by Nikita Singh
‘It’s really okay,’ the flight attendant said good-naturedly. She then went on with her job of handing out wasteful little plastic water bottles.
Raveena restrained herself from blurting out, ‘I’m breaking up with my boyfriend of eight years. He’s my whole life, but now I need a whole new life. We love each other, but we’re no longer in love with each other. Nothing’s wrong with our relationship; it’s simply run its course. There’s no point dragging it out till it slowly dies. We’re unappreciative and unromantic. We took something extraordinary and made it ordinary through years of neglect and gradual decay. And we didn’t see it, till I came here, to a new city, worked in a new office, met new people, and realized that there is a new life to be lived outside of the only life I had ever lived, the only future I had imagined. So, I’m going home to leave my boyfriend. To free us to pursue new avenues, build new futures. It’s the right thing to do: to give us both clean slates.’
Long after the flight attendant had left, behind the slim curtains at the back of the cabin, long after everyone had drained the palmful of water and crumpled up the plastic bottles that would most likely end up in landfills, if not in the ocean, and shoved them into the back pockets of the seats in front of them, Raveena thought about how if her company hadn’t sent her on this eight-week business trip and opened her eyes to a new world, she would never have had the courage to end her relationship and her old life, and start afresh.
Miraculously, the thunderous screech of rubber on tarmac didn’t cause Raveena to stir. She had consumed two small plastic glasses of quite terrible red wine and obsessed over every thought that crowded her conscious mind till she had fallen asleep. Then, in her dreams, she obsessed over more thoughts, the ones that crowded her unconscious mind. She was only awakened when an older man in a brown cardigan asked her to remove her handbag from what was to be his seat in the second leg of her journey.
As soon as Raveena lifted her head, she had an overwhelming feeling that she was floating … or drowning. Contrary to the flight attendant’s belief, wine actually does the opposite of how painkillers work.
The older man was looking at her with concern and confusion. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked gently, as if trying to be as non-intrusive as possible.
‘Head hurts,’ Raveena mumbled, the small-town Indian girl in her feeling ashamed for having consumed alcohol and now suffering the consequences in front of an adult. She had to remind herself that she was twenty-nine years old and owed no explanations to this stranger.
‘Ah, do you need a painkiller? I have a wide variety.’
‘Yes, please,’ Raveena blurted out, immediately forgetting her shame from a moment ago. He could most likely smell the alcohol on her, as he sat next to her, but there was no judgement in his expression as he ruffled through his cloth tote bag and unearthed a raggedy pouch with a broken zipper.
‘Thank you, uncle,’ Raveena said, taking the strip of tablets from him. She wondered briefly if she would’ve accepted tablets from a stranger if they were in an unsealed bottle, and, at this point, in this much pain, she probably would have, against her better judgement. Thankfully, these tablets were in a strip, wrapped individually, in what looked like on-brand packaging. One less thing to worry about. Raveena waited for the tablets to dissolve in the remaining water in her bottle, before gulping it down greedily.
By the time the plane took off, Raveena’s head had stopped throbbing. She felt like a different person, as though the pile of bricks that she had been carrying on her head had been removed and she could lift her head again. She looked towards her neighbour with a grateful smile.
‘You saved my life,’ she said. Maybe she did tend to exaggerate.
‘No problem, beta,’ her neighbour said. ‘Where are you going?’
Kind of a redundant question, Raveena thought, since their flight had one destination, then kicked herself for being a smartass. He was just trying to make conversation. ‘Home,’ she said instead.
‘I’m going to visit my son,’ he offered.
‘Oh, that’s nice.’
‘He’s having a baby. My first grandchild.’ The pride and affection in his voice triggered something in Raveena. Suddenly, she was under water again.
‘Congratulations,’ she said, blinking rapidly to force away the tears that flooded her eyes. She failed.
‘Oh … what happened?’ the older man asked, looking panic-stricken to find a woman half his age crying out of the blue. ‘Was it something I said?’
‘No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You didn’t say anything. I’m just … a mess.’ It took her several moments to compose herself.
The man looked pained, and absolutely lost. He had most likely only wanted to kill time with some polite small talk, not dive deep into her emotional crisis. But in that moment, Raveena couldn’t hold anything in. She had fully lost control of her emotions. Every day, every hour was a struggle. She would be fine one minute and the next minute, without warning, spin out of control. Despite what Shreya would have to say about her situation, Raveena had privately searched Google for answers. The results indicated that she was in the midst of a mental breakdown, but she was too scared to say those words out loud, in fear of trivializing something so significant … when her problems seemed so insignificant.
Nothing had even happened. She had moved temporarily to a new city for a project and, for the first time in her life, imagined a different future for herself. Nothing was even wrong with her old projected future. She had simply become obsessed with the idea of a new life, and now was on her way to pull the trigger to end her old life. That’s all. It hardly warranted a full-blown breakdown. Perhaps Shreya was right; Raveena was probably exaggerating.
‘I’m leaving my boyfriend,’ she cried. ‘It has to end. We’ve run our course. It’s time to move on.’
She spoke more to herself than to him. He nodded quietly.
‘I don’t even know why we’re together anymore. We just … are. We fell in love, got into a relationship … and just stayed. Never questioned it. But there’s so much more out there. There’s newness … excitement, romance, possibilities.’ Raveena paused, then added thoughtfully, ‘There’s also rejection, loneliness and … despair, I guess. But I’d rather try, than just stagnate because I’m too scared to be alone. Or scared that I’d miss him. What kind of a sad stereotype am I?’
She turned to him, seeking answers he clearly wasn’t in the place to provide. When he didn’t say anything, she asked, ‘What should I do?’
‘I thought the decision was made?’ he said.
‘Yes … I mean, yes, I know it’s the right thing to do. But now I’m thinking about him. For him, it’ll come out of nowhere. I don’t know how he would take it. And he didn’t do anything wrong … So it’s not like he deserves to be dumped.’ Imagining his face made her weak with emotion, but, in the next moment, she hardened. ‘Or maybe he wouldn’t even really notice my absence from his life. He’ll just go on living … There’s no passion left in our relationship. I can’t just assume that he’d be heartbroken if I left.’
Her words hung in the space between them. When he still didn’t speak after a few minutes, Raveena asked, ‘Do you have any advice? Anything to help me in the right direction?’
‘I can’t make the decision for you. I don’t know you. I don’t know your boyfriend. But I do know relationships …’ he trailed off. He closed his eyes for a moment, and Raveena waited patiently. She had never ever said the words she had said to this man out loud. She needed to hear thoughts that didn’t come from her own head.
He opened his eyes and said, ‘I don’t have experience with … shopping, when it comes to relationships. I was married young, and the only woman I have ever known is my wife. We got married thirty-five years ago. I really am no expert in searching for the right partner. I only know how to be a life partner to my wife. And while passion and excitement are wonderful in a partnership, I’ve found that for sustenance, we also need companionship, trust and a
ffection. I always think of marriage or family … as a plant. Passion and romance are flowers. They are seasonal; they bloom every once in a while, brighten everything up. But as lovely as they are, the plant needs healthy roots to survive. Our marriage is rooted in love, trust and respect. Over the years, we’ve developed branches with laughter, conversation, experiences, having children, and now … our first grandchild.’
Raveena was overwhelmed. As profound and valuable as his words were, she couldn’t find a way to apply them to her own life. Thirty-five years ago, his parents found a stranger for him to marry, and he made it work. Her situation was hardly comparable. Things have changed. You no longer have to be with someone just because you’re expected to, and somehow find a way to make it work. She didn’t have to settle.
‘One last thing about this plant analogy: you have to water it. And that’s the work. If you don’t water it, it could have everything else it needs, but still wither away. You can’t expect a plant to survive without water, let alone bloom.’
‘But is your plant still blooming? Or just surviving? Are you still in love?’
‘Very much so. Maybe not the kind of love your generation needs.’ His tone, miraculously, still lacked judgement, despite Raveena’s obvious scepticism. He chuckled and added, ‘But I know you probably don’t have the same views on love. So, here’s a quirky little question you can ask yourself about your partner.’ He paused for impact, before asking, ‘How would you feel if he was gravely ill? Or if he died?’
‘What?’ Raveena was shaken. ‘That’s dark and dramatic!’
The old man chuckled. ‘Maybe. But it works. I only thought of it when my wife had to be hospitalized, seven years ago. We almost lost her, and that fear of losing her made me love her even deeper. So, if you think about your partner dying, on a scale of devastation to relief, where would you land?’
‘I’m so sorry your wife got sick. And glad she recovered. But this is no way to make life decisions, by being ruled by emotions. This is really extreme and crazy!’ Raveena said, still in disbelief. She couldn’t even bear to think about Atul dying. Her brain refused to imagine that scenario.
‘Well then, make it less extreme: how would you feel if they were with someone else? Happy and fulfilled.’
Of all the things he had said to her in the past few minutes – arguably deeper and much better thought-out things – this hit Raveena the hardest. All the time she had spent mulling over their upcoming break-up, she had been thinking about her life, her future. Now, when she thought about leaving Atul, and him actually moving on … with someone else … her heart couldn’t contain it. She wouldn’t be able to call him anymore. Someone else would kiss him. He would never try to make her laugh again, delivering a silly joke and waiting eagerly for her to crack up. She could never hold on to him during heart-wrenching episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. He would comfort someone else.
Her heart raced, and, in that vulnerable moment, her mind went back to the first question: what if Atul died? He would be gone, she couldn’t call him, hear his voice, feel his warmth, the touch of his lips, she couldn’t tell him about her day and listen to him talk about his. They couldn’t buy a house together, make it a home, sleep in the same bed, next to each other, every night for the rest of their lives. She was breathing heavily.
The older man said something, but it didn’t register. Her mind went back to the plant analogy. Maybe their relationship didn’t have flowers anymore. That’s it. That’s all that was missing: some fun, some romance. But that was hardly a surprise. When was the last time either of them had tried to do something special for each other? When was the last time they watered their plant? Also, just because they didn’t have any flowers now, didn’t mean that their relationship would not bloom again. And how easily had she put all the blame for the lack of flowers on Atul and decided to rip the entire plant from its root, discard it?
Her ears were ringing. What was she doing? What was wrong with her? She loved him, and he loved her; so why was she running away from the work that a relationship required and trying to replace him with a new city?
The older man was softly patting her on her back.
‘There’s something wrong with me,’ Raveena whispered. ‘Something is broken. I don’t know what. And instead of dealing with it, I’m blaming everything on him.’ Atul was the one person who had always loved her, but whatever was going on in her mind made her fascinated with the idea of completely erasing her old life and starting over. As though just like that, she could leave all her problems behind and become a new person. When, in reality, all she wanted was for him to move to the city with her. She couldn’t live in that town anymore. The walls were closing in on her, and she needed to escape, with him by her side. The truth was that she was too afraid to ask him so instead she had convinced herself that she didn’t need him. That he didn’t fit in her future plans. This way, she could reject him before he could reject her, and it would be less painful, because she would be prepared, in control.
Now that she had laid out all her thoughts in a recognizable, readable order, her plan to leave Atul looked stupid. She was stunned at the thought of what she had almost done.
When the plane landed shortly after, Raveena, still shaken and emotional, said goodbye to the older man. ‘Congratulations on your grandbaby,’ she added as they waited for their bags. ‘When is your wife going to meet the baby?’
‘Oh,’ the older man said, looking away, at the baggage belt. ‘She’s already here. She came early, for the delivery.’
Raveena smiled. ‘Well, I hope you have a great time with your family. Or, should I say, your well-tended plant?’
Just then, Raveena spotted Atul waiting for her at the gate. Her heart melted. She couldn’t wait for her bag to arrive, so she could run to him and hold him. The conversation with the stranger on the plane had played a large part in changing her mind, but seeing Atul now, she knew that she wouldn’t have been able to go through with her silly plan regardless. She loved him too much.
Enough to tell him the truth. To ask for help. Something was wrong; her mental breakdowns were rooted in a cause. And now that she stopped placing the blame on Atul, she could see clearly that something needed to change. Raveena was comforted by Atul’s smiling face. She wasn’t going to be alone in this.
Prakash shuffled to the gate, dragging his suitcase behind him. He spotted his son rushing towards him. Prakash waved, wiping his cheeks. He had to purse his lips together, as he watched the young woman from the plane embrace her partner.
He hadn’t had the heart to tell her that his wife’s sickness had taken her seven years ago. But he was glad that he hadn’t needed to break her heart like that; that a hypothetical scenario had been enough to show her the light. Whatever it was that she and her partner were dealing with could be solved. They had youth and health on their side. They would figure the rest out.
Prakash looked towards his son, beaming at him as he approached. His daughter-in-law was waving at him through a rolled-down car window. Prakash gulped. The plant of his family had suffered a drought when his wife had passed away. But, any day now, they were going to welcome a new branch, and flowers would bloom again.
Circle
How was his wife, even at nine months pregnant, ready to give birth any moment now, still stronger than him? It didn’t make any sense. Aakash wished for some of that strength, keeping both his hands firmly on the wheel. His eyes stayed on the road, but his ears were tuned in to every breath Mansi took. He was watching for change. Knowing Mansi, she would play down her discomfort, so he took on the responsibility of looking out for her. If her breath became shorter by even a fraction, or a moan escaped her lips, he would turn the car towards the hospital. Aakash looked in the rear-view mirror to ensure, for the tenth time, that they had the hospital bag packed and ready in the back seat.
‘Aakash, can you relax? You’re starting to freak me out,’ Mansi groaned from the passenger seat.
‘I am relaxed,’ he s
aid quietly. His wife didn’t actually need a response from him. She could read him like an open book.
‘Really? Because it looks like you’re choking that steering wheel. And you won’t look at me!’
Aakash glanced towards her shortly before returning his gaze to the road. ‘I’m driving,’ he said shortly, evenly.
‘Can you at least put one hand on the gear, so I can hold it? The baby needs it.’
Knowing fully well that she was using the baby growing inside her to get her way, Aakash followed her instructions. Mansi placed her right hand on top of his left and squeezed it. Despite himself, he felt better.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she prodded.
‘There’s nothing to—’
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Mansi asked again, this time, her tone making it clear that refusing wasn’t an option.
It took a moment for Aakash to form the words. What he was feeling was very simple, very obvious, but still, somehow, saying it out loud, putting words to his fear, left his body cold. ‘What if he says no?’
Mansi’s grip on his hand grew stronger. She didn’t respond, not knowing what to say.
Aakash hated how small his voice sounded, like he was seventeen again. Like it was the day after his mother died, finally succumbing to her illness, after struggling for seven long months. They had seen it coming, the doctors had ‘prepared’ them; however, when it happened, it still wasn’t any less of a shock.
Intellectually, his brain understood what had happened, but emotionally, he couldn’t absorb it. Even his body reacted in a completely foreign way, convulsing and aching like it had never done before. The grief choked his insides, from the back of his throat all the way down to his gut. He wasn’t prepared for it. Some nights it felt downright violent, like a limb had been ripped off his body. It felt cruel and unnecessary.
And then, after he had got somewhat used to the loss of his mother, his eyes landed on his father. Somehow, that cut even deeper. The look on his father’s face knocked the breath out of Aakash. Before that, he had never seen his father quite so … crumpled. Even when they’d found out about his mother’s illness, even through the diagnostic tests, the surgeries, the recoveries, stints in the hospital, uncertainty, even through her health declining slowly, till she reached her end – his father had appeared strong. He had cried, he had held her hands and revisited the good memories they had shared, he had broken down when she was in the operation theatre, but this … This was different.