THE ONE YOU CANNOT HAVE (24 page)

‘That is my son,’ says my mother and she kisses me on the forehead and ruffles my hair. The joy on her face is unmistakable. She is content with my words and it shows.

I watch her for a long time after she goes to bed. Over the years she has become frail. I remember how smooth her hands used to be—they are covered with slight wrinkles now. There is more grey than black in her hair and it is thin, barely covering her scalp. Her face still looks young though, and she sleeps like a child, curled up on her side.

I think about how hard she has worked, over the years, after my father passed away. I recall how she has been strong and never shed a tear, at least not in front of me. I remember how she has struggled at her job, trying to give me as many comforts as she could. I am filled with a tenderness that is indescribable.

All she wants for me is to get married.

Mark is leaving very early the next day. He is sheepish and he hopes he hasn’t caused any trouble for me.

‘I am sorry, mate. For me, it is just the thrill of the chase and I think I got a little carried away last night. She is, errm…you know…quite lovely.’ He looks embarrassed.

I just laugh.

‘Yes, she is,’ I say.

Mark might have unwittingly done me the biggest favour of my life. But for him, I don’t think I would have actually figured out with certainty, my feelings for Anjali. I still wince at the word ‘feelings’. Did I just think
feelings
?

My mother too has to be dropped to her college and we leave home fairly early, so that she makes it on time.

Once I drop her off, I drive back to work. I am early and there is nobody around. I am glad about that. I settle down at my cubicle and take out my phone and open the Instant Messenger. Then I take a deep breath and start a chat with Anjali.

Me: Hey there, madam.

She responds almost instantly, as though she was anticipating this.

Anjali: Hello, sir.

Me: I have something to tell you. A confession actually.

Anjali: What? Don’t tell me you have the hots for Dipika and you lied about making a pass at her?

Me: Ha, ha. No, I am not going to tell you that.

God—she is making it very hard for me.

Anjali: Then what are you going to tell me?

This is my perfect chance. I am not going to miss it now.

Me: Please don’t meet Mr Washington.

Anjali: Why not?

Me: Because, I love you. And I think we will be good together.

Anjali: What? I didn’t get that. Please say it again.

Me: Scroll up and read it. You are the second woman I am saying these words to in my life.

Fuck...I shouldn’t have typed that but it is too late now. Even in my confession of love for Anjali, there is Shruti looming in the background, as the woman I first fell in love with. Why the hell did I type that she was ‘the second’. I could have done away with that little detail.

But Anjali doesn’t seem to mind.

Anjali: Aman Mathur. Finally! I think we should celebrate!

Me: Yes. Friday night?

Anjali: Four days twelve hours and fourteen minutes.

Me: Amazing! You actually calculated so fast?

Anjali: Of course. Can’t wait!

Later I call my mother and tell her that I have spoken to Anjali.

‘Great! Did you get her parents’ phone numbers? Let me not delay. I will call them straight away,’ she says.

‘Slow down, Ma. All in good time,’ I say and as I hang up I find myself smiling and actually looking forward to Friday night.

It is on a Wednesday morning (when there are two days six hours and twenty-four minutes left to meet Anjali, which she never fails to remind me, each time we chat) that I see a mail from Shruti in my inbox. I can’t believe it. It is a bolt from the blue. I blink for a few seconds.

Shruti has written me a mail? Now? After two whole years?

I find myself holding my breath as I quickly open it. There are a hundred emotions running through me as I read it. On the one hand is a strange sense of revenge, a satisfaction that she has finally written to me. She has admitted that she has not got over me. I feel vindicated to see that. I have struggled the same way for so long now that it has almost become a part of my persona. On the other hand, I feel a huge sense of sadness mingled with pain because she is unhappy. And I recognise that mixed with all this are still fond feelings for her. And the most surprising part is that I can still relate to her. Each and every word that she has said resonates with me.

I am not angry with her or even bitter.

I think for a long time whether to reply to her or not. I am not able to focus on my work. I am not able to concentrate on anything. I see two message notifications from Anjali and for the first time, ever since I confessed that I love her, I find myself unable to open her message and read it.

One mail from Shruti has caused such tumult inside my head. I was so sure until now.

I hate myself for being this way. I hate myself for still letting Shruti affect me this much.

I think for a long time on what to do.

And finally I hit delete. Then I go to the trash can and delete it from there.

‘Are you sure you want to delete these items permanently?’ pops up a message.

I hit yes. I am sure.

Almost.

But there is no option for that.

Chapte
r
27

Shruti

It is more than thirty-six hours since I mailed Aman and there is no reply from him. Maybe he hasn’t seen the mail? Maybe it went into spam? There could be a chance of that. I keep checking my mail every few minutes, on my phone, till I reach office.

When I finally reach, it is already lunch time. Asha is waiting for me.

‘Hey, how is your father-in-law now?’ she asks.

‘Looks like he will be discharged today. Rishabh is taking over from today. He is off for a week. Huge relief for me.’

‘Good thing too. I think you have done more than your fair share here. Actually I feel guilty, Shruti, as it was I who suggested you take them out that day.’

‘Don’t be silly. I hadn’t even thought of it like that. Besides, whoever anticipated his landing in the hospital.’

‘True. I was just thinking Rishabh should have been pleased that you are making an effort with his parents.’

‘Yes, he was too, till the hospital thing happened. After that, it has been so hectic there hasn’t been time for anything. And you know what, I met someone I know at the hospital. You might have heard of him—Sanjeev Adani.’

‘Oh! You know Sanjeev Adani personally? How?’ Asha is impressed.

So I tell her all the details.

‘Wow, you have led such an interesting life, Shruti. What fun you must have had at college.’

‘Yes, it was good,’ I admit. ‘Maybe that is why I am having such a hard time adjusting to being a married woman now.’

‘What rubbish. You were doing fine till Rishabh started this nonsense of not talking to you.’

I think about that. She does have a point, but she does not know the whole truth. On the outside, I was fine. Our married life wasn’t very exciting, but I had nothing to complain about either. Rishabh was a pleasant enough guy. But deep down, I know I longed for Aman’s vivacity, his ability to make me laugh and more than anything, the way he worshipped me and made me feel like a goddess. I missed that. Life with Rishabh was ordinary, mundane, boring. And it wasn’t his fault.

When I get home that evening, Rishabh is already home and so are my in-laws.

My father-in-law seems more or less okay now, except for the bandage on his head. He is able to move about very easily. I feel quite sorry for them now. In Hubli, they have so many people around them and my father-in-law is like a feudal lord. Here he is helpless and totally dependent on Rishabh or me.

I feel bad that their first visit to their son’s house has ended in hospitalisation.

Rishabh announces that they have decided to cut short their visit and go back early. He has already spoken to the doctors and they have said he is fit enough for air-travel.

‘I am so sorry,’ I tell my mother-in-law.

‘For what?’ she asks.

‘Had we not gone on that visit that day, all this wouldn’t have happened,’ I say.

‘What is destined, is bound to happen. We cannot control everything. We should be happy that nothing worse happened and he is okay. And honestly we enjoyed ourselves that day,’ she says.

I feel a surge of relief hearing this from her. They don’t hold me responsible at all. I like the pragmatic approach that my mother-in-law has taken to the whole situation. I hope that Rishabh has heard her. I look around to see if he has, but he is on the balcony busy on the phone.

Once my in-laws leave, the emptiness that existed between Rishabh and me, becomes even more pronounced. There is hardly any time left for me to travel to Bangalore and there is a lot to be organised for the recruitment drives. I come home late and Rishabh is conveniently parked in front of the television. He does not even bother to greet me or make any conversation.

The wall between us has been steadily growing and if I do not do anything about it, it will turn into a permanent one.

‘Rishabh, I think we should just talk,’ I say.

‘There is nothing to talk about,’ he replies.

‘We can’t go on like this.’

‘We are, aren’t we?’

‘Come on, Rishabh, you know what I mean. Why are you punishing me for something I had no control over? For something that happened
before
I got married to you?’

‘I wish I had known, Shruti. I was a fool. You lied to me saying there was nobody. How can I trust you anymore? Almost two years with you, it feels like a sham now.’

‘Rishabh, we keep going around in circles about this. You keep repeating yourself over and over again. Don’t you think we should find a solution?’

‘What solution? Don’t you think I have a right to be angry?’

‘Yes Rishabh, you do and I am sorry. I have begged you for forgiveness. What more can I do? I made a mistake and I am sorry, okay?’ I don’t realise that my voice has automatically increased in volume. I am mad at Rishabh for being so stubborn about this.

‘Don’t raise your voice, Shruti.’

‘Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.’

‘Suit yourself then. I am not here to take any nonsense that you dish out. I will speak to you when you are calmer,’ he says and he walks into our bedroom and opens a book.

I am fuming with anger. I want to shake him now. Make him see sense. I follow him to the bedroom.

‘See, Rishabh, we have a good thing going. Let us put the past behind us. Let us make a new start,’ I appeal to him, pushing aside my anger. If I stay calm, maybe he will be more receptive.

He does not even reply. He turns off the light and goes to bed.

I feel like I have been slapped. I slip out of bed and sit on the balcony, staring at the stars for a long time. I think about my marriage with Rishabh. I think about all that has happened.

And finally when I come to bed, I know what I have to do. It is not going to be easy, but I have to do it. There is no other way.

I have made up my mind.