Losing My Virginity and Other Dumb Ideas (27 page)

His daughter. He had a daughter. Some rational thoughts began to take over my suspended grey matter.

He continued, ‘That’s her name. Our daughter’s,’ he continued, since I wasn’t speaking, ‘I realized that I wasn’t in love with my wife even before I met you. I had told you that … And it took this long for her to realize as well. I couldn’t do it, Kaveri. I couldn’t be a husband. I’m not the husband type. And that’s why I guess when you asked me to leave my wife and think about marrying you, all the commitment talk made me run away.’ He paused here and said, ‘I want to be committed to you now, Kaveri. Even if it means I need to marry you, I’m okay about that now. But I can’t lose you again. I only have one condition. That we have to live in Mumbai. My child is there and I can’t be away from her. That’s my only thing. And I’m begging you. Please just come back. You can do whatever you want. If you want, you can sit at home, or if you want, you can do research, or work at that agency. I can get you a job with my influence. And we’ll stay wherever you want and you can do up the place whichever way you want. I’ll give you all the money to live a luxurious life. We could start something new together.’ He rambled on in the end and I let him. Then he took a deep breath and waited for me to speak. He had said his part.

That was it. My mind couldn’t really grasp it though. Was that a proposal? Somehow I had kind of pictured it differently.

I looked at the muffin in front of me. It was gooey, hot, chocolatey with macadamia nuts. Just the type I liked. And I was so tempted to just pick up the fork and dig in. Stress had always made me eat. In moments of confusion and distress I had turned to chocolate. But in the last six months I had not been stressed. Even when I was out of money to buy food or when I had got lost wandering and it had become dark, or when my computer had crashed and parts of my research were lost. I had not felt anxious enough to reach for a muffin, or a brownie or a cupcake. I had finally got hold of my emotions long enough to separate stress from hunger. And that’s how I had lost all this weight and was feeling great about myself. So why was I suddenly stressed and craving for this muffin in front of me?

I looked at him and said flatly, ‘I don’t get it.’

‘What don’t you get?’ he said, now trying to convince me from another angle, ‘We belong together. That’s it. Remember how good we were together? Remember our weekend trips to Lonavala and Goa? That was who we were. And we’ll have that back again.’

I remembered. They were nice until he had to make calls every morning and after dinner and text message during the day from everywhere, the beach, outside our hotel room, outside the disco.

‘That could be us forever. We could be on a permanent vacation. WE would be living our dream of being together whenever we want, having mind-blowing sex …’ Oh that was it. He had not been having sex. Or maybe not as good. ‘Look. You complete me. I can’t live without you. I need you to help me sort out my life, my house and my friends. You know everything better than I do. And we’re great together. We have fun. Please say yes.’ He finished. That was the end of his speech. And then he finished his latte and looked up at Becky to order another one. I sipped on mine.

I was playing back his words in my head and a host of visuals side by side of our past. And it all came rushing back. The evenings we had gone out to new places and the weekend trips we had taken out of town, the bike rides we had … From the hotel rooms across the Eastern Express highway to the dhabas dotted along Maharashtra, from the endless nights on Bandra Sea link to early mornings in the Sahayadris. We had had a good time. But it was in the past. And really I hadn’t heard a thing about what I wanted. It was all about him. That I could fulfill his life, he would have this, and he would get that and that I complete ‘him’.

And then it hit me. This was what I had wanted for a long time. But I did not want it anymore. All these images instead of being liberating, happy and loving were seeming claustrophobic, demanding and weary.

‘Arjun, let me show you something.’ I showed him my tattoo. The tattoo of Gaudi’s Sun. Yes, that’s what I had got. Gaudi’s Sun. Alongside a heart and my name in Chinese, the one language I didn’t know yet. It was a tattoo made like a bracelet around my wrist symbolizing art, language and passion, the three things that signified my life. As opposed to Love, Sex and Marriage that signified it two years earlier.

He looked at it completely shocked. But I continued to talk, ‘I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking where did I find the courage to get a tattoo.’

He interrupted me and said, ‘No! I’m thinking we’ve got the same tattoo, Kaveri. It means we’re connected. WE still love each other!’

I smiled and tried to exlplain, ‘No, Arjun. It means that we were connected. You were the Great Love of my life. But Love is far more important than the person. Hence the heart. I got it because I would remember you not as a person but as a symbol of what love should be. I look at the tattoo and remember who
I
can be. I’m a person who loves art, who loves independence, who believes in breaking the rules of the game, just like Gaudi did. You showed me that. Before I lost myself. But finally, I’ve got it back.’

He looked surprised. He still didn’t get it. So I had to explain. I took his hand very tenderly and tried hard to deliver my new speech. ‘Arjun, you’ll always be the love of my life. I’ll always cherish what I had with you. And I’m so glad that I lost my virginity to you. Because that makes us even more special. But us being together does not make sense. For the simple reason that … I’m not in love with you anymore. That’s not what I want anymore.’

‘But Kaveri, the tattoos … we’re connected … can’t you see that?’ he asked one last time.

‘Yes, darling. I do see it. We’ll always be connected. But we don’t need to be married to be so.’ I heard myself saying things that I would never have imagined. ‘You might have changed to what I wanted a year ago. But I’ve changed from that to a whole new person.’

‘But I can change to what you want now.’ He desperately pleaded.

‘Arjun, we’re different people now. You have a life in Mumbai. I have a life in New York. And I love my life here. I don’t want to compromise. And that might mean I sound like a bitch to you, but it’s not that. I don’t want that life that we spoke about anymore. I don’t want to leave New York. For you or anyone.’

‘But …’ He was trying to hold on to a concept I had let go of. Once upon a time, I had told Aditi I wanted him back on my terms. And here he was, back on my terms, and I didn’t want him. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on me. And I felt incredibly bad about asking the Universe to give him back to me when I knew I didn’t want him at all.

‘Listen. First of all, you don’t listen! You have always taken charge and presumed what we should do. And I’ve let you because it felt nice to have someone lead the way. But I’ve thought about what I’ve wanted to do and have been doing it for so long now that I can’t have someone else lead the way.’ I paused to take a breath. Explaining things to a man was so difficult. Women would have got it so easily.

Arjun was flabbergasted. He was hurt, I could see. He had thought he would come and whisk me away to a life that I had wanted for so long.

‘Kaveri, I promised you I would come back to you and now you’re telling me you don’t want me? That bloody sucks!’ he said exasperated.

‘I’ve moved on,’ I said softly.

‘Ya I heard that part,’ he said, looking away in anger.

I wanted to say more, that what we had was nice but it was in the past. And it was over. And I didn’t need him anymore. Emotionally, financially, physically, spiritually—I didn’t need him anymore. But I heard myself saying, ‘I hope you are able to find someone who does need you and, more importantly, I hope you are able to realize that you really don’t need anyone to complete you. Our relationship never belonged in the real world … it belonged in the shadows of the soul. I want to thank you for all that you did for me …’ I said with a pause, weighing every word so as not to offend him. ‘I want you to know that I truly loved you. But I want you to
let go
. And be happy. For me. And for yourself.’

The fact was that I would always love Arjun. Yes I would. But I knew I could never live with him. I knew what I did not want. I did not want to be a stepmother. When I had to be maternal, it would have to be with my own child. And I didn’t want to go back to Mumbai. I was done with that city for now. I wanted to be here, in a new city, exploring a new land, experiencing new seasons, living independently, even if it meant that I would be alone and, maybe, lonely. I wanted all that and more for myself. Because I was no longer scared. I believed in myself.

I heard myself say in conclusion, ‘We will always be special for each other. Let me be a good memory for you. Let that tattoo inspire you to follow your heart always and not make any more terrible mistakes.’ And then I said the words that I thought I would never say to Arjun, ‘Goodbye, my love.’ He was stunned.

Arjun and I parted sweetly that night. He was half expecting me to call him back to my place for a nightcap one last time. But I didn’t. I didn’t want a sleazy last image of my Great Love. And I knew that the different men in my life were all a little bit of my Great Love. I knew that no man could ever be just that. I wasn’t disillusioned. I was just more confident about Love as a whole. Because I knew that a greater love lay in me.

But it took some time for Arjun to realize this. He emailed me a few times to try and convince me again. But I didn’t reply. I had finished saying what I needed to and moved on. I understood myself now. I might be a nice person, but I might not necessarily do nice things. And that doesn’t make me a rotten person. Just a vulnerable one looking out for myself.

It was my birthday again. I had turned thirty-two today. And I was holding a cup of coffee in my hand. Alone. And I wasn’t at Coffee De. I was looking at Antoni Gaudi’s Sun. I don’t know how and why I needed to see it, but I did. And the culmination of all my research and my memories had led me to this point.

I had lost and found myself again in New York over the last year. If it was the city that never sleeps,
I
never slept as well. I lived in a noisy neighbourhood and, while it kept me awake most of the nights, it kept my mind active as well. I was a woman on a mission. I wanted to do as much as I could before my birthday. And I did.

I saw offbeat films at Greenwich Village. I went to art fairs, museums, photography exhibitions and comedy clubs. I went alone and I went with friends. I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge several times. From Chinatown to the Empire State Building, from Jewish Harlem to Ellis Island, from Union Square to Central Park, I walked everywhere and I saw everything. I even tried my luck at ice skating, heard baroque performances in parks, and a Mozart opera in a concert hall. I did it all. I spent a lot of time at Times Square, cafés, cathedrals, pubs, restaurants, parks, and the library. I researched my work and found out what I should do with my life. I went with a friend for a Julliard concert, a few Broadway plays and when no one would go with me, I went alone to the Guggenheim, walked on the shores of Coney Island, sat at Union Square and tasted fresh fruit at sunrise at Green Market. I spent a day at the Brooklyn botanical garden and haggled at the Sixth Avenue antiques market. And when I finally did not want to see anymore, I knew what I had to do.

And that is why I was here, in Barcelona. Alone. On my birthday. I had come here two days before my birthday because this was what I wanted as the last stop before I went home. I needed to know that I could be anywhere in the world on my birthday and be happy with being just by myself. Not with a man, not with Aditi, not with my parents. Just alone. And I was. I really was. But a week ago I had begun to think of all my relationships. And, yes, I had a few more in New York. They were all friends ‘with benefits’. I had begun to understand men finally. And I realized that of all the men I knew, the most significant one would always be Arjun. And I still loved him. It was hard for me to acknowledge it a week ago but I had. It wasn’t as if I wanted him back or I was planning to ask for his forgiveness. I wasn’t
in love
with him. I was just happy to know that I could still love someone who had hurt me so much. It was just a cathartic moment for me to realize that I could now have a real relationship. And it was because of that moment that I decided to fly to Barcelona and see, in person, Gaudi’s Sun that Arjun had tattooed on his arm for me.

I fell in love with Barcelona the moment I stepped off the plane. The city completely charmed me with its rich culture, tradition and architecture. And I knew I could live here for another year exploring its rich wonders and being further enhanced in my research of art. But I knew that I could not research all my life. I had to get back. I had made a plan to combine art with technology and start a business back in Mumbai. I needed to get back to the life that I had been running away from.

My parents had been calling and chatting with me regularly, and were finally proud of what I was doing. It was educational and respectable! But they missed me and wanted me to be close by. And, as a single child, an only daughter, I felt it was my duty to do so. So I had booked my ticket back in a week’s time. By that time, I would have explored as much of this city that would fill my heart and I could always come back again for it to fill my soul.

My coffee had gone cold. I had been sitting in Park Guell for many hours, not wanting to move, feeling a sense of relief, love and power all at once. It started becoming dark. Reluctantly I stood up and started walking towards the exit to go home. Suddenly, I saw this woman sitting in a corner with some eclectic objects next to her. It was a force deep within that drew me to her. I walked up to her and gestured to ask what she was doing. She replied, ‘You are from India!’

I was taken aback. I hadn’t been to India for almost a year and nowhere in my clothes or personal belongings did it say I was from India, so how did she know.