Truly Madly Deeply (21 page)

“You talk about respect for women or gender equality as you call it but that too looks very good in books. Let me not give you an abstract of countless Bilkis Banos, who await justice in the snail-paced court of law. For decades, women in the country have been subjected to domestic violence and refused to arise in sectors where male dominance exists.

“Sexual harassment is not uncommon in the Indian working environment. The glass ceiling is still as strong as ever in Indian organisations as anywhere else. Frankly, our men respect women, in the sense they rape mentally challenged girls in a local train in the middle of the night on the eve of independence, providing a source of uncouth entertainment to the present audience. Men respect women when they assault the wives and sisters of their rival communities by barging into their houses with swords and knives. Men respect women when they reserve top notch positions for themselves and undermine the fairer sex's abilities and talents not just in the corporate environment but in every field of life. Is that respect? Yes it is, if the aforementioned activities are honourable,” I fired, stopping to breathe, I continued,

“You talk about tradition, culture, development, agriculture, industrial technology, advancement, education, etcetera, etcetera but let me tell you one thing straight and clear as I did last year, standing on the very same place of the very same stage of the very same school, representing the very same house for
the very same competition… but against different opponents
(Yeah, still remember last year, that stupid Celine, our group
leader didn't allow me to speak much but still I made my point about Japan's privatisation of education to fetch the second
place for our house). Japan, yes Japan got freed from the
chains of fanatic nationalism in 1945. It came out superbly of the shock from the atomic attacks. India got freedom just two years
later and still she is no match for Japanese competence and
technology.” I didn't want to stop; but my mind did to rake in the roar of the crowd.

I spotted some friends up on their feet, chanting my name in a heroic sort of way. I did not have any doubts as to what they would have done if they had garlands in their hands. This time no teacher got up to ensure quietude. Seema was staring at the ground, scratching it with her shoe as if she was afraid that she would be burnt by my third eye if she looked up. Asif, who sat beside her, kept staring from me to her following my line of vision and unconsciously disapproving of this unabashed disobedience
of rules.

I looked back towards my faithful audience and continued,

“I invite someone to come and tell me what exactly is going on in our secular country? Someone come and define freedom for the people here who have lost its meaning, who have lost the very concept of liberty and who cannot at all understand the strength of unity. Someone answer me, is India truly liberal? Is it united? Is it democratic in the truest sense? Is India really free after 60 years of hard-core striving?

“If, and mind you a big IF… someone does dare come and answer these questions, then I will personally write a letter to the
President and request him to award the person with the title of the Mahatma – (Not that my request will ever be considered but come on we have bigger weirdoes in the country) – and he will be the second Gandhi for me because Bapu freed us from an external rule to give us invaluable freedom, which we sadly could not utilise; but this person at least tried to provide the nation with answers to these highly important questions that have remained an unsolved mystery so far, and he would have then tried to free us from the unbreakable but not invincible bonds of illiteracy, poverty, unemployment, overpopulation, corruption and backwardness. It will be wrong and a serious crime to claim the wrong person as the wrong Mahatma as today's politicians – (read hungry lions) – claim to be truthful and dutiful. And it's true, it's true and it's damn true.” I finished Kurt Angly.

There was a great amount of cheering in the crowds and an equal amount of adrenaline rushing down my spine; if I had gone half-deaf earlier then this one was a full-on auditory attack on my ears. I had finished the whole lot in perfect three minutes, when the beeper beeped at my last true. Every head in the crowd was cheering me, some silently, while others openly!

I don't know the reason why my entire body was trembling from head to toe. How exactly I managed to find my way back to my seat and around my mates remains a mystery to me! I thought Jay was holding and shaking me along with his nervous self. I received several pats on my back as soon as I took my vacant seat. I glanced upon Seema from the corner of my eye and I could swear she had never looked up since I last saw her eyeing the floor. So, I took out my hanky and wiped the sweat that had lined my brow.

The chance and trouble to write to the President never came as no one had any answers to the questions I had asked earlier (makes me sound like a god damn Egyptian Sphinx). Later, when Asif finished his blah-blah of a conclusion, I made a concluding speech too, expanding all my aforesaid points with statistics and the need and ways for improvement. It went on smoothly and calmly for five minutes. People were expecting more I guess, but I decided not to overdo anything and made my points as laconically as possible. This time no beads of perspiration climbed upon my brow, as I wrapped up the concluding speech in four minutes!

“Well done,” Jess was the only one to whisper in my ear.

I patted back her hand reassuringly.

I was relieving myself in the loo backstage, after the clash of the Yellow and Red houses because I was not nervous when the results were announced. I did not sit with my head in my hands like Jess, neither did I keep shaking my right leg involuntarily like Jay, nor did I chew my nails like Nazia or ruffle my own hair repeatedly like Juned. I released whatever little pressure I had into school's drainage system. To hear the results while zipping up myself in the loo was pleasing in a different sort of way. I knew what was coming when the Princi announced the first place for this competition. However, like every other year, he did not announce the total points of all the houses. This year, he pointed out the house-cup would as usual be given at the annual day after the inter-house dance competition but the winner too will be announced on the annual day itself.

When I came out a roar broke out, council members of my house were all over me and the Princi was standing behind, to congratulate me! The peons were distributing sweets amongst the students and for a moment, I thought that they were doing so to celebrate our victory, almost forgetting the Princi's birthday.

I wished him a happy birthday and he shook my hands more earnestly than usual. Someone was standing behind him too but went backstage after seeing me. I guess I can never forget that look; she had a tear in her eye but still managed to give me half a smile. Her face still had the arrogance; still had the ambitious drive yet there was something missing. I don't know what got into me, I thought her smile pulled me towards her and I went backstage taking a cue from her reaction and there she was sobbing her heart out into her hands. There was no one around her, perhaps her housemates blamed her for the full-fledged lashing they had endured from my unadulterated opinions. Perhaps, she was being held responsible for their slip from the numero uno position. If I could vouch for something I could honestly proclaim that she had not done badly; it was just that she had found a better opponent, and an angry one at that.

I cannot describe what I felt then, I wanted to desperately hold her, comfort her and wipe her tears. I noticed that seeing her cry still made me feel the same way it did earlier. It was as if the rare joy that had formed in my heart was replaced by a pale shadow threatening to engulf me at that very moment. Victory didn't matter now.
She did!

I went upto her, she turned to look at me. For a second I thought, she would jump into my arms and hug me but after nearing me, all she asked was WHY?

I wanted to tell her that this was my way of showing what I felt for her, how badly I needed her, how I have tried being low in her presence and that did not help and I was sure that proving myself superior to her was something that will attract her towards me, make her succumb to my narcissistic charms, make her understand that this is the way I am, this is the way I was meant to be.

I wanted to let her know how hurt I was when her mother reprimanded me for something I would not even think of doing, but at the same time I wanted to tell her that I was trying very hard to forget that. I wanted to justify my actions in the past, tell her why and what exactly did I do and what all I did not. I wanted to apologise for my actions and for her silent bearing of it all. I wanted to assure her that I would more than make up for my follies and reassure her that everything will be fine with us back together.

I wanted to tell her that I would be with her, let the world be, let my fucking ego be! I wanted to tell her that my young mind does not understand the enormity of love, the way my heart does. I wanted to tell her to forget everything and start all over again, giving ourselves another chance of building the blocks of our innocent feelings. I wanted to wash away our past misgivings in those tears that would run from our eyes and weave a new start by folding her in my arms.

I wanted to, but I did not!

***

APOLOGIES AND AFFECTIONS!

Rahul's lips twitched, mocking him with a lopsided smile, as he sat on the dull grey park bench, alone! It was dark and the eerie silence did not register with him. His presence was like a shadow. He glided along the road, hauling himself over the three feet wall– as the rusty gate disturbed the quietude of the place – and came to sit here in the middle of the night. The park was covered with snow and the night air was chilly. But Rahul no longer felt the cold.

Sometimes he would lie down in the park on the snowy blades with his hand acting as a pillow and the moonlit sky as his blanket. The sensations of his body had long taken their leave along with the emotions of his heart. He watched the stars around the moon, sparkling and mischievous. All he did was watch the stars and look for them even when they were not easily noticeable in the seamless sky. But when it would be a cloudless night, they would meet his gaze and there would be no breaks in their stories.

He imagined that the same stars that watched over him, watched over her, too. They were the only link that remained between
the two of them, the only route from the past to the present and vice versa.

As the stars extended themselves; their nature attracted his observation. They took him to the time he longed to see, and put him exactly where he needed to be.

The fire and longing in his heart had burnt down to a little spot in his chest but that little spot was enough to ensure that he felt warm. He let them merge themselves into a stone in his heart. He tried to stop his longing which came in sudden flashbacks, bringing intermittent pain. He would have preferred a continuous torture until it all would gradually subside, but the pain would not leave him. It remained a loyal companion, when none were available, it was there and he did not even have to search for it. It came to him like the tide that hits the sea. Sometimes it would delay its arrival but it would come all right, sooner or later. It found him, wherever he was, whatever he did.

He tried to think about this place, its people, but the only thoughts that came to his mind were those that contained Seema and the only days he lived in were long gone from his life. He tried hard to shut them out but they were his only link with a potentially beautiful past. He neither dreamt of his future like he used to nor did he acknowledge his present – the beautiful snow all around, the traditions of his new school, the support of Sahil whom he hardly spoke to and the presence of gorgeous blondes all around that could have made someone his age go stiff with temptation. The little showers of blessings went unnoticed and uncared for. He still had girls going gaga over him, some trying to solve the mystery behind his arcane attitude, while others including the white foreigners trying to maintain an air of proximity to him, which he politely turned down.

There had been a couple of proposals for him. Sahil had tried to urge him on and he understood that Sahil was a person true at heart. He genuinely wanted Rahul to move on but Rahul had politely declined the proposals.

Just two days back, he had been walking towards the locker room to search for a reference book when someone from behind called out to him, all shy and surrounded by half a dozen other girls.

“Rahul, I think I'm in love with you,” Shaheen, an Indian girl from his class, admitted.

Rahul smirked lazily.

“Love? Quite a big thing to say! Do you even know what love is, it's not a mere four letter word! Moreover, it's a word long deleted from my dictionary. Try this on someone else!” Rahul said,
turning away.

Such incidents led to the strengthening of the rumour that the new Indian guy was either gay or a bit loony in the head or perhaps both. He was a popular figure, though not quite what he was back home. But today, he neither cared for popularity nor took offence of the things that people talked behind his back.

***

Staring at the sky, he remembered the last evening when Sahil had tried to reason with him and they had an argument over it.

“Why don't you speak to her once? You have her number, I'm sure! Talk to her and sort it out dude. I don't like seeing you this way! I don't think it can be this complicated man, give it a shot!” Sahil reasoned as Rahul patiently listened to him.

“I have spoken all that I needed to. There are no words left unspoken now, no actions left unattempted,” Rahul said.

“Misunderstandings. I'm sure, they can be sorted out, try once!” Sahil said.

“Hmm... misunderstandings? There is no room for misunderstandings in love. When a heart is tied to another heart and they beat in perfect synchronisation with one another, misunderstandings should not take place in the first case and even if they do, it's perfectly normal, for we're humans. We can be forgiven, at least where love is concerned,” Rahul said looking at him blankly.

“Tell her that then, the same thing that you told me now,” Sahil advised, not able to grasp the meaning of what he heard.

Rahul did not acknowledge that statement at all.

“Please buddy… otherwise move on, date other girls. Lucy's not that bad, and neither is Shaheen. Tia was asking me about you a couple of days back. Laura keeps eyeing you like hot candy. I even heard that Joyce broke up with Jake because she developed an overnight attraction towards you. They are into you and there are a lot of other Indian girls here too, our age and all… that is if you prefer Indians. Just take them out, spend some time with them and you will eventually forget her!” Sahil reasoned.

“I DON'T WANT TO FORGET HER!” Rahul
bellowed instantly.

For a moment, Sahil froze on the spot dreading a scene he
had witnessed in the class: Rahul throwing away Big D like he was a twig.

“Leave me alone, Sahil,” Rahul said softly, not meeting his eye.

“But…” Sahil tried.

“Leave me alone,” Rahul commanded, still looking away.

“Are you sure?” Sahil asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He nodded after five seconds.

Sahil left him standing near the solitary tree in a corner of the
school compound.

“How do I tell you? I can't forget her. I don't want to because that's all I have of her – Her memories!” Rahul spoke to the fast receding figure of Sahil.

Sahil, whom he thought of like the brother he never had, was his only ally here. He was the solitary child of his parents; parents, who had tried to give him all to make him happy but he had messed up his own happiness, fucked up his own life.

Rahul had always desired a brother – no matter elder or
younger – to play with, but he guessed that his parents were content with producing him and so far, he could not have complained. They had tried to give the best to him. The only problem was that his best had been snatched away from his life, before he could even claim it. He realised that ‘Bohn' was true when he maintained that a man has choice of beginning love, but he had no say when it came to ending it.

***

The stars began to take his leave, each disappearing right before his eyes. He requested them to share his sorrow but they stared back at him before laughing at his state in unison. He asked them to stay back and give him company but they promised to return the next evening with new tales to tell him, with the same place to take him to. As the early morning sun climbed up the horizon, Rahul folded his legs on the cold ground watching the last spark disappear from the sky. He rubbed his hands together, in anticipation of another memory. It came to him, like a faithful to his master and he could still feel the music, the very same which echoed in his ears on THE ANNUAL DAY!

“Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears

TODAY of past Regrets and future Fears-

Tomorrow?-Why, Tomorrow I may be

Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.”

The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam.

The much hyped annual day took place in the first week of December, before the onset of the Christmas vacations. Officially, it was still a surprise as to which house was leading the points table and would walk away with the coveted trophy but the students could pretty well guess that with two major events under their belt, the Blue house was in the lead. If Rahul wanted to confirm it, all he needed to do was to speak for five minutes with the staff but he did not do that. He wanted the excitement, he wanted the surprise factor, but to his dismay, it was announced just a couple of days before that the house trophy would be awarded at the end of the academic year. Rahul did not let that dampen his excitement.
He knew that his house had a very good chance of lifting the
house-cup and he decided one more competition would not be much of a worry.

The annual day was to be a grand affair and for the first time it was combined along with the Christmas celebrations. Rahul walked in much early. Being the House-Captain, he had to see to it that the preparations were in order and along with the other captains; he set out to supervise the flow of performances. There was still one hour to go before the performances and after the Christmas festivities,the limelight would shift to the awards function, though the main trophy was being held back.

Rahul walked backstage passing through little toddlers dressed as angels in white costumes, children from the primary wearing tribal dresses of what Rahul thought would be a great theme to dance on, imaging what would happen if one of the leaves in front decided to declare autumnwhile the kid juggled his feet . Then there were the secondary classes, each with their own dance groups, some doing classical while others preferring salsa, students from each house mingling as one big group to perform in unison.

He let his eyes roam around the crowd of performers and his passing vision suddenly stopped at a point towards his left. There she was, standing with her friends who would be shaking their hips to Beyonce's numbers in sometime.

For a moment, Rahul forgot to breathe; she looked so beautiful that her vision further enraptured his heart. It had been a long time since he had seen her in anything else than their school uniform. And there she was, dressed in a glowing white sleeveless top, clinched with a wide pink belt over a whitish blue floral skirt on smooth, waxed legs that balanced themselves on stiletto heels. With a touch of kohl to her hazel eyes that overflowed with vitality and round pink hoops hanging from her ears, she nearly squeezed the life out of him. He forgot his ego, the past, nor was he aware of the future. He just stood there in the present, gazing at her as people passed by, pushing him, ignoring him. He became an immobile sculpture, imprisoned by his heart, a salute to the sight in front of his eyes. That is when their eyes met and the bow of love passed through his heart, once again.

She was quick to avert her gaze but he wasn't, he continued to see her as if believing that even if he wasted a single moment not looking at her then apocalypse would strike. Finding him looking at her, lost in thoughts, Seema excused herself from her friends and disappeared from the backstage and that is when he awoke from his reverie to find someone standing behind him, eyeing him with intrepid amusement.

“Looks like all's not well, is it?” Father Tuscano, the Principal of his school said, looking him in the eye.

Rahul could not reply. He knew that Father Tuscano was aware of his feelings for Seema but he was never upfront with him, the way he was with Dorothy ma'am. He had himself sown the seeds of doubt in the Principal's mind when he had gone to his cabin to seek permission to accompany them for the doomed essay competition.

He gave a mixed smile of embarrassment and surprise in response.

“You are not being yourself lately, this is not the Rahul Kapoor we're used to,” the Principal pointed out.

“Some sort of problems, Father,” Rahul agreed, still eyeing his left.

“Problems happen, son. They do everywhere. Nothing is perfect, including life. God gives us problems so that we can stand true to his test. Problems are a part of life. Remember if there are no problems, then life is not worthy of living; but yes, there are solutions too,” Father Tuscano philosophised.

Not knowing what to say, Rahul merely nodded.

“But, then it's upto us to find the solutions, like every lock has a key, every problem has a solution. Sometimes you find the key in the unlikeliest of all places. Try looking for it,” the Principal advised.

“I did, Father,” Rahul said meekly.

“Oh, maybe you didn't try hard enough. Hard work and perseverance result in success. Try my boy, try. Even mountains yield before storms. It's the effort that matters, don't worry about the results, as Lord Krishna says,” Father Tuscano advised.

Somewhere in his heart the sentence clicked.

“It's no use Father, she won't listen,” Rahul said softly but then he suddenly wished that the Principal had not heard him.

“Don't think much son, God will help you, believe in him and believe in yourself and that was what the Rahul I knew did too,” Father Tuscano maintained.

“I will try, Father,” Rahul said confidently.

“Try, my boy, try,” Father Tuscano said turning his back and deciding to walk away before the backstage got crowded but then he suddenly turned and walked past him, slowing down near his ear and Rahul thought he heard him say,