REGRET

Malvika looked at Hrishab, sitting right beside her on a flight to Delhi. She looked at his face that seemed as usual – calm, serene, composed – but something told her he was everything but that underneath. And she wondered if any man would ever do for her what Hrishab was doing.

One phone call – and everything had changed for her; her course of the next week, and – perhaps – that of her life. But she wished it hadn’t. She so dearly wished it hadn’t.

They got off at the airport and took a taxi and headed straight for the hospital. Malvika was clutching the paper with the address of the hospital tightly in her one hand; in the other she held Hrishab’s hand. Hrishab looked at Malvika. He clearly saw the panic in her eyes, the worry, the care, the affection, the bond – perhaps the love too, or whatever remained of it. For the first time in his life, Hrishab felt scared, threatened, and like something was slipping out of his hands. He looked at this unusual, unconventional girl sitting next to him – for yes, in as many ways as she was mature, she was still a girl. He looked at the girl sitting next to him, who had possessed his heart like no one had ever been able to. And to see all these emotions in her eyes for someone else and not him scared Hrishab. It scared him a lot.

And yet, though he didn’t understand why, he had agreed to fly with Malvika to Delhi – quite against his will, but because he knew she needed him, or would need him as she faced Vikram after all these years. At least he was hoping she would need him.

As they arrived at the hospital, their palms grew wet – but Malvika didn’t know if it was she who was sweating or Hrishab. And that’s the first time she allowed herself to look at Hrishab directly in his eyes. But she couldn’t think of anything to say that would put him to comfort – no reassurance. She just kept staring into those warm brown eyes, and looked away. As the taxi parked in front of the hospital, Malvika let go of Hrishab’s hand.

‘I’ll go inside.’

Hrishab nodded as he pulled out his wallet to pay for the ride. He pulled a single bag out of the trunk and thanked the taxi driver. He turned around and saw Malvika standing at the counter – and was suddenly reminded of the first time he had seen her, ironically in the same dress. There was a sense of intriguing austerity in the way that Malvika carried herself around – something that pulled you toward her, made you want to know her more, but not without knowing you can only get so much closer to her on your own; from thereon, it was her choice, if she let you get any closer or not.

‘Room 109,’ Malvika said, as Hrishab reached her. She took his hand again and they walked to the elevator. But there were far too many people standing to get in. Malvika led them to the stairs and they started climbing them. Hrishab was tired and wanted to protest although it was just one floor, but he took one look at Malvika, and couldn’t. They took the stairs in small quick steps and were soon on the first floor. They looked around. A nurse stopped by.

‘Yes?’

‘Room 109?’

‘First room on your left.’

‘Thank you.’

They started walking toward the room – but suddenly Malvika had slowed down. Hrishab noticed this and slowed down as well. Finally, she stopped a few steps short of the room. Hrishab stopped as well. He waited patiently for Malvika to do something. She turned around and looked at him. He looked at her.

He gave her hand a squeeze and blinked.

She turned left and walked right upto the room.

She could see him inside the room.

He had lost quite some weight – his tall frame looked frail and weak, as he lay on the bed. There was a copy of Wuthering Heights propped open upon his chest. Malvika instantly recognised it as the one she had gifted him, and the one he had mocked her about. She looked at all the tubes going inside his body – carrying God only knows what not. He looked quite okay otherwise. And then Malvika noticed his head.

Those thick black curls that she had locked her fingers into once upon a time were gone. What remained was only the skull cap that she used to tease him about.

A lady sitting next to him looked up from her book at Malvika. She immediately got up and came outside the room.

‘Hello aunty,’ Malvika greeted her, as she put her free hand on the lady’s shoulder. The lady grabbed it and started crying. Malvika looked at Hrishab and then back at the lady.

‘Thank you for coming beta,’ the lady said. ‘He is waiting for you.’

Malvika smiled at the lady, and opened the door, and though she had made no sound, Vikram opened his eyes and looked at her. He smiled.

‘Hi.’

And with that, Malvika let go or Hrishab’s hand and walked into the room, closing the door behind her.

-x-x-

The lady looked at Hrishab, offering him half an awkward smile. Hrishab smiled back.

‘Are you with Malvika?’

‘Yes.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Hrishab.’

She went and sat in one of the chairs placed outside the room. She motioned for Hrishab to join her.

‘I am glad you could come with her. I had been angry and worried when Vikram had called her – angry because he had not done the right thing by disturbing her and her life by making that phone call out of the blue, and with the news that he had; worried because I didn’t know how Malvika would take it.’

‘You knew about your son and Malvika?’

A long pause. A sigh.

‘Yes.’

Another long awkward pause.

‘I’m glad she is not alone,’ the lady said again. Hrishab could not really read the emotion in her voice. But he could make out one thing for sure – the woman was trying to say ‘I’m glad she found someone’ in every way other than directly saying it.

Hrishab steered the lady towards her son.

‘When did you find out?’

‘Eight months back.’

So he had thought a lot before informing Malvika, Hrishab thought.

‘How did you come to know?’

The lady removed her specs and put them into a case before answering him.

‘He threw up blood.’

Hrishab didn’t know what else to say.

‘You must be tired. Shall we go have a cup of coffee?’ the lady offered.

‘Sure, if that is not too much trouble,’ Hrishab said, but only to be polite. As much as a part of him was aching to wrap his lips around a cup of strong, hot coffee, a much bigger part of him was dying to burst into the room and pull Malvika out of it. But he knew he couldn’t do it; and more than that he knew he didn’t have to do it. But when life threatens your love, all logic seems ridiculous.

Hrishab took one look at the door of the room, and walked past it. Resisting himself a glance inside through the small glass window on the door with great difficulty, he followed the woman to the hospital canteen.

-x-x-

Malvika put her purse in one of the chairs inside the room and came and stood by the bed. Vikram closed the book and put it on the side table.

‘I can’t believe you’ve finally come around to reading it,’ Malvika said, in a desperate attempt to make casual conversation.

‘Yeah, I don’t have the kind of time to put it off to any later a date,’ Vikram said, smiling.

Malvika looked pained.

‘Come on, you know me and my sick sense of humour,’ Vikram said, ‘that only you found funny.’

Malvika made a sincere effort to smile.

‘Come sit,’ Vikram said, tucking his blanket underneath himself and making room for Malvika on the bed.

‘No I’m fine,’ she protested. There was hardly enough room on the bed for two.

‘Come on,’ Vikram said and held her hand.

Instantly Malvika went stiff. She inhaled deeply.

She still remembered his touch; and how the calluses on his palms felt. The familiarity had not faded, even over three years.

Vikram noticed it, and let go of her hand immediately.

Malvika sat down next to him. She was careful not to disturb or touch any tubes or needles running into Vikram’s veins.

‘So how are you?’

‘I am fine.’

‘You look beautiful,’ Vikram said.

Malvika looked at Vikram. This was the first time he had called her beautiful. Malvika couldn’t respond to the compliment and only nodded.

‘Was it a good flight till down here?’

‘Yes.’

‘On time too?’

‘Yep.’

Pause.

‘Malvika, thanks for coming.’

‘How could I refuse Vikram?’ Malvika said, as she allowed herself to look at Vikram.

Vikram hung his head – ‘After the way it ended between us, I never thought I would ever see you again. And I wouldn’t have, I guess, if it hadn’t been for my condition. But I couldn’t think of anyone else I wanted to talk to or meet more than you.’

‘What do you mean? What about Dhiraj?’

Vikram paused before answering, surprise evident in his eyes – ‘You still remember Dhiraj?’

‘I remember everything Vikram. It is not so long ago for me to start to forget everything.’

Pause.

‘He is in Auckland now. Got a job.’

‘And…’ Malvika hesitated.

‘Swati?’ Vikram prompted. Malvika only nodded.

‘We are not in touch anymore.’

‘Why? What happened?’

‘We broke up within a few months.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Vikram didn’t reply.

‘What went wrong?’ Malvika tried again.

‘I really don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Oh ok. I’m sorry I brought it up.’

‘No no, come on. It’s alright, you couldn’t have known.’

Vikram looked at Malvika as she tried to think of something to say to stay away from the most obvious of questions. Vikram could see her struggle inside her head, as she went through all the things she could talk about so as to steer clear from talking about his illness.

‘So you still drive your old Kinetic?’ Vikram asked out of the blue.

‘Of course! I love it! She’s my first love!’ Malvika said, trying to sound cheerful. ‘And I’m sure you still have your Yamaha?’

‘Nah, I sold it.’

‘What? Why!’ Malvika exclaimed, the surprise genuine in her voice.

‘Just. Didn’t feel like driving it anymore.’

‘How are all your crazy friends from college?’

‘I don’t know,’ Vikram answered after thinking for a while.

‘What do you mean “I don’t know”?’

‘I am not in touch with anyone anymore.’

‘Oh my God. Vikram what happened?’

‘I don’t know. Everything just went wrong suddenly, one after the other. First it went kaput between me and Swati. And then just everything went wrong. And then I was diagnosed of cancer, about a week before your birthday. It just all went kind of downhill from there, everything just went out of – Malvika, you’re crying.’

Malvika wiped her tears of her cheeks, but they refuse to stay behind her eyes any longer.

‘You’d called on my birthday. Why didn’t you tell me?’ Malvika said through her tears. And then, neither could tell who initiated it, but they were in each other’s arms and their lips had locked.

Malvika clung onto Vikram’s shirt and kissed him. Vikram kissed her back, holding her in his arms, caressing her and try to calm her down. But Malvika couldn’t stop. She kept on crying. She cried and cried till her throat went dry. ‘Why?’ she kept on asking.

‘I just didn’t,’ was all Vikram had to say in reply.

‘Vikram, don’t you know even by now, what you meant to me?’ Malvika asked sincerely.

‘I do Malvika – and it scares me. I am not worth what you give me.’

Malvika nodded ‘no’.

‘I am not Malvika, even though you think otherwise.’

‘Vikram that’s not even an answer! We were a lot more than just…’ Malvika couldn’t complete her sentence. ‘Vikram you were always special to me, and you will always be! You should’ve told me Vikram! I can’t believe it… all this time, all these years… and you didn’t call me even once! I know we didn’t break up on a healthy note, but still! We meant a lot more to each other…’

‘It was not until I lost you that I realised it Malvika. I just couldn’t bring myself to call you.’

‘Vikram…’

But Malvika could say no more.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

Malvika got up and reached for her purse. She pulled out a napkin and went into the bathroom as a nurse came in to check on Vikram.

‘Is there anything you need?’ Malvika heard a female voice above the sound of tap water.

‘No I’m fine, thank you.’ Vikram’s voice. Malvika wiped the water off her face and entered the room again, just as the nurse left. She put her napkin back into the purse and came and sat down beside Vikram again.

‘It feels so nice to see you Malvika. I really mean it.’

‘It is good to see you too Vikram.’

‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out – ’

‘Stop it Vikram. Forget about it.’

Pause.

‘You tell me about yourself! How are you doing?’

‘I am fine. I’m doling ok.’

‘Have you come alone?’

‘No I got someone along with me…’ Malvika answered tentatively.

Vikram looked at her.

‘What’s his name?’ he asked.

‘Hrishab.’

Pause.

‘Would you like to meet him?’

‘I would love to.’

-x-x-

Hrishab was pacing the corridor outside Room 109. It had been almost an hour since Malvika had entered the room. He couldn’t wait any longer. Vikram’s mother had stayed back in the canteen as she bumped into someone she knew, while Hrishab had come back up to the room. Hrishab wondered what Malvika and Vikram were talking about, what they were doing. Sure Vikram had only a few months of life left, but Hrishab had no sympathy for him. Malvika had barely given him the most essential information, but Hrishab had never had to ask; for any person with even an ounce of compassion could tell what a tough time Malvika had had to go through. And then Hrishab could read faces.

He had chosen never to ask Malvika anything after the first and the last time she told him about Vikram, but that does not mean Hrishab did not know what had happened. And he had no sympathy for a guy who could put someone he loved at some point of time at least through something like that. And least of all someone Hrishab now loved more than anyone else. He could and would never forgive Vikram. Ever.

The door to room 109 opened and Malvika stepped outside – one look and Hrishab knew he had made a mistake by agreeing to fly Malvika down to Delhi. A girl like her did not deserve to be put through this turmoil, no matter how much she wanted it.

Malvika walked upto Hrishab. Hrishab stepped toward her and hugged her. He kissed her on the forehead.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked.

‘Yes. I am fine,’ she said while still hugging him back, her head on his chest. She stayed like that for a moment, then looked up at him.

‘Will you come inside and say hi, please?’

‘Why?’

Malvika paused – ‘For me?’

-x-x-

‘Hi.’

‘Hi Hrishab. Thanks for flying Malvika down. I am really grateful. And it’s nice to meet you.’

Malvika looked at the two of them – one too upset to talk, the other too ashamed. She tried to fill in.

‘Hrishab works with Capgemini.’

‘Oh I see.’

‘He will be flying to Texas next week regarding work. He is going to be there for about a month.’

‘Texas is an awesome place.’

Malvika’s phone buzzed. She fished it out of her purse.

‘I’m sorry, I have to take this. Please excuse me,’ she said as she walked out of the room.

Vikram looked at Hrishab.

‘Thanks for coming, really. It means a lot to me.’

‘I did not do it for you.’

‘And you have done it quite unwillingly for her as well, as I can see.’

Hrishab began to say something, but stopped himself. For as much as he could never bring himself to forgive Vikram, he could read the regret on his face, as clear as ink on paper. Only he wished he could tell Vikram everything that he had to do to pull Malvika out of him, to convince her to trust people again, to trust herself again. Only he knew what that girl talking on the phone outside had been through, and how much it had thrown her off track, how deeply it had shook her. Only Hrishab knew how helpless Malvika had sounded when she’d told Hrishab why she wasn’t attracted to him in spite of him being such a great person, why she felt nothing about a guy who would have otherwise made her go weak in the knees, why she was so inert. Vikram didn’t know how horribly Malvika had closed into herself, and how difficult it had been for her to come out of her closet. He didn’t know how much the girl had paid, and only for having loved – selflessly and honestly.

But the regret and remorse on Vikram’s face was unmistakable. And Hrishab couldn’t possibly bring himself to say anything to him.

‘I threw away something that people don’t get even once in their life. I didn’t know what I had when I had it. But I hope you do. And I hope you will take good care of her and cherish her much more than I ever had or ever can.’

Hrishab nodded in reply.

Malvika entered the room as if on cue. She looked at both of them and smiled.

‘We are going to our hotel room now. We will come back in the evening to see you again,’ Malvika said, as they decided to take leave.

‘I’ll let you say goodbye,’ Hrishab said and walked out of the room.

‘So long,’ Malvika said, as she bent down to hug Vikram.

‘Bye. I really missed you all these years. It was so nice to see you,’ Vikram said, as he put his arms around Malvika’s neck and hugged her back.

‘Anything I can bring for you when I come in the evening?’ Malvika asked.

‘Just yourself – it is more than I can ever be grateful for anyway.’

‘Come on Vikram, don’t talk that way.’

‘You still get so disturbed Malvika – its alright. I am ready now.’

‘What do you mean?’

Vikram looked at Malvika, taking some time before he answered. He looked at those eyes that were once full of love for him, and those arms that he’d caressed standing in the balcony of his house. He looked at the locket that still hung around Malvika's neck and that he had never liked but had grown fond of over time. He looked at her, unblinking, drinking in with his eyes the sight of that lovely face, that lovely girl, that girl who loved him, but who he could never love back as much. He looked at her, as if absorbing her so that he could keep her in his memory forever. He tried to remember the Malvika he had known, and it struck him – nothing had changed. She still loved him, at some level. There was a part of her that she had with him, and that he knew would always be only his, till eternity, even though she was with Hrishab now and they were going to get married.

Nothing had changed.

And yet everything had.

‘Nothing,’ he said finally, and Malvika walked out of the door.

-x-x-

Vikram’s mother walked into the room. Vikram kept on staring outside the window. She came in and sat next to him on the bed. She looked at him. But he kept staring out of the window.

‘Are you feeling better?’

But Vikram didn’t say a word.

‘I am glad she came,’ Vikram’s mother said.

Vikram still didn’t respond.

His mother called out to him – ‘Vikram?’

He still didn’t respond.

She got off the bed and walked around to face Vikram. Tears were running down his cheeks. She stretched out a hand to wipe them off, and Vikram collapsed into tears. He hugged his mother and buried his face in her bosom. ‘I wish!’ he cried…

And he never said any more.

BE THIS WAY

You’ll probably never know how much I loved you
But it had rather be this way

You will never know why I gave up on coffee,
or why I cut my hair
You will never know why I now like Metallica,
and where’re all the soft toys gone, that were once there

You’ll probably never know why I learnt to bake a Black-forest cake only cos you liked it
And you’re never going to know why I stopped talking to that boy from my school you had a fight with

You will keep guessing why I took dance lessons,
and why I kept saying – “I’m all old school
and chivalry will always have its charm,
even though you think going Dutch is cool.”

You’ll keep wondering why I gave up on old Hindi movies,
or why I started watching those English action flicks
You’ll never know where all my ear-rings have gone,
and why it now lies unused – my favourite kohl stick

I guess you never knew it was you I meant when I said
“My guy must be tall
and dark and funny and strong and loving and a gentleman”
And you’d mocked – “That’s all?!”
And you’ll probably never know how much I loved you,
and how much I miss your calls

But it had rather be this way any day

A broken heart is easier to handle,
than to handle “I wish I hadn’t met you anyway”

A broken heart is much more easy to handle
than to have you in my life at a price I can hardly pay
and only for you to sometime, someday, without the slightest of notice, just walk away…

MOMENT OF CLARITY

I see so many people around me everyday, always waiting for something – waiting for the lecture to get over, waiting for the person in front of you in the que to finish his transaction, waiting for the traffic-light to turn green, waiting for your turn at the hair-dresser, waiting for the answer that’s gonna change your life, waiting for someone to come around, waiting for the hour to pass… its like our happiness is just out there, in sight. You can see it clearly, in all detail. But you are waiting to reach it; or for it to reach out to you.

Sounds familiar?

So what makes us wait for something in sight but out of reach?

What makes us stop from going after and getting what we want?

I am waiting for my life to change – yeah, pretty big huh? I am waiting to complete my post graduation so that I can pursue something I have been wanting to do all my life – or all along my life so far. But more importantly, I am waiting for that one moment that I am hoping will come in my life soon, when I will know who and what I want to be, what I want to make with my life and my time and my talent and brains – just like I always knew I wanted to study biology in college.

Sometimes you just know things are going to happen.

This relationship’s not going to work.

You’re going to be disappointed by the one person you held so highly.

You are going to get that one chance you were looking for to prove your worth.

You are going to win that competition you have been waiting to participate in.

This is the last time that you are going to see your grandfather.

This is a person who is going to come to mean a lot to you.

It’s like sometimes you can feel something taking control of situations, people around you and turning things about. You feel a presence. You feel it unmistakably, and stronger than you’ve felt anything in your life before.

You look at a house and know it’s the one for you, even if it is ridiculously expensive, or far away from your work place maybe.

You go to buy a puppy, and you just know which one you are going to pick.

We go around blindly through each day, get up, get dressed, have breakfast, work, come home in the evening, have dinner, have a beer maybe, watch TV, maybe call a friend and greet them for their birthday, go to bed, read something for a while, sleep. And the cycle repeats. We have opinions about people around us, about a fashion trend, about a movie star, about a song, about political issues, about the stock market – what is your opinion about yourself? How much do we know ourselves?

We are all living each day of life as it comes; but in reality I think we are all at some level waiting for that one moment that’s going to change that one thing about you or your life that you really badly want to change; or for that one moment when you will know what it is you can do to bring about that change. We all live for that one moment of clarity. It may come to us while we are working in our garden, or when the wind hits your face next time you step out of your house, or when you are playing with your niece. It may come to us quite unexpectedly, or after a great deal of waiting – one, maybe even two years, or much longer even. But there is that moment of clarity that comes in everyone’s life. It is unmistakable, inescapable if it is meant to change you. But more than that, it is something that you cannot miss if you don’t want to let it pass by unnoticed.

I am on the lookout of mine – and I am all armed and as ready as I can be! And I hope you will find yours too.

FOOTPRINTS

Just how many things do we do in life for ourselves purely?

There always has to be that response to our stimulus.

An admirer of a new dress or new hair-cut.

A supporter to your decisions.

We are always looking for something that mirrors us to ourselves all our lives. We want that reflection to be in the form of someone else; and yet we want it to be exactly that – a reflection.

Someone who believes in what you believe in.

Someone who also likes tuna fish, just like you do.

Someone who also loves to dance, just like you do.

Why is it that we relate to something distinct from us only if we have been through a phase, a situation or an experience like that ourselves?

A favourite song.

A favourite movie.

Why is it that we have most experiences in common with our best friend?

We are always looking for that one person who will be a witness to our life on this planet.

Your friend may hate you thinking you always want to control their lives – but they still always consult you before taking any decision.

You know you are a good photographer – and yet it is important to you that people see and appreciate your work and tell you ‘you’re good’ at least once in a while.

I write for myself – but I am nonetheless always waiting for feedback and comments.

Can you for once in your life sing without an audience?

Can you for once cook a great meal just because YOU feel like having great food?

Can you for once read a good book and not share about it with another book-reading friend of yours?

Can you for once go off on a journey to enjoy your own company? Or even go to a movie all alone for that matter?

Can you? And more importantly – would you?

Why is it that we always turn around and look upon our footprints to see if someone is following them?

inspired from "By The River Piedra I Sat Down And Wept" - LOVE

Nancy got up with a sad feeling deep in her heart. How she regretted having to live through this day every year. Every year she would go down the memory lane and visit the same old shack by the sea where she had gone off all on her own for a vacation a few years ago and had met a man who, Nancy was sure since the moment she set her eyes on him, was going to be very important to her and was going to change her life forever. If only she had not spotted that figure on the beach. If only she had not offered the man a glass of wine. If only he had not accepted. If only they had not fallen in love.

But she had spotted that lonely figure on the beach.

She had offered the cold man a glass of wine.

He had accepted.

And they had fallen in love.

It was not something she regretted. Once in your life comes along the kind of love that we are all made to grow up believing in, but that we all learn in our own ways exists only in fairy-tales and dreams and good romantic books and cheesy romantic movies.

But she did regret not asking him to stay when she knew she could have and when she knew he would not have refused.

She regretted having heeded to the higher calling. She had put that man and his life and his path towards a better self, top-most on her list of priorities; and herself and her feelings and her happiness below it – just like she had been brought up to be; just like she had lived all her life.

Her children before her.

Her husband before her.

Her marriage before her.

Her parents, her job, the people around – the world before herself.

And that made her the good mother, the good wife, the good daughter, employee and person that everybody talked about and that everybody wanted everybody else to be – but also that that she did not like, forty years of life, fifteen years of marriage and two children later.

What good is life when you spend it living for others? Every waking moment, every breath, every thought spent on others. Every good deed always done for the betterment of others. Every sacrifice always made for the happiness of others.

And it was a weekend spent not with her husband but with a stranger in a shack many many miles away from her house that had made her think – what had she done in life for herself?

When was the last time she lived, laughed, loved for herself?

That one weekend with the man in the shack by the sea had given Nancy a taste of what life could have been – a man who loved every inch of her body, a man who loved her heart and soul and who wasn’t afraid to show it; a life with a companion who was very different from her, but who complemented her and understood her nonetheless.

And yes, he was a married man, much older to her, with a son only fifteen years younger to Nancy. He was a man with faults, much like her husband; and yet he was so different from her husband.

Nancy regretted not having asked the man to stay when it was time for him to leave. She knew she had had the power to make him wait; she knew he had longed for her to ask him to wait. He had left the decision in Nancy’s hand. And Nancy had again chosen to be the good mother and wife and had let him go, only to come back to an unfaithful husband and a broken marriage that she thought was her responsibility to try and save.

But no relationship works with the efforts of only one individual. It is a give and take.

However, that one weekend spent with that man in the shack by the sea many many miles away from her house had changed Nancy. She had returned to an unfaithful husband and a broken marriage, but without guilt or a false sense of morality. She had returned a changed woman, and she had taken charge of things and had changed her life – which included moving out of the house and life of her husband but along with her son and daughter, shifting base to a new city, making new friends and finding a new job and doing what she had always dreamt of doing; starting a plant nursery. Her daughter understood her; but Nancy would not have minded even if she hadn’t – she would when she grew up a little more. Her son still loved his mother, though he missed his father.

But Nancy was still haunted by the memories of the man she met on this day few years ago.

She was glad he had saved her.

She was glad he had shown her what her life could be, what it ought to be.

She was glad he had happened to her.

But she still regretted not having asked him to wait when she could have.

But she now understood the lines she had read many many years ago…

Love is always new. Regardless of whether we love once, twice or a dozen times in our life, we always face a brand new situation. Love can consign us to hell or to paradise, but it always takes us somewhere. We simply have to accept it because it is what nourishes our existence. If we reject it, we die of hunger, because we lack the courage to stretch out a hand and pluck the fruit from the branches of the tree of life. We have to take love where we find, even if that means hours, days, weeks of disappointment and sadness.

The moment we begin to seek love, love begins to seek us.

And to save us.

inspired from "By The River Piedra I Sat Down And Wept" - THE OLD LADY

Some people always have to be doing battle with someone, sometimes with themselves, battling with their own lives. So they begin to create a kind of play in their head, and they write the script based on their frustration.

Tilo heard the old lady say these lines and realised how much they were true – every word of it was painfully true and relevant to her life. Right from the moment she had been born, all she had been doing was fighting; first as her Mother tried to kill her while she was still in her womb, and then as the people around tried to kill her soul. All she had been doing was fighting – battling to guard her existence; battling to guard her virginity, battling to guard her innocence, battling to exist in a world that was crueller than could be imagined. Every moment a struggle. Every moment a war waged against her one self that wanted to believe in the good in people and her other self that had nothing but eyes that could see the world around her with all its bad and bad.

But when night fell and her Mother had cursed and cursed her and gone off to sleep, Tilo would dare to dream – of a caring Mother, of a clean house, of school; of a normal life and a better world. And it is these few moments every night and the hope they brought that helped Tilo pull through every day.

Until the day she heard the old lady speak – the old lady that she was scared of, but that she loved to hear when she began to speak. The old lady who Tilo saw always in the same clothes and who never smiled. There was something mysterious about the lady. She was not a beggar, and yet people passing her seemed to drop money for her and touch her feet. The lady never touched the money, and never seemed hungry or thirsty. She looked almost ethereal. At some point in the day the lady would start talking – and the stresaaset would go silent; but not because everyone would be listening, but because everyone would just clear the street. They would all disappear, take their children in and go inside their little huts and shut the doors and stay in till dusk. One evening Tilo had wandered off ad returned after the street had cleared and had heard the old lady speak. She had been scared at first and had tried to make her Mother open the door so she could come into the house.

‘Pay for your little excursion! Thousand times I tell you not to wander too far away, but you just don’t listen. The Devil, that’s what you are!’

Tilo had been very scared and had cried and cried till her throat went dry and her eyes and head started to ache. Finally when exhaustion took over and she couldn’t care less if she died or lived, she walked towards the lady and went and sat down in front of her.

The old lady’s eyes were closed, and she appeared as if to be chanting something. She broke out into prose once in a while, and went back to the chanting soon again. But her eyes always remained closed, like she was reciting something from memory. Her slow steady voice almost managed to put Tilo off to sleep when the lady opened her eyes and looked at Tilo. Tilo’s fears returned, but she sat rooted to the pace, stupefied. The old lady kept on looking at her – a constant unblinking stare, and Tilo couldn’t help but stare back into those eyes. How long they sat like that, no one knows. But after quite some time had passed, Tilo felt a hand lift her to her feet rather roughly.

‘Do you want to invoke the wrath of the Devil on the entire village?’

Tilo looked at her Mother, and turned back to look at the old lady. But she was gone.

– x – x –

‘You must take her to him! He is the only one who can save your daughter!’

‘Yes! No one who has ever seen that lady or spoken to her has ever lived to tell about it. But she has. There is something that’s definitely wrong.’

‘Take her to him. He knows just what to do.’

‘He will cure her.’

‘He will save her.’

– x – x –

Several days passed. People continued to drop money at the place where Tilo had seen the old lady sitting, and continued to touch the ground even. But Tilo was confused.

‘Mother, who do they offer the money to, if the old lady is not there anymore?’

But this innocent little question only brought upon another thrashing on Tilo, and she learnt never to ask her Mother about it again.

Several days passed by again. And then several weeks. One day Tilo met the old lady while she had wandered a little too far and away from her house. This time Tilo was not scared of the lady. But the lady, instead of maintaining her distance as always, addressed Tilo directly by her secret name –

‘Janhavi!’

Tilo was so astonished that the old lady knew her secret name that she forgot all her fear and the promise she had made to herself – to treat the old lady as indifferently as she treated her – and curiosity took over and Tilo ended up talking to her. She spent the whole evening talking to the old lady, and the night and it was almost dawn by the time she realised that an entire night had passed by. Tilo felt excited. This was her first night away from her home, and she was still safe and sound.

She had witnessed the good side of the world.

Tilo started meeting the old lady regularly. Her Mother kept on beating her up when she returned home just before sunrise every day.

‘Who is she sending you to?’

‘Who is sending me anywhere Mother?’

Slap.

‘Come on you little witch! Speak up! Where are you hiding all the money?’

‘What money Mother, I don’t understand.’

‘Oh you scoundrel! Just you wait till I get my hands on the money. How long are you going to hide it from me anyway.’

Tilo discussed this with the old lady one evening.

‘Mother keeps asking me funny questions. She keeps demanding money from me. I don’t understand.’

But the old lady just smiled.

One evening Mother caught hold of Tilo just as she was about to slip off to meet the old lady.

‘Not so easy darling. Today you shall go to who I tell you to go to.’

Mother gave Tilo a clean set of clothes to wear. She combed her hair and braided them. Tilo got confused, but was still happy. Her Mother today seemed like the one from the story they told at the school that Tilo liked to listen to secretly. Before mother and daughter stepped out of the house, Tilo hugged her Mother.

‘I love you Mother!’

Little did she know what lay in front of her, what her Mother had planned for her. But in spite of all that she had to go through each day, Tilo’s heart was pure, and it knew only to love.

They reached in front of a big house after some walking. Mother picked Tilo up in her arms and knocked on the front door. A big man answered the door.

‘At last.’

Mother gave Tilo into the arms of the man. The man reached inside his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of money and handed it to Tilo’s mother.

Tilo looked upon the transaction and turned to her mother –

‘So he had the money! But who is this man? Is it Father?’

Mother looked for a moment at Tilo’s face. She realised she was going to burst out crying. She quickly turned on her heel and began to walk away as fast as she could.

Tilo called out to her Mother to wait. Tilo felt really sad – how unfortunate that on the very day that she had seen a side of Mother she didn’t knew existed, Mother had also abandoned her and left her to the mercy of a strange big and scary man. Tilo looked at the man.

‘I am hungry Father.’

The man slapped Tilo across her face. Tilo’s eyes instantly sprouted tears. The man’s hands stung worse than her mother’s ever had.

Tilo kicked and punched and pushed and tried to break free from the man’s hand as he dragged her towards a room in the inside of the house…

– x – x –

‘Mother!’

Tilo called out to her Mother who was sitting by the pot of water that was kept in one corner of their house. Mother turned to look at her daughter.

‘That man was not at all nice Mother. Who was he? Why did you leave me with him Mother?’

Tilo’s mother kept staring at Tilo. Suddenly she came up to her and fell at Tilo’s feet. Tilo got confused.

‘Mother! Why are you touching my feet!’

But just as Tilo touched her mother’s arms in order to lift her up, her mother’s body broke out into a crackling fire. Tilo quickly stepped aside from her Mother, shocked at what she had witnessed. Tilo quickly went to the water-pot and tried to lift it. But she lost balance and the water spilled onto the floor.

The fire died out as mysteriously as it had erupted. Tilo looked around the house, but there was nothing there. No ashes, no sign that only moments ago there had been another individual in the room, as alive and breathing as Tilo. Tilo felt the old lady’s presence and turned around to look at her.

‘What happened? Why didn’t you save Mother like you saved me!’

But the old lady just smiled.

‘I wanted to tell her how you saved me from that man! I wanted to tell her you are not a bad woman!’

‘She wouldn’t believe you Janhavi.’

‘But she would! She was my Mother!’

‘Would you have believed her, if she told you the same?’

Tilo stood still.

‘Everyone has to find me and come to me on their own. No one can be pushed in my direction to seek me. When their hearts seek me out, I shall heed. Till then, I shall wait.’

Tilo did not completely understand what the old lady had said, but she felt a lot calmer anyway.

‘Come.’

Tilo looked at the old lady’s hand, and wondered if she should take it. But somewhere she knew even before she took the hand that the choice had already been made.

Her life had already been changed.

Her path and her destiny were never going to be the same again.

And she was tied to this woman for eternity.

Tilo took the old lady’s hand and they walked out of the house.

GIRLS, GOSSIP AND GET-TOGETHERS

Is it really that easy to spot a person struck by the Cupid’s arrow?

I find it rather amusing how you can just tell when someone around you falls for someone. Even the most composed and expressionless of persons are not able to conceal it.

I happened to meet one of my friends – rather two of them – after more than a month recently. We’d been planning and failing to meet since very many days. And then a chance call right after Trupti had got back from the graha-pravesh of her brother’s new flat, had me and my Tejashree driving to her place.

It was a nice fun-filled evening as we all talked almost simultaneously on three very different topics, gobbling idli-chutney side by side, and yet in perfect co-ordination, and also without losing track of what each one of us was talking about. We poured our hearts out, amidst the sound of spoons and plastic bags as we dug into a packet of fresh Chitale bakhar-vadi and a box of kalakand; we talked about who had been up to what recently, and who was bugging who in class, and how we missed sitting next to each other in lectures. We wished we were all doing the same thing in the same college, somewhere far away from home; or that we were roomies in a hostel just so that we could go to different colleges and do different courses and still not lose contact.

Suddenly someone came up with the idea of clicking pictures.

‘But who will click all three of us together?’

‘Arre timer hai na!’ I said, flaunting my new phone which doubled-up as a camera.

‘4 megapixels?’ Trupti inquired.

‘8!’ I exclaimed.

‘Cool!’

We ran around the flat looking for ideal supports to hold my cell in place so that we could all fit into the frame of the picture – problem being the fact that Tejashree and Trupti are both almost the same height, while I am much taller than both of them. Finally after hunting for almost half an hour we had assembled a tall stool, the box of modem, and a mixer-grinder.

‘Mrunal be careful yaar. Your phone is going to topple and fall,’ Tejashree warned me.

‘Jalla tujha tond!’ I remarked and we broke out into peals of laughter. Meanwhile Trupti was humming a song from a latest Salman Khan flick.

‘Oh my God Trupti! That is such an outrageous song!’ I remarked. ‘You’ve heard it?’ I asked, turning to Tejashree.

‘Ya!’ she replied. Then there was silence for a few moments, and Trupti again began singing the same song all over again –

‘Munni badnam hui, darling tere liye…’

Me – ‘Abe oye jhandu balm! Chup kar na yaar…’

Trupti – ‘Aga mi kay karu? Mala pin lagliye tya ganyachi!’

Tejashree – ‘Nahi nahi asa nahi. Kuna sathi jhandu balm jhaliyes te sang adhi!’

Trupti – ‘Arre no one yaar! There is no one in our class worth becoming jhandu balm for…’

Incidentally they then both turned to look at me.

‘Tu kyu itni hans rahi hai?’

I looked at myself in the mirror. My face was in fact blank. But their remark planted a smile on my face anyway.

‘Mi kuthe hastiye,’ I said grinning ear to ear.

Trupti – ‘Meko lagta hai teko koi mil gaya…’ she then went on to do a step from the song. She spread her hands out like Preity Zinta and Hrithik and started singing ‘Koi mil gayaaaaaa!’

I turned to Teju for refuge – ‘Ae ae! Tuppi cha patent! “Meko teko”! Remember?’

Teju mock laughed and then made a grave face – ‘Vishay badalu nako.’

‘Abe yaar kay tumhi doghi…’ I said, now even blushing a little. ‘Koi nahi hai baba!’

‘Arre I’m not saying you are going around with someone! But someone sure has caught your attention recently, hai na? In fact “hai na” kya, I know it for a fact – its written all over your face!’ Teju said.

‘And since when can you read faces?’ I countered her.

‘Vishay badalu nako!’ Tuppu repeated.

I looked at their anticipating faces. Damn. They were my best friends after all; they deserved to know – even though there wasn’t much to tell. And so I went on and told them about the guy who I had noticed recently.

‘See! I knew it! Right when you walked in through the front door I knew you had news!’

‘Eeks Tuppu! “You had news” kay are…’ I said. ‘It’s hardly anything! For all I know he could not even be interested in me.’

‘Ya. Or for all she knows, he could be gay!’ Teju added.

We all burst out laughing.

‘Ae nahi yaar, aise mat bol,’ I said.

‘Haan yaar Teju, aise mat bol – warna uska dil toot jaega!’ Tuppu added.

I made a serious face.

‘Trupti Naik, are you actually sassing your best friend? Don’t you dare sass me!’

‘Hauuuu! Ghabarle mi! Sorry sorry sorry,’ Tuppu mocked me a little more. ‘But I am honestly glad you are over that looser.’

Aha. The ‘ex’ creeps up.

‘Tuppu, he wasn’t a – ’ I said, defending him as was my habit. Tuppu cut me halfway through.

‘Don’t you dare defend him Mrunal. A guy like that can only be a looser, with all his intellectuality or whatever.’

‘Intellectual looser,’ Teju chirped in.

‘Hey! New term!’ Tuppu said.

‘Yes, we have a new term added to our dictionary now! Intellectual looser – a guy – ’

‘Common Teju, be technical. You are writing a definition.’

‘Oh yes! So; intellectual looser – a male Homo sapiens with above average IQ – ’

‘ – but below average EQ.’ I added. Tejashree and Trupti both turned to look at me. And then both suddenly dived towards me and put their arms around my neck. I smiled, hugging them back.

‘That’s the spirit girl. You’ve been wearing black for far too long now; it’s time to shed it.’

And right after that we clicked many pictures. All on timer. (Apparently the stool plus modem box plus mixer assembly worked just perfectly fine and gave us some really good pictures; or shall I say good memories?) We finished all the idlis and the bakhar-vadis and the kalakand. We stayed at Tuppu’s place till almost quarter to nine. And we had a blast. We all logged into our respective facebook accounts and uploaded the pictures pronto. By the time we reached home there were some comments on them too!

‘I am riding with you after so many days!’ Teju said, as we were driving back home on my Activa. She put her arms around me and hugged me – ‘I miss you yaar!’ she said. I put my hand on hers and replied – ‘I miss you too honey’; and it was not far from the truth. I did miss these two stupid idiotic but absolutely loveable girls from my Bachelors, though I had made new friends in my Masters. I thanked God in my mind – of all the things that had changed in my life over the past year, this had not; and it meant a lot to me.

I am happy.