Just the Way You Are Page 3

  The first thing that dazzled me was neither her blood-red salwar-kurta, nor her big, dark eyes outlined with kohl that she raised to look out the window, pondering over the book in her hands; neither her glossy red lips, nor her dazzling smile indicating that she understood the cleverness of the author and again immersed herself in the book. The book she was reading—Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie—was the only book I had tried reading many a time and failed in the last few years. It could be the complexity of narration and storytelling, but there was something about this book that had always tempted me. I had challenged myself that I would finish reading the book someday; that day hadn’t come yet.

  ‘Welcome, ji welcome. Kaku has brought the bride home, come, come everyone!’ Greetings had started at the entrance of my home even before we could step near the threshold.

  A crowd gathered around the main door of the house. I figured that my mother and a few other relatives had left the hotel earlier than to prepare to welcome us, the newlyweds. My mom looked splendid in her Kanjeevaram sari, and more so with her trademark brilliant smile that was a sure sign of her happiness. She stood ahead of all other ladies like their leader. All others were also wearing their best saris and were coated with layers of make-up, this perhaps being the last ritual in the ceremonies that they could deck up for. Looking at their happy faces, I thought about my plan of breaking my news to them, and their smiles turned into gloomy frowns in my mind’s eye. I still hadn’t found a time suitable enough to break the news and I also knew that nobody was going to believe me right now, or even pay attention, in their ecstatic frame of mind.

  There was a grand welcome and after the customary tilaks welcoming us, we were each asked to put our right foot forward and step in, only to walk into a roomful of aunties and some kids running around for no fathomable reason. My mom knew very well that I didn’t like these rituals, but then I also knew that Mom would never listen to me, at least in this matter. So I gave in; I was too tired to protest and too excited about the new opportunity, which I still needed to announce.

  All the aunties looked at me as if I had won a war and made them proud; I knew some of them closely enough to know that my marriage was going to be the topic of discussion for days to come. They were going to narrate my entire story, right from making a war strategy to such a grand reception, to anyone who was willing to hear them out. I gave them the smile that politicians give random people on meeting them, knowing that meeting again would be very unlikely. I tried to tell my mom to wrap up these rituals as soon as possible but every single time she looked back at me with a smile, taking her own sweet time doing things her own way. She was the happiest woman today and there would be no stopping her.

  I had lost count in the last one night of the number of times I had to lower my head for the tilak to be put on my forehead. First it started with the leader, my mom, who did a little extra thing and stretched my cheeks like she did when I was a kid. And after that, the whole gang of aunties who were ready with their plate full of flowers and a diya, all came to me one after the other to put a tilak. One of them came close enough for me to notice her jewellery and stained teeth. After doing all the boring tika things, she murmured to me, ‘Bahu is so beautiful. Finally your mom is happy, now that you are married.’

  My forehead had begun to feel heavy under the weight of all the tilaks. It felt like an overload of jam on bread. To my relief, all the ladies soon turned towards the bride to complete some special customized rituals. I wished her all the best in my heart; it was her turn now.

  I rushed towards my room. I had a lot of things to do before I could reveal my plan to my family: your son or brother or whatever I was to you was not going to celebrate his first night with his new wife, but was going to a far-off place for some urgent work. I had to read the call letter, take the printout of the ticket, and manage my luggage. For a moment, I was jealous of Shagun because all her bags were packed. If she had to go, she could just have rolled her bags out and that’s all. Putting that thought away, I switched on my laptop and ran into the washroom to change into comfortable clothes. I logged into my email and downloaded the tickets and the call letter. I read it with unwavering, unfaltering concentration.

  I had to pack up my stuff too. So I opened my almirah, dug out a trolley bag, and stuffed whatever I could think of into it. I did not want to shock everyone in the house, which was a hell of a lot of people to begin with. I made up my mind to speak to Dad first.

  He was fidgeting with some people over payments, bargaining like a typical middle-class gentleman. I broke the news as simply as I could, and then felt that everyone around me had gone quiet. I looked around—no Shagun, no aunties. Only some men and my brother. The women had apparently taken Shagun and settled her into my room, sorry, our room. It was deathly quiet when some women came out, laughing and teasing me about my new bride. When they saw everyone staring at each other uncomfortably, they also became subdued and asked about the cause. Everyone was aghast when I told them that I was going to Switzerland. Almost everyone was agape. I had expected this reaction, even a reaction worse than this, so I decided not to explain anything though my dad asked me several times and kept roaming behind me as I gathered stuff from around the dishevelled house. I moved into my parents’ room to search for some important documents that I needed.

  ‘Why are you going right now? Can you not wait for just a few days? What will I tell Shagun’s people? You know this is not the right time.’

  ‘Dad … I know, but the situation is such. I have waited for this for a very long time and you know it,’ I said, looking for my passport. The entire house was in a mess, thanks to the marriage preparations, and I was having a tough time getting my things together.

  ‘But why are you going? Couldn’t it be a few months from now, so that Shagun could perhaps go with you?’

  ‘Dad, it’s my dream. And I can’t let this opportunity go.’

  ‘Do whatever you want to do!’ He was angry, but I knew his concerns were legitimate. ‘As usual, you never listen to me. Who am I!’ he bellowed and left the room.

  When I came out, everyone was looking at me and my father was nowhere to be seen. Ignoring everyone else, I moved towards my room. I knew this drama wasn’t over yet. In fact, the real one was still to unfold.

  I walked towards the room, strategizing what to say to Shagun and how. It was then that the whole bunch of relatives, except Mom, Dad, and my brother, rushed to stop me and said, ‘Wait, wait! You can’t enter this room as of now.’

  ‘Can’t enter? What do you mean? It’s my room.’

  ‘Yes, it’s yours, but not for now. The rules say that you have to wait.’

  I was really tired of these rules, and decided there and then that I would definitely read about them and find out who made them when I was back. But the need of the hour was to shoo away these relatives. I called on my mother to defend me, and soon after, she took charge and let me go in.

  I finally entered the room, quickly turned around, and bolted the door. I looked at Shagun; she was sitting in the middle of the bed, her heavy red dupatta half covering her face. She looked gorgeous in the dimly lit room and I fell in love with her all over again. I had waited for this moment for so long, and now that I was here, in the moment, I was battling time and needed to break my strange news to her. The room was beautifully decorated with flowers, the curtains were drawn, and everything was perfect. Someone had sprayed some fruity, sensual fragrance and the room smelled exotic. It felt like I was in heaven, with my princess right in front of my eyes. Looking at this wonderfully decorated room and Shagun, for a split second it came to my mind to call the woman who had turned my life topsy-turvy since the morning, and postpone this job. But the next moment, when I realized that I couldn’t take this risk, I discarded my own idea and approached my biwi.

  Gathering all my courage, I said, ‘Shagun …’Apart from this, I couldn’t say anything and waited for her to respond.

  She said nothing, ap
parently playing the role of new bride with full gusto. I wished she could comprehend the state of my mind, and also not react unexpectedly when I revealed my plans. I said softly, ‘Shagun, at least respond to my words. You know me well, it isn’t an arranged marriage.’

  These words seemed to ease her a bit; she relaxed and I heard some ornaments tinkle, arousing my love for her anew. She nodded slightly. She was only trying to behave like a newlywed; she had all the right to do this.

  ‘I am going to Switzerland!’ I was out with it, and she threw her ghunghat back herself, to look at me with her big, black, beautiful eyes. This trick always worked with women.

  ‘Yes. Rightaway!’

  ‘But why are you in such a hurry for our honeymoon? And what’s with this sudden plan? What will our parents say?’

  ‘Er, Shagun, it’s not our honeymoon, baby.’

  She looked confused, exhaustion and sleep writ large on her lovely face. ‘Then what? Who is going to Switzerland?’

  I looked into her eyes and said, ‘I got a call from Credit Suisse this morning.’

  That’s all I had to say and her expression changed. She looked at her hands and shut her eyes tight, very tight. I didn’t know what she was going to say and I really wished she would understand the need of the hour. I knew I was being selfish by expecting this from her. I was ready for everything that she would have to say to me.

  ‘Rightaway? And what about me?’ she said softly, fighting a surge of tears and swallowing the lump in her throat.

  ‘Shagun, they have asked me to join immediately. I requested them for some time and told them I have just gotten married, but since something urgent has surfaced there, they asked me to travel immediately or lose the opportunity.’ I was also getting very emotional, because Shagun and I had fought a lot of battles to reach this day in our lives.

  Just then, like my guardian angel, she touched my cheek with her hand ever so slightly. ‘This is your big day, Sameer. Why are you upset?’

  ‘You know my bad luck, Shagun. I got this call at a moment when I was stuck between love and my dreams. What was I to do?’A lone tear was almost going to drop from her pretty eyes and I couldn’t see that, not today. I was earning pretty decently here and had the woman of my dreams. I thought I would refuse the offer and stay with her. ‘I will not go if you are unhappy about it, Shagun, I promise!’

  ‘Do you think I don’t know you enough? I know you are foolish enough to stay back if I say so,’ she chuckled amidst her tears. She looked even lovelier, her cheeks glistening with the tears she was trying so hard to stop.

  ‘They have said that they will give me leave after joining and I also remember that we decided to have our honeymoon in the best place of the world. We will go for Switzerland once I complete all the formalities.’

  She didn’t say anything and to my surprise she stood up, walked around the bed, and came and stood very near me. Before I could say anything to her, to my surprise she planted her soft lips on mine and passed on her warmth to me. And with it the assurance that she had faith in me. She hugged me and whispered, ‘I am sure you will devise a way to compensate for our lost first night.’

  She smiled, and I thanked God silently for bringing her into my life. How lucky I was to have her! Patience indeed bears sweet fruit, I thought. I held her close to me and gave my erstwhile girlfriend-turned-wife a deep, passionate token of my love.

  I had a lot to do, so she offered to quickly change and help me pack. She enquired as to where I kept my clothes and I directed her to the wardrobe. She went into the room to change into comfortable clothes. I went about collecting important papers and putting them into a file.

  Little did I know that Shagun would find all my clothes in the right place and with it the diary that I had guarded with my life up till now. The diary that I had never showed her, even after she had asked so many times what exactly I wrote in it.

  I was travelling to Switzerland; Shagun was ready to travel into the recesses of my mind through that diary. Our journey together had just begun. She had plunged into the tepid waters of my past in the diary while I had taken wings to an alien land. Shagun flipped over to the first page.

  4

  AT THE TURN OF THE year I had barely felt that I was ultimately over with ‘it’. And the ‘it’ here refers closely and most accurately to my stupidity. But I didn’t assume that that looking into the mirror, I would be so proud of myself. That was the first time I felt a tinge of regret inside me, taking shape, of what I was once. When I look back it is almost inconceivable to think of myself as an ambitious, no-nonsense, work-driven, ah, well … with the liberty of adding a few more adjectives … person. It was during those years that I used to run behind things that I thought unattainable when in reality they weren’t even worth attaining or running behind. Age makes a person mature is something I never agreed to. I mean, maturity is something I thought I had inherited right from the day I was born. So, when people said that I needed to grow up I was nothing but indifferent to them. I was, in a way, sacrosanct. But majorly stupid. It makes me laugh out loud at the kind of things I did and worse, cried over them. Good that those things didn’t happen ultimately, otherwise I would have been in a rut and not flying off to Switzerland at the moment. As I soar into the clouds with butterflies in my stomach I giggle to myself. I remember the ‘good old days’, though they weren’t that good.

  November 2011

  Finally, I was to be in Delhi.

  In my appointment letter ‘Delhi’ flashed in bold. I could almost do the bhangra at the mere thought of it. When I read the word, I spun two rounds and hunched over the dining table to read it again, fell on my back on the bed, and read it all over again. I may as well have been branded as a lunatic but for now only I knew what kind of importance Delhi held for me. I had been yearning to be posted in the city. I had heard a lot about it—its cafes, promenades, clubs, and girls, and, of course, its perfect couples. I could be one of them too—who knew where my better half was. Rakesh, my college buddy, had called me up, fidgeting over the postings. Apparently, everyone, for some weird reason, was being posted to Chennai, Kerala, and other places down south. I’m not a racist, I swear. But honestly, I have had enough. I couldn’t have survived longer in that area. Be it language or people, I believe everything is good in its own way. But I don’t find myself belonging to that part of the world. It’s as simple as that. Rakesh, unfortunately, couldn’t fight against his luck. I was very worried. Mom had asked me to accompany her to the market to buy some kheera and I stood there for a few moments in contemplation while a bull chewed its way to glory on the bunch of kheeras I was holding. Mom, as usual, had rebuked me, ‘Tera kuch nahi ho sakta! It’s a waste to bring you here.’ I had been accustomed to her reprimands since childhood. I didn’t even bother to listen. It flew right atop my head, slipping past my ears. What bothered me at that moment was the email from the recruiters. Rakesh’s words kept hitting against my skull and my heart stalled on the way back home. What if I didn’t get Delhi? What if I was left to rot in the heat of Kerala or for that matter Thiruvananthapuram? What if I ended up my whole life slicing coconuts and sitting by a kiosk for coconut water every evening after coming back from office? What if a certain lungiwala came with his daughter and abducted me and forced me to marry her? What if … what if … My head was fit to burst in no time. I rushed to my room, flipped open my laptop, and fought against the anxiety running through my nerves while the mail loaded. Ultimately I saw it. Delhi. And the rest is, of course, history. Saddi Dilli, here I come!

  The train screeched and finally came to a halt at Hazrat Nizamuddin Railway Station. No train journey in India is fruitful until and unless it is late by a couple of hours. This is almost inevitable to mark as a subsidiary tribute to the legacy of Indian Railways, where time runs in a different dimension altogether. Here, though, it was four hours. This time, however, the heavens saved me. Though it ran late, I at least got my meals delivered sitting in the compartment itself. Othe
rwise it’s such a headache to crane your neck like a vulture and scan restaurants at each station. And the food, mashaallah! I must say, Delhi showed itself to be promising right in the beginning. All along the journey, thoughts like invisible flies kept jutting in and out of my head—baseless, meaningless thoughts which under no circumstances could affect my life in the remotest of ways. Germany is going to attack Austria again. The turmoil in Egypt must end. Nigeria is still fighting for its civil rights, what a tyranny. What a waste too! At least I’m not one of those dumb, stupid assholes who keep dreaming of either Katrina or Kareena, or for that matter Vidya Balan. Why do people even watch Bollywood films? Well, there was a lot of junk inside my head. I hoped I didn’t have OCD. ‘Arre bhaiya, could you get me another cup of chai, please?’ I asked the service boy. A group of teenagers was sitting by me, one virtually on top of the other. What will happen of this country, I wondered. I was lucky; I got the lower berth and skipped the hassle of going up and down every now and then to use the toilet, brush my teeth, or drink tea. I could easily wear my chappals and go for a stroll whenever I liked and use the toilet too. My luggage could be easily kept under surveillance, below the berth. And for now, I could slip the curtain back and let the wind play on my face as I thought of Delhi and the dreams to come.