The Namesake

15 June 1985
“….flight was at 11AM. His parents were there so instead of being with him I had to pretend all the time that I was there to bid goodbye to Kavita and not him. He kept looking at me, but like always not a word passed between us.I had already passed on the card and the small note to Kavita, to be given once the flight was in air…I could not even say “Best of luck” or “Happy Journey”. But did I need to? He knew already that my wishes were with him…...”

18 June 1985
“….the class seems so empty without him…and no that wasn’t just my complain even Anita and Saurabh were saying the same stuff. I have no idea if he reached – think he did because the Aakashwani did not report any plane accidents. I hope Kavita gave him my letter…”

29 June 1985
“….Surprise!! He wrote back…my letter got delivered to Anita (thank god he didn’t send it at my address- papaji would have killed me). He is happy at the MIT and wrote back describing each and everything- the super market, the traffic, the library, the natural beauty, literally everything. I never knew he observed so many things- in the last 2 years I have seen him always with books. He also mentioned that my card and letter had made his “crossing over” easier and he read it each day before leaving for work…Makes me wonder if I am so important? The last line of the letter made my blood freeze even as my heart was skipping with joy – it said “you will wait for me…right? Just 2 years…” I am not sure what this was supposed to mean but if it meant what I understood then…….”

30 June 1985
“….I did not sleep yesterday night…wondering all the time about the letter…what should I reply? At the rate papaji is looking for guys, I cannot hope to be single for 2 months, forget about 2 years…there is no hope for us. I think I will not reply at all…”

15 July 1985
“…today papaji went to meet Avinash and it seems he really liked their family…and him. They are coming over to see me on the 24th of this month. I haven’t seen his photo but what mataji was telling he is working in the Income tax department and has 3 sisters- 2 older and one younger. They live in the ITO colony at Naini.
Today Anita asked me if I had replied to Appu’s letter. I told her I hadn’t. She teased me a lot and wanted to know what all he had written in the long letter. She thinks he loves me and asked me what I thought of him. I replied that soon Kavita and Appu would get married – their similar troubles in the foreign land will bring then closer. Anita gave me a strange look but then didn’t say a word.
What does everyone expect? That I should tell Appu about my feelings? Appu to whom I haven’t spoken more than 4 times in the last 2 years and Appu who asks me if I would wait for 2 years…”

27 July 1985
“….my marriage has been fixed for 21st November with Avinash. Everyone is very happy – even I liked him- though I just saw him for a few seconds when I had gone to serve tea. But then there is something that is missing…don’t know what.
Today Anita brought in another of the letters’ from Appu. It’s a short one in which he has apologized for “anything that might have hurt me in his previous letter” and requested me to write again since “my (would be) letters are a solace in the strange world”. Tears came in my eyes but I quickly dried them before anyone at home could question me over them.
I think I will write to him today and inform him about the marriage…..”


15 November 1985
“All preparations are almost done and tomorrow mausiji, buaji and everyone from the village would be coming here for the marriage. This is probably the last time I am writing the diary before marriage…I am neither excited nor sad. I just want everything to be over…soon so that life gets back to normal.
Appu wrote me another letter- but I didn’t have the heart to open it. Someday when I will have enough courage I shall do it…”

*****

I sighed. I guess that is all you can do when as a teenager you end up with your mother’s personal diaries. My parents were away at work and I was supposed to be studying for my Class Xth boards. Boredom had made me enter the store room (I smelled my comics being hidden there; somewhere on the top shelf by mom). I had opened some old boxes and instead of finding what I was looking for – I had ended up with something so much more interesting. I reflected again at the quantum of my discovery. I now knew that my mother was not a topper all her life (though she never said or denied anything in this relation), that her ideal guy was one with curly hair (unlike dad’s), that she did not like her parents (because they were strict) and worst of all she loved someone…

All of a sudden the perspective to my world changed. I had never imagined my parents to be love with someone, other than each other and now this. My active teenage mind started working overtime. I recalled the previous day my parents had a minor argument and wondered if their marriage was hitting rocks. If divorce was a certainty in future then…this guy Appu could be a good option. I loved my parents and wanted them to be together but at the same time I wanted to make sure that if they parted they should be happy, like it happened in movies…

It was almost afternoon and my mother was expected to be home any minute now. I quickly arranged back the diaries in the box and resolved to be back the next day to read more about what had happened 15 years ago and search for similar artifacts from dad. With a thousand thoughts in my mind I went back to the books. That evening over the dinner table I diplomatically questioned my parents over how they had met and what their life was like in college days. Dad in his usual jovial style told that he had fallen for my mother the moment he had set his eyes on her. Mom blushed and added that she hadn’t spoken to him before marriage but had seen his photograph and liked him. Well I already knew this. I thought I saw a faraway expression and a bit of sadness in mom’s eyes…Was it imagined or real? Was she happy with the marriage and did she ever think of Appu? There was no way to know – she no longer wrote diaries. And did dad know of all this?

Next morning as soon as my parents left for work I was back to the store room. I opened the box took out all the notebooks (12 in all) and carried them to my room. I scanned for other love interests but found none…so Appu was my mom’s first love. I found an empty notebook which had the name Arpit Verma written on the top in male handwriting. Something went boom in my heart – Arpita was my name. Inside the notebook, there were letters from Arpit Verma, MS Student, MIT, USA and signed as Appu. So she hadn’t forgotten him after all…

I opened the first letter. It was exactly the same as my mom had described in the diary…had description about everything and the classic last sentence, “You will wait for me…right? Just 2 years….” A shiver ran down my back. I opened the second letter and it was again the same as described. The third one was unopened…so my mother still hadn’t the courage to open it. She hadn’t forgotten for sure, because she must be remembering him every time when she called me out…

I swayed between the thought of opening or leaving it like that. If my mother found out, she would be furious. But curiosity got better of me and I argued with myself that she will never question me about it in front of dad, because it would mean opening Pandora’s box. I opened it and read through. It went as follows:

Dearest Amrita,

Hope this letter finds you in the best of health and spirits. I got your letter today and it answered a lot of questions I had, especially about your not writing back in the past few weeks. I must congratulate you, first and foremost – Avinash is really lucky to have you.

If I understand it correct you will not be comfortable in receiving any more letters from me. I will, however write a letter each month, but will not post it…so that if ever our paths cross again we can connect instantaneously – from exactly the moment where we had left.

I am not sure if you were ever interested in me or the ordeal of the waiting for 2 years made you go for marriage. If you still think that we can be together, just drop me a mail by speed post and I will speak to my parents who in turn will approach your pitaji, thus giving a relevant social status to our relationship. Otherwise you are free to go and be assured that you will never have to see me.

Take care and keep smiling. Remember there is someone at the other corner of the earth who will always remember you.

Yours forever,
Appu

My mother hadn’t ever written to him in all probability after marriage otherwise there would have been more letters. I re-read all the letters again and couldn’t decide what to do. So I did what looked best- noted his address and decided to look over the internet for him. Deep in thoughts, I arranged all the diaries and rummaged through the other boxes to see if I could find something more…but nothing – so I returned back to my books.

That evening, I questioned dad again, this time over my name. Why did they name me Arpita? I kept a close watch on Mom’s expression but it reflected nothing, as dad talked. I was so engrossed that I did not even hear what he said. My teenage heart said “there is just one case in which the eyes stop being a mirror to the heart- when nothing except pain exists, when the whole being is submerged in pain.”

Next day, being a Sunday I had my parents all day long around me. However, Sunday also meant that I could use the internet and the computer and further my research. As soon as I see my parents engrossed I open Google and search. First “Arpit Verma”. Too many results. Then Arpit Verma, MIT, USA. Quite a few results. As I am about to enter the third search criteria of Arpit Verma, MS, MIT, USA, 1987, dad walks into the room. The look of frozen fear that he sees in my eyes draws him like a magnet to the system. He looks at the screen and asks me, what I am looking for? Or more specifically who Arpit Verma is. Mom is in the next room and I know for sure that she can over hear us. I wait for 5 seconds before opening my mouth, awaiting mom to make an entry and slay me, but she doesn’t. Dad nudges me so I cook up some story about a friend’s cousin named Arpit who was studying at MIT and wanted some school kids(like me) to see his website, for blah blah reason. Dad looked satisfied but I can feel energy building in the next room…there is much more noise in whatever mom was doing. For the rest of the day I avoid mom- especially to be alone with her. Her eyes have questions but she doesn’t ask and I breathe easy. Her anger is reflected in a couple of other study related issues, over the next few days. It hurts but not as much if she would have asked me anything about my namesake.

Over the next few days, I manage to collect some information about Arpit over the internet. I make sure that I did'nt do that at home because I knew I was being watched. Arpit had finished his MS and had then gone ahead to do his PhD from the same college. My heart again interrupted the flow of thoughts to let me know that Appu’s pain at my mother being wed to someone else was so intense that he had decided to go for PhD instead of returning back to India. There was a mail ID mentioned and I debated again whether to write to him or not. As expected I did. But from a fake ID mentioning my interest in studying Microbiology (which was his area of specialization) and somethings to make the mail sound real…

The internet was slow and it took ages for the mail to move out of the Outbox. My heart was beating and in my imagination I thought of a good looking curly haired person reading the mail from the Indian kid and replying unaware of the key that I held – key to the bridge between the past and the present. I decided to check for his reply the next day and as I was logging off I saw an unread mail in the inbox, with the same subject. My heart again skipped a beat…so soon? Did he know me already?? I opened the mail but to my disappointment it was a message delivery failure. What the heck!! The mail id did no longer existed…What next??

I searched more on Google but could not find anything beyond 1990 – it was as if he had disappeared from the planet. What if....he was no more?Finally I did what remained as the last resort. I decided to send airmail at the address I had. Maybe…But what then? “Nothing, relax…we will see. One step at a time”, replied my heart.

Days passed and then months. My boards got over, the results were declared and I moved into XIth Standard. Solely for the purpose of having meaningful conversation over Microbiology with Arpit, some day(when in my imagination I would meet him) I changed over to Science, instead of Commerce as I had planned earlier. My parents were delighted over this sudden changeover. Things moved but the letter remained unreplied to.

Now I am about to give my XIIth boards. The memory of the afternoon when I had discovered those books is still fresh…only as fresh as the old memories can be...the smell of old books, yellowed with age, cold to touch because of all the humidity that they had absorbed...the humidity of tears, maybe.... In the last 2 years I have given the best to my studies for one simple reason – I want to be where Arpit had been. To step into his shoes and find him. Walk in the same aisles, sit in the same libraries and see the world as he had seen. And more than that, find my mom...the 20 year old shy girl who had existed 17 years ago...

But then what? I have no idea…I smile and tell myself “One step at a time”. A journey of thousand miles must begin with one single step.