"Why is it so difficult to forgive
people?" She had wondered aloud to no one in particular. The banks of the
Gangaur Ghat were fairly empty at dawn and there was a sudden chill in the air,
as she covered her ears with her hair. Her deep black eyes were fixed on the
ripples reflecting the first light of dawn. An elderly man was sitting on the
bench feeding the pigeons that flapped their wings in glee. Two kids were
sitting on a torn rug playing with a street dog. With her feet dipped till her
ankles in the water she shuddered a little in the breeze and pulled her shawl
closer to her body. Her sandals and a bag she had bought yesterday were lying
beside her. The way she kept, it made two things evident. One, there was nothing
valuable in it. Two, she was comfortable in her surrounding.
"How do we let go of people?" She
sighed at the water. To an onlooker, she could very well look like a lost
tourist.
"Who said you need to let go?"
She frowned at the voice behind her. Ear
dropping on her thoughts like that, bad manners.
He seemed a little older than her and
definitely not a tourist. He sat beside her and removed his shoes rather slowly
and carefully. Then his socks. Then following her, or so it seemed, he had put
his feet in the water as well.
"This does feel good." He had
smiled. She ignored the need for a conversation. Some moments, she had realized,
were to be felt in silence as long as they exist. Silence, unlike words, never
hurt. There was a certain mystery and uncertainty in silence. Or perhaps hope.
He had stared at the water creating ripples in a distance. And then at her. A
smile lingered on his lips that travelled to his deep brown eyes. It's been a
while since he'd seen that face. Ajabdeh Punwar was not a person you meet often in
life. And when you do, you remember her forever.
“Often, the closest people, who have no
idea what they are, eventually hurt us the most." He spoke trying to catch
the expression on her face. She smiled slightly. Her eyes however were fixed at
her feet.
“People." She said almost like a
murmur "Don't hurt us. Expectations from them do."
"So, it's our fault entirely?" He
raised his eyebrows.
"Love, in any form is never a
fault." She now stared right at him. It had been long. But like they say,
the only feature that never changes in a person is his eyes.
To an onlooker, they must be looking like a
couple in love... He thought as his eyes moved away from hers. Slowly, then all
at once. She was still staring at him.
"So?" He had said after a careful
pause.
"So?" She had frowned.
“What, or May I ask who caused you heartbreak?"
"Umm...It's not always about a typical
love relationship." She chose not to answer.
"I never said that. Heartbreaks can be
caused by anyone. “He shook his head a little. His face however changed
expressions.
"What's wrong with you?" She
frowned.
"Heartbreak." He had almost
chuckled. "The typical one."
"What happened?" She asked
concerned. Genuinely.
"You first." He had urged.
"My... Jija..." She had finally
spoken after a few minutes. By now the ghat was a little more crowded and the
sun was already up in the sky.
"Yes?" He stared at her. The last
time he had seen the lady was at her father’s funeral, with the man her parents
never approved of.
"She... Had been my only
family..." She gulped. She hadn't talked of this since that day. She
hadn't even had a conversation in the past three days with anyone. He waited. She didn't even know if this was a
good idea. To tell him.
“Let me speak." He paused. "She
would often say we'd sort it out. Convince everyone" he smiled at the water as
she stopped.
"What happened then?" She stared
at him.
"It's her wedding today." She had
expected something in his voice. But it was monotonous.
“I am here because..." She gulped. “I
heard Jija argue with ... Her... husband." She carefully didn't call him
Bhaiya. Not anymore.
He had waited for her to ease out. "I
heard he wanted me out of his house as expenses were high and they were
planning a family...she was trying so hard to... I ... Left them a letter and
..."
"Why are you here?" She knew it
was an obvious question. Why was she here when she should be looking for at
least a shelter? She couldn't possibly be on a holiday forever. Why was she
here of all the places in the country she could go to. Why was she here that
too with the little resources she had left, on a holiday mode like there was no
tomorrow.
“I... Don't know." She shrugged.
It was a lie. How could she admit it took
her three days time to decide to reach out to the guy who knew her more than anyone else for half of her entire life? It would sound very odd to even admit that she had no
friends. She hadn't made any since she was five. He had been her only playmate
before and after his parents had shifted base. She hadn't seen or heard from
him in the last ten years. After her parent's death, her sister married the
man of her choice and she left home with her. Why was it so hard to admit
she missed her childhood and friendship? The laughter. Their innocence. Him.
And after fifteen years of knowing her and ten years of absolutely no contact
he had received a friend request followed by a message.
“Can we talk?" Had made him call her
up.
She didn't know why she stared at his name
for a good twenty seconds before receiving it and sounding normal. It was hard
to admit that as soon as she left the house all she remembered was his face.
"Let's go." He had got up and
tied his shoelaces. Putting the socks in his pocket he picked up her bag.
"Where to?" She frowned.
"You can't stay in hotels all your
life." He shrugged.
"But... I..." She was clearly
thinking of a place she could name.
"You. Are going home." He spoke
in a determined voice. "Let's take your luggage from the hotel and I will
get an auto."
"At least inform Aunty..." She
had felt uneasy. Aunty loved her like a mother. But things change. People
change. Situation changes. She has seen it all.
“Mom and Dad have moved back to Bijolia. I
will call them up." This was news to her. "I stay alone." She
felt a little awkward at his declaration but he couldn't care less.
“We sold that house “her voice trailed. Her
home. The only place she called home. They needed money for the marriage and
she had given Jija her share of it as well. She now wondered why they didn't
invite anyone to the wedding.
The nameplate read Pratap Singh Sisodia,
as they moved into the fairly decorated apartment a little towards the
outskirts of the city.
"It's a small place." He declared
turning the keys. His back to her. “I rented this one when they moved back
home. We didn't need a large apartment anymore here. "
"Why didn't you go back?" She had
raised her eyebrows. He swung open the door and turned to face her at the
threshold. "Wait here."
She had smiled a little as he had lit a
lamp and put it on a plate and did her welcome. It was always how their mothers
welcomed guests.
She stepped inside to see the sofa, a bean
bag, and a television set. A little Ganapati was placed in a corner and the doors
led to the kitchen, a bathroom and a bedroom.
"It's very small I know." He had
scratched his head. "Once you start working and can pay your rent, you
can move out." He had assured.
She smiled. He had at least shown that much
faith that she will manage well on her own. She needed that reassurance. She
looked around the apartment as he placed her luggage in the room. Homes were
made of love. Not the area of a house. She valued those words from her mother
more than anything else now. He had handed her a glass of water.
"If you want, you can help me in my
business. We work on the handloom." He had offered. She stared at him and said
in a soft yet regretful tone "don't do so much for me, I probably will not
be able to give anything back."
"And friendship is never about doing
things to get back in return.” He had walked into the kitchen. "What
should I make for lunch?" He asked like he was a chef.
She smiled. "Let me help.”
Pratap had missed his mom's recipes. He
knew it the moment he had tasted the aloo chakli she made. It tasted like
home. It tasted like it should. He had licked the bowl clean. She had smiled
watching that. They had discussed work as he promised her some accounts to work
from the next day itself. He had told her to rest before he left for work. She
had apologised in silence for keeping him away from work.
He didn't seem to care. Some people were beyond all that. Ajabdeh was one.
Pratap sat going through some files. He
stared at the clock. 6p.m. There was something missing in her eyes today. That
spark. That hope. It made him restless. He figured the best way was to keep her
occupied. He had also decided against calling his parents. Although they were
very open-minded and helpful people, bringing the girl into the apartment
where he stayed alone, he figured, won't go down very well with them.
Especially his father. He knew things. Things Pratap never admitted to anyone.
Not even to himself. Things he had let go of and forgotten with his new
relationship. Or so he thought. Things that ached his heart the moment he saw
her today. He suddenly felt thirsty. And gulped down a glass of water.
Ajabdeh looked around the apartment at the
pictures that hung on the wall. His parents. His dog. The old house. Her eyes
stopped at the one beside his table. It was a picture of him and a girl. She
picked it up curious. She was pretty. Ajabdeh’s hands trailed where she held
his hand. She kept it down as his words came back to her mind. It was her
wedding. Maybe he didn't want to be alone. She figured. She calculated that she
would need at least six months to settle in the job he was offering before
getting herself a place to rent. Six months would go in a jiffy. She couldn't
sleep. She decided to clean up a little and cook dinner as well. That would
keep her occupied and help him. Getting the books down one by one from the
shelf and also placing them the same way back in, she dusted the racks. Until
her eyes fell on a bookmark that fell from a book. It was an old photograph.
His eighteenth birthday. The one where fifteen-year-old Ajabdeh had seen him
one last time. He was leaving in a week. The day after, her father passed
away. Things changed. She stared at the picture. It was her in a floral dress.
And him in a shirt and bow. They had smiles. She sighed. She remembered the
speech she had practised for the day. She remembered how important it was
supposed to be. Life changing. The day did change her life. Her father was
rushed to the hospital in between the party.
Things were left unsaid. For the better.
She figured. She wasn't meant for some things. Today, the picture in his
bedroom was proof of that. Couldn't she also have a normal teenage life? She
often wondered how strange it was. We often ruin our present thinking of the past
and the future. She placed the book back on the shelf.
Pratap was not used to ringing the bell in
his apartment. It did feel odd. What felt odder was the smile with which she
opened the door! The aroma of a delicious meal had filled the house. He noticed
the room was cleaner and fresh flowers were placed at the feet of the Ganapati. It
felt like... Home. He didn't mind as long as she was occupied.
"Am sorry. I took the liberty to cook
dinner and ... Clean." She apologized watching him stare around.
"That's perfectly fine. Don't
apologize. You are actually helping me here. But once you start working
tomorrow we will divide the work." He had smiled placing his files down.
"Deal." She smiled.
“I am hungry.” He’d loosened the tie.
She smiled like she was waiting for it and
ran to serve dinner.
Three months two days later.
It was Sunday and Ajabdeh was cleaning up
the mess Pratap had left experimenting with breakfast in the kitchen. She
smiled her way through it, humming a tune. He was busy watching a match in his
room. Or what was now hers. He had tried to persuade her to call Jija once in
these months, which she did just to tell her not to worry anymore. She had
asked him a million times how aunty and uncle reacted and he said it didn't
matter. Something told her he didn't tell them but right now as selfish as it
sounded she could not afford to lose a shelter until she managed her own. Truth
is, she desperately wanted to move out. Being with Pratap, staying at his
place, making him meals and going out on Sundays made her feel a certain
feeling she dreaded. She was scared. He was the last anchor that held her ship
now. Her stupidity could lose a friend.
She had secretly started looking up
places. She figured when one was finalized she would inform him. And also thank
him. The doorbell rang.
The lady who stood in front of her today
was the same face she saw in the picture in his bedroom. Well, the bedroom was
now hers and the sofa his. And he had dumped that picture in the dustbin that
very night she had walked into his life again but she could never forget that
face. It was also clear that the lady was a bit shocked to see a girl there.
"Isn't this Pratap Singh's
apartment?" She confirmed uneasy.
"Yes." Ajabdeh nodded. She didn't
know why she felt her whole existence was at stake.
"Umm... Can I talk to him?" The
lady sounded unsure.
"Please come in." She managed a
smile.
Pratap scrutinized the lady on the sofa
while he sat on the bean bag.
"I..." Ajabdeh interrupted
"am going to the market. Call me when..." She stopped as he stared
right at her.
"Who is she?" The question came
from the sofa as Ajabdeh opened her mouth.
"None of your business" he spoke
instead. "Why are you here?"
Ajabdeh was about to leave when she heard
the lady say “I am sorry Pratap. I didn't speak up then. And I regret it now. I am
going through a divorce and the first person ..."
Ajabdeh had slammed the main door a little
louder than usual behind her. Her heart made a funny thud with it and she
walked out of the apartments.
It was almost 2pm. Pratap frowned as he
punched his fist. Not only was Ajabdeh not home, she had also left her phone at
home itself. Where was she? It’s been hours.
The bell rang as he rushed to open the
door. Relief swept across his face as he found her standing in front of him.
She carefully walked past him, with her bag full of veggies and placed it down
on the kitchen counter. He followed her clearly displeased.
"Where were you?" Was met with
silence. "I was worried.”
"I forgot my phone. " She said
matter of factly. "Otherwise I would have called. Have you had
lunch?"
"God damn it Ajab.” He sounded angry. “You
left at 11. It's 2. I was worried sick. And you are asking about lunch?"
This made her look up at his eyes which flashed a hint of disappointment. Hers
were cold. She smiled faintly as if to herself and said "you had the time
to think of me? Am honoured. "
Pratap was a little taken aback by this
unusual behaviour. Not only was she irresponsible but also cold. This
withdrawal was unexpected in the usually warm Ajabdeh.
“I was looking for jobs and I finally found
one that suits my profile.” She started washing the dishes in the sink. Her
eyes hovered at the two cups kept in the sink. He had made the ‘guest’ some
tea.
“So, you will be staying here still, right?”
Pratap asked Ajabdeh who looked uneasy.
“No.” Her answer was met with a frown from
Pratap “I was looking for places and I found a PG in the old city. I will be
moving there next week.”
“When did this happen?” Pratap’s voice had certain
urgency “When were you planning to tell me?”
“Today. I went to talk...” Ajabdeh looked
away and rubbed her hands.
“Why?” His question made her stare at him a
little wide-eyed.
“What do you mean...why” she paused and
looked away as his parents exchanged glances “I can’t stay here.”
“Why can’t you?” He was clearly confused.
“You
didn’t inform Uncle Aunty about me did you?” It was more of an accusation in
her tone.
“So?” He shrugged “Did you tell me you were
moving out? Looking for Jobs?”
“Wasn’t I supposed to?” She frowned at him
picking up cleaned cups “Always?”
“Why today?” He followed her to the kitchen
sink.
“What do you mean?” She stopped her hand at
the dishes.
“You know exactly what I mean.” Eyes met
briefly. His in rage, hers hurt. She walked away.
He in his impulse had held her back by her
wrist. She didn’t turn. Her voice shook as she said “Let me go.”
“Why do you want to leave?” He said firmly “Answer
me and I will let you go”
“Why do you want to make me stay?” Her
voice trembled.
“Because...” He was silent. Slowly he let go of her hand. She walked away and closed the bedroom door with a thud.
A week Passed by...
He was jogging for about two hours now. It’s
been two days since she left. His house was a mess already. An ample amount of
paperwork stalled at her now empty office desk. He stopped as he realized he
was in the same lane as her PG. He turned away. Why do you want to make me stay? Her words still haunted him. Did he not know the
answer or was too scared of it? He gulped down the heaviness with a bottle of
water.
Ajabdeh had found the right spot near the Moti
Magri statue to watch the sunset. There was something about sunsets that looked
more appealing to her than sunrises. Perhaps the darkness that comes with it. And
new beginnings. She sighed as she dialled “Jija”
“Hello.” There she was on the other side “Hello?”
“Umm... How are you?” She sounded
indifferent.
“Ajab? “ There was a hint of happiness and
relief “How are you?”
“I ... Got myself a new job Jija. Am...
Happy.” She controlled her trembling voice. “I always wanted to be free and
independent, I... did it.”
“Where are you?” For a moment there was a
hint of concern “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, Jija. I...”
“Great. I have some news Ajab. You will be
a Mausi soon... “Something didn’t make Ajabdeh feel like she should have felt “Hello?
Ajab?”
“Jija there is some signal problem here.”
She lied “I will call you back.” She switched off her phone.
“Do you know the city has about 7 sunset
points?” She didn’t move from her place or turn.
“No. I don’t know.” She seemed distant staring
at the red disk on the horizon.
“Ask me.” He sat down beside her staring
where she was staring. Into the emptiness. “I have been to four before this
one looking for someone.” His words made her frown. “Your roommate said you
went to watch the sunset”
“You could wait at the PG,” She said matter
of factly.
“I could. But I had waited a decade
already.” Her heart made a loud thud but it didn’t show on her face. A moment
of silence seemed like an hour. He smiled. “I guess you did too.”
“Jija is expecting.” Ajabdeh couldn’t
understand why she said that. Was it just to break the silence or change the
topic?
“Come back.” He blurted like it hurt him.
“What?” She had made the mistake of staring
into his eyes. His deep brown eyes. Captivating and mysterious always. There
was a hint of a tear in them.
“Come back.” He repeated slowly his eyes
not leaving her doe-shaped black ones. "I will call home and say we ... live together. Isn't that what you want?" He stopped and almost begged "Please come back Ajab"
“Why?” It was almost like a whisper.
“Because.” This time he didn’t pause. He gently
placed his hand on hers and said “ Homes are made of Love. My house needs to be home again and no one except you can do that.” He prayed he had said enough.
He didn’t have anything more to say. Or maybe he did. Her teary eyes broke into a smile.
“You needed two days to come up with this?”
She smiled.
