"A bride cannot look
more beautiful." He stated, leaning in from behind my mother. "And
of course no oldie can look as beautiful as you aunty!" He rested his chin
on her shoulder. She giggled while touching his cheek in a slapping gesture and
told him how handsome he was looking as well. He indeed was looking handsome.
He sat besides me,
enquired, "Nervous hai?” He was my best friend.
1.
He loved rains.
"Come out! It has
stopped raining.” He said, when we were naive little kids.
"No it hasn't!"
"Its just a
drizzle!" he insisted.
I had to go, he had
already made the paper boats.
Our boats went long way
down the channel; we ran along side and removed obstacles from their path. Soon
all our boats sank and we couldn’t think of anything but walk back home. We
hopped into pot holes full of water, joked, laughed… and between all that it
began raining cats and dogs before we were half way home. He had a raincoat and
an umbrella; I had an umbrella that wind took away from me. He covered me with his;
he also brought me in his oversized raincoat. Even as a little girl, I felt
something in those necessary moments of closeness. I can only diagnose it as an
uncomfortable comfort.
Isn't it strange how we
always had the sense that they are different- boys; yet, I had this sense that this
boy, with his arms around me, was different from those other boys. He had won
my trust so early, when trust was so difficult to spell, and meant blah!
......
He was there laughing with
my brother. Though my brother was quite younger than him, they got along really
well. In fact he meant a lot to him.
He meant a lot more to me.
"Madam! Here! A
little smile please." A photographer brought me back from some neverland.
My to be husband smiled
and asked, "Are you ok?"
I nodded with a smile.
"He is a nice guy. "I
told myself, "I would be happy with him."
But then, He was not that
person who just went on the dance floor, whose body was consuming every beat of
music, every noise from the crowd, to form serene flawless movements, I
thought.
He was a wonderful dancer.
2.
At one point, somewhere
near junior high, when he like every other guy became a cricket maniac and
would spend most of his time with his guy group, I somewhere made a guy of
myself. I would watch matches so that he could discuss them with me rather than
those nut-heads he was seen in school with. I would offer him to play FIFA with
me (That he would politely refuse- thankfully!). He wasn’t always there. But he
was always there when I needed him; to help me with mathematics, to defend me
from bullies. He even agreed to learn dancing with me, for I was not allowed to
travel to dance school alone. He was born to dance (and to play cricket; and to
top in mathematics). I took time- and bandages to catch up to him. But then we
perfect together; we expertized salsa.
"Isn't it
wonderful?" I asked him from the 9th cloud when we won inter school dance
competition.
"Yes, it is." He
smiled.
We went quiet. Our moms
were waiting for us in the parking. We were walking to them through the empty
corridors of our school.
"You didn't ask what
is wonderful?" He glanced at me.
"What?" I
wondered.
"Your face with such
a beautiful smile- it is wonderful."
I clung to his hand,
rested my head on his arm "And you are wonderful."
It was 12th, year 2008. We
were in love.
I left his arm, and
created appreciable distance as we turned to the parking.
…..
Fire was burning ahead and
inside. Mantras echoed and the proceeding continued. I hardly lifted my head the
whole time, afraid that a glance of him would break me. And that shouldn't
happen, at least at this point of time... Ever!
Later, I was told that he
wasn't there. He engaged himself in some work, to miss the ceremony. It at
least gave a glimpse of what was happening inside him; my wonderment over how
he could smile and laugh and dance... somewhere blurred. Even if a little late,
I at least learnt that we were sharing a similar pain. A comforting thought it
was, in its own way.
He wasn't there at bidai
as well... We never met thereafter.
3.
My family loves
traditions. As I grew I realised this love of theirs boosted in them hatred to
all those who don't follow them. My mom would talk endlessly about how people
who went for inter-caste marriages have put their families down... How these
people are unable to appreciate all the love and care their parents gave them for
years. And my father, he wouldn't say anything; but his take on this point was
implied. And I must tell you, my parents were not orthodox, they were rather pseudo-modern.
Keeping some from the old and adapting as pleased from the new. Letting me to
be friends with a boy for this long is an example of that. In fact, I tend to believe
that we were let to have this friendship for he was family-zoned quite early.
But then he was from a different caste, and being anything more than a friend
would have been a ridiculous thought for them. Love was a ridiculous thought
for them.
I knew I would never be
able to tell them.
His family was no
different in that sense. But he was a boy, and at least in India this makes a
difference. He could have fought for me... but only if I was able to fight for
myself. I would never be, I knew.
College was over, so was a
wonderful, fulfilled and love filled life. After a year in job, I was
introduced (I want to write 'shown' here) to my to be husband.
He talked and I wondered
about the spontaneity of this change in my life. I replied like it was an
interview.
"I don't want to get
married." I ponder at times about my ability to have said it. If I would
have been asked that is.
"I will have to get
married." I said, as I met him after office. He had come to Mumbai
especially to meet me.
"I know." He
replied.
"So...?"
"So... let's get
married." Either he meant it or hoped a smile. It brought irritation.
"You don't understand!
It is all easy for you!"
"What do you want?
That's the only question then... and it is yours to answer. But before you
bring out your decision, you must know that I love you… "
There was no decision to
be made; I called him to tell him what my mind had already decided. He somehow
had a hint of it... Why wouldn't he? After knowing me more than anyone- myself.
"Let's end what we
have now and here. Let's be normal at home."
"And never meet after
the marriage." He added.
"Yes..." I
whispered.
I couldn't hold it, and my
eyes drizzled. He embraced me and I sank in.
"I love you." He
said as he kissed over my head. I chose not to reply and gathered myself.
...
...
How did I end up? Just
fine I would say. You learn to love with time, when loved like my husband do.
His thought rarely crossed
my mind... My best friend, my first love. It all got locked somewhere within
me, never to come out.
It came out just today,
when mom in her gossip told "Woh saamne wali sharma-in ka beta, tere
bachpan ka dost, Shaadi hi nhi karta... mujhe toh lagta rha koi affair waffair
rha h uska. Ma baap k baare mein sochte hi nhi bacche.. sukr h bhagwaan ka tum
log sahi nikle... Tera toh kitna acha dost tha, baat kar usse, samjha.. shayad
maan jaaye..."
