. One was playing retro, one jazz, one contemporary, and the other parts some other kind of music. I think there was a strip club as well. But the only thing common was that people were drinking and people were dancing. Shalini took my arm and took me straight to the bar.

  “Two Jager Bombs please.”

  I had been in New York for almost two months and I had not heard of this drink. Maybe I was hanging out with the wrong set of people. The barman took two shot glasses and poured Jagermeister – a drink made of 56herbs and spices- into them. He then opened a Red Bull can and poured half the content into a beer glass and the remaining half into another beer glass. He then handed us the shot of Jager and the beer glass with the Red Bull. I looked at Shalini confused as to what to do with it.

  “So ready?”

  “Not really. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Don’t tell me you have not had a Jager Bomb ever? You have been in New York for more than two months! What’s wrong with you? Did you come here to listen to Indian ghazals on a Saturday night or did you come here to have fun.”

  She was practically shouting, it was so loud with the blaring music. I shouted back.

  “I guess you are right. From tomorrow, I will hang out with you.” She ignored what I said.

  “So what you do is, you drop this shot glass into the beer glass with the Red Bull in it. The contents mix, but don’t wait for them to mix, and then you gulp it down in one go.”

  “In one go? Are you crazy? What is the alcohol content in this?” “ That’s the good part. Pretty much! So here we go.” She gave me my shot glass and the beer glass. “On India okay. One, two, Indiaaaaaa.”

  I dropped the shot glass and gulped down the mixture in one go. It was the best drink I had ever had. My hands went up in the air.

  “One more.”

  “One more.”

  After 4 more Jager Bombs, we were high and were on the dance floor swaying to the beats, swaying to the music, swaying to each other.

  “Let’s goto the strip club.”

  “But you are a girl!”

  “But you are a guy. Why are you saying no?”

  “Valid point. Let’s go!”

  I had been to strip clubs before but never had it been as much fun. After around three and a half hours in that place, completely drunk, happy and crazed out, we both came out singing- “Gali me aaj chaand nikla, gali me aaj chand nikla” We got to the metro station. Now was the bad part, I had to drop her home but I was sure this time we would meet again. There was one train standing headed to somewhere in New York and one headed to New Jersey. She said she lived in New York so she would take one train and I the other one to New Jersey. She gave me her cell phone number. But I insisted that I drop her first. She said ok but that the train currently at the station now did not stop at her stop. So we decided to wait for the next one.

  We sat on a bench next to the stationary train. It was very early in the morning and the city was asleep. Just as the doors of the stationary train were about to get closed and it was about to start moving, she ran and got onto the train. And the doors jammed and train started moving. All the haze, all the alcohol suddenly went off my system and I could not get what was going on around me. She was on the other side of the glass, on the other side of the metro, and the train started moving. Our eyes met and I knew that I would not be seeing her again. The train kept on moving, and she kept on going away. I did not know why. I was down on my knees again, just like seven years ago.

  Nothing had changed. I took out the slip which had her number on it, the number had one digit short. She did not want to see me again. I had lost her again. I reached home, sobered up and tried to get her contact from the auditorium where she had performed the day before. After cooking up a story that her father had a heart attack I somehow managed to figure out in which hotel the choir was staying. It was a hotel down town. I called them up and asked for Shalini.

  “Sir, she checked out one hour ago.”

  That was it, I had lost her again.

  I went into a stupor for the next few days. I did not try to look for her because there was actually no point in doing so. If she wanted to see me again, she would see me again. Running after her or chasing her would not really help. I really wanted to help her, and I guess, that was the reason that she did not want me around. She needed love, not pity. I became very lonely over the next few weeks in that city. The country, which used to be a dream for me, just did not excite me anymore. All I could associate with the city was Shalini and she had gone, she had deserted me. I was having a chat with my mother on one of the days and that is when I broke down. I cried. After 8 years. And cried in front of my mother.

  I know Shalini was not the reason for my crying, it was mainly the loneliness, but I did not want to be in US anymore. I wanted to go back home, go back to the place where my friends were, where Pooja was, and where my parents were. I told my office about my decision and they were supportive of it. They were surprised as to why I wanted to leave the land of dreams so soon, but they were supportive. They knew they would not have any trouble getting any of my colleagues to US to fulfil his dream.

  I booked a ticket for the next week. I did not tell anyone that I was coming back. I wanted to surprise my parents and Pooja. My parents had anyways been worried sick since the day I broke down and had ordered me to leave everything and come back then and there. When I got the ticket in my hand, things started to look better. There was a longing to go home. I had been here only for 3 months but it seemed like an eternity. I missed my friends, I missed my country, I missed my parents.
And then the day came, I was headed back home.

  I checked into the airport with my luggage. I had bought quite a few things for Hari, Pooja and my parents and was picking up the compulsory chocolates for my other friends at the Duty Free shop. I boarded the Virgin Atlantic flight to London where I would have a 2 hour stopover. I entered the flight and straight away went into a deep slumber. I was awakened when the flight had a rough landing and we jumped a couple of times on the runaway. There was a cry of relief from everyone as we landed safely. All the flights I had ever been on always had a rough landing. I think it was something to do with me.

  Heathrow London is a crazy place. I got off at Terminal 3 gate number 32 and had to walk a whole lot of distance to the main terminal where it would be announced where my next flight would board from. There were two paths, separated by a glass wall. One path was used to goto the main terminal 3 from where further information was received regarding your next flight. The other path was the one which people who had checked in from Terminal 3 would use to goto their flights. There was a glass wall surrounding these two paths. I had got off the plane and was ambling lazily down my path with my laptop in tow looking around at whatever of London I could see. There were ads of Harrods, of Broadway and some other brands which I could barely recognise. I bumped into the guy walking in front of me and decided to look straight. And that was when I saw her, again. And this time, not after seven years.

  She was on the other side of the glass wall moving towards a certain gate to catch a flight to a certain city. She was 40 feet away, wearing a simple black dress with an overcoat around her shoulder. She was carrying a trolley with one hand and her purse was on the other. She was now 30 feet away. I shouted her name. Apparently the glass wall was sound proof because everyone on my path looked at me with a crazy look but no one from the other side did. She was now 10 feet away, I shouted again. More stares, but only from my side. 5 feet away. I ran towards the glass wall and banged and some people from the other side looked at me but she did not turn. She kept on walking and went right past me. And then she looked back.

  She had seen me all along, I could see it in her eyes. She stopped for a split second, and then continued to some gate to board some flight to some country. I stood there on the glass wall until security came for me. They had apparently seen me banging the partition and had questions to ask.

  After spending around an hour of my time in London explaining to the police what I actually was doing, I was let free. My mind was devoid of all emotions. She did not want me in her life. It was pretty clear and evident. But I knew we would meet again. This chance meeting was not the end of our story. I boarded the flight to New Delhi and again fell fast asleep as soon as the plane took off.

  I landed at India at around 8 am on a Sunday. I got off the plane and was back in the Delhi chill. I could feel the smell of my country. It felt nice to be back home. The baggage and other details took around 3 hours. Again a characteristic of my country. I thought my baggage had been lost but then I saw it. It was going round and round on a conveyor belt meant for some other flight.

  Such things happen in this country.

  I got out of the airport and was kind of overwhelmed to see what was happening outside. Mothers were meeting long lost sons, wives were meeting husbands who had gone away to earn more for the family, kids were meeting their fathers after an eon.

  There was a movie, Love Actually, in which the narrator says that if you want to see true love, you should go to the arrival of an international airport. He could not have been more spot on. No one had obviously come to greet me, I had not told anyone. But I had a smile nevertheless. Seeing so much love around you does make you feel good. I hired a prepaid taxi to my apartment.

  It felt great entering the smelly little place. It felt like home, it was home. I guess there was a dead rat in a corner but that was ok. I stuffed the bags in the place, took a shower, thought of finding the dead rat but let the thought be just a thought, and I was ready to receive all the love I had missed for the past three months.

  All of a sudden, there was an excitement to meet Pooja, an excitement which I had honestly never felt before. I was in two minds on whether I had cheated on her but I decided I had not, not atleast physically. And that is what counts. I was now ready to leave Shalini behind and start afresh with Pooja. If Shalini did not want me, to hell with her.

  I took a shower and got into new clean clothes, new clean American clothes. There was no sign of jet lag on me. I was in love again. There was a constant whistle in my head as I rummaged through my bags and took out the stuff I had bought for Pooja and left for her place.

  Pooja lived around 5 kms from where I lived. She used to live with a roommate but girls usually don’t get along together so she moved out and took her own place. Her parents were based out of Chandigarh. I bought flowers on the way and rang the bell with my arms wide open. I heard a voice from inside “They are here.”

  It was an excited kind of voice. I got a little confused as to what was happening when Pooja opened the door wide and there she was, looking beautiful in a red salwaar suit, her hair hanging around her face and the biggest smile I had ever seen on her.

  But then the smile faded, and slowly turned into a scowl. Behind her I could see a couple who I assumed were her parents and another girl who could have been her friend or her sister. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came back. Just for you. I thought I would surprise you.” “You should have called. You told me you were going on a trip and your phone would be switched off.”

  “That was because I was on a flight back to India.”

  The lady from behind called out “Who is it beta? Is it Rannvijay’s friend?”

  I was shocked. When did Rannvijay, Pooja’s ex fiancé come into the picture?

  “Pooja, What is happening?”

  “You should have called. Please leave now.”

  “I will not leave, what is going on?”

  The lady, her mother, walked up to the door.

  “Beta, who is it?”

  I was about to tell her my name.

  “Aunty I am..”

  “Oh my God, you are the one who lead to my little girl’s engagement breaking up earlier. How dare you come to our house and that too on such an auspicious day?”

  I could not understand what was happening.

  “Pooja, what is this lady saying?”

  “This lady is her mother and is asking you why on earth are you here? You tried to break my little daughter’s marriage with Rannvijay earlier as well but were unsuccessful. Now that we have managed to convince his parents to accept our daughter again, you have again come to spoil everything. What kind of a filthy man are you?”

  I looked at Pooja.

  “Please tell me this is not true.”

  Her mother started to speak but I looked at her and she shut up. Pooja spoke.

  “I was about to tell you.”

  I wanted to shout at her, to break things in her house, to punch that Rannvijay, but I did nothing like that. I was unwanted in her life, just Iike I was unwanted in Shalini’s. I walked out. Pooja tried calling for me but all was lost. I went to Hari’s place. Luckily he was there. He saw me and he knew something was wrong and I broke down for the second time in a week, this time in front of my best friend. And I knew he would understand. We had a long chat that day, Hari and I. About life, just about life. It felt good connecting with him after a long time. I told him that I would take a week off and goto my parents’ place and would then join office. I slept the night at his place. In the morning, before I left, he just said one thing

  “If I can do anything to make this better for you, I will.”

  And I knew he meant it, and that really did make it better. There was someone outside my parents who loved me. He would do anything for me.

  PRESENT DAY 2011

  A

  s the engagement was more of a family affair with no alcohol, atleast no alcohol officially, I had to take m
y friends out for a drink to celebrate the end of my freedom. It was an only guys night out and Kriti jokingly asked me to stay away from Hari and left to be with her parents. There were 8 of us guys and we went to a new bar which had just opened in Gurgaon. It supposedly had great live music and a great blend of cocktails. We settled into the bar and ordered a round of drinks. All lights then went out and all the focus shifted to the stage. Apparently some locally famous singer from US was playing. She had recently started making a mark on the American stage. The lights went out, and then all of them shone at one bright spot on the stage.

  She was in a black dress. She was fair, had a dimpled chin which gave a something special to her smile, long eyelashes, curly at the end, like a princess would want them, kajal around her eyes, kajal to keep away the bad omen from her beautiful face, a small parrot nose, which twitched when she frowned, and black flowing hair, which I would later know, she thought were brown.

  It was Shalini.

  “Hello India. I have travelled the world, sung in front of people of all countries and continents, but never have I come here and sung in front of my own people. So this is my first time here, and I hope it is as memorable for you guys as it is for me.”

  She raised a glass, “This is for my people. Cheers.”

  She downed whatever was in the glass in one neat go and started a fusion song. The music was beautiful, her voice was beautiful, she was beautiful.

  The singing continued for two hours. It was not supposed to be a performance, it was supposed to be a live singer at a bar where the music is in the background and everyone is busy with their own conversations and clap at the end. I was supposed to be drinking all the alcohol possible as it was my party with the guys after my engagement. But we all were completely queued into the songs which she was singing. After around two hours, she stopped. I was not even sure if she had seen me. I did not know what to do. Should I go upto her and talk to her? Should I ignore her and forget that I ever saw her again?