The Girl I Last Loved (19 page)

She got down, perhaps tired of looking at the lights and sat on the floor. I slipped in beside her.

“You never talk about your father now; earlier you always use to quote his opinions… his jokes… I liked hearing them… I liked him.”

“Me too… Dad… huh!! He built a very beautiful house. After his forties, he spent most of his time in giving his dream a concrete shape. He himself measured the ratio of sand and cement – a house for his children, with their individual rooms… matching their choices.

My sisters got married and two of them moved to USA and another is settled in Delhi. And after school, I left for doing company secretaryship, then for my MBA and then this job. I never returned home for long. In Indian society, building a house is every man’s dream. Why? When he has lived his entire life in a service quarter, of course, for his children, as he will be not leaving them with the life his parents left him to lead. A place to unite… a place to stay there forever without any fear; whenever I talked or visited them, this topic popped up and they asked me to stay there and in an attempt to avoid that awkward denial, I slowly stopped talking or going there. I felt really bad when I imagined them wandering alone in the house they made for their children who even don’t visit them.”

She rubbed my hands.

“If you feel so concerned why don’t you just call them and tell them how you feel?” she helped with her suggestions.

I shook my head, “It’s not that easy to tell how you feel.”

“When I looked at my parent’s marriage from the other side, I realised that my father didn’t give much to Mommy. Daddy likes simplicity and a little deviation. He never appreciated whenever Mommy dressed a little differently and sometimes thrashed her. He never allowed her to buy accessories or wear makeup. Slowly she also left it. I often wonder if a man is authorised to do that to a woman. If he can’t appreciate, he can’t even take it away. But when a man matters so much in your life, you automatically give him so much power. Daddy never took her out as he was busy in business. Gradually they had no interaction left and it was visible to everyone. That made their relationship even more complex and prone to interference from others. It was not all her fault. Then I realised the actual source of my mother’s indifference. In Indian societies, where the father is earning, we rely on everything upon him. So somehow we give less respect to our Mom. And especially when you are a girl who aspires to have a career, you get more inclined towards your father.

“But as I grew, I realised that Mom needed us as much as we needed her. Though late, but she wanted to be a part of us growing up. I wanted to give Mommy her share before it was too late. So no ‘talking and resolving’ but little gestures changed everything. Be a part of your parents growing old, Akash, otherwise you will never forgive yourself.”

I covered my face with my palms and rubbed my forehead and eyes hard, pressing thumbs on to the cheeks. I heard Kasam’s footsteps. I opened my eyes. She was approaching the door. She turned slowly.

“You know, Akash… after seeing my parents’ life, I always thought one thing that I won’t let go wrong my marriage. See where I landed. A broken engagement in which my partner never even returned to call off the wedding.”

She gave a smirk. I wanted to rush to her… grab her… tell her you are not alone… I will always care for you… take my hand and I won’t let anything go wrong.

And again I let another moment pass. She went to her room. I sat there – thinking or maybe not thinking at all.

Two Hours Later

Brrrrrrrummm!!

“Akash… you alright?” she came inside the kitchen.

“Yeah,” I answered, covered in flour.

I followed her sight – laptop in the middle shelf with a Youtube playing ‘How to make a cake at home’. Flour lying on the ground, strawberries floating in chocolate syrup, egg shells near the stove and then she looked at me, trying to make the dough with a spoon.

She gave an exhausted look.

“What are you doing?”

“Isn’t Christmas and for that matter, a birthday incomplete without a cake?” I answered innocently.

She again scanned the whole area and fixed her eyes on me and then laughed. She plucked a clutch from the edge of her
kurta
and tied her hair. She brushed the egg shells aside and put them in the dustbin. Handed me the
jhadoo
and indicated to me to brush the floor. She poured those egg whites into a coffee mug and gave me a small spoon to stir it. I looked at the video.

“Will you turn that thing off?” Saying this, she searched for ‘When you say nothing at all…’ and played it.

She took another cup and started stirring oil and sugar.

“Not that fast, Akash,” she said as some egg white spilled out.

“Not that slow either… watch me,” she said again.

I copied her.

She grabbed that drawer where I keep my sticks… I rushed to her and closed it.

“Baking soda,” she answered.

“It’s not here,” I survived.

As I breathed out, she threw open the fridge.

“Whoaaa…,” she exclaimed.

“Those beers are for guests,” I tried and explained.

“With these many beers, you will have one hell of drunken guests,” she shut the door with a pat on the refrigerator door.

‘Shit!’ I thought to myself.

She teased me for a few more minutes before returning to work again.

Then she mixed everything with white flour and chocolate powder in a big bowl.

“You are not letting me do anything,” I complained.

“Ohh!! Come take it and stir for an hour.”

“What?”

“Yes.”

I took it and started stirring. She sat on the table.

“Come here,” she dipped her finger in the dough and tasted it.

“We are doing just fine,” she added.

“Yeah,” I asked.

She blinked her eyes in agreement.

She sometimes hummed along with the music. It was awesome. It was the best time I ever had in this house.

Sometimes she took the bowl and stirred it for a few minutes. Then we placed the whole mixture in the microwave and sat in the kitchen… talking… listening to songs… laughing at the video of a baby elephant sneezing.

Twenty minutes passed in a nutshell.

The cake was finally out.

Kasam carefully started spraying the chocolate syrup all around.

I brushed my finger over it to taste it and she slapped my hand.

She went on to decorate the edges with strawberries. I picked one and forwarded her to eat. She looked at me for a moment. Then ate it…

“See, it’s so beautiful,” she said, looking at the cake.

“Yeah, it is,” I said looking at her.

A few hours later, we went to sleep. I got up in the middle of the night to have some water. Then I noticed Kasam was sleeping on the couch and TV was still running. I switched it off. I was in turmoil for a few minutes. Then I grabbed her hand and placed it on my shoulder. Took her in my arms and walked towards her room. I felt her hair on my neck. Her breath brushed my chest. Her cheek pressed along my neck. I walked slowly, very slowly and placed her on her bed. Then I covered her with a blanket and switched off the lights.

When I was out, I realised this was the closest I had ever been to her. I always imagined about it, but never thought that even a minute would feel like eternity.

Dear Romeo,

Today at midnight on hearing his footsteps, I pretended to sleep. I don’t know why I did that. It just felt right. Perhaps I wanted to know what he would do. He came and lifted me in his arms. It felt heavenly. I never wanted him to leave. Is that love?

Your

Juliet

Chapter 17

The very next day I got up real early. Perhaps I wasn’t able to sleep at all.

I didn’t go out for a jog; instead spent few minutes over the treadmill. Something was itching in my mind, akin to something choking in the throat. Not much, but a little uneasiness. You keep on wandering from one place to another. You are doing things but in between, deep in your thoughts, forget what you are up to.

There was a ring on the door. I went to pick up the newspaper. Finally it was time for the sun to rise. I went to the kitchen to make some coffee for getting rid of this headache. I poured some coffee powder, thought ‘that won’t do it’, hence poured some more. Stepped towards the small window at the end of the kitchen and flipped the curtains. It was raining. I took a sip from my coffee. It was raining heavily… bingo!! It’s June, that means never-ending rains, clogged road, deadly traffic, no mobility. How could I let Kasam out in a weather like this? I jumped in the hall to check the weather predictions, hoping it to be worst as possible. Luck was on my side today.

“Akash… you are up already?” Kasam came in the hall, wrapped in her apple coloured nightgown, ending before her knees. Her uncombed hair was even more fluffy… she was looking smoking hot!

She looked at my track pants and sweaty vest.

“You went jogging?”

“No, was running at home only.”

She gave a half nod and came and settled beside me.

It was flashing in the news that today it would rain all day. And owing to Mumbai history, many of schools and colleges had declared it a holiday.

Kasam grabbed my coffee and took a sip.

“Yuck… what’s it?”

“It’s for me; wait I will make you another one,” I got up.

When I came, Kasam was watching the news. Half work done.

“Kasam I will drop you home… don’t worry,” I said casually.

“But it’s raining…”

“Yeah… it is. Better you stay here till weather gets fine.” Was I too early in dropping this question? Kasam didn’t reply; just took the coffee. She again looked at me.

“Yeah, probably I should stay.”

I picked my cell to call Ved, asking him to take care of everything. And there was this sms: ‘Tender passed. Final meeting to crack the deal. If you don’t turn up today everything screwed.’

“Ehh… Kasam make yourself comfortable. I will be back by lunch.”

“Where are you headed to?”

“Something very urgent popped up.”

“I don’t get to work, you still do…?”

“I am sorry and anyways if I fall sick, you are there to take care. If anything happens to you, both of us won’t be in a condition to handle.” What the hell did I just say?

As promised I was back by noon with Chinese food in my hands. Kasam was sitting by the window. I bumped into her.

“Hey…”

“Shhhhh,” she said, adjusting her glasses.

“You wear glasses?”

She gave an exhausted expression and closed the lid of her laptop.

“No, I don’t have power. I wear anti-glare when using laptop,” she answered and opened her laptop again and started typing.

‘To say what you mean, know what you mean.’

— Kasam

‘Do you know what you say, not only has an impact on the person who listens, but it also has an impact on you? Impact on what they think of and what they will expect of you?

‘So coming to the work in hand today, I am going to discuss with you all the difference between criticism and feedback.’

Before I could read more, she shut the lid again.

“Akash, I don’t like people sneaking in while I am working.”

“I am sorry; I was just trying to understand what you are doing.”

“I didn’t go to Prayas today, so was uploading the content in a blog and will tag the participants to it.”

“Oh, I never thought I will see a day when you will be this dedicated.”

“Yeah, that’s something you acquire if you like your job.”

“That you definitely do! So what’s your blog all about?”

“Since when did you get interested in all this?”

“On my suggestion, you missed your session and we both know how much you love to talk… so I thought of offering a participant,” I pointed towards myself.

“Okay,” with a childish excitement she agreed.

“Go on,” I smiled.

“So it’s abut criticism and feedback owing to the difference between them. It applies to all aspects of life, personal or professional. It’s very important to know when you are suggesting something how you sound, the kind of impact it has on the other person, what aura it’s creating about you around others and most importantly, if is it achieving the desired result.”