THE MEETING

Just about two hours ago, I was an ordinary teenager, sitting in the canteen of her college, enjoying with her friends, and eyeing the few good-looking guys (read: extremely rare and almost endangered species) in the college as they came and went; and now, I was sitting in Barista, acting suave and grown-up, reading a book while I waited to meet him. Exactly after four years.

Recap.

We met. Became friends. Lost touch. Were back in touch (courtesy an old slam book and courtesy my efforts). He shifted to Bombay for higher studies. I still tried to remain in touch with him. One day I come to know he doesn’t really care to be in touch with me, and wouldn’t mind it (or maybe would be rather glad) if we didn’t talk, stay in touch.

I stopped contacting him.

But somewhere in the midst of all this, I fell in love with him. Truly. Madly. Deeply. And inexplicably.

Then why was I sitting in Barista waiting for him?

He was getting married.

Oh, didn’t I tell you? He is seven years older to me.

Yeah. Seven whole years older to me.

Still; why was I sitting in Barista waiting for him to come?

I couldn’t explain that myself. Jut about two hours ago I had received an SMS from him. Note: he still had my number.

But I tried to figure out whose number it was. Note: his number was not stored in my phonebook.

It may seem trivial, but this meant a lot. For me, a person who wasn’t in my phonebook was virtually dead.

The SMS read: ‘hi.m getin married on 2dec.u r invitd to d reception.venue central park junglee maharaj rd,time 7 to 9pm.pl b der.rgrds.’

My stomach lurched. And suddenly I placed the number; it was his number.

I had anticipated the arrival of this day so many times… and for so many days and months… and now that it was actually here, it numbed me. I was so totally unprepared. I didn’t know what to say!

‘hi.congrats.nice to hear frm u.thnx 4 d invitation.bt I dnt think I’ll b abl to mak it.of curs u knw,my wishes always wit u.’: my reply.

‘cm on.u hv to com.try n mak it.pl.’: his reply.

And I smiled. Laughed actually; a blushy girly laugh. And what I did next was totally mad; dumb, unexpected… incomprehensible. Unneeded.

I replied: ‘u hvnt chngd a bit.’

What was I thinking? Why did I have to do it? And then I knew he had changed! He had gone from the person I loved to the person I had come to utterly dislike now… I won’t say ‘hate’ because hate is a very strong word. I plead temporary insanity… no. Actually I plead nothing for getting myself into the situation I was in. But I guess, by that one SMS, he had transported me back to the time I was madly in love with him.

His reply: ‘bt u hv chngd a lot.’

My reply: ‘lemme assure u I hvnt.’

His reply: ‘hw abt letin me decide tht?coffee?1hr.barista.if u r free.’

My reply: ‘ok’

I don’t know what absurd moment it was when I agreed to meet him. God. Yes, I loved him. I mean, I used to love him. But I had just gotten out of him recently, of course with a lot of help from my old world friends, and this special friend… but more on that later. Anyway, so I had agreed to meet him within an hour, at a coffee shop I didn’t like, at a time I didn’t have coffee at, in a way I had never expected, and under circumstances I had never dreamt of.

Sigh.

I glanced at my watch for about the zillionth time. ‘Bridges On Madison County’ was propped open in front of me on the table, and for the first time, I wasn’t able to absorb into a book to get away from something. And just then I looked up; and I was staring at him.

Telepathy? Maybe…

Style check: he was wearing black jeans and a wine-red full-sleeved shirt, sleeves folded up to his elbow. Full marks. But… his hair was messy, his face was pimply, he had put on weight… God! I couldn’t help finding flaws in him. He had changed so much. And yet I had to go and type that SMS out and send it to him: ‘u hvnt chngd a bit.’ Mad. Totally mad!

But most of all, I noticed something that really ripped my heart out.

His smile was gone.

He spotted me and nodded. Wow! So he recognized me after all these years. But even as he smiled, I noticed yet again there was something strained about it; like he was making a Herculean effort to smile. I tried to smile back, but couldn’t. How? Why? What had happened? I kept wondering. He came and sat down at the table.

‘Hi!’ he said.

‘Hi…’ I replied.

‘Let’s order first and then talk,’ he said, and picked up the menu card. ‘I’m hungry.’

He went on to study the menu card, I studied him till then.

‘I don’t know,’ he said suddenly. ‘I never come here. You say, what do you want?’

‘I never come here either,’ I said. ‘But I guess espresso is the same everywhere. I’ll go for an espresso.’

‘Black coffee? You like black coffee?’ he asked, as if I had ordered for poison.

‘Yes, and without sugar,’ I added, quite bitterly too. Suddenly I was cursing myself for ever having agreed to meet him. The only thing I wanted to do was get up and leave. The hatred, the disgust… the hurt… it was all coming back, gushing into my mind with a force I couldn’t counter.

‘Hmmm… I didn’t know that....’ he said. A boy came to take our order. He placed the order. The boy left.

‘So… how is college? You are in, what… second year now?’ he asked.

‘Yes; and college is going great,’ I replied.

‘Modern right?’ he asked. Modern as in, the name of my college.

‘Yes,’ I replied.

‘And you are doing science I guess…’ he said. ‘An intelligent and talented girl like you would be wasted in commerce or arts.’

‘Yes I am doing science. But I do have second thoughts about my decision sometimes,’ I reply truthfully. ‘There are so many things I would have liked to do, if I had the time to.’

‘Like?’

‘Oh, like lots… drama, for starters; music, and maybe photography too.’

‘Which reminds, I saw your album on Orkut. It’s brilliant.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, just as our order came. I eagerly took a sip of my coffee and burnt my tongue.

‘Aaah!’ I exclaimed.

‘Careful!’ he exclaimed, and reached out to wipe my mouth with a tissue paper. I moved back. There was an awkward moment. I wiped my mouth and set the cup back on the table. I took a sip of water. Suddenly I saw he was smiling.

‘Ajunahi tashich ahes, wendhali,’ he remarked (You are still the same, careless.)

I kept quiet.

‘So where were we? Right! Photography. ‘

‘Yeah.’

‘I love the stuff you have put up on Orkut.’

‘Thanks.’

‘And drama you said?’

‘Yes.’

‘I didn’t know you had a liking for drama.’

‘I am an artist at heart after all… and drama has always fascinated me.’

‘But English drama doesn’t have much scope___’

‘Marathi drama I mean.’

‘Marathi drama? Wow! That’s great.’

Pause.

‘And what about painting? You used to sketch right?’ he asked.

‘Yes. But I realised it isn’t my cup of coffee.’

‘Strictly without sugar.’ He remarked, and for the first time, we both laughed together. Genuinely.

‘You tell me about yourself,’ I said. I was beginning to relax, just a little, but still…

‘Nothing yaar,’ he said. He tore the packet of sugar open and poured it into his cup. He picked up the spoon and stirred it. ‘Same old life.’

‘Yeah right. You are getting married and nothing’s new. Same old life.’ I said. He didn’t respond. I changed the topic. ‘How many days are you here?’ I asked.

‘Leaving today evening,’ he said. ‘Anyway, majha sod. (Forget about me.) You say yaar. What are you doing? I mean, what are your future plans like?’

‘Well, I will do my graduation in Microbiology.’ He raised his eyebrows at this. ‘And then, I will go abroad and complete post-graduation. I want to do research.’

‘Wow! That’s great… so I am sitting with a future scientist.’

I smiled.

Pause.

‘Mrunal please talk to me.’

My spoon fell out of my hands and right into the cup, sending small droplets of coffee flying around.

‘Oh God! I am so sorry…’ I said, as I took a tissue and wiped the coffee off his hand and mine. He waited for me to finish. I made as if I hadn’t heard him. He repeated: ‘Come on. Talk to me.’

‘I am talking to you,’ I said.

‘You are not.’

‘Come on, honestly. You are imagining things.’

‘Kunala banavtes Mrunal, mala?’ (Whom are you trying to fool Mrunal, me?)

Pause.

‘Why have you come to meet me?’ I finally came out of the closet and asked him the question I was burning to ask. And I can see he has been waiting to hear it too.

‘I wanted to talk to you.’

‘Talk to me about what? You didn’t want to be friends with me right? Mi sodla tula, (I left you) then what do you want to talk about now? Haven’t you had enough of me? God!’ I held my head in my hands. ‘Why did I even come to meet you…’ I said, in a low, tired voice. ‘This whole meeting is a bloody mistake…’ I blinked as I realised my eyes were welling up with big fat tears… and I thought I was done with crying over him, crying for him. He waited for me to compose myself. I could feel his gaze on me. I took my own sweet time. Finally I looked up, but not at him. I lifted my head and looked out the window. My eyes were still a bit watery. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his was feeling it… my pain, my anger. And somewhere… it stung him.

‘I wanted to tell you something,’ he said. ‘And I must tell this to you before I get married. Or I never will… I know I won’t.’ He took a deep breath.

‘Frankly, I don’t know where to begin. I have always imagined this moment, when I would tell it to you. But now that the moment is actually here, I don’t know what to say… When we were together at the fitness centre, I was aware of your feelings for me. I knew you used to like me. Even after I shifted to Bombay for studies and job and all, you still kept in touch with me. And every time we talked, I felt it. And I even felt you were trying to hide it. You were trying to not let it show. But, good or bad, I saw through it. I am a PRO after all… we are taught to read people’s body language as part of our training. So yes, you tried your best to hide it, but I found out anyway. And that is how I started avoiding you… But I am sure you think I started avoiding you because I didn’t want to be friends with you… because you were too small to be my friend, and I was embarrassed when you called in front of my friends. But its not so. The truth is…’ he paused; took a deep breath and looked me straight in the eye. ‘The truth is I was afraid of making a choice. I was afraid of taking a decision, of taking an action. And I regret it now.’

I was stunned. I looked at him. Right there, right then all I wanted was to get up and hug hum. I felt so many things at a time. I felt… naked. I felt insecure about the fact that someone knew me so well… and yet, it was heady. I was petrified and ecstatic at the same time. Was he implying that… that he loved me too? Even saying it to myself made me feel so strange.

‘Even if you don’t believe me, it’s true. I regret not having done what I wanted to do; not having done what felt and still feels, and will always feel the right thing to do. I can’t imagine what I put you through… and I just wanted to say, tujhyat kahich kami nahiye, mich kami padlo.’ (There is nothing lacking you, I was the deficient one.)

By now I had started crying… tears were rolling down my cheeks in a continuous stream. I imagined what life could have been if he had had the courage to come up to me and say yes he loved me too; and as I did, I realised what I had been deprived of; what we had both been deprived of.

‘I know this doesn’t help in any way, but I just had to tell you this. I knew I just had to. But if there is any way you could forgive me… I would be extremely humbled.’

But I realised… how could I blame him for not having the courage to speak up? Can you blame someone for not being strong enough to do something? Yes it hurt a lot. At one point, all I wanted to do was die or kill him. But was it really his mistake? Could he be held responsible for all that happened? It was neither his fault, nor mine. And in that one moment I realised how big the word ‘fate’ is. I used to think I was so terribly wronged. And here was a guy who, just because he didn’t have the courage to do something, was now asking me to forgive him; thinking it might be his ultimate penance. Who was I to forgive him?

But he deserved it.

‘Its ok,’ I said quietly, ‘I forgive you.’

And just then, just like that, he got up, hugged me, and said something I would have loved to hear before, something that would have satisfied my ego and made me immensely happy some time ago, but something which tore my heart from my chest now as he said it. He hugged me and said;

‘I am sorry.’