Anjali had always been the perfect kind; beautiful, smart, intelligent and helpful. Yeah, she was one of those people out of movies and books, simply perfect. Not the arrogant one, the sweet one. My Role Model. My Sister. Anjali.
She was independent, and held great passion for dance and music, she had her own dance school, where children used to come from all over the town. Everyone enjoyed so much. Everyone. Except me.
I always used to sit in one corner, looking at everyone, my hands on my cheeks, my fat stomach bulging out. I was her loser sister. I was the one poor is studies, not good at any sport, without any friends. I was me, the loser sister. I was Riddhima.
Anjali was six years elder to me, both of us were orphans. Our parents died in a car accident when I was one, and she was seven. Since then on, Anjali had been the mother figure for me. The one I looked up to when I had a problem. My angel. So she was six years elder to me, that roughly means, when she was eighteen, I was twelve. At eighteen, she met this guy, Armaan. He was so handsome, my legs used to turn jelly as soon as I would see him, though we never talked. He treated me like a younger sister, offering me advice in my moments of indecision, making me laugh when I was crying. But that was all because I was Anjali's sister. I used to stand behind the tree, and watch Anjali and Armaan romance silently. In fact, I watched the romance grow between them from the very beginning, and I knew he was out of limits. But that did not make me love him less. He was the perfect boy friend of my perfect sister, where did I fit in? Soon, Armaan became a part of both our lives, Anjali loved him like anything, he loved Anjali from the depth of his heart, and I loved both, admired both. Sigh. At the age of fifteen, I gave my board exams, I failed terribly. Anjali was called to school, Armaan accompanied her, the principal criticized me like anything. Anjali was not even rich enough to make a donation in order to make me stay. I was thrown out of the school. I felt so humiliated, was my life worth anything? I was just a burden. I would be the downfall of my sister. I was her only imperfection. The fat one, the ugly one, who was not good at anything. The loser sister.
Slowly I went into depression; I stopped eating anything, I stopped interacting with people, I repeated my tenth, and I used to cry myself to sleep every night. At school, students would make fun of me. One day, a co-mate came up to me and asked me, "Hey Riddhima, how much do you plan to score this time? Two marks or three marks?"
The whole class laughed.
I came home, crying, my head aching terribly. I refused to answer anything Anjali or Armaan asked me. I decided I had had enough. I cut my wrist. Everything went black, and I was happy.
I woke up in the hospital, with Anjali sobbing silently next to me. Armaan with a hard face, he did not have any sympathy for me. I could not meet his eyes. He looked at me coldly, and said, "Riddhima, you are a loser. Not because you fail in everything, but because you never try again."
Thats all he said to me for an entire year, it shocked me, beyond my wits, beyond what I could process. For it to be the truth is one thing, and for him to make it official is another. I pledged I would prove him wrong. And believe it or not, I did. I was the topper of my class. Suddenly, I was the volley ball captain, and every guy in the school wanted to date me. I had proved him wrong. But somewhere, deep down my heart, I knew I had done it all more than just to prove him wrong. I had done it to impress him. I dont know whether it impressed him or not, because after that day in the hospital, we never spoke. Never.
Anjali, of course, was over the moon for my success. She was so happy for me, she always encouraged me. She loved me so much. Her school was at its peak, it had turned out to be a huge success. She had around two fifty students.
One day, while she was practicing, Anjali slipped in one of her classes. Her spine broke, and she died. It left me with nothing, I could not believe it. The world existed around her, how could she die? She couldnt die, how could she leave me alone? The world ended for me, and now when I look beack, I realize that was the turning point of my life.
Armaan was broken too, they had been together for six years, they had been planning to get married. It was the first time I saw Armaan cry, and he cried like anything. It was more than he could take, not that I blame him. The sunshine of our life was gone, and we had been engulfed by the gloom. Both of us were in the same boat. Emotional problems apart, the business was suffering a great deal. The new students were angry, because they had paid the fees, and could not leave in mid-term. Having no other option left, I reached Armaan's house.
He was surprised; he had never spoken to me after that incident. He let me in.
"Armaan, I think you have guessed why I am here.", I said uncertainly. It had been weird, to speak to him that way, in such a formal manner. Armaan had been my best friend for three years, but of course, the context was different then. The circumstances were different. Anjali was alive.
Armaan nodded.
"We have to do something about the school. This was Anjali's ambition, her wish, her hard-work. We cant leave her dream to die. We have to rejuvenate it", said I.
He kept silent.
"We have to do something Armaan", I said again. He was my only hope, I could not carry out this ask myself. Deep down, I was still that meek girl who had tried to commit suicide.
He looked at me for a second, and nodded. It wont be wrong to say that was the day our love started.
love started taking birth in me. I loved my sister, I cherished her memories, I cried for her. But the truth was, that she was no longer there. And I had to just deal with it. It had taken me time..a lot of time..to accept it. But eventually, I accepted it. I knew my sister was dead, and that she would just be a memory from now on.
Armaan did not.
Even after two years, he was still the same guy who loved Anjali. And I felt defeated, defeated because I loved him. Yes, it was bad to love a guy your sister had loved. But I was a human too, and people don't really know when they fall in love. Its not something they get to decide. Love happens. Only that it never happened with Armaan. Everyday I looked at him, I hated my sister more. She had made a statue of this person, a robot. I wanted Armaan to forget Anjali.. maybe not for me, but for him. When you love a person, you want that person to be happy. And watching him die everyday was a torture.
I would have gladly accepted if he fell in love with someone, gladly. But the thing was, that her death had made him incapable of falling in love. His smile ,that could make the Sun look dull, no longer graced his face. And I was starving to see that smile, it was a smile I had dreamt of since the age of twelve.
That smile came one day. It is a day I will never forget. It came just as naturally as it had left..
Anjali Dance Studio was one of the leading institutes of the state, with more than five branches. Armaan handled the administration from the institute itself. He just had a small cabin in a corner, but it was enough for him. Once when I asked him about shifting from the place, all he said was, "Her scent Riddhima, its here. That's all I have."
I wished he realized he had me too. But then again, I was an insignificant fact of his life. Insignificant.
Armaan and I had decided that we would be open to take mentally and physically challenged students. Because, as I had read in many newspaper articles, and heard from many of my colleagues, that most of these handicapped children required interaction with the common masses the most. It was required to build their confidence.
It was one such small boy, who did not have an arm, who made Armaan smile. The boy's name was Kunal. He kind of looked like a rabbit; he was very short, and one of those moon like faces, with his two front teeth jutting out. When he smiled, the teeth would show up, and the red freckles he had on his white skin would brighten. Often, when he laughed, his nose turned bright red. What made everyone laugh was that he loved carrots too! We all called him Khaggi baby.
Khaggi baby made Armaan smile. He had the big innocent eyes of a kitten, but only some knew the amount of mischief those eyes hid.
People often sympathized with him, there eyes welling up when they realized that he did not have an arm. Khaggi Baby loved it. It gave him all the opportunities in the world to play pranks. One day, what happened, an old lady hugged him tightly, acting like his mother, crying, sobbing, wailing. All that was left was the "Aaahaahahaha-anahanahanahah" of Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham. Kunal quietly wore the joker mask in the meanwhile.
French kiss
The stupidest thing in this world is to fall in love. you know what the irony is? We are all stupids. And I am one us. I knew he would not come all along, that he had just used me, that his promises were all worth nothing, but still I waited. For five long years. But after that night in Paris, mr.malik just decided to disappear. It had all been perfect that night; French wine, French kiss, and then a very romantic "French" night. And the next day, it all ended. Like a long beautiful dream. Had it not been the necklace he had given me, I would have thought it to be a dream. But that necklace was a proof, a proof of our time together, a proof of my love, because I'm not sure if he ever loved me.
And now I look at myself in the mirror, in a bridal dress, and without any modesty, i look beautiful. But whats the point? He isnt here to see me, is he? Its Siddhant I am getting married to, not him.
The guy, Armaan was magical, and his magic had started working on me the second I had set my eyes on him.
It had been Paris, and it had been raining. A night, cold, november rain. And he was my Axl Rose. I had been sitting in the cafeteria, alone, watching the rain, peacefully and silently, instead if going out and feeling it in real. He had just come and sat beside me.Uninvited.
"Hey, I am the charming killer, Armaan. Should i murder you here or outside?", he asked me .
"Excuse me?", i looked at him, confused.
He sighed, "Poetry."
"Excuse me, i still couldnt understand you.", I asked, feeling stupid.
"Well, i was asking if you wanna sit here and chat with me, or wanna go outside and dance with me?", he asked me straight away.
The guy is charming no doubt. "What makes you think I will 'chat' with you or 'dance' with you?
Smiling, he replied, "You are already chatting with me. Why not dance then? The rain will also have an opportunity to taste romance."
God, that was cheesy.I got up to leave.
He followed. At first, i tried ignoring him, and his questions, the rain was frivolous that night, and it surrounded us. The lights of the city were faintly visible through the wild raindrops, but mostly hazy. It was just him, and me, "Listen! Stop following me around! I dont wanna talk"
"i do", he replied confidently.
"Why?", asked I, exasperated.
"Cuz i love you", nice simple short and sweet. just like the French.
I stared at him for a while, then smiled too. And we had danced for hours that night in the rain, the most romantic night of my life. It had all ended with a kiss. A French kiss.
I am brought back to Earth as the door opens. "its time Riddhima", Muskaan says.
i sigh, and get up.
I look at Siddhant as I descended the aisle, he had been my best friend in all these years. Waited for me patiently, he really loved me. i did not deserve him.
I reach him, and just then, i hear someone on the door, "hey I am Armaan."
Uninvited.
I turn, what the f**k!
I see him, standing at the door. And I feel like murdering him, he was a bloody, a bloody, a bloody.. charming killer.
We both stare at each other for a moment, "Should I murder you here or outside?", ask I. And it starts raining.
"Outside, the rain might as well get a taste of our romance.", says he, his eyes brimming with tears.
"Why?", ask I , softly.
"Cuz I love you.", he replies confidently.
I throw an apologetic look at Siddhant and then run towards him. Armaan. The charming killer. my charming killer. He takes me into his arms, and then we kiss.
A French kiss.
__________________________________________________________________________
Please Madamouselle
It might not have been the best thing in the world for me. But it was something, and all my life, i had starved to do something, independently, myself. I was doing that today. Looking at the saffron sky, as the deep ocean on my either side gulped the Sun down, I felt happy. And sad.
I had run away, and I knew after this, there was no returning. The Sun was setting, the day was ending, this chapter of my life was over too. Now it would truly be my life i would live, for myself. No mom, no dad, it was me now. And I was glad. I turned my gaze to the big city which awaited me, now I was going to try everything, I was a free bird now. no limitations, no boundaries, the world was all mine now. The road, as usual, was jammed with growling cars of impatient drivers. honking restlessly. I smiled looking at the poor guys, Stupids.
"Whats so funny?", I heard someone say. I turned, only to rest my eyes on a guy. Handsome guy.
"Does every smile of mine require a reason?", i asked, all intellectual and philosophical. In normal circumstances, i would have avoided speaking to strangers. But today i felt a sense of euphoria, and i was willing to try every new thing in this world. I was ready to try myself.
"Na, Just thought I could do with a smile. Lots of tensions in life you know.", said he, chuckling.
"So, whats your latest tension?", I asked, nonchalantly.
"I lost my job, and I just found out my girl friend is dating someone else.", said he, smiling and looking at the Sun.
"You look remarkably cheerful for a man who has just lost his job and found out that his girl friend does not love him", said I.
His smile grew wider, "Live for the moment. Die for the moment, and you wont regret anything you have done in your life."
He walked beside me in silence for a moment, and then Mr. live-for-the-moment-die-for-the-moment asked me something, "So whats your latest tension?"
I smiled, this was getting interesting, "I dont have a place to live."
"You look remarkably cheerful for a girl who has no place to live and has run away from her house", he said.
I looked at him in surprise, "How do you know?"
"Your rucksack speaks for itself madamouselle", said he, in a very gentlemanly fashion.
I smiled fully now, this was getting quite a "smiley" conversation, "Hi I'm Riddhima.", I said, offering my hand.
He took it, "Armaan", he winked at me, "naam toh suna hoga."
I winked at him too, "Ab sun liya."
"Toh signora, whats the plan?", asked he, as though we were old friends.
"Hmm.. About what?", asked I, though I knew completely well what he meant.
"I mean, whats the big drama? Why have you run away? Boyfriend?", he said, looking at me, speculatively.
I looked at him for a while before answering, "Well.. actually my dad wants me married. And he has started off with some ladka-looking business, and today I decided it was enough, I had had nough. And there you go, here I am"
For some reason, Armaan smiled wryly, "I am going to a very interesting place, wanna come along?"
I was in one of my bindaas moods, I smiled, "Sure."
We headed back, it was a nice silent walk. i spoke to him about everything, and in five minutes, I had quite a crush on him. By now, i had not realized where we were heading, now that i did, I was shocked, surprised, and confused.
I was standing in front of my house, dad was waving at us, "So you guys had fun? Batao Riddhima, ladka pasand aaya?"
I looked at him, bloody idiot. Stupid. Cheater. He knew everything all along. i was going to hate him. Everything was falling into place now, he whispered, "Please madamouselle".
I looked at my dad, God, i hated God. What about my knew beginning, free bird thing now?
"haan."
_______________________________________________________________________
Someday
I stare at her, but she refuses to look at me. I'm just a stranger now, nothing else. All our moments lie forgotten in the sands of time, and her eyes possess not an iota of recognition. I smile and walk up to her, "Hi Basket."
But she finds the big window on the other side more interesting. Yet again, she refuses to look at me. You forgot, my mind shouts out, and my heart cries in agreement. But she hears nothing, feels nothing, and is so not interested in me.
"I brought something for you", I say, not expecting her to answer. I have become numb to it now, I know she will never respond. Never love me, never smile at me, and the thing I despise the most is, that she will never recognize me. Nor Aman, our son. No one. We are all strangers in her world. There existed a time, when her world was incomplete without me. When she could not imagine her life without me. When we could not stay away from each other for more than five minutes. When there wasnt a big scar on her face, a big dark scar that dominated her face. I love her still, after that accident too, how can I not? Its my Riddhima, my wife you are talking about. But she forgot everything, everything. And she is not a normal person any longer; the nurses have to force her to eat food, she no longer writes, she does not know anything about her parents. Every one left us one by one, Padma mom comes sometimes, but that's a rare sometimes I am talking about.
Much to my surprise, she looks at me. Maybe she is bored, I decide. I reach for my pocket and take out a red rose. Roses have been a witness to our love for as long as I can remember, she stares at the rose for quite some time, intensely. Then I see something in those beautiful, lost eyes, and I'm sure I do, a glint of intelligence. But it disappears as fast as it had come. She takes the rose, and looks at it for another minute. Then kisses it, my heart yelps with joy. It was the first time in two years she had done something different. I feel like crying. Without looking at me, she keeps the rose under her pillow and sleeps off, slowly. I watch her sleep, in bewilderment. And then I cry, silently. I lie down next to her, gently kiss her forehead, hug her, and sleep off too.Thank you rose.
Maybe, she will remember us, some day. Some day, I sigh.
US.
We loved each other, made love to each other, had fought with each other, patched up with each other, smiled at each other, understood each other, cried with each other. Each other. We were two complete opposites; I was the super cool one. And she was the nerdy one. It was like sports and English falling in love with each other, stupid yes, but love. i had seen it in her eyes for all these years, felt it in my hear, my soul. Everything had been a fairy tale, and she was my fairy. With just the perfect amount of romance and fights, ours was a perfect couple, or so they called. Today I stand in the church, looking at my watch every now and then, in a business suit, waiting for her to walk down the aisle. Waiting for my fairy to walk down the aisle, and then she would no longer be my fairy, and "they" would never again call us a perfect couple again. She would be married, only I wasn't the groom. It was a handsome guy, who has a bright smile pasted on his face at the moment, it is Siddhant Modi. And once she would be married to this tall, dark, handsome and successful guy, she would be the wife of an honourable man, live in grace and elegance, but she would no longer be my basket. I feel a hand on my shoulder, I turn around to see Shilpa, a woman I would have fallen in love with had it not been for basket. My fiance. She is the best person on this Earth, she accepted me with my flaws and wounds, knowing that i would never love her the way I loved her, the way i loved my basket, my Riddhima. She does not smile at me, because she knows I cant stand another smile in this hall full of smiling people; some excited kids who are seeing a wedding for the first time in their lives, some old men and women smiling understandingly in an experienced sort of a way, and much irritatingly, and most middle aged men and women who had taken time off from their busy schedule to attend the marriage, so they might as well enjoy it. I look at her like a lost kid, she looks at me with love. Just love, no sympathy, no drama, no pity. Just love. I guess if Riddhima was in her place she would have done the same, I know she loves me too. Still. But she has moved on. I dont blame her, or maybe I do. You cant expect me to take it in a very nice manner do you? She should have waited for me. Her love, her great love, did not even possess the power to wait for me for six months.No, but she gets herself off married, to another super handsome guy, a perfect picture. Mr. and Mrs. Modi with their two children. And were do I, her shona, the man she lived for, the man she would die without, fit in? No where, maybe deep down her heart. But that could again be just my imagination. She walks down, and as I had guessed, she looks like a fairy, a complete fairy with her white dress, hair all done up, and make-up. She looks like a fairy. But not my fairy,Siddhant's fairy. She is smiling too, at Siddhant. But I know it does not reach her eyes, I know she is wishing it would me. I wish the same. Trying to look as though she is observing the flowers; orchids roses and lilies, all over the place, she looks around. But I know it is for me. Her eyes rest for a fraction of a second at me, and then at Shilpa's hand on my shoulder. I can swear I saw a glint of apology in her eyes when she looked at me, but when she looked at Shilpa's hand, her expression hardened. She has reached Siddhant now, he looks at her with so much love, and she smiles at him too. My heart squeezes at the sight, could this be happening? My basket getting married to someone else? I desperately wish its a dream, but to tell you the truth, even in my dreams i would not like to see such a thing. I feel suffocated, and not being able to help them, tears escape my eyes. I am crying. Nobody notices except Shilpa, but she keeps quiet. Everyone is looking at the couple in question. I hear him say "I do", loudly. His voice ringing through the hall. And then when its her turn, I almost expect her to run to me, saying sorry, I would accept her no doubt. "I do", she says softly. And I know she looks at me from the corner of her eyes. I make sure she sees hurt, and only hurt. I head towards the door, because I cant stand it any longer. If I saw them kissing, I would definitely break down. Shilpa knows me too well to stop me. As soon as I reach the gate, the hall breaks into applause. Oh, so they are kissing now.I run to my car, and forgetting about everything, I cry hysterically. I remember every moment we had spent with each other, our basket ball matches, our first meeting, when I had proposed to her, when I had proposed to her again, our trips to Lonavla, us. I remember us and I cant stop myself from crying, I cant control my tears. And then I remember them, Siddhant and Riddhima. Their smiles, their understanding. This was the man Riddhima was going to spend her life with. From now, there would be no Armaan and Riddhima, and basket balls will never make two people fall in love with each other; they have learnt their lesson.
From now on, there would be no us.
Love.
AntaraJ
Tum Se Tum Tak
Financial markets and global economy
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
Sports
