Will She Be Mine (7 page)

“Won't you marry someone?” I persisted, turning to her for comment.

But she kept listening impassively, without offering comment, leaving me to complete my sentence if I wished. I felt unsettled by her direct gaze. My heart skipped a beat at her nearness and beauty. For a moment I wanted to embrace her tightly.

“If you
will
marry someone- then why not marry me?" I said brightly, pouncing on what seemed like an obvious solution. “Why waste your time- and mine- in further studies? This is your final year at college. You’ll soon become a graduate. Isn’t it enough? Why study MBA after that and waste two more years?”

I was ready to head for a temple or marriage bureau right away- wherever she wanted- and marry her. But she appeared in no hurry to decide and neither seemed to share my vision or enthusiasm. Instead she sighed. Meanwhile the lights turned green, forcing me to move.

"Don't sound like a beggar, RK," was her prompt rejoinder. "Have some dignity. Just because you sometimes drive me to college in your father's shabby car, don't get ideas. Do you think the bribe is enough to secure a pretty girl's 'yes'?" She gazed at the traffic outside. “And don’t drive so slowly, RK. I’ll miss my first tutorial at this rate. These tutorial classes cost a lot of money, you know.”

"Driving you to college is not bribery. I just want to protect you from bad men. But you didn’t answer my question- what would you gain by doing an MBA?” I glanced at the darkening evening sky outside for ideas. “Men of lose character and morals are on the prowl everywhere these days. Don’t you read the newspapers? Women aren’t safe in our country.”

“Neither are men,” she returned dryly. “Nor kids. Or elders. Who can be safe in this land of crooks and traitors?” She looked at her watch. “RK, drive faster.”

“Anyway,” I said casually, trying to brush aside my mounting tension at her continued aloofness, and reluctantly pressed the gas. “You won't be safe in a job."

She sighed again. I could sense her interest slipping away. “I don't think like you, RK,” she said calmly. “We've to adjust to the world, instead of scurrying around scared. If there are bad men, there are tough women too. Tactfully- and with a little insight- anyone and any situation can be handled.”

My heart sank. The discussion wasn’t going as I’d planned. Before I could think of something else, she picked up her satchel and opened the door to get off. I had hardly noticed that we’d reached her training institute. I didn’t want her to leave yet and fought down my impulse to hold back her hand.

“I'd rather suggest you use your time to get your father's shabby car repaired,” she said, glancing outside to catch sight of any of her course mates. “You seem to have a lot of time. Every joint in this rickety thing creaks. Goodbye.”

"Don't call the car shabby," I snapped irately, holding her hand at last, unwilling to let her go without listening to what I had to say. "At least my father has one. Your father doesn't even own a car. Have you looked at him ride that noisy scooter of his? He can't even balance himself properly. The scooter is a menace to everyone in our society.”

She fell back on her seat as I pulled in and smiled tolerantly as I went on ranting.

“It won't be long before our neighbors start objecting. That lousy machine creates so much noise pollution that a nightclub is quieter in comparison. Every time he kicks the starter, it seems the scooter would fall apart."

Her smile widened at my description and we both shared a laugh. I suspected her laugh was somewhat forced, but these moments were the happiest in my life. At least she had not objected to my pulling her back in.

“RK, you should know where to stop- or jokes become a drag. Your sense of humor could be better- especially after delaying me for my lecture,” was all she quipped finally, but refused to consider my renewed proposal for marriage or say ‘yes’. “Shall I go now? I’m already late.”

“Answer my question and you can go. What’s wrong if I want to marry a pretty girl?” I demanded.

“Nothing wrong, Romeo. But- have you thought about the other side- that the pretty girl might want a handsome man too?”

“Am I not handsome?” I asked with a sense of affront.

She gave me a once over and snorted. “You may fool my kid sister, but not me.”

“I'm handsome,” I insisted. “PS told me so.”

“Either he was a gay or he made an error in judgment.”

I fumed, glancing at myself in the car’s overhead rear view mirror. “What do you mean by ‘error in judgment’?”

“I'm not referring to looks, RK. Don't get me wrong,” she said in a sincere tone, keeping a straight face. “But Rags is any day prettier than me. She's also more interested in fine arts and philosophy. Your interests would match hers. Perhaps you should try proposing to her. You might need to wait though. She’s still not in high school.”

“Look, I’m not applying for a job. It’s a question of my marriage- and yours. Furthermore, Ragini’s your kid sister- more than half a dozen years my junior,” I pointed out. “She’s hardly my size.” I shook my head. “Love doesn't happen by your calculations, by studying a checklist- that we're compatible in our interests for fine arts, music and philosophy, so let's marry. No, dear. It’s a matter of the heart. I love you and want to marry you. That’s it. Period.”

But my protest fell on deaf ears. “I just dropped you a hint,” she said coolly. “I suspect Rags is interested in you too and she's prettier than me any day. Might not be a bad idea actually. Just think about it when you're alone. Now I’ve simply got to go.”

It wasn’t clear if the smile curving her lips was in jest or she was serious. She glanced at my watch and shrieked.

“My first lecture has already started!” She made another attempt to get out of the car, but I held her back tightly and took a deep breath. “Let me go, RK,” she protested. “Leave my hand, it hurts.”

“Not till I say my peace. Forget the lecture, it’s already started.”

“I’ll never come with you again,” she said annoyed. “This is supposed to be a crash course and each lecture is expensive. Besides that, I’ve got my final year exams to prepare for too. I don’t have the time for romance.” She turned to me grimly. “Anyway, spill what you have to say and let me go.”

I didn’t want a crowd to collect and spank me for trying to abduct a pretty girl, and released her hand. She looked away but didn’t leave the car. I cleared my throat, miserably aware I had to floor her with my next words somehow. It might be my last chance.

“Shalini, I don’t know if Ragini is prettier or not- but I love you, and honestly, don't care if you're not pretty.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” she turned around in her seat to object. “When did I say I'm not pretty?”

“You just said so.”

“I only said my sister's prettier.”

“I thought-”

“Oh, shut up, you're hopeless.”

“Of course, you're pretty too,” I said immediately, trying to repair the damage. What had I done? I realized I had aggravated her resistance towards me and felt sheepish, and to make up added clumsily, “Otherwise, why’d I chase you?”

“I said shut up and go to hell.” She got off the car and banged the door shut before I could make further amends.

I rested my hands on the steering wheel and put down my head to weep. It was dark outside and darker inside my mind. The darkness outside had neon lights and dazzling billboards for company, but the despair within me had no source of solace. She had already missed a part of her first lecture. Why couldn’t she have forgone the rest and stayed back to understand my feelings? I sobbed uncontrollably and after a while got up as a passerby touched my shoulder. I looked up desolately. It was Shalini!

“Don’t cry,” she said softly. “I’ve been watching you for a while and couldn’t enter the class- but can’t hang around long either. Be a man. Try to be strong.”

“But-”

She shook her head. “Don’t say the same things again. Be professional.”

I felt piqued. “Who told you to stay back and console me?” I said in an irritated tone. “Go to your lecture. How does it matter if I cry or feel sad?”

“It matters, RK,” she said with a slight tremor in her tone. “I can’t bear to see you cry.”

I looked up hopefully. But the tremor soon vanished from her voice. Had I imagined it?

“Don’t cry for me,” she said firmly. “Why are you so attached? It’ll only hurt you. Put marriage out of your mind and try to get your life back on track.” She glanced over her shoulder at the entrance to her training class. “Bye for now, RK, I’ve really got to go or I’ll miss the second tutorial too.”

I’d literally adopted the renounced order of life in a place of pilgrimage after she first rejected my proposal the first time. For a brief span of time I’d been quite serious about spirituality. But after a while, I assumed God must be sufficiently impressed by my sincerity and would be eager to reciprocate. He’d feel compelled to oblige by uniting me with her.

So today I had renewed my proposal a second time, but immediately she had spurned my offer again. I was getting used to the heartbreak by now. A steely determination had started taking shape in my mind by now. I’d persevere till the end, till she said yes. There was nothing else in my life other than succeeding in love. That was the only way to get my life back on track. Through all the haze and storm, and deluge of tears and heartbreaks, I could see only one goal left in my life. Her! I was determined to get there.

I suppose it’s sometimes difficult to read a career conscious woman's mind. Deep within, I still held hopes that she felt something for me, but the statistics seemed overwhelmingly against me so far.

It wasn’t long before Shalini passed her MBA selection exam successfully and disappeared for two years to Bangalore to complete her MBA at a prestigious KIM. Bangalore was like another planet, quite far from Delhi- separated by a distance of over 1500 miles. By train the journey from Delhi took close to two nights while it was almost three hours by air.

I returned to my spiritual haven in the nearby city of pilgrimage that I’d been frequenting. My renunciation was obviously incomplete. Over the next year I tried to time my visits home with her vacations but missed her twice. So I expressed a desire at home to travel to Bangalore for sightseeing. My father had been observing my meandering ways for a while, without voicing his concerns. But now he spoke up, sounding firm.

"Enough of chasing girls and spirituality," he said ominously. Coming from him, I took it seriously. "The two don't go well together. You're obviously confused.”

I pursed my lips, thinking how I could explain to him that I wasn’t confused. I was madly in love. Love was such a wonderful, once in a lifetime, experience. How could one disown the feeling and walk away from it?

“I think it’s time your started working, Rajat,” he went on. “It’d help organize your life better. You've already wasted about two years since graduation."

When I didn't respond, he took it upon himself to apply to a few job vacancies on my behalf. He patiently tolerated my utter lack of seriousness about material life and went about fixing the damage as best as he could.

I waited with bated breath the day Shalini arrived from Bangalore after completing her MBA. Everyone else my age was already working but I kept waiting for her. A lot of water had flown down the Ganges River while I chased her unsuccessfully. During this time she’d not only completed her MBA from a prestigious institute, but also landed a fabulous job in Delhi.

On my part, I’d attended an interview for a government job last year to which my father had applied on my behalf. He’d all along been employed in government service himself and felt it safer to have his unpredictable, unstable son similarly employed, in the government sector. In those days joining government service was considered respectable and the jobs carried superannuation benefit too, which was later stopped for new joiners around the middle of the decade.

“If you complete a certain number of years in your job, you'd be eligible for a pension,” he explained.

I knew what was on his mind. He wasn’t sure how long his unstable son could carry on in a job before deciding to chuck it all of a sudden. So he was eager to see me in a job that carried security and post retirement benefits.

“But they don’t pay well,” I objected meekly.

“It’s better than getting nothing,” he replied pointedly. In a more encouraging tone he explained, “Government jobs may not be as bad as you think. Initially the salary seems low, but I’ve interacted with a lot of IAS officers- you know, the administrative services officers- in my jobs, and seen them prosper to the extent of buying two or three houses, sometimes more, besides owning good, new cars eventually. I don’t know how they manage it, but Rajat, if you can honestly make that kind of money in a government job then why not go for one with an open mind? Such a job should be your first priority, since these jobs also carry job security and a pension at the end.”

“But I never competed for IAS entrance exams. The job which you applied on my behalf is an ordinary government job, not IAS.”

“It’s not ordinary- it’s in the scientific cadre. You’d become a technocrat over time as you scale the heights of your profession.”

“Only to report to a dumb, arrogant administrator at the top who doesn’t understand science or technology, but makes the rules of the game all the same?”

“I wasn’t trying to compare technocrats with administrators when I referred to making good money in government jobs,” he clarified. “I’m aware there are always some unscrupulous people who make money, no matter where they work.”

“Now I’m confused.”

“Let me explain. Not everybody is unscrupulous or corrupt. Your salaries increase with seniority. By growing, if you get an opportunity to make that kind of honest money- with which to buy two or three houses and a few new cars- you shouldn’t overlook such opportunities. Some people also go on foreign assignments that catapult one’s savings further.”

I nodded, though still unclear of his rationale. He was a simple man who’d only seen others grow and make money to buy more houses than one, and imagined everyone else’s source of money to be as honest as his own. In his simple way, he wished similar success for his favorite son. I didn’t mind his advice despite my objections. It was enough to know that at heart he was honest and meant well.