Authors: Latika Sharma
“Why?” was all I could manage.
“Why? Why? Well you are in love with Riya that’s why.” She did not sound bitter. She was just too composed. When I din’t reply she continued.
“Look Kabir, I knew it before I even met her. I am a model Kabir; I am not foolish, as the tabloids claim us models to be. I meet hundreds of people daily. I know when a man is seriously in love and when he is just enjoying his time with you. We are good friends, but not more. I know that. I mean in these two years, you’ve never even tried to kiss me properly, or fussed when I din’t call or ever miss a night’s sleep when my flight was late. But Riya, well she brings out the lover in you. All can see that. Mind you, even Vikram.
So it will be in all our interest that I left gracefully. I wish you well Kabir. Kabby . . . isn’t that what she calls you? I bet you love it, only you asked ME not to call you that, years ago. When, in school, she called you Kabby and you smiled, I knew then. She was the one.”
I just stood there. Manya was so much calmer than me, that I felt a little hurt for deceiving her. But, I had never intended to hurt her and as she was aware, I had not done that either. I walked up to her and gave her a friendly hug.
“Thanks Manya.” It was true I did not love Manya, but I had always liked her immensely and respected her a lot. Contrary to everyone else, I had not considered her brainless. I knew her credentials and astute nature. And today she had displayed just what had attracted me towards her . . . her spirit of pure intelligibility and goodness of heart.
“Spare me, I knew we weren’t going anywhere together. You are a great guy Kabir, and so I stuck with you for as long as I did. Unlike other men, you respected me, even when the stores showed . . . what’s that word . . . was ‘provocative’ pictures of me.” Manya smiled up at me.
“You know, having a man around one’s shoulder wards off many stray ones.” Manya continued. “I needed that protection, and you are good to look at too you know . . .” she punched me in the ribs, playfully. I did not know if she was hurting or just pretending to be super composed. After all she was a woman, and like all women, thought with her heart. I tightened my hug and tried to sooth her ailing soul. We were parting.
“Go to her. She loves you too you know. A woman knows these things.” Manya said softly after a while.
As she held the handle of her suitcase, she turned to me and said: “You know I always wondered why you woke up in the middle of the nights . . . I even thought you were sick or I snored or a dozen other stupid things. But it was her wasn’t it?”
I nodded and finally spoke, “Yes, it was her.”
“Well . . . at least now I’ll sleep well knowing it wasn’t me.” I knew she was leaving me, and it must be painful for her, but she was putting up a brave front and my heart went out to her.
“Manya . . . let me drive you to your apartment. As a stupid friend, allow me please.”
She smiled sweetly and said, “Sure . . . stupid friend. Here, take my bags,” and walked out with her head held high... just like a model.
I tagged along happily, for the first time carrying her bags and pulling her suitcases with great sense of bonding with a good person.
“V
ikram . . . Vikram please, I can explain everything if you just give me a chance! Please slow down, thisis not the highway!” Riya pleaded for the umpteenth time, as Vikram drove them home, furious at his discovery. It was eating him inside. He had always felt Riya was not as emotionally involved with this marriage as he was. Hell! She wasn’t even interested! He knew he had felt her aloofness every time he had tried to get close to her. But he never imagined what the reason was. Not another man! Not Riya! He had been so sure when this proposal had first come.
Vikram’s father played golf with Riya’s dad; both were the members of the same club. That’s how the introductions were made. The parents agreed, the horoscopes matched and he had really liked Riya. She was simple yet very intelligent and well balanced girl. It goes without saying that she was good looking as well, a simple yet breathtakingly divine beauty. He did think she was awfully quiet in those initial days . . . every time he had called her on the phone, her response was not enthusiastic. He had always thought someone was nearby. Each time he had visited her home in order to see her, she was not too keen, never bothering to dress up or at times even brush her hair. He hadliked her even then, thought her to be austere and unpretentious, perhaps above vanity.
It was all coming back to him now. The first time he had taken her out, she had walked a mile away from him. He was so much taken by her, that he thought it was her strict upbringing and decency. The first time their hands had brushed each other, it had sent a shiver down his spine, but she had pulled back and looked embarrassed. That day, he knew he had fallen in love with her simplicity. Everything about her charmed him. She liked reading books so he had brought her books; she liked flowers so he had sent every possible flower he could find to her home on her birthday. She had once mentioned she liked old movies and Vikram had had his friends in Britain and States send a ship load of old English classics, just for her. No occasion had passed in these two years when he had not gifted her with something that displayed his affection and love for her.
Two years! And not once had he felt confident that she had truly liked them. Not once had she said anything that showed him that she cared too, that she felt the sparks too, and that she was happy to be his wife. Sure she smiled and thanked him and even praised his choice, but she never said those things with passion. He now realised, she was merely being polite and friendly. All he ever felt was that she liked his company, that they were really compatible but just as two friends. She had never demanded anything from him, but had never refused him anything either. Whenever he had wanted to go out or take her for shopping or invite her for any of his parties she had happily acquiesced. She had said so herself that she liked going out with him, and that had sent him sky high with pride and care for her. Now he wondered if it was just that, she liked getting out of her house, he was just a means to achieve an end.
They had seldom talked about their marriage or life after wards. She was never too keen. He thought she was shy. He had never tried to get close to her, although there were times when he had desperately wanted to . . . just touch her hands or hold her near or even look deep into her eyes.
How many nights he had tossed and turned, scheming ways to impress her, to express the depth of his love for her . . . how many times he had thought what it would be like to kiss her, just once. How she would smile when he kissed her, how he would relish her, slowly and tenderly, without hurting her in any way. How he would shiver with pleasure and pour his passion out, letting her know how much she meant to him.
Patience was not his strong point, but then he too had been a star in his youth, filled with energy and zeal, always ahead of his clan. He could never hurry Riya or force himself on her. He cared far too much for her virtues and happiness. So he had waited . . . as they were to get married, he decided all things would fall into place and so he had backed off, or rather controlled himself every time he felt he just could not bear to be away from her. He had done everything he could for her, never asking anything in return. He was so much in love with her.
So much so that when she had expressed her desire to finish her Masters and not get married, it was Vikram who had managed truce in the family. He knew she was a brilliant student. Anjali, Riya’s closest friend had told him numerous tales of their days in school. Even she had fooled him . . . everyone was deceiving him when he was swaying in the mist of love and romance.
He felt like such a fool, a nitwit! He felt like bashing someone up!! He felt his heart ripped out of him.
Never had he imagined this! Riya was in love with another man! And it had not happened overnight. It was a legend! They were the famous couple of their school. Riya and Kabir!
Kabir! How that name filled his heart with hatred! He couldn’t believe he had played with that man, shook hands with him . . . even invited him over to his home! Betrayal was what he felt and anger was its upshot. He was hurt, humiliated and angry.
He knew he was driving fast and he remotely heard Riya’s pleas to slow down, but his body was not responding. There was such a surge of fury running through his veins that he could have killed Kabir right there in school, when he had seen Riya standing near the end of the court, clutching his jacket and looking at him in that way . . . the way in which he had yearned for her to look at him. And finally when Kabir had won the match and looked only at her, for her approval, for her smile or god knows what . . . she had given in. That bastard had almost run over to her and kissed her! The thought sent another painful bout of adrenalin in his system and he pushed the pedal harder.
Riya’s dad, Retired. Brigadier S.P. Sehgal was a man of habits and following routines. He had taken to reading war books recently and had built a remarkable collection in a short time. He also walked his dogs and did a bit of gardening in the evenings. Usually he had a light tea with Mrs Sehgal afterwards on their patio, discussing the various details of their day. He was a contended man, retired and enjoying life.
Today however, his mind was in turmoil. Call it military training or common sense; he knew the wind was blowing in the wrong direction. Vikram had mentioned their destination when he had picked Riya that day from the house. That was not the main reason though. Brig. Sehgal was sure of his daughter. They had settled this issue long back.
His concern was ‘that boy’. Brig. Sehgal could not erase that memory of when he had slapped ‘that boy’ in this very house. There was something in those eyes of his though, that was embossed in Brig. Sehgal’s memory.
It was courage and determination that had stalled the brigadier as well.
He knew Kabir was not sorry nor scared that day. He also knew he really cared for Riya. But what he did not know was how much he loved her, his madness and craze for Riya. That was something an angry father had failed to see. He had also failed to see another important detail that day.
Riya was in love with ‘that boy’ too.
And today, he was restless. He could not read or enjoy his evening walk. He knew where she was and it was getting late. His mind was concocting visions of all that could happen when Riya was in the company of that boy’ again. No matter how much Riya had suffered and lost in the past, no matter how much he had spoken to her to relieve her of the pain caused by Kabir, no matter how much time had passed, Brig. Sehgal was a prudent man. He had not made the same mistake again, and had not failed to see today what he had missed all those years ago.
Riya was still madly in love with Kabir.
And it was just time before Vikram found out. Brig. Sehgal was silently dreading the dragging hour when he heard the screeching brakes of Vikram’s car.
And he knew . . . that he knew too.
I
t is amazing how people drop in on you when you least expect. The really unexpected kinds.
I had one such visitor the next day, after Manya had left. The doorbell had rung, and I had actually thought Manya was back for something she may have left out yesterday.
But on the other side of the door stood a woman . . . a lady with the most pissed off look in her eyes. Her hands were folded across her chest. She wore a smart business suit and her eyes were piercing me. Shrewd and annoyed she just stood there. Her diamond solitaire glittered in my eyes.
“Yes?” I managed to finally ask the angry woman.
“That’s what I get?
‘Yes’?
Won’t you ask me to come in, or do I have to yell at you again?”
And that was when it hit me, who she was . . . if she dared take so much liberty; she must be an acquaintance from some place. The problem was I was not able to place her and was rather distracted by the glint in her sharp eyes.
There was an air of bossiness around her, obviously she was a successful woman, her wardrobe declared her to be somewhere in a commanding post. She wore minimal jewellery but it was platinum, her bag was small but expensive (Manya would have approved). Her stance was well guarded and yet war like. She was staring at me with determined look and I was beginning to realise that this was a familiar situation . . . a faint memory of a young girl began cropping up slowly in my mind. When realisation finally dawned on me, I was surprised and my jaw fell in recognition of the woman who stood looking askance on my doorstep.
After so many years, she had changed in looks, but her cold attitude and stubbornness reminded me of my school days. A mischievous smile spread across my face, obviously some reactions never change. I knew this irritated woman. I also knew how to irritate her back!
“Anjali! . . . My good god!! How I am surprised . . . love to see you too,” and I began giving her a hug. I recalled she hated that before. She did so now.
“Oh! Get off me Kabby . . . you’re still the same git as you were in school.” And with that another fragment of my past walked into my apartment.
I was happy in a way. She brought back Riya’s essence with her; I had missed Riya last night. I had called her several times but her cell was switched off. I wanted to talk to her, wanted to know if she was all right, that Vikram had not hit her or anything . . . I just wanted to be connected with her. I missed her too much. And Anjali was a reminder, so I liked it when she spoke.
“You do realize what you’ve done, Right?”
“What have I done now?” I pretended to play innocent and walked across to the balcony. She followed, her high heels clamping my marbled floor.
“I mean are you such a moron that you would take her to school with her Fiancee for god’s sake and declare your undying love for her right in front of him? Are you honestly that pea-brained? Could you never say anything in private? You always want to show case everything?” Anjali was furious, yet I was amused at her response. I could stand here playing with her for hours.