THE ONE YOU CANNOT HAVE (23 page)

‘What could I do? She had made her choice. And so had he. This love, it is a funny thing. It can elevate you to the highest peak and plunge you to a bottomless pit. I thought I had found all the happiness in the world when I got married. How wrong I was. The path we plan for ourselves meanders in ways we can never imagine. Life never ceases to throw us googlies. It is how we handle them that makes all the difference. Sometimes you have to take control of it and, at other times, it is best to let go. And the wisest of persons is the one who knows which option to choose.’

I can only nod. His words are gentle and full of wisdom. They feel like a balm to my battered soul.

‘I have shared my story. It is your turn now,’ he says and the twinkle is back in his eyes. How in the world does he manage to stay so upbeat
all
the time? He must be twice my age and yet I do not have half the energy that he does.

‘There isn’t much of a story. I myself wonder what went wrong. Right now I feel stuck in my marriage, to the extent that, I am even contemplating divorce,’ I state simply. Somehow it feels like a relief to have said it to him. It has been playing so long in my head, and the only person I have discussed it with so far has been Asha.

‘Hmmm,’ he nods thoughtfully. ‘So you were forced into this marriage?’ he asks.

I find myself explaining about my mother’s cancer, I tell him about how Aman and I were inseparable and how I finally was forced to split up with him.

‘I mean, I did it out of my own free will, or at least that is what I felt. The thing is I wanted my parents to be happy. I didn’t want to stress out my mother and Aman wasn’t being the most understanding person at that time. Also, after the scene that my father created when his mother came to visit, I don’t think there was any point after that. Any potential relations were broken right then and there.’

‘Hmm...’ he says absorbing all that I have said. ‘Shruti, the thing about life is that its very nature is change. People change, circumstances change. People act differently in different circumstances. That does not mean it is permanent. Things change all the time. And if some thing is meant to happen, it will. What is your reason for considering a divorce? Do you want to get back with Aman?’

I am quiet for a while. Do I want to? In my heart of hearts I do. But what leg do I have to stand on? It was I who broke up with him. It was I who did not read his mails.

And now, after two years, I don’t know if he has moved on. I don’t know anything about him, what he feels, whether
he
wants to get back.

‘There is only one way to find out,’ says Mr Adani. ‘Ask him.’

‘I did,’ I find myself admitting in a small voice.

‘And?’

‘I haven’t yet heard from him.’

‘How long has it been since you asked? Did you call him?’

‘No, I mailed him.’

‘How long back?’

‘Last night.’

‘Oh, it is too early then. You don’t expect him to make such a decision overnight, do you? Give him some time.’

That is just what I will do. I will wait for him to respond. There is nothing much I can do anyway.

I thank Mr Adani for his time.

‘Not at all, girl. Feel free to call me if you want to talk about it,’ he says and I thank him once again.

Aman, please reply. Please write back. Any word from you. Please tell me I am forgiven and that I still matter. I just need once chance, Aman. Please.

It keeps going round and round in my head. I should stop obsessing about his reply. I should focus on other things.

But try as I might, I am unable to. I somehow feel that if I get back with him, I can make a new beginning. I can put all this behind me.

I feel as though I am at the bottom of a long cavernous well, looking up at the light coming from high above. I need to climb out towards that light.

All I need is a rope.

And the only person who can toss it to me is Aman.

Chapte
r
26

Aman

If my mother is mortified about my amorous adventures, she pretends not to show it. Anjali on the other hand, I know is miffed and has a strange unfathomable expression.

‘I guess I better get going. It is quite late and tomorrow is a working day,’ announces Anjali as she stands up, bringing an abrupt end to our little party. Mark says that he too has to leave early the next morning and he would like to call it a night.

Then he walks over to Anjali and takes her hand in his, kisses it and looks into her eyes while saying, ‘It was wonderful meeting you, lovely Anjali. I hope to keep in touch.’

I have never seen him do this before. It must be the corniest of moves he has ever pulled, but I find Anjali smiling and nodding. I stand there watching.

My mother asks Anjali how she would be going home as it is late.

‘Oh, don’t worry about me, Aunty, I will take an auto. I am sure I will find many outside,’ she says.

‘Of course not, Aman will drop you home, won’t you, Aman?’ says my mother.

‘Yes, of course. It isn’t the wisest of things to take an auto alone at this time of the night, Anjali. I will drop you home,’ I say and I jump up and grab the car keys before she has a chance to protest.

As we walk to the door, we hear Mark thanking my mother for a wonderful evening and great food. He is charm personified. I have to hand it to the guy. Then he insists on helping my mother clear up, something that hadn’t struck either me or Anjali.

In the car, Anjali is quiet for a very long time. I am too embarrassed to even attempt any conversation and sit in silence. I play some music to cover up the totally awkward situation that I find myself in.

We have driven for about fifteen minutes when Anjali says, ‘Aman, there is something I have to talk to you about.’

Uh-oh. The last time a woman said that to me, she broke up with me. When a woman says, ‘There is something we have to talk about’ you have only two options:

1. 1.
   Tuck your tail between your legs and run as fast as you can.
   
2. 2.
   Arm yourself with enough ammunition to defuse the bomb that she is going to detonate you with, shield yourself and hope like crazy that you will survive.
   

Since the first option isn’t available to me, as we are stuck in a car, I am left only with option two. I prepare myself to tell her about the one-night stand—how meaningless it was and how sex is so darn casual there and how it doesn’t mean a thing.

But what she asks is something I had never anticipated, expected or even foreseen even in my wildest dreams.

‘Did you make a pass at Dipika and did you tell her you want to sleep with her, no strings attached?’ she asks and I can feel her looking at me steadily.

I can’t believe this. I am so taken aback that I am not able to respond immediately. I pull over to the side of the road. There are some small cart-stalls on the side of the road selling hot noodles, momos, tea and coffee. As soon as I pull over, the guy from one of the stalls approaches us.

‘What will you take, sir?’ he asks.

I look at Anjali and ask if she would like to have something. She wants a cup of black coffee. I order the same.

‘No milk?’ he asks, surprised.

‘No. Black,’ I say and he scuttles off.

Then I turn towards Anjali.

‘Anjali, that is so totally false and untrue. I am shocked that she has told you this. It wasn’t like that at all,’ I finally say.

‘It wasn’t like that,’ repeats Anjali slowly. ‘Which means there was something, isn’t it, Aman? I wasn’t going to ask you this, but after what Mark said, I have to know. I met Dipika the other day. And we spoke about a lot of things. She said the reason why you moved out of their place to the company guesthouse was because she asked you to leave.’

‘Oh my God, Anjali. That is not true at all. I can’t believe that is the story she gave you,’ I say.

‘Then what is the truth, Aman? What is your version? If you can have a one-night stand in the UK, perhaps you can have a one-night stand with Dipika too. And trust me, I am entirely okay with the idea of a one-night stand. It isn’t a big deal—it is just sex. I have many friends who do it. But what I cannot stand is someone lying to me. Deceit is something which I cannot forgive. So be honest, please.’

She has a confused, pained look in her eyes and I feel miserable to see her like that. I swallow and then take her hands in mine.

‘Anjali, trust me I will never lie to you. Yes, I did have a one-night stand in Norwich and that was just sex and nothing else. I was drunk and one thing led to another. But I have never had one night stands before that nor do I intend to have them ever again, even if I get the opportunity. When I arrived in India, it was Dipika who made a pass at me. I was shell-shocked and I scooted. Do you remember that day when I had changed my plans to meet you? It was to escape her advances. I can’t just sleep with anybody like that, Anjali. It...it just isn’t worth it.’

The guy comes back with our coffees and I hand Anjali her cup.

She is silent as she sips it.

Then she places her right hand over mine and squeezes it. She hasn’t uttered a word but I know she believes me and has understood. I feel strangely intimate with her now, having clarified things. We sit in silence sipping the coffee.

Finally she says, ‘You know, I did feel that. She is very unhappy in her marriage. She feels trapped. Maybe that is why she did it.’

‘Maybe, but I have no idea why she lied to you about me.’

‘I think it was because she wants me to meet Vikram’s cousin. She sensed that there might be something between us. Of course, I told her there is nothing and it’s all in the nascent stages and it is not a relationship at all,’ she adds hastily. She looks so cute I want to lean over and kiss her right there. But I let her continue.

‘Who is this Vikram’s cousin? Where did he come into the picture from?’ I ask.

‘Oh, he is Mr Washington. He is from MIT, apparently very good-looking and smart and all that. Dipika and my parents want me to meet him.’

‘Mr Washington? That is a strange name.’

She bursts out into delighted peals of laughter. ‘That is not his real name, silly. That is what I have nicknamed him as he lives there. His name is Vipul.’

‘Oh, okay,’ I say and then I pay the guy who brought us coffee and we continue our drive to Anjali’s home.

‘So are you meeting him then?’ I ask.

‘I might. I don’t lose anything in meeting him, right? You never know who is destined for whom when it comes to things like marriages,’ she shrugs.

She asks me to stop the car in the same place that we did the last time. She says that her parents came to know about my dropping her, as her landlord called up her dad and told him.

‘Oh my God. Did you get into trouble then?’ I ask.

‘No no. My parents are cool with anyone I choose. They are very open-minded like that. It didn’t get me into trouble, but it sure bagged me a date with Mr Washington.’ she says and then she studies me face carefully, as though watching for a reaction.

I don’t miss it at all.

Then she grabs my face and kisses me real hard. She is aggressive and I cannot help but respond.

Then she pulls away and says, ‘God…you silly man. You still don’t get it, do you? I love you, you fool.’

I am speechless. I am so taken aback by her directness and her candid confession.

‘Bye, Aman,’ she says laughing at me.

And then she gets down and walks away without once turning back.

I am so dumbstruck that all I can do is stare.

When I get back home, my mother is waiting up for me.

I was hoping that she would be asleep by the time I returned. I am in no mood for any conversation with her. The thunderstorm that is Anjali has hit me with full fury and I am still reeling in the aftermath.

‘I think she is perfect. Such a sweet girl. She even took the trouble to wear a
salwar kameez
just to meet me. And she didn’t drink in front of me either. I think she comes from a very good family,’ my mother declares without any preamble.

‘Ma, please, how do you know how she dresses otherwise? And is it so necessary to have this conversation now?’ I say. I half want to add that the drink she had was laced with vodka, but I do nothing of that sort.

‘It is not necessary, but it is needed. And I don’t have this grey hair for nothing,’ says my mother firmly.

I groan.

‘Aman, it has been two years now. Each time I bring up this topic, you shove it aside as if it is of no importance. I think it is high time you took a call instead of burying yourself in your career. There is more to life than just work
, beta.
Why, in our times, we knew how to have fun. We worked hard, yes, but we did not kill ourselves like this. And I cannot understand your generation. What is there to think so much? I can see that she likes you, dotes on you, even. And you are refusing to acknowledge even to yourself how you feel?’

‘Ma, I don’t feel anything okay? She is just a friend,’ I insist but the words sound hollow even to my own ears.

‘Oh is that so? Why did you whirl her away when Mark was talking to her? I have seen more of this world than you,
beta
. Don’t think your mother is an old fool. I didn’t miss a thing,’ she says.

I am caught out now. I cannot deny that.

‘I never even think of you that way, Ma. In fact, you are one of the coolest, hippest mothers I know and I am proud of you,’ I say as I give her a hug.

‘You know what, you are just like your dad. So afraid to make a commitment. So afraid to acknowledge and commit to a woman. Had I left things to your dad, we would have never got married and you wouldn’t have been born,’ she says.

My mother, over the years, has told me a lot of stories about my father, about how studious he was, how he loved to read and how handsome he was. He was her senior in college and he had stood first in the university. He was naturally shy and my mother was bold and unabashed. She had cornered him after college one day and declared her love for him. He had bolted like a rabbit. My mother was not one to give up. He tried his best to avoid her, but my mother had her ways. Soon after college, he had got a job. My mother used to go to his office, after college and wait outside. As soon as he emerged, she would inveigle him in a conversation and he did not know how to refuse. The word soon reached my mother’s father who was one of the well-known people in Gwalior as he held a position of repute at the local bank. My mother declared to him, when he spoke to her about it, that if she got married, it would be only to my dad and no one else. My grandfather then approached my dad’s father and asked for his son’s hand in marriage for his daughter, and that was how they had got married. I can see the happiness on my mother’s face as she narrates this story once more. Whenever she does, she is overwhelmed with emotions. These are her cherished memories. Her refuge. I don’t mind hearing her repeat them, over and over. It makes her so happy to recall them.

‘Yes, Ma, I know,’ I say and I hug her.

‘See, in my times, we were so sure of what we wanted. Not like you all, the confused generation which has no certainty about anything. And let me tell you, the years I had with him, they were the happiest years of my life. Fate snatched him away from me. But oh, the time that we had. You are missing out so much, Aman. Let go, and just live.’

I want to point out to my mother that she was lucky. My father did not walk out on her and marry someone else. My father responded to her. Hers was a ‘happily-ever-after’ story while mine is a ‘happily-has-been’. There is a huge difference in the two.

But the earnestness with which my mother is talking to me, trying to convince me about Anjali, the joy in her eyes as she talks about my father, all of it makes me just keep quiet and nod.

‘Look,
beta
, if you want, I can speak to her parents. I am certain that she loves you and if you ask her to marry you, she isn’t going to say no. It is up to you now.’

‘I know, Ma, I know. Let me speak to her first. Then I will let you know,’ I say.