The Girl I Last Loved (11 page)

Dear Romeo,

He didn’t ask any questions;

Perhaps he just lost the feelings he had for me?

The more he came to know, maybe the less he liked me?

Some stories never end, but leave them dangling;

Those stories don’t move, but life moves on.

It was beautiful, but maybe not my love story…

Love

Juliet

Chapter 10

First time was due to Ved’s constant compulsion.

Second and few more other times were by ‘the evenings I ran out of stuff to do’.

Further there were the impatient wait till the evenings.

A few more were about screwing up work so as to see her.

“Ambition, success… they sort of go hand in hand,” Kasam spoke as she wrote ambition on the board.

“By technical definition ‘ambition is the desire for personal achievement’. It provides the motivation and determination necessary to achieve a particular end or condition.”

She faced everyone and spoke in a very soft tone.

“But it’s up to you to decide that certain end or condition and more importantly, that certain end or condition is not same for everyone.”

She looked at the crowd who was now exchanging confused glances.

“Confusing? Okay… let’s switch on to examples, then it will be fun as well as easier.”

She took a seat. I had never seen her sit during a session. Well there is a first time for everything. She breathed in and closed her eyes.

“When I was in college, for me life was all about achievements, grades, extracurricular, opportunities, volunteering, some of which I enjoyed and some I didn’t,” she moved her hands in a haphazard manner.

“What it wasn’t about were Friday night
-
outs, sleeping on Sunday afternoons, group lunch, lazy-evening lying down with friends, being invited to birthday parties, etc.” She folded her hands and continued.

“I was doing something I really wanted and they were doing something they really wanted to, but maybe some random evenings while struggling with my bag overstuffed with books, I took a corner glance at those who were sitting around the ‘coffee bug’, ,chatting, humming… those smiles which I was never a part of…

“Or maybe some random afternoon when results were out over the notice-board. I was the one jumping out and they were sitting in a distant corner worrying about their life,” as she finished, she regained her smile.

“Maybe sometimes I wanted to be at their place and sometimes they wanted to be at mine.

“Still we chose to be the way we were ‘because that was what we wanted and there was nothing wrong about it,” she folded her hands, which she normally did when concluding.

“I traded up fun and friends for grade. They traded up grades for friends. Maybe we were right or maybe we were wrong, but trading was never wrong. It’s never wrong to trade. You can’t have everything so decide what you want more and let go of the rest. ”

“Let me tell you something specific.” There she went again.

“There was a girl in my college, who was pretty, intelligent, one of the toppers actually. She had a boyfriend and was a bit nasty, yet she seemed to be someone with a bright future. Suddenly round the third year, she got married to a rich business man. Went to New Zealand for honeymoon; she came back only for the exams, gave a shit to grades and most of all she was talking money. We didn’t even know those brands existed until we spotted them on her. Initially I pitied her life. Married at the age of twenty, mother at twenty
-
three – that was something I would have never liked for myself. But still I won’t call her wrong,” she straightened her back.

“One day I was telling this story to a faculty member and she was constantly impressing on the fact that later one day my ‘now rich classmate’ may regret what she traded for and she might miss a self
-
made life like mine.

“Then there I said it, ‘Maybe one day I might like to step in her shoes. Simple life devoid of struggle, everything down to her knees whenever she wanted.’

“However, I clearly didn’t intend to get ‘hitched to a rich businessman’. Moral of the story: you may get attracted to another’s life, still you live your own because that’s how you have paved it.”

There were few scattered claps. She signalled to everyone to keep it down.

“You can only decide who the winner is if they are running the same race. For some, success is about doing well in life, while others find joy in making good friends. Someone excels as a daughter; some hit it as an entrepreneur; some find their love.”

She was interrupted with suppressed giggles. She mocked a smile.

“You can never compare a good engineer with a good cook and they shouldn’t even be compared. In a country like ours everything comes down to ‘how much you are earning’. That’s why we forget to respect what others are good at and sometimes what we are good at too.”

She got up and moved around the crowd. I noticed she normally did so when she was just about to close the session.

“Figure out what you really want. Prioritise them and never fear to trade, though stay careful whether you are trading up or down.”

Everyone cheered and clapped as she closed the session. I noticed she was sporting a bright purple nail colour. I never knew these many colours existed if it wasn’t for her nails.

“Now Kritesh might want to share something with us regarding his ambition…,” she rested her speech at this.

A handsome-looking guy in a black formal shirt and blue jeans stood up. He fumbled as he tried to speak. In addition he was taking very long pauses.

Finally he broke, “I won’t be able to do it. I am not very good at speaking in front of so many people.”

“It’s fine Kritesh. Try and prepare. I’ll give you five minutes,” Kasam tried to calm him.

She faced the others, “What do you think of me as a speaker?”

She was very well applauded. She bent by her waist and took a bow in quite a dramatic manner, “Thank you, thank you. You know many a times even I fear when I am about to speak that words won’t come out. People may not even like what I say. Even my legs shake, my heart beat rises and then my throat starts constricting. But you know, where I win? I don’t let it show to others. If you don’t have it, then fake it.

“I bet everyone fears speaking – that’s inevitable, but the extent can vary. It can depend on a lot of things; a few tips might help. Sometimes it depends on the side from which you are speaking.”

She gulped some water; everyone became more attentive as she spoke again.

“It’s my very own ‘being on the other side’ theory. Here I am so ‘confident’ while speaking, as I am the one who is conducting this seminar and you are paying for listening. Obviously you won’t contradict if I am wrong and go on listening attentively. Your interest is what gives me the confidence to go on. Maybe if I go to a medical research seminar, I might fear speaking. This one is an example of content constraint.”

A few people noted it down like school kids.

“There can be several other constraints and strengths. Try finding out both so that you can overcome your constraints and harness your strengths.”

By this time she completed a whole round of the auditorium and returned back to Kritesh. I loved her energy.

“One tends to feel nervous if they think they are being judged. So, Kritesh think that you are conducting this seminar and you are speaking in front of ducks and donkeys… no offence guys,” she said, turning a bit towards others.

“It’s perfectly fine, Kasam,” someone shouted, though everyone laughed.

She continued pouring into Kritesh eyes in a gentle voice.

“…yes ducks and donkeys who have completely no idea about the subject matter.

“Believe me it won’t be the same.”

Her voice was calm enough and her eyes were driving enough.

Kritesh didn’t make it to the BBC Broadcaster of the Year, but still managed to keep people engrossed in his words.

I rushed out to avoid Kasam, knowing that I secretly came to her sessions.

‘Ahh! finally’ I gushed out as I lighted the stick. Though I had been smoking less, but still it was my best buddy. However I couldn’t introduce it to Kasam. As I saw her coming, my best friend was out of my Audi Q7. Sprayed car freshener, sprayed mouth freshener etc, brushed my hair. Wait, am I concerned about the way I look in front of her? I didn’t know why but I messed my hair again.

“Hey,” Kasam appeared on my window.

“Huh! Aren’t you going to come inside,” I acted sheepish.

“Of course, oho…o it smells nice.”

I didn’t know why but my heart sank.

“You know Akash, you should come to my sessions.”

“I am normal. Your sessions are for those who need help.”

“No it’s not like that; besides who said you are normal?” she punched me.

“Not the suit,” I said repulsively.

“It’s just that you wait for me here. Instead you can come and be with me.”

There was an awkward silence. So, I drove.

We were at Barista because of Kasam’s profound love for coffee.

She was about to step out of the car when I rushed to open the door for her. She gave me a weird look. We went in the elevator. She was talking all the way through. Like always, I was a very good listener until I realised the lift wasn’t moving.

“You might want to press the button.”

Kasam looked at me and then pressed seven and there was silence except for my suppressed giggles.

“I will catch you up. Go ahead.”

“Okay,” I answered.

I hadn’t settled already that I heard banging on the door. As I turned back, it was Kasam. She was trying to pull the door – the door over which ‘push’ was written in bold.

I indicated to her to stop and then push it. She gave me a broad smile and pushed the door with both her palms.

We walked to a corner table. I signalled to Kasam to settle down. I unbuttoned my coat, removed my cell phones from my pocket and took a seat, placing one Blackberry Bold and one iPhone 4 on the table.

Just then a waitress arrived. I asked her to take the order from Kasam; however, she kept on questioning me while Kasam kept on mocking from behind.

When we were done, the same waitress again arrived to place the bill.

I uttered, “Bill is for me while the feedback form is for the lady.”

I quickly snatched the bill. The waitress showered me with constant turning back and smiling while passing away.

“How do you do that?” Kasam uttered, while jumping two stairs at a time.

“What?” I was surprised.

“Acting so cheesy… in a flirty kind of manner!?”

“No, I don’t,” I acted defensive.

“Yeah? Opening the car gate… kneeling by the wall... flashing your mobiles on the table – are all a little cocky,” she flinched her eyes.

“They are normal.”

“Okay, then smiling at the waitress… brushing your hair while placing the order to display your Rolex? Didn’t all that get the poor girl into you,” she snapped.

‘Probably, I did behave a little cheesy, I reflected though nobody except Kasam was able to mention that transition. Still whether it was a good thing or a bad thing, that was something I would reflect upon later.

“Anyways, who uses the term ‘lady’ these days?” she looked into my eyes and winked.

It started drizzling when I drove back to her home. She was humming softly. It was pure melody even though I wasn’t able to distinguish the words.

I waved her goodbye, yet stayed there – looking at her – watching her leave. Just then she turned, “Akash, don’t you want to catch up on our lives after we last met in Lucknow eight years ago?” My smile had no boundaries.

“I know we just had coffee, but would you like another one,” she added.

I jumped out of my car.

“Yeah, I went on to do company secretaryship in Mumbai and then I went to California for MBA. Now I work in Adcom Multimedia… wow!” my tongue slipped as I entered her home.

“I didn’t know Prayas is paying this well.”

“Yeah, Prayas pays real well but still, this is sponsored by my father. At least money is a thing which my parents never felt short of to shower on me.”

I bowed my head down.

“Anyways I will make some coffee, meanwhile ‘feel at home’.”

It was beautiful. A small cottage with broad windows… money plants hanging from the edges… small crotons resting in the corner… low-lying tasteful furniture… rare collection of bells and wind-chimes scattered all over the place. Bright sunny yellow walls with purple linings… so many photographs hanging from the wall telling a story…

And there was Kasam’s room. Stick notes all over her cupboard… a radio resting at the bedside… bangles and
jhumkas
scattered at her study table… dressing table… corner table… She was never very organised, be it her dressing, her décor, her choices, her life. She never abided by the rules.