Just the Way You Are (2 page)

MANY WOULD SAY I WAS
lucky to have a job to my liking, a newly wedded wife, a settled family, and all the basic needs and many comforts that one could hope for. I wonder if people realized that it never came together; something had to be sacrificed for something else. As I took my comfortable window seat in the dimly lit flight, my mind wandered to the rushed events of the past few days. I patted my back on having successfully accomplished a task of humongous proportions.

Just then, I heard a commotion in the aisle just ahead of my seat. I stretched my neck to see the cause, and there it was—a petite woman hiding her face behind her boarding pass, perhaps trying to search for her seat number by scanning the small lettering on the pass from up close. Pretty close, actually. Since she had all her attention on the pass, she had bumped into another passenger who had been trying to put some luggage into the overhead cabin. I was wondering at her clumsiness when she stopped right where I sat and settled in the empty seat next to me. Lo, it was the same woman whose bag I had taken by mistake. She had recognized me too. We shared a customary stiff smile. I was not in the mood for conversation, nor was I lucky when it came to women anyway. So I just looked out the window at the ground staff running around. It didn't take too long for me to slip into my thoughts, despite the fidgety woman seated next to me.

The last few days had passed as if in a daze; so much had happened in between that thinking back felt like replaying the reel of some Bollywood love story. Till a few hours back, I had felt like the luckiest and happiest man on earth. All my dreams had come to life, one after the other. I could see a blissful future ahead of me, that too with the girl of my dreams, someone I deeply loved.

I had waited for this night for very long, and so had my ever-so-loving mother, who was the only one to not have given up on dreaming about my marriage. All others had had their doubts in some form or the other, given my age and particular expectations from my partner. When the rituals began, I was excited; when they had been going on for a few hours, I started getting tired; after a few hours, I was praying for it all to end soon; and when it finally ended, I was dead tired. Who wouldn't be! The running around for the day had started pretty early and the ceremonies had ended at 4 am the next day. I couldn't figure out how the excitement of getting married was supposed to keep me running in the face of a long day and night to come, hordes of relatives to be managed, and the emotional setting at the girl's side at the end of it all!

I wondered why putting sindoor in the bride's hair parting was the last ritual, albeit the most important after which two people are pronounced man and wife. Brian Tracy would have jumped into the very fire that I had to perform pheras around, or just strangled himself with the jaimala right there. He had died writing about prioritizing tasks; not really died, but you know what I mean! And here were these rituals, putting the most important at the very end. Wow! But whatever it was, I was exhausted and, in fact, felt I would pass out in the wedding mandap itself. I am an early sleeper and when the clock struck midnight, I was ready to call it a day. But my goddamn relatives had gone all wild and whiskyed, and were trying to make me dance and meet their godforsaken friends who I had no idea about, all through the night. I literally smiled my way through the people I met with subconscious ignorance, knowing well I wouldn't see more than half of them ever again.

I had decided on having a simple wedding after I watched
Hum Aapke Hain Kaun.
Only a few close friends and family members. But when I had presented this idea to my parents, my mother had feigned fainting and my father's eyes went so wide that I thought they would pop out. Their protests had even made me tell them that I was impotent and couldn't marry anyone. That was the last nail in the coffin. But my mother got up after that and tore into my idea—left, right and centre.

‘What? Only a few relatives? Why?'

‘Mom …'

‘Shut up! You know, you are finally getting married now, at the age of thirty-two; plus whose marriage will we have in the house after this one now? Your children or your brother's—nothing before that. We have so many dreams, so many wishes. We will do this function, wear this sari, and tease that Sharma's wife and all. We all have a birthright to celebrate and organize your marriage in a grand and lavish way. So don't give me faltu reasons to call off all the grand functions.'

‘But Mom, I don't like all this. It's such a waste of money, all this stupidity.'

‘You mean the whole world is stupid! You are calling us stupid?' She turned to my father, ‘Hain ji, see what your son is saying!'

‘Mom, what's with wasting money like that?'

‘Wah! People across the country are stupid. It is only our son who is so intelligent. This is the day for which I have brought you up! To be denied these small happy moments, of flaunting my bahu and beta to the world. What has life come to!' She sighed deeply enough for me to get a warning signal that this conversation had started moving in a direction where I would very soon be left with no counterarguments to my mother's emotional state (read blackmail).

I understood that just like ‘these young people of today' do not understand what elders say, ‘these grown-up parents' will also not understand the logic of not wasting money on marriages.

So that day, after meeting all those people I had not been in favour of inviting in the first place, I was ready to drop. My home was in the same town but since my wife belonged to Agra, it was decided to arrange the wedding ceremony and all the related functions and rituals in Taj Mansingh Hotel. So guests from both the families had been accommodated there itself, and all arrangements had done accordingly. My father had made it clear that we would bid adieu to Shagun's family here itself and head home thereafter. I had assumed that many of our relatives were also leaving for their respective homes directly from there.

We had booked a couple of rooms in the same hotel. I thought I'd be able to relax, and Shagun too, before we finally left for home. It must have been equally crazy at her end as well. Shagun had been sent to a room with her family, and I to another. My close friend Sankalp was with me in my room and advised me to take some rest. I had just planned on taking my shoes off and reclining on the bed, when some distant relatives marched into my room to meet me. They were apparently leaving in an hour and wanted to spend some time with me.

‘You have grown up from the last time I saw you.' I wondered when they had seen me, because I had not changed in appearance in the last seven- to eight-odd years.

I made the best out of the moment, ‘Sorry uncle, I couldn't help it. I didn't have any choice except to grow up.'

‘Very true! When I saw you the last time, you were so tiny.' One of the aunties, I don't know who, used her hands to show how tiny I was. From the size she indicated, I should have been a puppy more than a human. But she went on anyway, ‘Now I am seeing you on your marriage occasion. Time passes so fast!'

To my chagrin, a lady standing at her side said without restraint, ‘I am so happy for you. Finally you are married now. You mom was so worried for you.'

I nodded. I never understood why people asked or discussed such things. I could have asked if she let her husband touch her at this age, or if she was okay wearing short clothes. On the pretext, of course, that my mom was worried at her treating her husband like a dog. And imagine this: I didn't even know them properly. The only thing I could do for their most stupid and abrupt of questions was stretching my lips in a fake smile and nodding in a way that says, ‘Thanks! Without your concern, I would
never
have been married.'

I was desperately waiting for the moment when they would leave the room and I could lie down for a while. I cared about my back, which was now screaming for a bit of rest, more than these uncaring, gossip-hungry relatives. I looked at Sankalp, anger dripping from my eyes. He smiled and winked at me to stay calm. After a minute, when they found me only nodding to every query, they decided to leave.

Sankalp knew I was about to bust a nerve; I was tired and these dialogues had managed to annoy me even more. So before I could say anything, he said, ‘Yaar, why are you giving me the look? It's not my fault. I guess your dad instructed them to come here and see you. They just wanted to meet you and congratulate you.'

‘Then they should have congratulated me and gone away. But did you notice, they did not say the word “congratulations” even once. I hate these meetings. I had told my mom very clearly to not invite anyone who I didn't know.'

Sankalp had nothing to say, so he preferred to remain silent. I thanked God that I could now take a nap for a couple of hours without any disturbance. But when has God ever let me be!

My mobile phone buzzed with an unknown number. I wanted to ignore it, but Sankalp drew my attention to it by mentioning that the number seemed from somewhere out of India. I looked at the screen closely but did not take the call; whoever it was could wait, I was sure. I relaxed and dozed off soon.

I woke up to the noise of feet rustling all around me; people were getting ready to leave. I woke up quickly, straightened my clothes, slipped on my shoes, and went downstairs. After that, it was a matter of a few more minutes. I stood motionless next to Shagun, not knowing what to do and how to react, as she howled, hugging her aunt and uncle. It was when everyone was crying in unison that my phone vibrated again. I dug it out of my pocket and saw the number flashing on the screen; the same number that I had seen a while earlier. Just as I was going to take the call, an old uncle, looking sad, turned and looked at me, perplexing me if nothing else. I didn't know what to do, as I was looking at my flashing screen and then at him, forcing a smile. He approached me with an almost pleading tone, ‘Beta, please take care of our daughter. She is our only daughter and the apple of our eyes.'

I smiled at him, hoping he was done so that I could take the call. Two calls from an unknown foreign number had gotten me curious. He seemed ready with the next line but I gestured to him to give me five minutes as I was getting a call. I showed him my phone, and just as he adjusted his eyes to see what I was trying to show, I walked to one side where the howling was not that loud and took the call.

‘Hello?'

‘Hello, may I speak with Mr Sameer?' a firm, articulate female voice greeted me from the other side. The accent was definitely not Indian; it did not seem American either.

‘Yes, Sameer here. May I know who I am speaking with?' I said, pretty curious by now, and somewhat hopeful too.

‘I am speaking from Credit Suisse, Switzerland.'

A thought crawled into my mind. Maybe it was a spam call saying that I have won a million dollars in a lucky draw in which I had never participated. I decided to hang up but then it happened. The woman with the strange English accent said something that brought a smile on my face. It was really a million-dollar call.

‘I would like to inform you that this is regarding your application form that you had submitted on our website. We understand that you have abundant expertise in a field that we are looking to hire in. So, after due consideration, we would like to offer you a job with our organization.'

She had barely begun when I started mumbling, ‘Thanks a lot.'

‘There is just one catch to it. We have an urgent opening in that domain and you will be required to visit our Bern office for further discussion rightaway. What I I mean to say is that you need to start with us immediately and we will be arranging for the visa and tickets quickly if you accept ...'

My mind was going numb with each word she said, but I managed to gather my wits about me and tell her, ‘But how is it possible? I got married a few hours back, lady. Isn't it possible to postpone this for a week or so?'

There was a pause at the other end and then she spoke again, this time commandingly, even calculatingly, ‘Mr Sameer, we do understand your personal concerns, but I am sorry to inform you that it won't be possible to postpone it. We can definitely give you a week's leave once you come and join the office formally and understand your role and the office culture. In case you feel it is not going to be feasible for you, then you must let me know now, for I will have to fix up with the candidate second in rank of our preference for the same.'

I knew there would be ample time to curse my destiny after the phone call ended but for now, I needed to decide what I was going to do. ‘What about the appointment letter?'

‘Once you confirm, I will send the letter and tickets with all other details to your email ID in the next fiveodd minutes.'

I managed a faint ‘yes' before she rattled off again, ‘Kindly take a printout of all the attachments, and carry the documents mentioned in the email. We apologize for this short notice but something critical has surfaced here. We really hope your journey is pleasant and also, congratulations on the job. And your marriage too! We are looking forward to receiving you here. If you face any confusion, please call me back on this number.'

I had barely said thanks when a beep indicated that the call had been disconnected. I was still for a few minutes. Probably because I had been waiting for this call for three years, or visualizing the situation that was going to surface when I broke this news to all my relatives and, most of all, to Shagun.

What a wonderful time these people had chosen to call me, and what perfect timing! I got married a few hours back, and just when I was thanking my stars for the little bit of relief that I had earned, after the millions of questions and jokes relatives and friends had bombarded me with the entire previous day and night, this phone call had put me in a fix.

It was a tough call for me, no doubt, but I had decided.
Yes, I would go to Switzerland.