It Wasn't Love at First Shalini and I (13 page)

She looked into the vast expanse of the river in front of us as she
was speaking. She was just staring, at nothing in particular, but I
knew, she was remembering her childhood.

“My father died two years after I met you, and I guess I have
still not been able to get over it. Don’t ask me how. After that, I
lost all interest in life, all my confidence. A father is supposed to
be a little girl’s hero, but when you realise that your hero is actually
not who you wanted him to be, you start doubting everything
else you believe in life as well. I remember what had happened to
my mother after his death. To me, nothing made sense. Music
was the last thing on my mind at that time. I was just in college,
I had started performing in shows, I had started making a mark,
but everything changed after that. I just realised that I could not
have what I loved. I could not have my life, and I could not have
music. And since that time, I have lost complete faith in
everything. I have lost faith in myself. And I am not even sure if
I regret it.”

She continued staring into nothing. I saw a tear slide down her
cheeks. She wiped it and changed modes, tried a fake smile.

“Leave all that. Got a little too much didn’t it.”
“Can you sing for me?”
“What?”
“Can you sing for me. Just for me. I will not say that it is good, I

will not say that it is bad. I just want you to sing for me. Once.
Please.”

 

“You and your filmy ways.”

“Please. You know I want to say things like ‘don’t worry, things
will be fine’ but you know when people say that, they actually mean
that things will not be fine and that you have to learn to live with it.
I will not say any such thing. All I am asking you to do is sing for
me.”

She smiled, and this time the smile reached the eyes. She got up
and stood in front of me.

 

“Okay, I will sing a song from a hindi movie. I try to stay away
from music these days, but, I just can’t.”

“Now shut up with the gyaan and start singing.”
“It’s from a movie- Zakhm with Ajay Devgan in it.”
“I am not interested in the details. Just sing.”

“Tum aaye to aaya mujhe yaad,

Gali me aaj chand nikla”
And she sang the full song.

She ran towards me and hugged me and started crying. I just put
her head on my shoulder and let her. Maybe it was because she was
lonely, maybe it was because she felt she was close to me, or maybe
because it had been long overdue, but she trusted me and cried in my
arms. After around five minutes she let go of me.

“I am sorry. I don’t know why I did this. You are the first person
who I have told about my life. In fact, you are the first friend I have
met since I have come to this country. Thank you.”

I said nothing, just smiled. This was difficult on her. I did not
want to make it worse.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

She said this and took charge, we were off again. In the square
streets of Manhattan, out in the cold at 3 am on a Saturday night.
“Most places here open till 4, I will take you to a place which
opens till 7.”

 

We stopped a passing cab and she said “42nd Street Broadway
please.”

 

The cab driver was an Indian and said “Ji Madam ji” and he got us
there in fifteen minutes. She tipped him a dollar. He was happy.

We entered into a pub like what I had never seen before. There
were seven different parts to the pub. One was playing retro, one
jazz, one contemporary, and the other parts some other kind of music.
I think there was a strip club as well. But the only thing common
was that people were drinking and people were dancing. Shalini took
my arm and took me straight to the bar.

“Two Jager Bombs please.”

I had been in New York for almost two months and I had not
heard of this drink. Maybe I was hanging out with the wrong set of
people. The barman took two shot glasses and poured Jagermeister –
a drink made of 56herbs and spices- into them. He then opened a
Red Bull can and poured half the content into a beer glass and the
remaining half into another beer glass. He then handed us the shot of
Jager and the beer glass with the Red Bull. I looked at Shalini confused
as to what to do with it.

“So ready?”
“Not really. I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t tell me you have not had a Jager Bomb ever? You have
been in New York for more than two months! What’s wrong with
you? Did you come here to listen to Indian ghazals on a Saturday
night or did you come here to have fun.”

She was practically shouting, it was so loud with the blaring music.
I shouted back.

“I guess you are right. From tomorrow, I will hang out with you.”
She ignored what I said.

“So what you do is, you drop this shot glass into the beer glass
with the Red Bull in it. The contents mix, but don’t wait for them to
mix, and then you gulp it down in one go.”

“In one go? Are you crazy? What is the alcohol content in this?”
“ That’s the good part. Pretty much! So here we go.”
She gave me my shot glass and the beer glass.
“On India okay. One, two, Indiaaaaaa.”

I dropped the shot glass and gulped down the mixture in one go.
It was the best drink I had ever had. My hands went up in the air.

“One more.”
“One more.”

After 4 more Jager Bombs, we were high and were on the dance
floor swaying to the beats, swaying to the music, swaying to each
other.

“Let’s goto the strip club.”
“But you are a girl!”
“But you are a guy. Why are you saying no?”
“Valid point. Let’s go!”

I had been to strip clubs before but never had it been as much fun.
After around three and a half hours in that place, completely drunk,
happy and crazed out, we both came out singing- “Gali me aaj chaand
nikla, gali me aaj chand nikla” We got to the metro station. Now was
the bad part, I had to drop her home but I was sure this time we
would meet again. There was one train standing headed to somewhere
in New York and one headed to New Jersey. She said she lived in
New York so she would take one train and I the other one to New
Jersey. She gave me her cell phone number. But I insisted that I drop
her first. She said ok but that the train currently at the station now
did not stop at her stop. So we decided to wait for the next one.

We sat on a bench next to the stationary train. It was very early in
the morning and the city was asleep. Just as the doors of the stationary
train were about to get closed and it was about to start moving, she
ran and got onto the train. And the doors jammed and train started
moving. All the haze, all the alcohol suddenly went off my system
and I could not get what was going on around me. She was on the
other side of the glass, on the other side of the metro, and the train
started moving. Our eyes met and I knew that I would not be seeing
her again. The train kept on moving, and she kept on going away. I
did not know why. I was down on my knees again, just like seven
years ago.

Nothing had changed. I took out the slip which had her number
on it, the number had one digit short. She did not want to see me
again. I had lost her again. I reached home, sobered up and tried to
get her contact from the auditorium where she had performed the
day before. After cooking up a story that her father had a heart attack
I somehow managed to figure out in which hotel the choir was
staying. It was a hotel down town. I called them up and asked for
Shalini.

“Sir, she checked out one hour ago.”
That was it, I had lost her again.

I went into a stupor for the next few days. I did not try to look for
her because there was actually no point in doing so. If she wanted to
see me again, she would see me again. Running after her or chasing
her would not really help. I really wanted to help her, and I guess,
that was the reason that she did not want me around. She needed
love, not pity. I became very lonely over the next few weeks in that
city. The country, which used to be a dream for me, just did not
excite me anymore. All I could associate with the city was Shalini
and she had gone, she had deserted me. I was having a chat with my
mother on one of the days and that is when I broke down. I cried.
After 8 years. And cried in front of my mother.

I know Shalini was not the reason for my crying, it was mainly the
loneliness, but I did not want to be in US anymore. I wanted to go
back home, go back to the place where my friends were, where Pooja
was, and where my parents were. I told my office about my decision
and they were supportive of it. They were surprised as to why I wanted
to leave the land of dreams so soon, but they were supportive. They
knew they would not have any trouble getting any of my colleagues
to US to fulfil his dream.

I booked a ticket for the next week. I did not tell anyone that I
was coming back. I wanted to surprise my parents and Pooja. My
parents had anyways been worried sick since the day I broke down
and had ordered me to leave everything and come back then and
there. When I got the ticket in my hand, things started to look better.
There was a longing to go home. I had been here only for 3 months
but it seemed like an eternity. I missed my friends, I missed my country,
I missed my parents. And then the day came, I was headed back
home.

I checked into the airport with my luggage. I had bought quite a
few things for Hari, Pooja and my parents and was picking up the
compulsory chocolates for my other friends at the Duty Free shop. I
boarded the Virgin Atlantic flight to London where I would have a 2
hour stopover. I entered the flight and straight away went into a deep
slumber. I was awakened when the flight had a rough landing and we
jumped a couple of times on the runaway. There was a cry of relief
from everyone as we landed safely. All the flights I had ever been on
always had a rough landing. I think it was something to do with me.

Heathrow London is a crazy place. I got off at Terminal 3 gate
number 32 and had to walk a whole lot of distance to the main
terminal where it would be announced where my next flight would
board from. There were two paths, separated by a glass wall. One
path was used to goto the main terminal 3 from where further
information was received regarding your next flight. The other path
was the one which people who had checked in from Terminal 3 would
use to goto their flights. There was a glass wall surrounding these
two paths. I had got off the plane and was ambling lazily down my
path with my laptop in tow looking around at whatever of London
I could see. There were ads of Harrods, of Broadway and some other
brands which I could barely recognise. I bumped into the guy walking
in front of me and decided to look straight. And that was when I saw
her, again. And this time, not after seven years.

She was on the other side of the glass wall moving towards a certain
gate to catch a flight to a certain city. She was 40 feet away, wearing
a simple black dress with an overcoat around her shoulder. She was
carrying a trolley with one hand and her purse was on the other. She
was now 30 feet away. I shouted her name. Apparently the glass wall
was sound proof because everyone on my path looked at me with a
crazy look but no one from the other side did. She was now 10 feet
away, I shouted again. More stares, but only from my side. 5 feet
away. I ran towards the glass wall and banged and some people from
the other side looked at me but she did not turn. She kept on walking
and went right past me. And then she looked back.

She had seen me all along, I could see it in her eyes. She stopped
for a split second, and then continued to some gate to board some
flight to some country. I stood there on the glass wall until security
came for me. They had apparently seen me banging the partition and
had questions to ask.

After spending around an hour of my time in London explaining
to the police what I actually was doing, I was let free. My mind was
devoid of all emotions. She did not want me in her life. It was pretty
clear and evident. But I knew we would meet again. This chance
meeting was not the end of our story. I boarded the flight to New
Delhi and again fell fast asleep as soon as the plane took off.

I landed at India at around 8 am on a Sunday. I got off the plane
and was back in the Delhi chill. I could feel the smell of my country.
It felt nice to be back home. The baggage and other details took
around 3 hours. Again a characteristic of my country. I thought my
baggage had been lost but then I saw it. It was going round and
round on a conveyor belt meant for some other flight.

Such things happen in this country.

I got out of the airport and was kind of overwhelmed to see what
was happening outside. Mothers were meeting long lost sons, wives
were meeting husbands who had gone away to earn more for the
family, kids were meeting their fathers after an eon.

There was a movie, Love Actually, in which the narrator says that
if you want to see true love, you should go to the arrival of an
international airport. He could not have been more spot on. No one
had obviously come to greet me, I had not told anyone. But I had a
smile nevertheless. Seeing so much love around you does make you
feel good. I hired a prepaid taxi to my apartment.

It felt great entering the smelly little place. It felt like home, it was
home. I guess there was a dead rat in a corner but that was ok. I
stuffed the bags in the place, took a shower, thought of finding the
dead rat but let the thought be just a thought, and I was ready to
receive all the love I had missed for the past three months.

All of a sudden, there was an excitement to meet Pooja, an excitement
which I had honestly never felt before. I was in two minds on whether I
had cheated on her but I decided I had not, not atleast physically. And
that is what counts. I was now ready to leave Shalini behind and start
afresh with Pooja. If Shalini did not want me, to hell with her.

I took a shower and got into new clean clothes, new clean American
clothes. There was no sign of jet lag on me. I was in love again. There
was a constant whistle in my head as I rummaged through my bags
and took out the stuff I had bought for Pooja and left for her place.