Ajabdeh submitted her paper and shut her laptop down for the weekend. Her home desk had pictures on the walls. Pictures he had clicked of her on every trip they took together. Across the country. Sometimes planned, sometimes unplanned. Long distance was tough, but in between the struggle of constantly being active on their phones to keep in touch with calls, texts, emails, and video calls, there was a sense of individuality, identity and liberty in it that she enjoyed. Now and then, they would meet at a spot somewhere in between and go on trips. Hike to the mountains, laze at beaches and try adventure sports. Everything she experienced in the past year was ticked off her bucket list. Each memory now sat glued to her desk wall, in pictures he clicked. He was a good photographer and she: his muse. She was surprised when he called the previous day, saying he would be coming to see her. She knew he kept saying he wanted to visit Rajasthan, but this sudden plan was odd. Ajabdeh spent her entire free time cleaning the house. Every corner needed to look perfect. What if he judged her for the plants she forgot to water? Or that dusty corner on the balcony she had no time to clean? She ran her hand through her bookshelf. It was an impressive collection. Would he like it? Ajabdeh sat down on the couch and shook her head. She was doing it again.
I check myself every time I try to impress him. I want to show him who I truly am. If he repels, he may do so now rather than regret it later. Is it I who feels wrong when things go right? Why do I feel like something bad will inevitably happen if I am too happy? If I laugh too loud? Love too deeply? Love. I shudder at the word nowadays. Is it not I who told him not to fear love? Then why do I struggle to practice what I preach? I mean… We have never said we love each other. Have we? What if he doesn’t? What if he truly meant having a good time and seeing where it's going? I have been hung by the thread for too long before, and I don’t want to be treated the same anymore. Is it too early for me to tell him to define our relationship? Give it a name. Say what we are? Why do I come home after every trip with a heavy heart and guilt? Every time I am close to him, every time he touches me and I enjoy it? Is it because my brain relives a trauma or questions his intentions? Or is it because I miss his presence once he leaves? Am I supposed to have so many questions if I am in love? What if I am not? What if I am ready to hear it from him and unable to say it back?
The announcement broke Ajabdeh’s chain of thoughts as she stared at the rush of people coming out of the airport. Pratap looked around the crowded, unfamiliar airport as he pushed his trolley from the luggage belt towards the domestic exit. As soon as he reached the exit, he was startled by her sudden approach and hug. He longed for that hug for two months. But he could see people eyeing them. Some with smiles who thought it was adorable when people reunited after a long time. Others with judgment in their eyes, was it a place to show affection? He patted her back and smiled.
“I said you need not come pick me up.” He said as she narrowed her gaze, taking the trolley from him.
“Why would you pay for a cab when I can drive you home?” She shook her head and led him to her Maruti Ignis. He got into the passenger seat as she pushed the trolley into the back seat. He noticed the bell that hung from the rearview mirror as he watched her, realising he had brought that for her from Sikkim. He eyed her taking the wheel with a longing smile.
“What?”
“It is good to see you in your element.” He shrugged. She blushed slightly and started the car.
The first thing Pratap noticed about Ajabdeh’s apartment was how well-maintained and clean it was. Everything was in place, well-decorated and bright. It intimidated him. She would hate his clumsiness when she saw his house. Pratap approached the bookshelf as Ajabdeh smiled to herself.
“I will make coffee. You can keep your luggage in the guest room. The cupboard is emptied for you.” He glanced over his shoulder at her voice coming from the kitchen. It oddly reminded him of home. Of when his mother would often talk from the kitchen, and the familiar sounds of utensils rattling as she cooked dinner or made snacks took Pratap back to the feeling of home.
“You want me to stay in the guest room?” He asked as she did not respond. He could hear the kettle whistling.
“I am not staying in the guest room.” He declared as she emerged with two steaming cups of coffee, her hair up in a bun. She smiled, amused as she placed the tray down on the table and sat down on the couch. “I told you to put your clothes in that cupboard, not yourself.” he removed his jacket coyly and sat down beside her.
“I made an itinerary for your visit. We can go see…” Ajabdeh stopped as he leaned in to kiss her. She smiled against his lips.
“I missed you.”
Pratap nodded at her words. She frowned at his lack of response as he hugged her. The demons of her trauma and overthinking hit her again.
“We need to talk.” She managed to utter the most dreaded phrase in any relationship. Pratap looked a little startled at her words as she looked serious. His heart skipped a beat. He thought things were going well. Was she not happy?
I think she will like the ring. I chose it after much deliberation. It is simple. Small and elegant. Just like her. I know I should be careful enough not to spook her. I know I have skipped a few steps on the way, too. Her last experience was very traumatic. I don’t want her to feel that my gestures are empty romantic manipulations. I want her to see how committed I want to be. I have it all planned. Her sister told me how she loves the sunsets from the forts. I googled the best sunsets in Rajasthan. Kumbhalgarh came up in the top five. She told me we must visit it. So I will just carry the ring in my pocket. Confess that I want to marry her. As soon as possible. We will figure everything else out together. Her sister. My parents. Our work. The cities. Everything. Hell, I can also quit my job and move if she wants me to. I just don’t want to lose her again. She is the only girl I ever loved. So, what if I am not her only one? Firsts are given so much importance while the rest are often seen as replacements. The first can be a mistake, a naivety of adolescent years, or a learning. What if the second is more beautiful? The third is the one? How are they lesser because they are not the first? Is this some competition? Weirdly, I never asked about her experiences unless she told me. I never bothered to remember his name. Her past doesn’t define her. Her present does. We are the present. And I have known her too long, haven’t I? Should I say I love you first? Or go straight for it?
“What is wrong?” Pratap barely found his voice as Ajabdeh jolted out of his hug and shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t understand.”
“Understand what?” He asked with a frown.
“Where do we stand?” Her words made his heart jump to his throat. “Do we even love each other?” Ajabdeh stopped, alarmed, for she used the word for the first time. “Are you genuinely interested in me?”
“What does that even mean? For a year…” He managed to stand up and face her as she started pacing the room, fidgeting with herself.
“We went on trips, enjoyed ourselves and made out.” She inferred. “Like many do. It's called situationship.”
Pratap inhaled. “You think of me to be one of your situationships?” He seemed irked. “I asked you if you were seeking a rebound, and you said…”
“What? Me?” Ajabdeh stood staring at him in shock. “No, you! I am losing my mind here thinking that I fell for you and you did not. I am a fool.” She stopped as Pratap left the room abruptly. She wore a frown and called after him. “Where are you going? I am not done yet.”
“But I am.” He said as he walked into the room again, calmly as she stared, confused. Her throat went dry as he said, “Why is it so important to give what we have a name? It is good enough without it.”
“So I want to know, am I being a fool?”
“Why do you think you are being a fool, Ajabdeh?” He shook his head as he watched her eyes twinkle as she held back her tears.
“Because I love you.” She seemed to say it with great difficulty. The elephant was now out of the room as it fell into eerie silence. Ajabdeh could feel her heartbeat and breath. The wind chime tinkled on the balcony.
“Then marry me.” Ajabdeh opened her mouth at his words, like she could not breathe. “I was planning on giving you this on a day trip to Kumbhalgarh, but…” He held out the ring, making her look at him with wide eyes, “It is not about the gesture, it's about my sincerity.”
He walked up to her and held the ring as she stared at it.
“It is okay if you say no, but I want to take the leap of faith with you. That is why I wanted to come and stay, see your world, meet your people. Frankly, I am a clumsy person who is very intimidated by this clean apartment right now.” She eyed him as he smiled sheepishly. “But I promise you don’t have to clean up after me. I want a partner, a wife. Not a mother or babysitter”
“I am a mess.” Ajabdeh shook her head. Pratap frowned.
“No, you are not. What you felt was valid and…”
“No. I mean, I am a messy person. I spend hours cleaning this place up so that you don’t judge me.” She smiled a sheepish smile as the teardrop trickled down her cheek, and Pratap looked amused.
“But why?” He asked.
“Perhaps because I wanted to impress you,” Ajabdeh admitted. “I wanted you to feel I am good enough.”
“You are more than good enough,” he shook his head. “ I am scared of myself at times.”
“So am I.” She agreed, “But we will figure this out together.” She held out her hand. “Now let's see if it fits.” Pratap nodded and slid the ring onto her finger. A perfect fit.
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