Just the Way You Are (8 page)

He continued, ‘What would happen on this petty salary? It's just enough for a person to barely make his ends meet. Food and lodging, that's all. Delhi is an expensive metro city. Rs 500 is like Rs 100. The moment you get out of the house the money vanishes into thin air. Everything is so exorbitantly priced. When I had come a decade back to Delhi, Rs 100 was like Rs 10. And now look at it.' It had been quite long since Dad spoke his heart out. But whenever he did, I never interrupted him. And whenever he did, he always spoke about his old days in Delhi. His words were actually not meant to remind me of my responsibilities. He, in fact, always felt that I would be the one who would understand him even if the world didn't. Hence, whenever he spoke to me, I would be overcome by a deep longing to fulfil all the troubles that my parents were going through at the moment and to find the best way to resolve them.

‘When do you have your CAT exam?' he asked.

‘It's on 22nd October.'

‘Just three more months. Work very hard, beta. It's been a really long time since we have stayed together in one house and if you pass the exam, I can, for once, rest with the feeling that there is nothing else I need to do to hold up the responsibilities for my family. I could pass them on to you.' I could hear his breath going shallow over the phone and I really wanted to give him a hug at that moment, comfort him. ‘I did try to build a new house, you know, beta. But then it just didn't happen. At Rs 40,000 a month, building a ghar is difficult to manage. Yet we educated you and did the best for you. It doesn't concern me as much but it's your mother for whom I really remain worried. She hasn't been keeping well of late, you know that. She longs for a house of her own. And now that I am here away from her and your sister, I somehow cannot bring things together and tie them up. You get me, beta?'

‘I understand, Dad. Tell me one thing, isn't there a chance to get a transfer in the same district?'

‘I am also waiting for the same. I hope they will transfer all the officers before the election but who knows. You know how the Bihar government works. Last week I went to Patna and bribed the officers with Rs 5000 to transfer me in our district so that it would be good for your mom.'

‘Hmm.' I couldn't say anything.

‘Son, you are our only hope. We have waited two decades for things to fall in place. Don't let us wait for long. Work hard. Crack the MBA and get a good job.'

‘Yes, Dad. I will.' And he disconnected the line.

My heart filled on listening to my father after such a long time. I felt guilty and at the same time something shifted inside me, knotting up uneasily. Tears welled up in my eyes thinking of him. He was fifty-seven, greying slowly and losing his strength. Yet he cooked on his own, laid his bed in that lonely place and in that lonely little quarter and slept without a fan in this scorching heat. God knows what he ate after coming back tired from office. He worked day and night to ensure the best for our house and the best for my mother and sister and till this date had hardly complained about anything. I never saw him getting angry or being an escapist. In comparison, I thought, what did I require? I had a roof over my head, I never had to cook my own food, and neither did I suffer from monetary problems as such. I had everything and yet I wasted my time and energy on stupid things like grooming myself and chasing girls. That was utterly unnecessary. I was not the kind of guy who would do such things to merely impress a girl or worse, be a despo. And even if I ended up getting someone who would love me back, would I really call it love? Would it not wear out and become only a remnant of what we assume to love? It's all an illusion. True love doesn't happen like that. It's a pity I allowed myself to be deluded. If someone loved me then she would love me not because of the way I look or because of the way I groom myself. She would love me because of the person I am and the virtues I carry within. For the moment, I guessed I should just stop thinking about all this nonsense and focus entirely on clearing my MBA and getting into one of the top-notch colleges.

I COULDN'T REMEMBER THE EXACT
moment I had decided on an MBA as my career path but I do remember that it was Steve Jobs who fascinated me beyond measure. It was his innovation and his die-hard attitude about what he created that somehow made me feel that in the world of numbers, everything could be sold. And that money ultimately harboured more money. One doesn't need to belong to any elitist society to make a difference in this world. It is innovation and sheer hard work that does that. It was the year when he had come up with the iPhone that I decided that I would try to become someone like him, as I passionately waited for its launch. Moreover, doing an MBA was the easiest way possible, as an MBA in finance led the highest-paying jobs. Thinking of all this, I had appeared for the CAT in the last year of college as well but ended up scoring an 85 percentile only. I realized I had to work harder and that there was certainly a long way to go.

I looked at the new books I had ordered online, scattered around my bed almost in a ring. I wondered what exactly I was doing with my life with all these books on relationships, tips on improving one's chances with a girl, or finding the right girl in a pub or a bar. I stared into space listlessly. Cobwebs had darkened the ceiling of my room and perhaps my heart too was darkened with hopeless dreams. Such things would do no good, I realized. If I carried on like this, then I couldn't possibly clear the MBA entrance or any exams, for that matter. What mattered most in life? I must decide on my priorities first. Mom and Dad had given me more than their life to get me to this place, to this very place I was at the moment. How could I jeopardize it by committing myself to stupidity and that too in desperation? Hadn't I known that desperation was the worst reason to fall in love, for every flame dies out one day? It was such an absurd situation to think of—what I had become in the mindless chase for girls. I remembered my night in the bar and imagined more such nights to come. I was filled with shame and felt like burrowing into the walls of my room. I felt them closing in on me and needed to get out of the room. It wasn't actually too late. I had come to Delhi and seen its true face—grotesque and selfish. Now I only needed to be indifferent to it and concentrate on what could best be mended. I picked up the books and carried them to the stack of newspapers. Next time the raddiwala came around, I had to hand the entire stack over to him. At least I would get some money and with that I would treat myself to a good meal. That was much better than running behind girls. And now it was time to order more books for my MBA studies. It was time to mend my ways. As I kept thinking, my mind drifted and wandered to various planes and worlds, thinking of what life had in store for me.

Was it true that I wouldn't ever have love in this life? I would remain a man of unrequited love. Would Gaurav's words about me in the Tarot cards turn out to be true?

Sitting in my balcony, I thought about it for perhaps the thousandth time in six years. And definitely the five hundredth time in the last five years. Looking up at the sky, I let the question filter through the grain of my being and wondered about all that would follow. The sun had slipped behind the clouds yet it was hot. The sky had turned grey and the clouds had become thick balls, tossing and turning like the dead in their graves. I could hear water dripping into a bucket but apart from that, there was silence. Inside, I felt everything folding and merging into a tiny, silent dot. Only my mind wasn't quiet. It would take time, I thought. Suddenly it was dusk and darkness enveloped me. I was back to where I had been two years back. My desires would bring me pain and despair and nothing else. I was the kind of person who believed in committing to memory every single note of happiness and never let myself be despondent on the past. But as I recollected the series of events since the time I had landed in this damned city, I felt I was changing. I was becoming more and more depressed. And that was precisely because I was chasing the wrong dream, and giving myself to the wrong sorts of people. My perception of the world had been tainted and I had turned blind to what life could offer. It all made me feel helpless and dark inside. If I didn't take charge of the situation soon, it would perhaps kill me. I could not let that happen. Sadness acts like slow poison and I had to devise a way to get out of it. I had to make my life lighter. And that wouldn't happen if I left myself in the throes of desperation.

They say that behind romantic desperation is an old flame burning the innards of the soul. I ruminated on my own old flame. It was years and I had neglected to reopen and deal with that wound which lay in some dark crevice of my heart. Her name was Tanvi. I knew I was getting into the bog of becoming an emotional fool but she seemed to be my only hope. I hadn't dwelt on her as well as the memories gone by, thinking that love left untouched wears out like dark, dissolving paint. Till the time I wasn't emotionally involved with anyone I had no such mindless troubles in my life but, as they say, once drowned in love, one has already plunged as far into the ocean as one can. I couldn't erase her out of my life and start life anew. I sometimes wished I could roll back time like a dirty paper and erase everything that had the capacity to haunt me.

I could see nothing beyond the murky darkness. I returned to my room and lay down on the couch next to the door but the memories didn't let me sleep though I tried to force Tanvi's image away from my mind.

I had only thought of a hand to hold and nursed hopes of togetherness. I don't think I had asked for much. And now I was back to the terrible juncture where life seemed to begin. Everything came back to the same point of struggle.

I dragged myself to office the next day and saw Mayank working at his desk. I did not bother walking up to him and telling him about the burden I had been enduring since the last night and since Dad's call the previous morning. I felt miserable and zombie-like inside the office. Another colleague, Taufeeq, had become close to me since the last few days. He observed my sullenness and came up to me to ask if anything was wrong. For the sake of courtesy, I gave him a wry smile and said nothing had actually gone wrong. He moved on, walking into the other direction without probing further. At lunchtime he came to me as I was sipping on a cold drink, staring into space. He insisted I tell him what was bothering me. I thought of opening up to him and telling him what was biting me from inside. I complained about Delhi to him and how I had got into my desperate situation. How I had ended up in the bar and made a fool of myself. I told him about my luck with girls and about home as well. That I was nothing but sad at the end of everything and was tired of trying.

‘Dude. It's not that tough, but you need to know that there is a way to impress girls. You just can't go up to her and ask her out on a date. That's stupid,'Taufeeq said.

‘Yes, I know. Then what am I supposed to do?'

‘I'll tell you something. You need to follow some protocol.'

‘Protocol? You mean to say that there are certain rules and by following those you can impress girl?'

‘Yes, unless you are a funky badass and can convince a girl to come out with you a date that easily. But I know you aren't that type of a guy at all. You won't and you can't.'

‘See. I have always thought that a relationship requires care, patience, understanding, and trust. Why should I change myself just to impress girls? Isn't it stupid?'

‘I agree. But whatever you have mentioned happens only in a utopian land. Trust and all. You tried all this, showed care and affection to a girl, and what did you get in return? It's difficult to understand the mind of a girl, dude. The moment you start being polite and extra-good to them, start discussing their personal problems and give them advice, they start considering you as a friend and never want to commit to a romantic relationship. They actually need someone who can take them for a ride, and that includes the literal too. Who doesn't like adventure, tell me? I am telling you, they otherwise only end up saying, “I have never thought about it. I thought we are friends. I consider you to be a very good friend of mine. You are such a nice guy and you will get a beautiful and nice girl.”'

‘That's true. I am tired of listening to this,' I sighed.

‘Yes, that's what I am saying. Just tell me one thing—why wouldn't they get into a relationship with you when they find you to be a nice person? Why? They don't want a nice boyfriend. Isn't that all bullshit?'

‘Hmm. They say they don't feel a spark with me.'

‘What? That's ridiculous. What do you think? That a romantic movie is going on that someone will play the violin and its music would be the signal for your love to arrive? And what else? It's so funny to see them. First they will get hooked to some bad guy and when the guy cheats on them then they come to you crying, saying that all boys are the same. Just think. In the first place, why did they go to those bad boys if they knew it all? It only means that the saying is right: good boys get heaven and bad boys get women.'

I started laughing.

He nodded. ‘Believe me, it's all bullshit.'

I remained silent.

‘Don't try to be nice to a girl. Don't remain available for her. Don't call her regularly. If she calls you, don't pick up the call on the first ring, let her call you a few times before you pick up, and don't say sorry and all. Just talk for a few seconds and disconnect, saying something important has come up. Be mysterious. It works.' Are you following me?' he asked.

‘Yes. I am following you.'

Probably he was right. I was nice to everyone and gave them time despite my busy schedule. And they took me for granted.

Shagun sighed and grimaced. She kept wondered at the desperation of the man she was married to. She loved this man. But such twisted tales seemed to belong to a different person altogether. If this story had been told to her by her husband, she perhaps would never have believed him. Even at the cost of jeopardizing their relationship. But this diary was not only proof but a written validation by the very person she was reading about. For some reason she felt betrayed. More so regarding her lack of knowledge and ignorance at how a person could have a completely different soul, a soul that never reflected in his outward being. She still believed in Sameer. She still had faith in his love for her and perhaps he no longer was the person he was years back when she had not met him. But the little details about Sameer she had picked up from his diary made her uncomfortable and slowly ate away at her faith, opening up a sliver of doubt.