The next Sunday came - the day she was supposed to meet Aashray.On the previous day she had got herself a nice new fashionable haircut and had got an expensive trendy dress for the meeting. This was a bit surprising because in all the time they had been together she never had "dressed for him". So why now? She had no answer to that. Maybe just maybe to let him "feel" that she was enjoying her life - the breakup had not affected her. Maybe just to make him a wee bit jealous - over what he had missed. The opportunity cost of the lost love.
In truth, the vamp that had so suddenly emerged over the previous weekend was now nowhere in sight. She was her old self - a bundle of nerves who wanted to cry at any given second without prior notice. The week had been a terrible one at work - she could not focus on a single thing when there were tough deadlines to meet. Her expressions were so obvious that her manager had even asked her if there was a personal problem that she was going through. In a quiet voice she had said "no" - a no that had sounded more like a yes. Thankfully the weekend swooped her in its arms and she spent a relaxing (crying+sleeping) time- a time to introspect and look back over the damage done.
Aashray had not called back even for a single time in the whole week. It had reconfirmed her faith that "all men were dogs" and that he was probably never interested in her - he was just using her as a trophy, someone to hang out with to kill the mundaneness of the college routine. College over, affair over. Out of sight out of mind. On one hand, these insights strengthened her vampirish self while on the other hand she was unsure if she was ready to face Aashray so soon again. She knew the moment he would be there in front of her eyes she will lose herself - absolutely, completely.
With this conflict in her head, she fought the battle of "to meet him or not". Maybe he was not calling because he was in a turmoil like her. Maybe talking would set everything back to where it was, before it fell apart. Maybe he really never loved her. Maybe....this.....Maybe that. In the end she decided that she would not go to meet him. She would wait until he would call and then would say something like "I forgot absolutely about our meeting....oh I am so sorry...I am with my friends right now...we are having a party..."He would probably say something like"its all right...carry on..." and then she would say "A promise is a promise...lets meet in about half an hour at the New Friends Colony Barista". And then they would meet, without her sounding too excited...Blah blah...
He never called. Not on that day or the day after or the one after that. For the whole evening she kept looking at the mobile, waiting for it to ring...but it did not. For a thousand times she checked the network...it was right there but no calls came. Tears, tears and more tears. So many of them that even the vamp refused to emerge this time....atleast the vamp had this extraordinary quality of wiping away her tears and giving her some courage to hold on.....She realised that she had been a fool all along loving someone who has been playing all along.
Late in the night, she remembered something that she had read long back. That it takes exactly 40 days for an activity to become a habit. Exercise for 40 days and you would start loving it magically on the 41st day, drink 15 glasses of water for 40 days and from there on the subconscious will take on - some of the things she has been trying to do since ages. Immediately she gets up and on a paper writes out the dates for the next 40 days. 40 days to forget the love of 3 years. There were some ground rules of course to follow, like not calling Aashray, engaging self in anything when his thoughts descended, not visiting places that they have been together, focus on the work front(it had suffered badly in the previous week) and not talking to anyone about him. She stuck the paper on the wall against her bed and tried to sleep even as her hands itched to cut off the dates......as soon as possible.
Days passed and as they say time healed her wounds. Maybe they did not heal but atleast she learnt to ignore the pain and the heaviness that threatened to break into a sob. Aashray never called back - she had been expecting his call(s) even when she had decided not to take them. It should not have mattered that he wasn't calling since technically she was out of the relationship. But it mattered...40 days was still a long long way off.
The wall next to the bed became some kind of a memorial....she would put up yellow stickies...that had plans of revenge, plans to ignore, plans to seduce him back and thoughts on forgiveness, besides other stuff. All these notes had one thing in common...at the bottom of each one of them she had written in bold "I CHOOSE TO FORGIVE EVEN IF I CANNOT FORGET". Nothing could probably sum up her upbringing and the conflicts in her head - the teachings of forgiveness that her parents had always insisted upon, the vamp in her that refused to forget and wanted revenge and her helplessness in bringing any of the so called plans of revenge into action because somewhere deep down it was impossible to hate him. We often choose to vote against what we cannot do, so she forgave him.......
(to be continued)
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
From Victim to Offender - I
She laughed....the laugh had a villainous quality about it and that wasn't really good. Especially if you were willing to consider the fact that she had broken up with her boyfriend just hours ago. Or that just minutes back she had been crying like crazy. Or that seconds ago suicide seemed the only way out of this misery. But then, this laugh...resounding in the empty room on that cold December night.
It had been a lovely day (well it was if you consider the weather). In the morning she had woken up with the first alarm (even though it was a Sunday) and had instantly smiled. It was bright and sunny with birds chirping and people in their best moods. It was the kind of day when she had the feeling that nothing could go wrong. After lunch she and her parents had headed to the Dilli Haat. Not just for a simple outing but to meet her long time boyfriend and his parents. A first parent-parent meeting. She had visualized this moment for so long and never ever had a single strand of doubt had crossed her mind. She was enormously in love....love that made all things possible, that made the earth go round and that left no space for any kind of doubt. Aashray was a typical Delhi guy...who loved branded clothes, flashy bikes and tried not to show how badly he needed her, especially in front of his friends. But its impossible to hide such stuff...his friends, their friends had nicknamed him as Aashiq Sharma...for his eyes never left her no matter what the surrounding be - in the class, in the cafeteria, in the badminton court....
But that was past. Her watch had stuck 3:00PM as she had helped out her parents with their suitcases at Dilli Haat (they had a train to catch back that very evening). Nervously, excitedly, happily, dreamingly she had looked around. No Aashray. She thought of calling him but decided against it. Rather she deposited her parents suitcase at the baggage counter and they decided to have a look around...to while away time till "they" arrived. 3:15, 3:20, 3:22...oh God...these Dilliwallas...they will never be on time...it was the status thing. 3:27, 3:30, 3:32.....3:40..well things werent really as per the plan...her parents had to catch the train as well. Would they have sufficient time to discuss everything? Just than the phone rang. It was Aashray....
"Where are you? I have been here for so long now...Kahan ho? We are sitting in front of the Assam stall...jahan last time we ate momos...". Silence at the other end...She is ready to ask again but then hears the voice at the other end saying..."I am sorry..we are not coming. I am really sorry...I just had a big fight with my parents...they do not want to hear anything about us, about this meeting, about you...My mother just said that I was out of my mind and she would not let this happen no matter what.........."
Her hands became cold but then she thought it was some kind of joke. Aashray was like that. Often at the last minute he would call up to say that he would not be coming for a date only to say "arrey main to mazak kar raha tha" when she would start screaming. She looked around to see if he was somewhere around...putting a face on those thousands of smiling faces...even as her parents looked at her inquiringly. Not seeing him or for that matter them she asks..."but the other day you said your parents had agreed to come over...now what...?" "yes they had...even I asked my father the same question as to why had they agreed to the whole thing and they said that it was just a way to keep me from blowing off...."
She didn't hear another word...though she could make out what he might be saying...a couple of sorrys served with a salad of promises and topped with sauces of regret. She kept down the phone, making that mammoth effort to be normal. To that inquiring look of her parents she just said "Lets go ahead and order something...they are not coming...seems like his parents have a problem with....". That was where she stopped. What was there problem, exactly? Was it intercaste marriage or was it that she was a small towner? Or that she would not let her parents give even a penny in the name of dowry? She had no idea. Aashray had always said that it was his responsibility to convince his parents...that he would do it...no matter what. Fuck responsibility....fuck guys...hadnt she been warned time and again by friends about the "typical Delhi guy"? Fuck her for not listening to them...
Her parents didn't say anything..but deep down she knew they must have been hurt. More by the fact that she was sad than by the fact that they had been a butt of disrespect- after all they had come over just for this one meeting and then to be told that everything stood cancelled...everything was tropsy turvy. She will have to be brave atleast till they were there....
Her mother was saying something. It must have been sympathetic (she saw it in the expression) but she couldn't really make it out behind all that white noise that was going in her head. So she chirps out..."Lets try out the parathas at the new stall over there, I have heard they are better than the ones at Chandni Chowk". Her parents nodded their head and followed their daughter.
The parathas were no doubt delicious and to an outsider the conversation between the three of them must have seemed cheerful and animated. He mother had insisted on her eating an extra paratha (being a mother she must have known that tonight wasn't the night her daughter was going to cook). Reluctantly, she had eaten the extra one, without any desire or hunger...Anything to avoid that outburst of emotions.
Soon after, she had bid them an overly cheerful farewell(farewell? cheerful?) even as they had looked out concerned from the train window. It was late evening now with Cannaught Place full of lights and entwined couples. If she overlooked that one call...it was still a perfect day. But then even before she had taken a seat in the bus silent tears had blinded her and then there was no stopping. Not when a concerned lady seated next to her had inquired if she could do something to help her out, not when her stop had arrived, not when her bed had received her warmly, lovingly....not until that laugh. The laugh that made her think that she was in the grips of madness.
As an amateur writer, she had always been fascinated by the characters she wrote about. The true lover, the dutiful wife, the erratic kid, the mysterious woman, the silent killer and what not. She knew that she could fit into any of these roles as easily as she fitted into her own clothes. During any given conversation with xyz, while her body interacted, her mind would be fiddling, backstage, trying to decide what mask to put on. Often that confused people...in one conversation lasting 10 minutes she would jump from being silent to bubbly to rude to reserved and then back to bubbly in no particular order. She enjoyed this game immensely but then would make sure to leave no bad feelings with the other person, towards the end.
But now, she had this opportunity to do what she had always wanted. Play the vamp to the hilt. Hence the laugh. She had always visualized a happy cheerful married life with Aashray in the years to come by. Never ever for a second had the role reversal taken even in the darkest corner of her brain. But now all of a sudden things were so very different. "Just wait and watch Mr Aashray....your bad time starts now...", she said to herself. "I will convince my parents...no matter what isn't that what you had said? Well, well...lets play some games..shall we?"
The next moment she had dialled his number. He had picked up on the third ring and had said a hesitant hello. In a cheerful composed voice she had spoken just like everyday, inquiring what he did over the whole day and things like that. He had been surprised and once had even tried to mumble out a sorry which she had overlooked and had continued talking. Seven minutes later when she had kept down the phone she had his consent to see her the next week. Though there was nothing except hate now, she had noted with sadness that Aashray had not even fleetingly mentioned that there was no sense in meeting now. "So all I am is a time pass....I will make you pay for every single thing..." were her last thoughts before dreams took her to a more peaceful place.
(...continued to part II....)
It had been a lovely day (well it was if you consider the weather). In the morning she had woken up with the first alarm (even though it was a Sunday) and had instantly smiled. It was bright and sunny with birds chirping and people in their best moods. It was the kind of day when she had the feeling that nothing could go wrong. After lunch she and her parents had headed to the Dilli Haat. Not just for a simple outing but to meet her long time boyfriend and his parents. A first parent-parent meeting. She had visualized this moment for so long and never ever had a single strand of doubt had crossed her mind. She was enormously in love....love that made all things possible, that made the earth go round and that left no space for any kind of doubt. Aashray was a typical Delhi guy...who loved branded clothes, flashy bikes and tried not to show how badly he needed her, especially in front of his friends. But its impossible to hide such stuff...his friends, their friends had nicknamed him as Aashiq Sharma...for his eyes never left her no matter what the surrounding be - in the class, in the cafeteria, in the badminton court....
But that was past. Her watch had stuck 3:00PM as she had helped out her parents with their suitcases at Dilli Haat (they had a train to catch back that very evening). Nervously, excitedly, happily, dreamingly she had looked around. No Aashray. She thought of calling him but decided against it. Rather she deposited her parents suitcase at the baggage counter and they decided to have a look around...to while away time till "they" arrived. 3:15, 3:20, 3:22...oh God...these Dilliwallas...they will never be on time...it was the status thing. 3:27, 3:30, 3:32.....3:40..well things werent really as per the plan...her parents had to catch the train as well. Would they have sufficient time to discuss everything? Just than the phone rang. It was Aashray....
"Where are you? I have been here for so long now...Kahan ho? We are sitting in front of the Assam stall...jahan last time we ate momos...". Silence at the other end...She is ready to ask again but then hears the voice at the other end saying..."I am sorry..we are not coming. I am really sorry...I just had a big fight with my parents...they do not want to hear anything about us, about this meeting, about you...My mother just said that I was out of my mind and she would not let this happen no matter what.........."
Her hands became cold but then she thought it was some kind of joke. Aashray was like that. Often at the last minute he would call up to say that he would not be coming for a date only to say "arrey main to mazak kar raha tha" when she would start screaming. She looked around to see if he was somewhere around...putting a face on those thousands of smiling faces...even as her parents looked at her inquiringly. Not seeing him or for that matter them she asks..."but the other day you said your parents had agreed to come over...now what...?" "yes they had...even I asked my father the same question as to why had they agreed to the whole thing and they said that it was just a way to keep me from blowing off...."
She didn't hear another word...though she could make out what he might be saying...a couple of sorrys served with a salad of promises and topped with sauces of regret. She kept down the phone, making that mammoth effort to be normal. To that inquiring look of her parents she just said "Lets go ahead and order something...they are not coming...seems like his parents have a problem with....". That was where she stopped. What was there problem, exactly? Was it intercaste marriage or was it that she was a small towner? Or that she would not let her parents give even a penny in the name of dowry? She had no idea. Aashray had always said that it was his responsibility to convince his parents...that he would do it...no matter what. Fuck responsibility....fuck guys...hadnt she been warned time and again by friends about the "typical Delhi guy"? Fuck her for not listening to them...
Her parents didn't say anything..but deep down she knew they must have been hurt. More by the fact that she was sad than by the fact that they had been a butt of disrespect- after all they had come over just for this one meeting and then to be told that everything stood cancelled...everything was tropsy turvy. She will have to be brave atleast till they were there....
Her mother was saying something. It must have been sympathetic (she saw it in the expression) but she couldn't really make it out behind all that white noise that was going in her head. So she chirps out..."Lets try out the parathas at the new stall over there, I have heard they are better than the ones at Chandni Chowk". Her parents nodded their head and followed their daughter.
The parathas were no doubt delicious and to an outsider the conversation between the three of them must have seemed cheerful and animated. He mother had insisted on her eating an extra paratha (being a mother she must have known that tonight wasn't the night her daughter was going to cook). Reluctantly, she had eaten the extra one, without any desire or hunger...Anything to avoid that outburst of emotions.
Soon after, she had bid them an overly cheerful farewell(farewell? cheerful?) even as they had looked out concerned from the train window. It was late evening now with Cannaught Place full of lights and entwined couples. If she overlooked that one call...it was still a perfect day. But then even before she had taken a seat in the bus silent tears had blinded her and then there was no stopping. Not when a concerned lady seated next to her had inquired if she could do something to help her out, not when her stop had arrived, not when her bed had received her warmly, lovingly....not until that laugh. The laugh that made her think that she was in the grips of madness.
As an amateur writer, she had always been fascinated by the characters she wrote about. The true lover, the dutiful wife, the erratic kid, the mysterious woman, the silent killer and what not. She knew that she could fit into any of these roles as easily as she fitted into her own clothes. During any given conversation with xyz, while her body interacted, her mind would be fiddling, backstage, trying to decide what mask to put on. Often that confused people...in one conversation lasting 10 minutes she would jump from being silent to bubbly to rude to reserved and then back to bubbly in no particular order. She enjoyed this game immensely but then would make sure to leave no bad feelings with the other person, towards the end.
But now, she had this opportunity to do what she had always wanted. Play the vamp to the hilt. Hence the laugh. She had always visualized a happy cheerful married life with Aashray in the years to come by. Never ever for a second had the role reversal taken even in the darkest corner of her brain. But now all of a sudden things were so very different. "Just wait and watch Mr Aashray....your bad time starts now...", she said to herself. "I will convince my parents...no matter what isn't that what you had said? Well, well...lets play some games..shall we?"
The next moment she had dialled his number. He had picked up on the third ring and had said a hesitant hello. In a cheerful composed voice she had spoken just like everyday, inquiring what he did over the whole day and things like that. He had been surprised and once had even tried to mumble out a sorry which she had overlooked and had continued talking. Seven minutes later when she had kept down the phone she had his consent to see her the next week. Though there was nothing except hate now, she had noted with sadness that Aashray had not even fleetingly mentioned that there was no sense in meeting now. "So all I am is a time pass....I will make you pay for every single thing..." were her last thoughts before dreams took her to a more peaceful place.
(...continued to part II....)
Friday, January 14, 2011
Nani's Place
She was not my real nani, but then the only one I knew of. Every time during the summer vacations when we went to visit relatives I insisted on staying with her only. More often than not it led to angry confrontations between me and my parents but then in the end I did get to spend a larger part of time with her. She on her part did not mind having me around and would indulge me to the point of illness with guavas, mangoes, jalebi,samosas and you-name-it-I-have-it.Typical grandparent behaviour. Nana was also there but he wasn't really a part of the show...to me he was either angry or doing weird exercises on the rooftop or reading newspaper and if nothing else sitting on one of the sofas one hand rubbing his naked belly in circles while the eyes scanned the empty air. In contrast, Nani was the active one...giving me all the attention I wanted. The best thing I liked about her was her personality...tall, broad and strongly built - the kind who never played it sick with this pain and that. Rather she would bounce me on her knees or carry me on her shoulders. Complementing that look was a strong voice and jet black hair. When she spoke it seemed everyone stopped to listen.
Isn't that amazing that things often appear larger than life when we are kids? Ditto with Nani's house...to my eyes it had all possible "locations" that she weaved in those fairy tales-the busy street (visible from the living room balcony) which to me was the Silk route of the traders and their tired mules, the quiet garden with its mossy corners where the pixies lived and princess walked and a storage room with 10 watt bulb that was the hideout of the robbers. Frequent electric cuts made it all the more fun to play hide and seek or to lie under the stars on summer nights. The house had a thousand different corners to explore...the roof top (which could be climbed using a wooden ladder) to pluck flowers, the balcony in the bed room (from which the neighboring cow shed was visible) where I would spend hours watching the animals and there owners, inhaling the peculiar musk of fresh milk and even fresher dung, the puja room...which had a collection of deities (close to 300) collected from over a lifetime. I would sit in Nani's lap as she prayed, mumbling something incomprehensible all the while trying to figure out if any of the God's smiled or changed expression (at that time Gods to me were as real as humans) -especially when Nani made offerings to them. Not to forget the ancient toilets- which had zillions of cobwebs and huge spiders. This meant that I would never be bored - I could watch the fights and the mating rituals and dream about the intricate web of life while attending the nature's call.
Time passed like magic...I was in my teens and too shy or too lazy or had too much of that "I dont care" attitude to visit my relatives. Books were the only thing I cared about and that made everything else take a backseat including the vacations with Nani. It was only when I had passed my 12th and had got admitted to the college in the same city in which Nani lived did I realise that I hadnt been there in years. Everything at Nani's place looked the same - if you discount the extra layers of dust that had settled around, thanks to the woes of the extra years that Nani & Nana had put on. By chance the hostel allotment was supposed to happen 3 months after the classes began and when questioned about my preference to stay I opted for Nani's place....my personal Disney land.
But things seemed different now. The same road that had been the Silk Route seemed full of potholes and crowded. The house and the toilets looked dirty and the beloved gods were bothersome- I could not even look at the puja room without being thoroughly cleansed. If I used the toilet it meant I had to take a bath again, no matter what. The electricity cuts brought out the mosquitoes and that hampered with my assignments. Nani's health was failing but then all that muscle has now become sagging fat. The only thing that remained the same was her voice...and more often than not I found it to be complaining about something trivial - the strong voice that in my memories "everyone stopped to listen" now gave the effect of screeching. Nana on his part remained much the same. He could no longer exercise but that meant he had more time to rub his belly and scan the past and the future, even as Nani screamed and shouted about the unfairness of life. The old habit of indulging me with food was also there but then I had grown out of it. I hated anything sweet plus was on a serious weight loss spree. Nani did not understand this obsession to be thin and it did not help in any way. After about two weeks or so of "trying to understand each other" we both gave it up...confining ourselves to our rooms, lives and routines. It was good that they watched the news during dinner for it took away the need to make any kind of small talk.
I was more than relieved when time came to shift to the hostel. When my parents enquired if I had'nt been upto much of mischief all that Nani said was..."it seemed like she was staying in some hotel and we were some strangers." Guess that said it all about the transition from childhood into adulthood.
Isn't that amazing that things often appear larger than life when we are kids? Ditto with Nani's house...to my eyes it had all possible "locations" that she weaved in those fairy tales-the busy street (visible from the living room balcony) which to me was the Silk route of the traders and their tired mules, the quiet garden with its mossy corners where the pixies lived and princess walked and a storage room with 10 watt bulb that was the hideout of the robbers. Frequent electric cuts made it all the more fun to play hide and seek or to lie under the stars on summer nights. The house had a thousand different corners to explore...the roof top (which could be climbed using a wooden ladder) to pluck flowers, the balcony in the bed room (from which the neighboring cow shed was visible) where I would spend hours watching the animals and there owners, inhaling the peculiar musk of fresh milk and even fresher dung, the puja room...which had a collection of deities (close to 300) collected from over a lifetime. I would sit in Nani's lap as she prayed, mumbling something incomprehensible all the while trying to figure out if any of the God's smiled or changed expression (at that time Gods to me were as real as humans) -especially when Nani made offerings to them. Not to forget the ancient toilets- which had zillions of cobwebs and huge spiders. This meant that I would never be bored - I could watch the fights and the mating rituals and dream about the intricate web of life while attending the nature's call.
Time passed like magic...I was in my teens and too shy or too lazy or had too much of that "I dont care" attitude to visit my relatives. Books were the only thing I cared about and that made everything else take a backseat including the vacations with Nani. It was only when I had passed my 12th and had got admitted to the college in the same city in which Nani lived did I realise that I hadnt been there in years. Everything at Nani's place looked the same - if you discount the extra layers of dust that had settled around, thanks to the woes of the extra years that Nani & Nana had put on. By chance the hostel allotment was supposed to happen 3 months after the classes began and when questioned about my preference to stay I opted for Nani's place....my personal Disney land.
But things seemed different now. The same road that had been the Silk Route seemed full of potholes and crowded. The house and the toilets looked dirty and the beloved gods were bothersome- I could not even look at the puja room without being thoroughly cleansed. If I used the toilet it meant I had to take a bath again, no matter what. The electricity cuts brought out the mosquitoes and that hampered with my assignments. Nani's health was failing but then all that muscle has now become sagging fat. The only thing that remained the same was her voice...and more often than not I found it to be complaining about something trivial - the strong voice that in my memories "everyone stopped to listen" now gave the effect of screeching. Nana on his part remained much the same. He could no longer exercise but that meant he had more time to rub his belly and scan the past and the future, even as Nani screamed and shouted about the unfairness of life. The old habit of indulging me with food was also there but then I had grown out of it. I hated anything sweet plus was on a serious weight loss spree. Nani did not understand this obsession to be thin and it did not help in any way. After about two weeks or so of "trying to understand each other" we both gave it up...confining ourselves to our rooms, lives and routines. It was good that they watched the news during dinner for it took away the need to make any kind of small talk.
I was more than relieved when time came to shift to the hostel. When my parents enquired if I had'nt been upto much of mischief all that Nani said was..."it seemed like she was staying in some hotel and we were some strangers." Guess that said it all about the transition from childhood into adulthood.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)