01. Yeh Shaam
Yeh sham mastani/ Madhosh kiye jaaye
Mujhe dor koyi khicche/ Teri ore liye jaaye
Kishore Kumar's voice soothing her frayed nerves, Khushi wondered what is it with her and everything that is old. Old songs, classic fiction, old movies and even her old faded cloths that she seem to unable to part with are the only things that bring her back to sanity when the world around threatens to drown her, never to surface again.
Overbearing parents, phony conversations and shallow friendships call for a Hardy, a movie marathon starring a certain Hepburn or a Shammi Kapoor. And today was certainly one of those days, she thinks, gritting her teeth. She doesn't understand how could people be such hypocrites and act as if it is the norm. And it is not just about someone being a hypocrite but that hypocrite being a friend, or so she thought. She is not exactly an introvert, she refuses to call herself outspoken either. She is just Khushi with a strong detest for labels that people put on themselves and on others. A nerd, an introvert, an extrovert, cool, prude, easy and the labels go on. These labels are too narrow; people do not fit into those boxes defined by the labels tagged on them. People are made of contexts and they have their shades that sometimes are contradictory. And those shades are difficult to decipher. Khushi has come to realize her own being is an enigma to herself. And she is in not even halfway through understanding her own mind. She hasn't yet figured out who she is but she knows when she cares for someone. She knows it hurt, it hurt when that someone turns out to be the person who she knows she can't help but hate. She never had a circle' of friends. She was always content with one or two friends who she knew will be there when she would need someone to hold on to. And NK is one such friend. He was' Khushi corrects herself. She could never bring herself to reconcile herself with a chauvinistic, sexist human being. Ever.
"Why Khushi? Why can't you go out with me? Because I do not have a rich father like yours? Because I do not have a latest model two wheeler to flaunt?" That's what he had said. Woman kind is like that, you see. Flaunt your wealth in front of her, take her to a fancy restaurant and she is ready to go out with. A conquest, a trophy. She laughed in wry humour. It is depressing what the world has come to. You lose your dignity, your worth because you belong to a specific class, a specific gender. Your choices another dusty file waiting for the stamp of approval.
"Oh, don't give me that friendship crap. I had been there with you through thick and thin, why can't you do the same for me? I want you to be more than a friend. I know what you will say- i never looked at you that way, you are a good friend. Bullshit, all bullshit. You went out with that rich guy, didn't you? what was his name? Ahh.. Akash. Did you have feelings for him? You didn't. But that never stopped you. So why now? You are just another one of them. You can only preach of your righteousness."
Yes, she didn't have feelings for Akash. Neither did he. They just liked each other and their values matched. He is the one senior she met during their fresher's party and they instantly hit it off. She didn't see any harm in giving them a chance when he asked. It was a mistake. They still can't talk to each other without awkwardness settling in the air around. It didn't work out. They knew just after the second date that it wouldn't, because Khushi didn't know if she was ready.
But NK was her friend. He was always there, since her first grade, when she broke her tooth riding her bicycle, when she got her first period cramps, when she had her first crush, and her first heart break. He knew her better than anyone. How could he have said that? She thought she knew him but she doesn't anymore. "As if you can know another when you don't have a clue about who you are" she scoffed.
"Gupta, you still talk to yourself? The world still have not lent you a kind ear?"
Khushi startled out of her musings. There he is again. Arnav Singh Raizada, in his faded jeans, battered from careless handling and a t-shirt that didn't hang right. He is kind of a person who could be easily labelled an anti-social in society obsessed with name tags. He has keep away' scowl etched on his face round the year. She never had a conversation with him except the few jibes he threw at her now and then which Khushi is happy to ignore. He is in the same department as her and has two subjects in common. But that hasn't enticed Khushi to encourage any conversation. She has a sense of foreboding when it comes to him. Anything with him, however mundane it is, can only end in disaster, she is convinced. Also, he is kind of a loner anyway. Avoiding people till it could not be helped. It was as if he held a grudge against the human kind if his aloofness and sardonic humour is anything to go by.
Khushi chooses not to reply. She slips her headphone on again turning her face away. She is surprised at his appearance at this secluded bank of the lake inside the university. She senses his form moving and sitting a few meters away from her.
Raat Kali/ Ek khwab me aayi
Aur gale ka haar hui
Strings of guitar creating and a voice singing a tune only too familiar has her head whipped towards the source of the music. Her jaw hangs open at the sight of Anav Honey Singh' Raizada singing a R D Burman song. Arnav is in one of the university's bands. That is a shocker, given his dislike for mingling with people. He never sang other than contemporary songs that are in trend' in his band performances. She does not generally attend those kind of music events. They do not suit her taste. She loves depth, and anything as shallow as blue eyes' does not appeal to her. But whenever she attended such events on NK's insistence, it is either a Linkin Park or Honey Singh number blaring through the sound system. She always figured Arnav to have such taste in music. And hence the middle name. She judged too soon, she realises. Suddenly she wants to listen to him sing. She inches closer. Arnav is oblivious to the world around him. He sings as if nothing existed except this moment. Khushi listens, mesmerised.
The song ends but the ambience it created still lingers. Arnav turns his head towards Khushi, finally sensing her. She can't help looking at him. His face relaxed and eyes soft. He seems to be in peace. Something that has forever eluded her. She knows he is not pleased at her intrusion. He wants to be left alone, she knows.
What?' He bits out when she doesn't take her eyes of him.
"Nothing. Just never figured you like Kishore Kumar." She shrugs.
Ahh.. Arnav Honey Singh Raizada, was it? Apt name." His voice laced with sarcasm.
"How the hell did you know?"
"You trial boyfriend number three is my first cousin, Gupta. He sends his regard"
"Oh"
Akash, of course. Akash Sing Raizada. She tends to forget that they are relatives. May be one of the reason being their contradicting ideals and the way of carrying themselves. Akash is polite, Loves book, soft spoken. Arnav is unapproachable, hardly attends classes, talks only when necessary, sarcasm is definitely his forte. Khushi never thought Akash confided anything in him. They are never seen together in the university.
"I never thought you guys even talk" She states truthfully.
"Well, now you know. Be careful next time."
"Why do you sing those songs with lyrics that can be considered offensive to the human race?" She can't help asking. She sees his mouth harden, eyes flashing. She prepares herself for a cutting remark.
"Just because some things are awesome' doesn't mean other things are awful'. You would expect a history buff to know, reality is all but constructed."
"How petty Raizada!! Main to tandoori murgi hoon yaar, gatkale saiyyan alcohol se' is too offensive a lyric to me or to any other sensible woman." She bits out in indignation.
"That is your opinion, Gupta. Not a fact."
"You are saying, patriarchy is an opinion, not a fact?"
He is rapidly falling in her eyes.
"You never seem to get the point. It is how you construct it in your reality. Your reality demands the lyric to be considered offensive because you see the implications behind it. But others brush it off as entertainment. Now, you could call them ignorant. Then again how do you judge them when knowledge production is confined to only so-called scholars like you and me?"
There is hopelessness in his eyes, when he speaks. A kind of resignation, as if he understands it and lets it go.
Khushi is surprised at her ability to read his expressions. She is more surprised at how different Arnav is from the image of Arnav she had created inside her head.
"You have no faith in the system." it is a statement. "You believe it is never going to change." She adds.
Arnav laughs a hollow laugh.
"I do not believe so, Khushi. I just don't know if the system will ever be enough."
She is surprised at how her name sounds in his lips. It doesn't sound like her, as if he is not addressing her but someone else. Someone he has known since a lifetime.
"Then why?"
"I don't follow you" Arnav asks, confused.
"Why are you doing social science? You could have just opted for physics. I know you love maths and you are bewitched by the art of architecture. Also you are good at..." She realises she has revealed a bit too much.
"So Miss Oh-so-high-maintenance Gupta does observe others. Here I was thinking you do not see anyone else other than yourself." Arnav's face almost a sneer. No one pokes into his life without his permission and gets away with it.
"And you just see fault in everyone else other than yourself." Khushi replies scathingly.
"Oh no, Gupta. I do see the f**ked-upness that I am but I refuse to see the world through rose tinted glasses. And you wouldn't know, because the world does not exist outside of yourself."
"I don't have to listen to this. I don't even know why I am talking to you in the first place. You are nothing but a bitter human being accusing the world for his fate. I pity you."
"Of course why would the Gupta princess talk to lowly subjugates. Pardon, Princess but the world doesn't revolve around you. You might be daddy's spoilt little brat at your home, but for me you are nothing but a hypocrite preaching what she doesn't practice."
That stung, hearing the same words for the second time in a day.
"What the hell is your problem Arnav? Why can't you be civil to anyone once for a change? Why are you dragging my family in between? Why have you turned this bitter?" Tears of anger shimmers in her eyes. She tries to reign in her anguish as she has been doing for decades.
Khushi furiously dashes her hands across her eyes. For a moment she thought Arnav to be different from the person she pictured him to be. She is not wrong but she is not right either. Talking to him can only end in getting hurt, but she knows she is not the only one hurting. She turns around, defeated. It is better not to cross path with him.
"You asked why I opted for social science. I never wanted to change the society, Khushi. I merely wanted to understand why it killed my mother? Why it works the way it does, ruining some in its wake?"
Khushi fists her palm, willing herself not to turn around and face him. She knows what she would see in his eyes if she does. She doesn't want to add more to the weight of detached pain on her already burdened soldier. But it is futile, she has his pain. To carry till eternity.
"I hope you get the answers you are looking for Arnav." She manages to force out the words without doubling over in pain.
"I am afraid it wouldn't matter anymore even if I did."
Khushi walks away as the wind carries his resigned voice to her entire being. She could feel her throat clog, her chest constrict and she clamps her mouth shut to stop the howl of anguish tearing through sanguine silence.
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Cricket
15