Falling into Place

by Sheryn Munir

  When she finally stopped, she looked around in astonishment. Had she walked all the way to Green Park? She didn’t even remember crossing the busy road at Yusuf Sarai. What must have been a half-hour walk seemed to have whizzed by.

  Milind’s place was just around the corner. It was as though a subconscious impulse had directed her to seek out what she needed. Sameen fished out her phone and dialled Milind’s number. He picked up almost immediately.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Hi. I’m outside your house. Can you come out for a bit?”

  He didn’t ask any questions. “Sure. Be there in two.”

  It took him more than two minutes, but when he appeared, wrapped in a coat and woollen scarf, he had two cups of coffee with him. He offered one to Sameen, and without a word, he led her to the park, where they sat on a bench.

  “What’s wrong?” Milind asked.

  “I kissed Tara,” Sameen said without preamble.

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  Sameen closed her eyes. Her head was pounding. She thought saying what had happened would make her feel lighter, but it didn’t. It only felt more messed up.

  “What do you mean kissed? Was it a kiss kiss or a…”

  “Stop being flippant. I’m trying to tell you something serious.”

  “No…I…sorry. What happened? Tell me from the beginning.”

  “We kissed, that’s what happened.”

  “When?”

  “At the party.”

  Milind felt for his coffee and accidentally knocked it over. Not bothering to pick it up, he turned back towards Sameen.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know.” Sameen dropped her head in her hands and squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears from leaking.

  “Do you want to tell me how it happened?”

  “I don’t understand it myself. It took me completely by surprise.” She rubbed her face and looked up at the sky. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Milind crossed his arms across his chest and stared down at the grass. He didn’t speak for a few seconds. “Do you…are you… Do you think you’re attracted to her?”

  “I can’t understand it. I love hanging out with her. She’s been such a good friend. We have so much fun together. I feel like she gets me. But…I don’t think I’ve ever thought of her as anything other than a friend.” She swallowed. “That evening, I don’t know what it was. The party, New Year’s Eve, we’d both had a few drinks… I felt like…it felt different, Milind. I don’t know. I know I keep saying that.”

  “Is that your way of saying yes, then?” he asked quietly.

  Sameen looked at him directly for the first time. “What if I am? How will I know?”

  Milind laughed. “Seriously?” He shook his head. “So, this kiss, it just happened?”

  Sameen nodded.

  “Who initiated it?”

  “It’s hard to say. I think we both went for it at the same time.”

  “Wow.” Milind exhaled. “So she kissed you back?”

  “Yep.”

  “And?”

  “What do you mean ‘and’?”

  “I mean, did you like it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Milind’s eyebrows went skywards.

  Sameen sighed. “Okay, yes. More than a little bit.” Even now the memory of the kiss sent a thrill running down her spine.

  “Well, there you have it. You were either too drunk to know what you were doing or you…”

  “I wasn’t drunk.” At all.

  Milind nodded slowly, his eyes on her. “So have the two of you talked about what happened?”

  “No,” Sameen said. “Tara’s not been in touch. I haven’t called her either.”

  “Are you going to? Don’t say ‘I don’t know’.”

  Sameen shrugged. “What shall I say to her?”

  “Well, for one, your friendship might be a bit dicey now, no?”

  “I don’t think I’m ready to talk to her yet.”

  “Okay, so the next question is, does Rohan know?”

  Sameen dropped her head back into her hands. “No. Do I have to tell him?”

  “You know the answer to that as well as I do.”

  Barkha:

  Are you up? Call me.

  -8:22 a.m.

  Tara had barely had a moment to glance at her mobile. Even if she’d had the time, she likely wouldn’t have responded to Barkha’s demand to call. She was quite impressed Barkha had managed almost forty-eight hours of radio silence in the first place. Tara had been half afraid she’d be spending all her time warding off calls from her.

  Tara had arrived in Kolkata the previous afternoon and then taken the night train to Siliguri. So far, she’d spent most of her time in press conferences and interviews. A number of international stars had been roped into playing for local teams in return for large sums of money, and for football-mad West Bengal, it was quite a treat. Tara liked football well enough, though cricket and tennis were her first loves. But then, it was a nice change for her—her work usually involved watching games on TV and writing about them—so she had been slightly taken aback at the hectic pace of the previous day and the packed tournament schedule. At first she’d had a serious case of repent-at-leisure-itis for the impassioned speech she’d given Kabir about her sudden interest in football, but she’d been a sports journalist for eight years, so getting into the swing of it hadn’t been hard.

  Most importantly, it kept her from coming apart about the Sameen issue. At the moment, she didn’t care whether she was covering kabaddi or curling; all she wanted was to be away from all the familiar places that reminded her of Sameen.

  Barkha:

  > Missed call, 9:47 a.m.

  Tara could barely stomach the thought of breakfast, but she forced down some toast. It sat like lead in her belly, but she took another bite because she had to eat. She sipped her lukewarm tea as she scrolled through her introductory story about the tournament. She still had to transcribe a couple of interviews, add some embellishments, and submit them by the end of the day. She hoped she’d get some work done before the day’s itinerary made unreasonable demands on her.

  Barkha:

  What the hell, yaar. Are you ignoring me?

  -10:01 a.m.

  Gathering her laptop bag, Tara left her room and took the lift downstairs. Kabir always insisted that his employees travel and live well when they were touring, which Tara was thankful for. The irony did not escape her that Barkha had probably booked the hotel she was in. It was small, mostly catering to business guests, judging by all the formal clothes, serious expressions, and leather briefcases on display. As she walked towards the lobby, she saw one of the conference rooms being set up for a print-on-demand seminar. She wondered what print-on-demand was and why they would choose this town for a seminar about it.

  Tara settled into a deep couch in the lobby to wait until it was time to leave for the stadium for an opening ceremony gala.

  “Good morning, Tara.” A slight, dapper figure stood next to her cough. It was Max Cheng, a journalist from Singapore, whom she’d met briefly a few years ago.

  “Oh, hello, good morning.” Tara smiled up at him, relieved to see a familiar face. “Are you going to the opening ceremony?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  They decided to have a coffee while they waited, and later walked down to the stadium together. It was a pleasant, mild, winter’s day, and soon Tara found herself watching schoolchildren perform various dances at the stadium and wondering what the hell this had to do with football.

  Barkha:

  Listen, are you bugged about waht I said at the party? I’m sorry, just me and my big muoth. Just call me pleeeease.

  -12:15 p.m.

  Barkha: />
  > Missed call, 1:12 p.m.

  After the opening ceremony, one of the sponsors of the tournament held a lunch, to which all the participating teams, officials, and the media were invited. Max Cheng, it turned out, was rather well connected, and introduced Tara to some of the big names, who were kind enough to grant her interviews. So, instead of going to boring post-lunch media events, she spent an eventful afternoon talking to a forty-year-old Scottish footballer who had come out of retirement to play for a local team from Kolkata.

  Barkha:

  Oh Tara, what the hell is the mattter with you? Listen, don’t pretned that everythign is ok. I know something is wrong because this is classic you, giong into your shell when thigs go ape so just tell me taht your ok, okay!!!

  -3:36 p.m.

  Barkha was, for some reason, a stickler for grammar, and when her texts had typos, it was a foregone conclusion that her head was close to exploding. Tara bit down on her guilt. Barkha definitely didn’t deserve this silent treatment, and she was only calling, emailing, and messaging so desperately because she was worried about Tara. But Tara wouldn’t be able to hold it together if she started to think about the mess she’d left behind, even less so if she started to answer Barkha’s questions, and delve into why she had kissed Sameen and what it meant.

  So, instead, she returned to her hotel, ordered a cup of tea, and sat down to write a feature on the Scottish footballer. She’d found some interesting angles—Kabir would be delighted.

  Barkha:

  >Missed call, 5:44 p.m.

  Barkha:

  >Missed call, 6:09 p.m.

  Barkha:

  - Ok, fine, I give up. But this is not right, Tara.

  -6:10 p.m.

  That evening, a sports shoe company hosted a sponsor’s dinner at the fanciest hotel in town. Tara steeled herself to attend. There was nothing better than dressing up, and wining and dining with strangers—okay, there was Max—to distract her from the mess that her life currently was. Indeed, it felt surreal, standing in the optimistically named Grand Ballroom of a hotel whose name she had already forgotten.

  She felt like she had been playing a part. As though Sameen had been in a play Tara had acted in. Or perhaps that had been her real life and this was the play.

  When she finally stumbled back to her room, it was past eleven p.m. and Tara’s head felt like it was going to burst.

  As she lay back on her bed with relief and closed her eyes, it crossed her mind that if all her days here were this hectic, she would barely have time to think about Sameen and the New Year’s party.

  But that didn’t mean the heavy, black pit that was a mixture of dread, guilt, anger, grief, and pure helplessness lodged in her stomach was any lighter. That it didn’t still feel as if it would tear her open.

  Her hand hovered on the phone, charging on the bedside table. She wished she could talk to someone, just to hear a friendly voice. She considered calling her mother, but she would be in bed.

  Tara’s hand was still resting on the phone when it vibrated. She jumped. A split second later it rang. Tara sat up and stared at it.

  The phone was face down, but she knew it would be Barkha. She might have said she’d given up, but when Barkha’s antenna went up, it didn’t come down until she’d unearthed whatever she was after. Tara had reached for the phone to decline the call, when she noticed the caller ID. Sameen’s face was looking up at her.

  Tara’s heart jumped into her mouth, and the phone fell out of her hand on to the bed. Part of her wanted to answer so badly and to hear Sameen’s voice that it hurt. Yet her body seemed to have turned to stone. Sweat broke out on her palms. Just the thought of talking to Sameen… Though it wasn’t like she hadn’t imagined an alternate reality where she could just talk to Sameen and everything would be okay.

  But then, what would okay entail? Would it mean dialling back time and the kiss never happening? Or would it be…something else?

  Heart thumping, Tara reached a shaky hand towards Sameen, who was still smiling at her, her eyes shining as they looked into Tara’s, without a care in the world.

  What would it take to just pick up the phone and tell Sameen the truth? That she’d fallen in love with her. That she wanted to give them a chance.

  Did she dare?

  Her thumb hovered over the green icon.

  Her head was buzzing. She couldn’t think anymore. She couldn’t bear being alone any longer. Her thumb touched the screen just as the ringing stopped.

  Chapter 22

  The silence was devastating. Rohan’s hand remained frozen halfway to his mouth. The piece of chapati wrapped around a floret of cauliflower fell back on to his plate.

  Finally, he broke the silence with a disbelieving “You did what?”

  Sameen didn’t reply. She just nodded.

  “You mean, Tara kissed you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “You kissed her?”

  Sameen squeezed her eyes shut. “It just happened.”

  “How can it just happen?” Rohan shoved his chair back, making the table screech back towards Sameen. He stood and rubbed his hands over his face. “Jesus!”

  If Sameen had ever imagined telling Rohan would release the knot of dread in her stomach, she was sorely mistaken. It tore her apart all over again.

  “Rohan, I’m—”

  He stopped her with a wave of his hand. He was facing away from her, so she couldn’t see his face. “How long has this been going on?” Rohan asked, his voice quiet.

  “Nothing’s going on.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Sameen! You two spend so much time together. Is that it? Have you decided to become a lesbian?”

  “Ro, nothing has been going on. It was just that day, just that one time.”

  “And? You didn’t answer my question. Do you have feelings for her?”

  Sameen swallowed. If only the answer were as easy as the question. “I-I feel so confused.”

  Rohan turned to her, his face a mask of shock, hurt, and anger. “You…you are…confused? Confused?”

  He stared at her for a few moments, his face hardening. Then he turned and left the room.

  “Rohan!” Sameen got up. “We have to talk about this. Please.”

  “I just need to clear my head,” Rohan said, not looking back. The front door slammed with more than usual force.

  And then it was back. That devastating silence.

  Sameen stood still, not sure if she could move. She felt as if something had been scooped out from inside her. She wasn’t sure how long she just stood there, numb. Then, her phone buzzed, jolting her back to reality. It was from Rohan, a message.

  Staying with Sid tonight.

  -9:33 p.m.

  Sameen sank to the floor and let the silence take her.

  Tara lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. She’d returned to her room a couple of hours ago. It was the first day of the tournament, and there had been three matches. She was knackered, but sleep eluded her. Like it had done ever since the New Year’s party. She had relived her kiss with Sameen a million times, and each time felt more overwhelming than the last.

  In the beginning, she had tried to stop herself from thinking about it, but the intensity of the memory was too strong. The intensity of what she felt for Sameen was too strong. She finally admitted that despite her better judgement and numerous efforts, she had fallen in love, once again. And this time, it was beyond her control. The realization of how much she cared for Sameen and that there was no future for them together made her sink into a deep, dark hole. She had never felt so lonely in her life.

  A sudden knock on the door shook her out of her misery. It was probably room service with her dinner. Though she didn’t have much of an appetite these days, the rational part of her knew she couldn’t completely give up on eating. She got out of bed listlessly
and pulled the door open.

  “Barkha?” Tara whispered, unable to believe her own eyes.

  “Hi,” Barkha said, walking purposefully into the room and putting her travel bag on the floor.

  Tara shut the door and faced her friend. Worry was etched all over Barkha’s face. Something inside Tara broke.

  As Barkha’s arms went around her, she let herself go and allowed the grief she had kept dammed to engulf her. She clung to Barkha and sobbed like she’d never be able to stop.

  Tara didn’t know how long they stayed in that position. By the time she had composed herself somewhat, they were both seated on her bed. Barkha must have steered her there as she had held Tara, stroking her back and muttering unintelligible words of comfort in her ear. Tara took in huge gulps of air to calm herself.

  “I’m so glad you came,” she said, extricating herself from Barkha’s arms. She plucked a few tissues from the box on the side table. Barkha got up and handed her a glass of water that was on the writing desk.

  “Just tell me what’s going on,” she said, looking down at Tara. “Is it Sameen?”

  Tara nodded, taking a sip. “We kissed.”

  “At the party?”

  Tara nodded again.

  “You really think running away is going to resolve anything?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “So then why did you do it?”

  “I’m in love with her.” Saying the words out loud was at the same time a great relief and a terrible burden. “I think I’ve been in love with her for a long time.”

  “Is that a reason to cut yourself off from everyone who cares about you?” Her tone was not harsh.

  “I didn’t know what else to do. I thought I had it under control. I thought I had put up these strong barriers around me that were impenetrable. But she broke through each one of them without my even realizing it. I got so scared. I had to get away from her.”