The Girl I Last Loved (20 page)

I listened like a school kid, sometimes nodding in between as she went on.

“Now coming to criticism. Positive criticism is a feedback and everything else is negative criticism. So where is the difference? The difference lies in the motive. When it’s positive criticism, you tend to bring out some change, when it’s criticism, you just go on without noticing where you are headed to. The second difference lies in the target. In feedback you target the problem. In criticism you target the person. This happens all the time in our life. That we develop a habit of finding some faults in a person’s way of doing things. Initially it must be because of that person’s own fault, but later we get accustomed to doing that. Haven’t you heard yourself saying, ‘Oh! That guy, he always does like that…’ …Slowly without even noticing, we stop targeting the problem and our new target becomes that person. So, stop yourself when you learn you are doing that. You might think that you are such a truthful and frank person, telling people what they are good at and what they are not. But behind your back, you are just taken as a stubborn ass and they ignore your comments.”

I relaxed a bit and took off my shoes. She got a bit distracted.

“Go on,” I told.

“Yeah…”

She took a minute to recall and then continued.

“One more important aspect of feedback is the condition of the person who is getting that. It determines whether that person is able to relate with what you are saying or not; otherwise it can be disastrous for that person as well as your relationship with that person.

“Suppose your friend lost lakhs of money in a share and you warned him before he invested in that. Will you go on and throw your most awaited, ‘I told you so’ or will you try to calm that person, offer him alternatives to get out of that crisis? Later, some other time you can tell him that it was his fault.”

She was saying nothing that I didn’t know but it all sounded so much of a realisation trip. Perhaps that was her magic.

“Knowing all doesn’t make sense at all if you don’t know the right way to give feedback.”

“This one I know – first say something good then bring out your guns,” I suggested.

“Bingo!! Isn’t it like when you have a bad news, start with the good one? There is a very good term for it – sandwich feedback. First appreciate the person, then bring out the change which you want in them and again end up on a positive note.”

“Yeah, good one,” I appreciated.

“I had an experience. There was one faculty of ours who used to scold the students to death. Used to tell us we were worth nothing and we will never make anything of ourselves. His words never persuaded anyone to work harder. Slowly people opted out of that course. But his trick might have worked on kindergarten students who do their homework from the scare of punishment or getting scolded in front of the whole class. However, when you are older, these things no longer matter. Some people will always attend the class and some will always bunk. You can’t force them to progress. You know what can do the magic then? Appreciation. Appreciate the person. Make them realise what they have and with that, what they can be. I experienced it personally. Whenever I came to know if someone thinks that I am good at work, from that point onwards I worked even harder to maintain that image of mine. Contrary to which, if someone loathed my work, I gave up on him. Thus gave up on myself.”

“You are really thoughtful,” I was mesmerised.

“That’s pretty much it,” she finished.

“Okay I will be back in five minutes and then we will eat.”

“Why do you take so many five-minute breaks?” she raised her eyebrows.

“Just to freshen up.”

“Or for this?” She placed the cigarette packet on the table.

I was shocked.

“What Akash… what do you think of me? Your five-minute break… then the smell of mouth freshener… whenever I come to your car… those perfume sprays… a kid will be able to guess!”

“So that you know, I am trying to quit,” I tried explaining.

“Yeah with fifty packets in storage,” she smirked.

I looked away.

She came to me, “Akash, why do you want to keep the things as they were eight years ago? We have been separated for a long time… things change… people change… you started smoking, so what!? Almost all guys do. You just don’t need to hide it.”

“Seriously Kasam… I mean… I…,” I didn’t have any idea what to say.

“Okay freshen up. We will eat.”

When I returned, she was again engrossed in writing.

“Write the blog after eating. Come, I brought Chinese.”

We ate and I again left for work.

Seven hours later, I was back on the street, praying for the traffic to move at all. And above all, for the rain.

Luck was definitely not on my side.

I reached my flat at around 11:30.

I crashed on the couch. Lights were off; she was probably asleep. I thought about last night. How close we were and how I missed this whole day. I went to kitchen and grabbed a beer. ‘Shit!’ I hung my head over the couch. Hung it down… drank some beer. My throat burned on having it neat. I noticed I was thirsty but too tired to get some water. So I drank beer like water. I looked towards Kasam’s room. The door was slightly open. I concentrated – swift music was playing. Faint line of light was coming out of it. Was she awake? Was it the alcohol? Was I seeing and hearing things?

I lay there with drowsy eyes, looking at that door. In normal setting that meant ‘an invitation’. I closed my eyes hard and then flipped it. I can’t be that drunk that the door was open. Was she waiting for me? Did she want me to cross that door? I got up. Stumbled towards her… random steps froze on touching the cold ground… I almost reached there.

I brushed my fingers on the door.

‘What was I thinking?’ I retaced my steps and came to the couch. I had another beer, yet the streak of line was calling out to me. I stayed there, unable to decide. I don’t know when I closed my eyes.

An oak leaf flew on to my face. I waved it away. It flew back to the side of the road. Millions of such beautiful leaves covered the edges of the boulevard. They played music while brushing through the streets. Beautiful leaves, red at the out and orange by the middle. Lying still… flowing away… I looked down that narrow street. Nobody was there.

Long trees decorated its sides. Swaying… kissing the sky. A spur of sunlight blocked my sight and when it ended, there I saw it – a beautiful old wooden bench by the side of which Kasam was sitting in an orange gown, flowing till her feet. Her hair swaying like the trees… looking more beautiful than ever… sometimes brown… sometimes red. I stood where I was. She came to me… brushed her fingers on my face and gave a shy smile. She kept her head on my chest. I embraced my hands around her. We stood there, unmoving. She looked up. I let her lose. She stepped back a few steps. I stood there. She kept on walking backwards. My eyes were fixed at her but I didn’t move at all. She turned back and ran. Through that beautiful street where oak leaves flowed, where sun merged with the trees… she ran, leaving her shoes mid-way… she ran like a free bird. I turned and I ran away. My eyes were swollen. I ran as fast as I could, but opposite to her. She kept on running… I kept on running. She hugged a man, swayed her long arms around his neck and smiled at him – I couldn’t see who he was. He placed his hands on her waist. She pressed her lips on to his. I kept on running… I kept on running away. I was tired… I was breathless… there were tears in my eyes. I collapsed on the street… fighting with those leaves… all alone… alone… alone.

“Huuhhhh… huuuhhh,” I breathed out as my eyes opened to reality. Raindrops were still tapping on the window. I closed my eyes again and regained myself. I went in the kitchen to have some coffee; it was just 4:30. I felt asleep last night on the couch only. My head ached from all the alcohol, but my heart ached from something else.

I know alcohol makes you do silly things… but it makes you dream silly things I didn’t know.

I went to my room and tried to get some sleep. I kept on turning on the bed. Probably slept for a few minutes in between. I kept on thinking about that dream. Kasam is so close to me… everything is so perfect… why would such a dream come to me? I stayed on the bed trying to get my body at ease though my mind wasn’t. It was around eight-thirty when I finally got up. I hit the shower and stood there, hoping that water would clear my mind. I was combing my hair when I looked outside the window of my room. I could see Kasam’s room-window. Nobody ever stayed in that guest room before, so it was sort of a discovery to see someone from my window to that room. It was still drizzling. Rain droplets where falling on the windowpane and making its way downwards. It was a bit hazy but I could see her in her cream coloured
kurta
and her white
duppata
, her hair was half tied. I don’t know when my feet headed towards her. When I entered her room, she was looking away. She looked at me on hearing my footsteps. I noticed a comforting feeling in her eyes on seeing it’s me. I sat by her on the broad window extension. She looked at me and smiled. I looked at her and never stopped looking.

“Let’s do it your way,” I broke the silence.

“What?”

I drew a Smiley on the window glass by my finger.

“You remember, you used to draw whatever came to your mind on a balloon. So let’s do it on this window.”

She blew at the window and drew a moon. I drew a star. She did a sun. I did ‘you’. She added ‘and me’. We both exchanged glances at that time. I wrote ‘love’. She wrote ‘music’.

She drew a ‘virgin’ sign. I rolled my eyes. She laughed.

“It wasn’t a question, dude!” we both laughed.

We laughed our heart out. We laughed as we came close. We laughed as the rain droplet kept on tapping at the window. We laughed as our eyes closed. I brushed my warm fingers on her cold ones. Our fingers entangled for a moment and left each other. Then I took my hand again and took hers in mine. I had held her hand a lot of times before but this was different. My fingers played with her hand. I grabbed her arms with both my hands. She brushed her fingers on my neck. I tilted my head back to feel her more. I opened her hair and brushed my fingers through her long strands. Meanwhile her
duppatta
slid down to her arms. Her breath touched my skin. I grabbed her neck softly, rubbed my thumbs across her chin and then her ears. We were close… very close – in the apartment which I never called home, which felt like one for the past three days. She slid her hands under my shirt and grabbed my back. My body was now pressed against her. She closed her eyes. I knelt forward, just a centimetre difference between us and I looked at her. She looked so beautiful. Then out of nowhere that morning dream flashed in front of my eyes. I retaliated. Does she really want me? Or is the need arising from the fear of her being alone… betrayed by some guy? Just then I felt her lips pressed against mine. She took the leap. I was tired of being the other guy. I sat stoned. She moved her lips a bit and then pressed them again against mine. I was frozen. She moved back. There was pain in her eyes and shock on my face. She slid away. She looked embarrassed. I wasn’t able to think at all. In the first place, should I be thinking at all? She stood up with uncomfortable steps and walked away, murmuring, ‘You didn’t kiss me back’. She kept on murmuring it again and again.

‘Yeah! Why didn’t I kiss her back?’ I asked myself, bewildered at what had happened.

She walked with heavy steps. Her
duppatta
brushed the ground. She went out. I grabbed my face in my hand, ‘What have I done?’ I looked up she wasn’t there.

“Kasam,” I shouted but no response came.

I rushed out of the room. She was in the hall, heading towards the main door.

“Kasam,” I shouted at her. She didn’t turn.

I ran to her and grabbed her arm.

“Kasam.”

She turned with red eyes and looked at me for a moment.

She grabbed my hand with her other hand and pushed it away. She shouted, “You didn’t kiss me back!”

She cried, “You didn’t kiss me back!”

She moaned, “You don’t love me. I was wrong.”

She walked with long steps towards the door and I had nothing to say to stop her.

Chapter 18

Three Weeks Later

I spent the following week, analysing what I wanted. What Kasam wanted. Did she really want me in her life or was she clinging to me as Utsav had left her? Love is complicated. All that I wanted in my life was Kasam to love me. Now when she did, I was more interested in why she loved me. It took me a week to overcome my fear, be prepared and be confident to face her again. But this always happened to me. When I was ready, my stars no longer remained in my favour. I was asked to go to Dubai for a client presentation.

When I returned after two weeks, Kasam wasn’t in the city. I learned from ‘Prayas’ receptionist that she went to Delhi to visit her parents. I noted down the address and packed my bags.

Next I knew I was hailing a cab from Delhi airport to her house. On the way we crossed a series of card shops. Somehow I pictured our names in those. A few minutes after, I was there. Her home looked awfully crowded, probably some function was going on. That was all I inferred from all those decoration. I asked a little girl to call Kasam. She smiled and asked, “Kasam
didi
?”