Sometimes only through losing something/someone do we learn the true value of what we've lost.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLUWpt64GMc&list=RDOLUWpt64GMc&index=1
KAISSI HEH YEH UDASSI
"Suresh? What happened to you, yaar?"
The voice on my phone was very familiar but barely audible due to the thumping beat of music and the background chatter in the venue he was hanging out in.
"Mohan, is that you?"
"Say again. I can't hear you very well," he shouted down the phone. "Hang on a minute..."
Mohan went silent on the other end of the phone but the reverberating rhythms were still clearly audible. Quickly the background noise lessened, as Mohan moved to a quieter spot. While I could still make out the background noise it was no longer as intrusive when he spoke again.
"Can you hear me now?"
"Yes. You appear to be having a good time," I commented.
"You said you'd be here in 20 minutes," he complained. "I've been waiting for an hour! That's not on, yaar."
I laughed off the complaint.
"I changed my mind, bro. I'm not in the mood for loud club music."
"Come on, yaar. Don't be like that. The drinks are flowing and the young women are hot!"
"I'm sure they are."
My jiggary dost and I frequently went to discos or clubbing together. Both of us lived for going out, drinking and frequently picking up willing and able young women - if you understand my meaning. Like me he liked partying too. We had provisionally arranged for me to join him at the hottest new club in Mumbai to check it out and of course the pretty young things that frequented it. While I had decided against joining him, Mohan wasn't in the mood to take no for an answer.
"Look, it's still not too late to come on down."
"And if I do, you'll only claim I stole the hasina you had an eye on all night," I said ribbing him a little.
"But that's what you always end up doing, yaar. But heh, don't get me wrong. It's always a pleasure to see the great guru Suresh in action," he said, the admiration obvious in his voice. "The way you have those girls eating out of your hand is a joy to see and a skill to learn from."
Although he was a good six years younger than me, he copied my fashion sense and mannerism, not least my ability to pick up women for a tumble in the hay. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and I was conscious that Mohan sort of hero worshipped me. Sometimes that was a burden that I'd rather not bear.
"Come on, yaar. Get yourself down here. And quick."
"Not tonight, bro. Maybe next week."
"But you said the same last week - and the week before that!"
"Did I?" I said feigning forgetfulness.
He ignored my question and posed one of his own.
"Yaar, sach bhollo. Have I upset you in some way?"
"Of course not! I'm just not in the mood tonight for drinking and loud music."
"But what about all the hot women?"
"All the more for you, if I'm not there. Besides, they'll be plenty others next week."
"Yaar, you sure this isn't about that girl Maysara?"
I have to say I was a trifle irked by his question but tried not to let it show. Instead I feigned innocence.
"Who's this Maysara? I don't know any Maysara."
"That's the spirit, yaar. Remember women come and go but friends are forever."
"Spot on, bro."
"You know, for a while there, you weren't your usual self."
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
"Well I'm better now," I reassured him with a self-deprecating guffaw.
"So why then are you not here with me instead of sitting at home alone."
"I'm not at home and not alone, bro. I'm at my mother's place."
"You've been seeing your mother a lot lately. Yaar if you ask me, you're upset about something."
"That's just your imagination. The alcohol is affecting you, buddy. Mohan are you sure haven't drunk too much already?"
My concern for his welfare was genuine, because while Mohan liked to drink he couldn't really hold his liquor.
"What's a guy to do when his best friend lets him down?" was the maudlin response from the other end.
"Look I'll catch up with you tomorrow, bro," I told him deliberately ignoring his remark. "Just go easy on the drinking. Remember it affects your performance with the girls."
"Good advice as usual, yaar. I best get back to the babes. I feel I'm going to get lucky tonight," he added before he ended the call.
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Deepika Gupta was short, middle aged and pleasantly plump. Despite possessing a voice like velvet, she was a no nonsense sort of woman. Taking account of her penchant for wearing gaudy saris and her general disposition, she came across to most people as the archetypical aunt, who was as likely to pull your ears in reprimand as she was to pinch your cheeks with affection and feed you ladoos. Whatever her outwardly appearance, she was a skilled and highly regarded therapist who catered to the elite of society. Her patients included politicians, film stars, wealthy industrialists, entrepreneurs and the upper classes in general. She came highly recommended and her fees reflected that.
As was her routine before a consultation, she reviewed her case notes for her patient. Suresh Pandey who was aged 33 and single had been referred to her as suffering from borderline clinical depression. The referring doctor had recorded that the patient felt irritable and intolerant of others. There had been no drop in self-esteem but he was showing signs of lethargy. He didn't feel anxious or worried, nor had he developed any unexplained aches and pains. Mr Pandey did not complain of constipation and in actual fact described him toilet habits as regular as clockwork. He did admit the last few months he was not getting as much enjoyment out of life as he usually did. However, the patient put that down to his loss of libido. Essentially, he displayed few if any of the recognised signs of depression. Hence his condition was at best described as borderline depression. On the surface it struck her as an interesting case.
Dr Gupta was aware she would need to establish whether the depression was endogenous or exogenous. If it was the latter, she would need to work with her patient to establish what external factors were giving rise to the depression. The triggering external factors often comprised working conditions or relationships with family and partners. If the depression was endogenous, apart from prescribing anti-depressants there wasn't much more she could do.
Even though Suresh Pandey had proved difficult she had stuck with her tried and tested method of establishing a baseline personality profile for her patient, measuring IQ, taking a broad outline of the patient's family history and his relationships. Since the man was unmarried and not in any committed relationship, she would need to inquire further about the nature of his interactions with women. After all the majority of Indians were married or in a serious relationship by the time they were in their thirties. These were important benchmarks for the subsequent consultations she would conduct despite the fact that Mr Pandey was particularly focussed upon a single symptom of his depression - the loss of libido.
Mr Pandey's personality profile demonstrated that he had above average self-esteem, often characteristic of successful people. Although he was handsome by conventional standards, he was also a borderline narcissist. This was partially reflected in his grooming, the well-toned body he kept in shape with the help of his personal trainer and the stylish way that he dressed. Suresh Pandey was distinctly extrovert and displayed elements of hedonistic behaviour. His self-confidence and assertiveness was self-evident and was shared by the elites in all societies across the globe. Such people were accustomed to having their own way.
Mahesh Pandey, the patient's father had cornered a significant part of the market for batteries by the time his son was born. With the newly emerging technologies in the aftermath of the dot com crash, the family business had grown rapidly as the demand for batteries had risen exponentially. However, by the age of seven, Suresh's home life was disrupted by divorce. Due to the hiring of expensive and skilled lawyers, Mahesh Pandey was awarded sole custody of his son and the child's mother denied even visitation rights. Two years later, by which time Mahesh had remarried, his ex-wife was still fighting for early hearing dates to contest the matter of custodial rights. She never did succeed in her endeavour. Suresh detested his stepmother, and she resented the child. His stepmother wished to rid herself of Suresh and manipulated her husband into believing that it would be in the boy's best interests if he went to the US to live with his father's older sister, Malika Bannerjee. In the US he would receive a good education and have access to the world's best healthcare.
With the love and support of his aunt, Suresh prospered enough to show his true intellectual and physical capabilities. He visited with his father in India annually during the summer recess or when his father visited the US. This was the pattern until his penultimate year of study at Princeton University. That year Suresh and his aunt had dashed to Mumbai to see his father when the businessman suffered a coronary. It was during his father's recuperation that certain important matters were brought to the young man's attention. While a keener sense of his mortality made his father draw up a detailed will bequeathing the major share of the company to his son, his Aunt Malika revealed the truth behind his parents' divorce. By the time Suresh flew back to the US, he felt hurt and angry that his mother had been unfaithful to his father despite the extenuating circumstances.
Six months after his graduation the young man was enjoying his life travelling across North America, partying hard as many people of his age were want to do. However the news of his father's sudden death from a massive coronary put paid to his carefree lifestyle. Within a month he was taking on his father's mantle and learning to run the family business. In his first year he faced a steep learning curve both in terms of doing business in India (as opposed to the US) and fighting the continual interference from his stepmother who was an important stakeholder in the company. In the end, Suresh had decided to buy her out. Under his leadership the business while trimming some surplus staff recruited new blood in the form of senior staff, many from the US. Suresh and his new team streamlined various practices, made innovations and partnerships to propel the business to greater profitability in the following five years. Along with his American business acumen, he also brought with him the American ethic of work hard and play hard.
It was the playing hard element that Dr Gupta was interested in exploring, particularly with reference to his social life. After many years in psychiatry, she sensed that was where any potential trigger for his depression would be found. Dr Gupta was perfectly prepared for any resistance her patient might put up to this line of inquiry.
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"Well, you're not on any medication or suffering from any physiological condition that has any bearing on your libido," summed up Dr Deepika Chopra.
"So you're implying my condition is psychological?" the young businessman Suresh Pandey queried.
"I'm suggesting the loss of libido is an emotional reaction to something that has recently happened in your life," the therapist corrected because she liked to be precise.
The man went quiet, as if lost in thought, perhaps searching his memory for a triggering event.
The doctor knew she was broaching a sensitive and embarrassing issue for most men when she went on to ask "Look, before we go any further, can you clarify something for me? Is your problem solely a loss of interest in sex - or have you also been suffering from impotence?"
Her patient didn't colour up with embarrassment as many would have, but Suresh was quick to reassure her that he did not manifest that symptom by stating "I've never had that problem."
"Many men do and are reluctant to discuss it - at least with a female doctor."
"That's not the case here, I can assure you."
"Good...So can you think of some event or incident that happened around about the time you noticed your loss of libido?
"Not really. I did however part ways with a girlfriend in that time frame."
"Were you in love with this young woman?"
"No."
"You sure about that?" probed the therapist.
"Yes, I am. I've been in love before - once. I know what it feels like. But with this last girl, my heart didn't skip a beat every time I saw her, nor did I spend all my waking hours thinking about her. I most certainly didn't entertain any ideas about marrying her."
"We'll come back to that in a moment, but first tell me about this girl that you did fall in love with. Who was she and why did the relationship end?"
"To cut a long story short, I met Kulsum while studying at university -"
Dr Chopra interrupted to seek clarification. "This is Princeton in the US, we're talking about."
"Yes. We were crazy in love."
"Why did you two part company?"
"Because of her parents. They strongly disapproved of me. I was Hindu and she was Muslim."
"Suresh, that isn't an insurmountable problem."
"Yes, I know. I could have converted to Islam."
"Yes there is that, but I meant mixed marriages do occur all across India. In America I expect it wouldn't present as much of a problem as in India."
When Suresh Pandey responded to his therapist's observation, there was a hint of bitterness in his voice.
"Being Hindu was the least of my problems. Kulsum's parents were proud Pakistanis who happened to hate Indians. Even if I had converted to Islam, it wouldn't have made any difference to them. I would still be an Indian."
"That must have hurt," Dr Chopra commented gently but her patient was too lost in his own thoughts to have heard her. "Suresh!" she said forcefully dragging the man's mind back to the present.
"Anyhow, she disappeared from my life and I moved on," summed up Suresh Pandey.
"And yet at 33 years of age, you're still unmarried and not in any long term relationship..?"
"Why get married when there's no need? I have domestic staff to cook and clean for me. I'm not bragging but I've never had trouble finding a sex partner. Whether women find me interesting and attractive, or if it's my wealth and life style, I can't say, but there's been no shortage of young ladies prepared to jump into bed with me. Occasionally it's a one-night-stand, but most times the relationship lasts for weeks or even months."
The young Indian-American's openness in talking about sexual matters was a major and refreshing departure from what the therapist was accustomed to with her indigenous Indian patients.
"So how would you respond to your critics when they level the charge that your behaviour towards women is essentially exploitative?"
"People sometimes get all judgemental, especially here in India. If you ask me, there's a great deal of hypocrisy going around. Brothels are commonplace in this country but we have all that pretend modesty about matters of nudity and sex. Men out there are nailing any woman they can but want to marry virgins! Can you get any more hypocritical than that? Pre-marital and extra-marital sex in India is probably as commonplace as any other country so I don't need anyone lecturing me about sexual morality."
Dr Chopra as an experienced therapist was not deliberately being argumentative or passing moral judgement on her client. That would have been very unprofessional. She was trying to elicit the client's true feelings when she said "That may be so Suresh, but you now live in India and you need to take cognizance of the professed social mores of Indian society."
"Look doctor, as far as I'm concerned I feel no guilt or shame about my attitude to physical relationships. Basically I believe in sex between consenting anybodies. After all, sex is one of the most intensely enjoyable activities a person can engage in. And it's a fundamental human drive and appetite. I don't accept all that crap about sex being exclusively a male obsession. But just to make myself absolutely clear: I don't make false promises or mislead anyone just to get them into bed. That would be exploitative and immoral as far as I'm concerned."
"What about companionship? Don't you miss that in your casual sexual relationships?"
"I have lots of friends, of both sexes," he replied with a smug smile.
"Fine...Can I now circle back to your last relationship - the one that ended around the time when you noticed the loss of libido? Who was she and what happened there?"
"Her name was Maysara," he began hesitantly, as if slowly opening an old chapter in his memories. Dr Chopra's professional reading of the man's emotions suggested there was a hint of remorse in his eyes. She was inclined to think the man's problem was related to the story he was beginning to recount.
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Mumbai 6 months earlier.
I first met him when I was called to the customer service desk by Monica, a junior and relatively new staff member. As a well-to-do customer he was wearing an annoyed expression which I expect made Monica all the more anxious. Being the trouble-shooter and temporary manager of the department store it was my job to ensure smooth running of the store and embed good customer relations. That had not been an easy task that head office had set me, but that's why I was in Mumbai instead of my home town of Ahmedabad.
Instinctively I sized him up as I approached the customer service desk. The first thing that struck me was that he was so tall. He was dressed smart casual and well-groomed. His dark hair was cut and styled in a manner reminiscent of some male model one might see in a western magazine. No one could mistake the fact that under his pale blue shirt and stylish light tan trousers was a sculpted figure that could only have been produced by hard work in a gym. As I drew nearer my gaze was drawn to his clean shaven oval face with its mid-length straight nose and full lips. His oval eyes were dark and penetrating as if they could see into your soul. I picked up on the fact that he had manicured hands. Whether he was a closet gay or metrosexual, I couldn't at that point.
"What seems to be the problem?" I asked of Monica.
Before she could answer, the man interrupted to say "The problem is she doesn't understand what I'm saying and just keeps repeating herself."
I was struck by the fact he spoke with a strong American accent - not exactly commonplace in Mumbai. Either he had overdosed on American television programming or he had spent some years in America. Whatever his accent or status, I was irked by the fact he had not permitted Monica to explain what had happened. I deplore rich customers talking down to or being rude to my staff.
"Excuse me sir but I wasn't addressing you at this particular moment," I told him firmly.
"But - "
"Sir, you'll have a chance to express your views in a moment. But first I need to speak to my member of staff."
It was clear he was not accustomed to being spoken to in such a manner and lapsed into silent frowning.
I turned back to Monica and was given a rundown of the problem as she saw it. The watch purchased by the customer had been faulty and sent for repairs. For a second time the watch had stopped working and now the customer was demanding a replacement instead of agreeing to a further repair. The in-store policy was there was a one month period during which a faulty item could be replaced, no questions asked. That time limit had been exceeded by the customer. Despite that, the customer insisted on a replacement and was refusing to have the watch repaired. Now I was faced with the task of upholding the store policy.
"Sir the time window for replacement has passed as Monica has already explained and as the store manager I concur with her decision."
While he listened to what I was saying, he was looking at my name badge.
"Ms Maysara Sheikh?"
I nodded.
"Maysara," he said, using that easy American over-familiarity, "I understand the policy perfectly fine but you fail to take account of the fact that the time limit for replacement was exceeded only because the repair took so long."
That caught me off guard. "Really?"
"Yes. The watch had to be sent away for repairs and that took three weeks. A week later and it's again broken down."
"Sir - "
"Suresh Pandey," he corrected.
"Mr Pandey, since the store hires another company to effect repairs, the store is not responsible for the delay, " I explained.
"Yes it is," he insisted. "If you subcontract another company to do a job for you, you are still responsible since my watch purchase was made here. That's company law 101," he added with a triumphant smile. I couldn't help thinking he looked even more handsome when he stopped frowning and smiled instead.
"Perhaps in America, Mr Pandey but you might find that rule doesn't apply in India."
"My financial transaction was with your company not the watch repair company."
"That might be so, but I'm sorry to say the replacement policy is as explained by Monica."
"Maysara I want you to know I spent a great deal of money on a faulty watch and I'm far from happy."
"With a view to resolving the problem, what would make you happy, Mr Pandey?"
"Replace my expensive watch with a new one," he said and threw me a dazzling smile to distract me from the firm stance he was taking.
"I can't do that, sir, but I can give you a refund for the watch in the form of store credit."
"What good is store credit to me if because of this experience I'm disinclined to purchase any further items from this store?"
"I'm sorry sir but other than having your watch repaired -
"Yet again!" he interrupted to add.
"- repaired again, I can only offer store credit," I said managing at last to complete my sentence.
He went quiet for a moment. However, even as he was considering the offer, I couldn't help sensing his eyes sweeping up and down my body, taking it all in, assessing every feature. For an instant, under his gaze I felt self-conscious. Even though as a woman it was an experience I shared daily with millions of others, it made me feel decidedly uncomfortable.
"With the store credit, can I buy anything I choose?"
"Yes, up to the value of the credit. If the new item is more expensive, you would have to pay the difference."
"OK, I'll take the store credit."
I gave him a perfunctory smile. "Thank you sir for understanding," I added gratuitously.
"I'll accept the store credit on one small proviso - for the inconvenience caused, you understand," he added with a broad smile that showed his perfect white teeth.
A certain look in his eyes made me wary that somehow this transaction wasn't going to be straight forward. I decided to listen to what he had to say.
"And what proviso would that be, sir?"
"Suresh - not sir," he corrected.
Even though it went against basic training in my job, to help seal the deal, I decided to address him by his first name as he had requested.
"What is the proviso, Suresh?"
"I'll get to that in a moment. First some clarification about the store credit. What if, with the store credit I choose to purchase a new watch of the exact same model and make?"
"But -"
"You said I can use the store credit for any item of the same monetary value. And that's exactly what I intend to do."
I felt outwitted by his manoeuvre. Clearly the person writing the store's policies hadn't completely thought through the possible impact they might have on each other. Nevertheless I couldn't help but admire the man's audacity. Instead of being annoyed at him for circumventing store policy, I found myself laughing inwardly at his clever suggestion. I accept that at least a tiny smile made it to my lips. The customer had come up with a very Indian solution to a tricky problem. Monica looked on in puzzlement.
"OK Suresh, I'll personally make out the store credit note, and then Monica here will fetch you a new watch of the same make and model." Then feeling the tension in my shoulders lessen, I added "Happy now?"
"I will be when you've met the proviso," he reminded me with a cheeky grin.
Being reminded of that, I felt myself tense again. What now, I thought.
"And the proviso is..?"
"You'll let me buy you a cup of coffee after you get off work."
He caught me off guard and I couldn't help blushing at his brazen offer. While I felt flattered by the offer I also knew it was out of the question.
"I'm sorry, Mr Pandey -"
"There you go again with the mister. My name is Suresh."
"Sorry Suresh, but it's against company policy for staff to fraternise with customers."
"After this purchase of the watch I will no longer be a customer" he pointed out with a disarming smile. "And I have no plans for making any further purchases."
I quickly concluded this Suresh Pandey had a great deal of practice in charming women that caught his eye. I also had the feeling he was generally successful. It was clear that I would have to be firm and formal with him.
"I'm sorry to hear you don't intend making any purchases at the store in the future. However, I can say with certainty that I will not be taking up your offer of coffee. Just a point of clarification, sir. Will you still be wanting store credit for the faulty watch?"
I swear I heard him mutter under his breath the word, zalim, before he said "Yes, I'd like to take store credit."
"If you wait here Mr Pandey, Monica will accompany me to my office where I'll make out the credit note for you and give it to her. Then you can purchase a new watch and she will process the transaction. Thank-you for shopping at our store."
I hoped I had sounded suitable cold and official.
"Not at all, Maysara. Thank you," he added with a smouldering look that was obvious in its meaning.
I felt myself colouring, so I quickly turned to Monica and said, "You come with me please."
"Yes, ma'am."
Even as I walked away, I could almost sense his eyes raking my body. I remember thinking, I hope I don't see him again. At that stage, little did I realise that Suresh was not one to give up easily and that he was not done with me yet.
What occurred the next day drove home that point. Monica came to my office mid-morning carrying a large bouquet of flowers.
"These are for you ma'am," she announced as she carefully laid the flowers on my desk."
"What for?"
"That Mr Pandey brought them to the Service Desk and asked to see you."
The news came as a genuine surprise. While I've been told by many family and friends I'm attractive looking and generally have a pleasant and friendly manner, I couldn't understand why a man like Suresh Pandey who could have his pick from hundreds of genuinely beautiful women, should be fixated upon me.
While I was lost in thought, Monica added "I told him you were in a meeting and couldn't see him personally. He then said he would wait. When I told him you might not be available until late in the afternoon, he asked me to deliver the flowers to you. Ma'am, I hope you don't mind I lied to him about you being busy."
"Of course not. You did the right thing, Monica. Thanks and well done for showing that kind of initiative."
She was very pleased at my praise and gave me a big toothy smile. I remember thinking she would do well as an employee of the store.
"By the way ma'am, Mr Pandey hand-wrote a message when he realised he couldn't personally give you the flowers," she added before disappearing out the door.
While I felt flattered by the attention he was giving me, I also knew I had to ignore the man's gesture. Out of curiosity I opened the handwritten note. It read: "To be suitably efficient at work, requires the occasional period of time out. A chai latte works wonders. What d'you say?"
If I thought my refusal to respond to his invitation would be the end of the matter, I couldn't have been more mistaken. Over the next few days I had to deal with more bouquets of flowers. The only difference was that the message in the notes that accompanied each of them varied ever so slightly. On the second day the chai latte was replaced by masala chai; and on the day after that, he suggested falooda.
While I was awash with flowers, there were whispers and gossip among the staff about the matter. Even my assistant manager Rupali felt the need to talk to me about the matter. I had recruited her as I had the majority of the staff when head office had asked me to help establish the Mumbai branch. I was training her up to take charge of the store. Given the price of accommodation in Mumbai, to save on costs, I shared a flat with her. However during my few months in the city, we had grown close.
"I'll say this for him. He's persistent," Rupali commented as we sat watching TV on the day the third bouquet arrived.
"Or maybe he's just slow in understanding," was my riposte.
"Perhaps Didi you just don't know when you've struck gold," she fired back at me with a mischievous grin.
"Are you seriously suggesting I should take him up on his offer?"
"Why not? He's drop dead gorgeous and obviously wealthy. What more could any girl ask for?"
"But it's against company rules," I protested.
"I won't tell if you don't," she said in conspiratorial whisper.
"What if some other employee finds out?"
"Realistically what are the chances of that, Didi? Besides, Mumbai's a huge city and I expect he'll take you somewhere exclusive," she said caught up in the excitement of the possibilities. But then Rupali was the kind of girl who dreamt of being swept off her feet by some wealthy handsome devil.
"No, Rupali I can't. You know I have obligations back home."
"No one's asking you to marry him. Just enjoy the moment and have a bit of fun - at his expense," she chortled.
"It wouldn't be right Rupali."
"If I was in your shoes, I'd marry him in a shot."
"That's patently obvious."
"Come on, Didi. Where's the harm in going out with him?"
"I wouldn't want to mislead him."
"How would going out with him be misleading him? Don't you deserve to have some fun? You're not a nun you know."
"What happens when my time here in Mumbai is up and I have to go back home?"
"So you have been considering the possibility of going out with him," she accused.
"Well..."
"I knew it!"
Rupali laughed out loud with glee convinced she had caught me out. For some reason I actually felt embarrassed.
"Look, Didi, now that he's sent you three bouquets of flowers, don't you think it's time you took pity on the guy?"
"So you're saying I should let him take me out for a coffee?"
"Definitely. What have you got to lose?"
"If I agreed he'd have to know it's just going out for a coffee - nothing more," I said thinking out loud.
"Obviously," she snickered. Then Rupali suggested I accept the offer ASAP.
"No not quite yet, Rupali. All in good time."
"I don't understand why you're putting off saying yes. He's already sent three bouquets. If you don't take up his offer, he'll give up on you and you'll lose out on a wonderful opportunity."
"When he's ready to give up, that's the precise time to go out with him."
"I don't understand," she commented unnecessarily since her puzzlement was clear from her expression.
"Rupali, he's rich, powerful even. As you said yourself, he's drop dead gorgeous and he probably has girls swooning at his feet. He can probably ask out any girl he wants. I don't want him thinking I'm like all the rest. I've got to level the playing field a little and get him thinking about me differently than he does other girls."
"You crafty devil!" she announced with glee.
"Heh, don't get the wrong idea. If do go out with him it's going to be just the one time."
I knew Rupali was teasing me when she suggested "Don't you think - maybe two? I mean, just to get a better idea of what's he's really like." She had a smirk writ large across her face.
"You're incorrigible."
"I'll admit to that, if you admit you're smitten by his looks," she said between bouts of raucous laughter.
"I'll do no such thing!"
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3 weeks later.
"You're crazy!" my flatmate accused. "You don't know when you're onto a good thing."
"Well I don't think of Suresh that way - as a good thing," I told Rupali more forcefully than I had intended.
"But Didi you said yourself he's smart, funny and regales you with stories of America. I thought you really enjoyed his company."
"I do, Rupali."
"So what's the problem? You've only seen him - maybe four times?"
"And that's enough, I think."
"This is about what's waiting for you back home in Ahmedabad, isn't it?"
"Yes. Of course it is."
I couldn't help being short with her and I felt a little guilty taking it out on her because I felt torn.
I had shared with Rupali the situation that faced me at home. Shortly after head office had offered me the opportunity to play the major role in setting up a new branch of the store in Mumbai, my parents had announced they had found a suitable young man for me to marry. There had been a great deal of argument about the matter because I refused to have any stranger foisted upon me no matter what my parents thought of him. Furthermore, my parents didn't wish me to accept the offer from head office even though it would not only serve as a marvellous professional development opportunity for me but also lead afterwards to a significant promotion. They felt more comfortable having me close at hand where they could keep an eye on me. Unlike my older brother and sister I refused to fall into line when it came to marriage. So I had dug in my heels and gone ahead and accepted my company's offer of the posting to Mumbai. That of course had only led to more ill feeling, particularly from my father. My mother had suggested I get engaged officially and then take up my new posting. I refused and not only because I hadn't even met the young man yet. In the end we had arrived at a form of compromise. I would meet with the man at least once before I went off to Mumbai. If the young man's parents consented, when I returned from Mumbai my parents would begin the process of organising an engagement and then of course my wedding. I think the man's parents only agreed because in a sense I was marked as reserved for marriage, but since nothing was official, they still had the option of finding someone else for their son without losing face.
"But Didi, you're not even officially engaged to the man," my friend and confidante pointed out.
"So you're saying I should go on seeing Suresh until it's time for me to leave Mumbai."
"Yes. Why shouldn't you? Look Didi, no one knows for sure what the future holds. You could bump into some complete stranger tomorrow and fall madly in love. What would you do then? Would you still go back home and marry the person your parents have found for you?"
"I don't know."
"My advice is have some fun until either you tire of Suresh, or he tires of you. That way you still have the option of going back to Ahmedabad and getting married."
"I don't know if I can do that, Rupali."
"You said yourself, this Sajjid who's waiting for you is fairly ordinary and boring."
"I didn't quite say that," I protested.
"But you implied it. Besides, it's not as if you're in love with Sajjid, or even excited at the prospect of marrying him."
I couldn't argue with that point.
"On the other hand, from what you've told me Suresh is exciting and fun to be with. You know my philosophy. Why should boys be the only ones to have fun? I believe girls deserve to have fun too."
I felt conflicted because I could agree with elements of Rupali's argument but I was morally more conservative than her. It was also fair to say my friend was more enamoured with wealth and its trappings than I was.
Rupali could sense my internal struggle. She reached over and squeezed my hand.
"Didi, believe me when I say I understand."
"Understand what?"
"That deep down you're scared that you might fall in love with Suresh."
"Rupali, that's not what scares me. What's really scary is the possibility that I might fall in love with Suresh and then be obliged to go back to Ahmedabad to marry Sajjid."
"And what if Suresh falls in love with you too? Then you'd be in a much stronger position to turn down Sajjid. And before you object to that, can I point out that technically you're not engaged to boring old Sajjid."
"Kindly don't refer to my future husband as boring," I interjected with mock seriousness. That eased the tension a little and both of us laughed.
"Rupali if I stop seeing Suresh now, there's no harm done. If I go on seeing him and I do happen to fall for him, I go home with a broken heart and marry some stranger. I don't think I could cope with that."
"Try looking on the bright side. If Suresh falls in love with you, I get to attend your big fancy wedding."
"Suresh strikes me as the type that's immune to love and marriage. He's a sort of butterfly that sips nectar from lots of different pretty flowers. He's not content to settle for one only."
"Don't underestimate yourself, Didi. You might just be the one that changes his mind."
I was touched by her faith in me but I thought she was mistaken.
"But no man, especially Suresh, is going take me seriously when he finds out I'm here only for a few months more."
"Then don't tell him."
"But is that fair to him?"
"Didi if he thinks you're here for good, you have some chance he might get serious about you. If you tell him you'll be leaving soon, he's guaranteed to keep things casual."
"And you're determined to have him fall madly in love with me, aren't you?"
"I'm just saying, don't tell him about you leaving and see how things develop. You don't have to dwell too much on this love business either Didi. Just enjoy life. Have fun while you're young. If love blossoms, consider that a bonus. But if anyone can wow him, Didi, I believe you can. You're beautiful, smart, kind hearted and fun loving. What more could a man want? "
For that advice and confidence in me, I had to give her big thank-you hug. When I went back to Ahmedabad, I was going to miss her. I really did feel she was a sister to me in this big brash city of Mumbai.
"Didi," she said to me as she pulled back from our hug, "will you do me a favour?"
"Of course."
"Ask Suresh if he has a younger brother for me," she suggested mischievously.
I grabbed the cushion and playfully smacked her with it, saying, "You're shameless!"
And we both dissolved into fit of the giggles.
*******************************************************************************
"Am I correct in saying Maysara was somehow different from all the other women you've had relationships with?" asked Dr Deepika Chopra of her patient.
"Yes and no."
"In what ways would you say she was different from the other women in your life?"
Suresh Pandey smiled as he recalled some of his memories of the woman who had so suddenly and mysteriously exited his life.
"Well, for a start, she sometimes cooked for me."
"Why is that significant, Suresh?"
"Because none of the other women did. We would either eat out or my cook would make us something to eat. Maysara sometimes offered to cook for me."
"Perhaps you see her cooking for you as a sign of domesticity and that, at some level appealed to you."
"I don't think I'd go that far doctor. What I do know is that through her cooking I learned about her background - being a Guji, I mean. Before I met her I didn't even understand what a Guji was. Then there she is cooking me kadhi khichdi and telling me about Gujarati traditions. She even taught me to say tame kem chho?"
"Mane saru chhe," added Dr Chopra in response to the question about how she was feeling.
"You speak Gujarati, doctor?"
"Only the odd phrase or two, like hu tan" pr"m karu chu (I love you) - picked up from Bollywood films," she explained with a smile.
Dr Chopra had not failed to notice that he had chuckled retelling some aspect of his experience with the young woman Maysara. The therapist was clear that the patient had been more emotionally involved than he had initial led her to believe or was prepared to admit to himself. Patients often hid their true feelings and part of the job of a therapist was uncovering what they were really feeling.
"Other than the cooking, in what other ways did you notice she was different from the others?"
"Well, she was certainly her own person."
"The other women weren't?"
"They were too...Look, perhaps I expressed myself poorly. I think it would be more accurate to say our relationship was on her terms."
That struck the doctor as interesting and she felt obliged to probe deeper.
"In what way was the relationship on her terms?"
"Well, for a start I sent her a bouquet of flowers four times with an invitation to meet with me and she turned me down. By the time I sent her a fifth bouquet, I knew I had crashed and burned. In fact my note said as much and I wanted her to know that I wouldn't bother her any more. After all, I'm not some crazy stalker. My exact words to her were Main haar gaya hoon. Apki jeet ke baad, main apse door jaaraha hoon."
"In that case, how and when did she agree to see you?"
"Well, on receiving that last bunch of flowers - completely unexpectedly - she sent me a message. It simply named a time and place for us to meet. From that moment onwards, I knew I was no longer in control of the situation - she was."
"And how did that make you feel?"
"Surprised and perhaps a little humbled, I'd say. But don't get me wrong. I didn't resent it or feel the need to reassert control."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Of course. I just went with the flow and enjoyed our time together. After all, why would I fight a good thing?"
"Were there other ways in which she asserted herself that perhaps made you resent her?"
"Some of the things she did were different, I'll grant you but I wouldn't say I resented her. For instance, ever since I started living in Mumbai I avoid street food. I know Mumbai boasts of having the best street food in India but I prefer to eat where I know the food is hygienically prepared. She on the other hand would often turn down fancy restaurants in favour of street food. She used to joke she was saving me money."
"Perhaps she was more conscious of how different your lifestyle was from hers."
"I think you're right about that. D'you know she once asked me to give her half the money she had saved me by not eating at expensive restaurants and then she donated that money equally between a masjid and a mandir."
"Well, charity is a concept common in all religions."
"Yes, but I think you're missing the point, doctor."
"Which is?"
"Without being bossy, she did do things her way. Take for example the business about the photographs. Towards the end of my time with her, one day when I had just finished taking a call from my good buddy Mohan, she asked if she could borrow my smartphone for a moment. Next thing I know, she's gone and deleted all the photos I took of her and the two of us together."
"Didn't you protest?"
"Of course I did. But she just looked at me with those big mesmerizing eyes of hers and quietly said, Suresh I won't be one of your trophies. And no mementos. Let's just enjoy our time together."
"So she was under no illusion about your reputation with women."
"It's not as if we talked about that sort of thing, but yes I think she knew of my reputation. Everything that happened between Maysara and me went at a pace she was comfortable with. I can be accused of many shortcomings doctor, but I don't force myself on people nor am I deceitful. It's not how I operate and that's why I don't have any guilt about my relationships with women."
"Suresh, you paint a very rosy picture of your relationship with Maysara. If things were going as well as you lead me to believe, how and why did you two break up? Was there some sort of clash of wills or an argument?
"Well, that's the crazy part I don't quite understand. There was no disagreement or fight. If a fight had precipitated the break-up, I could at least understand her leaving suddenly. Instead the break-up came as a bolt out of the blue. With all my other relationships, it's usually a case of I get bored and break things off. Sometimes we mutually agree the relationship has run its course. Very occasionally the girl breaks up with me for whatever reason."
"But doesn't Maysara fall into that last category?"
"Strictly speaking yes she does. But with her I felt things hadn't really played out fully. I felt there was somehow more to come."
"Surely you felt things were unfinished when some of your other partners broke up with you."
"Maybe, but with the others I kinda sensed things were coming to an end. Not with Maysara. With her it was completely unexpected. The break-up completely blind-sided me. One evening we're enjoying a nice dinner and she suddenly announces that in the morning she'll be leaving for good. I mean, who does that?"
"Are you sure you didn't argue or have some sort of disagreement?"
"Absolutely."
"Did you sense she was unhappy in any way that evening or earlier?"
"No. She was happy - of that I'm sure."
"So she gave no indication or hint that something was wrong as far as she was concerned."
"None whatsoever."
"Take a moment to think about it, Suresh. Are you certain there were no warning signs?"
"Well if you mean did she hint or did I sense something was wrong with the relationship my answer still has to be no. However, thinking back on it, she did give a warning of sorts a month or so into our relationship."
"She warned you a month into your relationship and yet you still pursued the relationship?"
"Yes. Why not? I'm accustomed to short relationships. I wasn't necessarily looking for anything permanent or long term."
The therapist's interest had peaked. "What kind of warning did she give you?"
"Curious really," Suresh Pandey commented with a distant look in his eyes as his mind searched for the details of that particular memory. "Thing were going really well with us at the time. We'd been out about two times during the working week and most Sundays for about three weeks. On one of those occasions she says she wants to talk about something important."
"So what did she want to talk about?"
"She asked if I wanted to go on seeing her."
"To which we know you said yes."
"You bet you. Then came the weird part. She said she would only agree to go on seeing me if certain things were understood between us. We could go on seeing each other only if I accepted that one day - on a day and time of her choosing - without any further warning, she'd up and leave."
"Are you sure that's what she said? You couldn't be mistaken?"
"There's no mistaking what she said, doctor. After all, it's not the kind of thing you hear every day."
"Did she give a reason why she wanted this arrangement?"
"None whatsoever. She refused to disclose how far off her departure might be. I also had to promise I wouldn't try to stop her or ask her why she was leaving. That was the deal."
"That is most unusual."
"You're telling me!"
"Obviously you accepted her terms because you were with her - for a further four months?"
"Nearer three, doctor," the patient corrected.
"Suresh, my question to you is why did you accept such terms?"
"A couple of reasons really. Things between us were going really well and I wanted to go on seeing her. But mostly because, although she said she'd go, until she actually did, I never really thought she would."
He stopped talking and for a moment a shadow of sadness passed over his face. His therapist waited in silence for him to resume his account of events but he showed no inclination to say anything further. Dr Chopra considered ending the session at this natural hiatus in their interaction but felt she needed to clarify something before she was done for the day.
"So you're saying you didn't believe her," Dr Chopra prompted gently.
"Well put it this way. First I thought I had misunderstood. Then I thought perhaps that's not what she really meant to say. To be honest, right until the end, I thought she was kidding me and she didn't really mean what she said. Bottom line, I never thought she'd go - until she did that is."
"When she announced she was leaving, did you not ask her why?"
"I guess I should have. But I felt I had to honour my side of the bargain. Besides, asking her why she was leaving didn't guarantee she would give any sensible answer, or any answer at all. I didn't want us to part on a bad note."
"You could have attempted to persuade her to stay."
"I didn't want my last memory of her to be of us at odds with each other. And that's exactly what would have happened if I tried to get her to stay when she was determined to leave. Then of course there was the promise that I wouldn't try to stop her from leaving," Suresh said with a note of regret in his voice.
"People don't blindly adhere to promises. Promises can be broken if there are sound reasons."
"Yes, I know. I guess I had the nave idea that if she really wanted to stay she would."
"Shaayad woh majboor thi," commented Dr Chopra.
"If she had said so, her leaving would make more sense."
***************************************************************************
3 months earlier, in the first class compartment of the Mumbai to Ahmedabad train.
I had steeled myself to remain composed when Suresh had seen me off at the station - even when he had kissed me goodbye for the last time. However, when the train had begun to pull away from the platform, I had been unable to hold my emotions in check any longer. My tears had flowed copiously and I had tried my best to mop them up with tissues. I hadn't cared that I might have been making a spectacle of myself. Only when my body had begun to be rocked by sobs had someone intervened to inquire about my well-being. That had been the young woman seated near me. Thankfully there hadn't been very many people in the carriage to overhear us.
"It was that tall handsome man on the platform with you that you're crying over. Am I right?" she inquired.
She was wearing a blue sari in contrast to my emerald green shalwar kameez. I estimated she was about my age, square-faced with shoulder length hair like mine, except hers wasn't slightly curly or reddish brown like mine but black. While my approach to using makeup tends to be minimalist, hers was heavily applied. Her lipstick was garishly red. There was freshly applied sindoor in her hair and she wore a very expensive looking mangalsutra.
"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll see him again soon," she reassured me.
"No I won't," I mumbled, making a point of not looking directly at her because it might set me off crying again.
"Of course you will. Both of you will soon forget what you disagreed about," she advised and beamed me a big smile in an attempt to bolster my spirits.
"It's not like that."
"Oh," she commented realising the situation was not as she had initially surmised. She went quiet. A moment later she asked "Do you want to talk about it?"
When I didn't reply she added "Talking about it will make you feel better. And perhaps I can help."
As I looked up at her with my puffy eyes, I remember thinking, how could you possibly understand what I'm going through. While a part of me was dismissive of her, another part recognised she was only trying to be helpful. A caring human being reaching out to someone in distress.
Unexpectedly she thrust her left hand out in front of my face and flashed me her wedding ring.
"Love marriage," she announced in English as if that was a valid credential for being an empathetic listener.
The trouble with speaking to total strangers about your own situation is that they have neither prior knowledge nor understanding of your thought processes, experiences or the characters in your life. You have to spell things out to them but that needs to be balanced with your own natural inhibition at sharing personal details and feelings with a stranger. So I decided to relate the minimum I felt she needed to know in order to grasp my situation. In the process of filling her in, I learned she was Gujarati, like me. And Paro was headed for Ahmedabad too. Occasionally she asked a question because perhaps I was unclear in what I had told her, or more likely, left out something significant. As we talked, we switched back and forth between Hindi and Gujarati and occasionally resorted to English.
"If you love him, why are you giving up on him?"
"Because I have obligations back home," I explained.
"Yes, you mentioned your agreement with your parents."
"That, after all, is why they let me take the posting to Mumbai."
"I understand that, but the situation has changed since then. You're in love with Suresh now. "
"That doesn't change anything."
"Of course it does. If you're afraid of upsetting your parents, don't be. Both my parents and in-laws were totally against my marriage to Arvind. They even refused to meet or speak to us for more than a year. Slowly their attitude changed when they realised how happy we were. They're going to be overjoyed soon," she added jubilantly.
Somewhat distractedly, I inquired "Why is that?"
Paro swiftly checked no one else was nearby before she leaned forward and in a quieter and conspiratorial manner told me "I'm pregnant. I've just recently found out."
"Congratulations."
She smiled from ear to ear at her good news.
"If you have faith in Bhagwaan and yourself, then every difficulty can be overcome."
Hearing Paro say that made me feel guilty because I had been so preoccupied with work and Suresh that I hadn't once given a thought to God. I did for a moment consider my current crisis was a form of punishment from God. However, I dismissed the idea because I couldn't accept the idea of a vengeful or spiteful God.
"If you don't mind me saying," she began, breaking into English, "you should tell your parents you love Suresh. And of course that he loves you."
"But I don't know if he does," was my dejected reply.
Paro switched back to Gujarati. "Are you saying he doesn't love you?"
"No I'm not saying that. I mean I can't be sure he feels the same about me as I do about him."
"What did he say when you told him you love him?"
"That's just it. I didn't tell him I love him. It didn't seem fair to tell him because I knew I would be leaving Mumbai soon."
I felt guilty that I hadn't been totally honest with Suresh but I didn't tell Paro that.
"If I had asked him whether or not he loves me, he might have said what he thought I wanted to hear instead of what he really feels about me," I added by way of explanation.
"So what if he didn't tell you he loves you? Can't you tell how he feels about you from the way he looks at you, the way he talks to you or holds your hand? A woman can tell these things without hearing hu tan" pr"m karu chu. What does your heart tell you?"
"I think he does love me but I can't be 100% certain."
"How certain do you want to be? 75%? Maybe 80%. Would 95% be good enough? Or do you insist you have to be 100% certain?"
I couldn't help feeling there was a mild rebuke somewhere in what she said.
"I need to hear him say he loves me, so I don't have to guess how he feels. Without the certainty that he loves me, I won't have neither the courage nor a good enough reason to break the agreement with my parents. An almighty hungama is bound to follow if I refuse to marry the man my parents have picked. I need to be certain when that happens he'll stand by me."
"I suppose that makes sense," Paro conceded. "And I'm sure there is a way forward for you two."
"There isn't," I told her, feeling dejected.
"Look, why don't you call him on your phone and just ask him?"
"I deleted his number."
"Well I'm sure he'll phone you before we reach Ahmedabad," she said sounding optimistic.
"He can't. I deleted my number from his smartphone. If he can't or won't say how he feels about me, I don't see the point of him keeping my number."
I couldn't help a note of bitterness seeping into my voice when I explained it to Paro.
"If I'm to have the courage to go ahead with marrying Sajjid, I don't need Suresh calling me unexpectedly, especially since he hasn't so far declared how he feels about me."
"Put your trust in Bhagwaan, I say. If Bhagwaan has decided you and Suresh are destined to be together, then Bhagwaan will see to it that it happens."
"I pray you're right, Paro. I really do."
******************************************************************************
I had made the first tentative steps towards reconciliation with my mother about a year after I took over my father's business. That process had been facilitated by my Malika Auntie who had been a mother surrogate to me from around the age of eight when I went to live with her in the US. She had kept in touch with my biological mother by letter, phone, the internet and eventually by smartphone. The process had been difficult for me because I had been led to believe my mother was the villain - the woman who had been unfaithful to my father and walked out on him. My mother had shared with Malika Auntie that a couple of years into being married to my father, she had been very unhappy. While father had been loving towards me, he had been a neglectful husband who was a workaholic. Mother had been starved of affection, and dominated by my father. Despite this she had been a faithful and a dutiful wife until the time she fell in love with someone else. She had eventually married the new man in her life. I now have two half-brothers, Anil and Atish.
The divorce had taken its toll on my mother both emotionally and physically, especially the tussle over who would have custody of me. As I was to learn later, she had not only missed me but had also been hungry to learn about how I was doing. Malika Auntie discreetly kept my mother posted about me through photographs, letters and subsequently through telephone and the internet. On learning to get to know my mother again, I realised how wrong I had been about her and how much she still loved me. Her husband had surprised me by supporting our rapprochement. I subsequently learned that when he realised how much I meant to my mother, he had promised my mother he would adopt me on winning the custody battle. Of course my father in his vengefulness had used his money and influence to ensure my mother was not even permitted visitation rights. All the new information caused me to re-evaluate my feeling about my father.
Now my mother and I phoned each other every couple of days. Every few weeks I would drop by and see her. Sometimes I joined her family for a meal. Today it was just the two of us.
"Suresh, itna gumsum kyon?"
"It's just your imagination, Maa."
"When you were a child I could always tell when you were upset. I still can. After all, I'm your mother. I gave birth to you," she said in her lecturing tone.
She then came over to where I was seated and sat on the arm of my chair. Her attitude soften as she touched my arm and asked more gently "Won't you tell me what's happened."
"Nothing's happened."
Her stern tone resurfaced when she said "Do I have to pull your ear to get you to tell me everything - like I used to when you were a child?"
"Yes, I remember that."
"And just like then, you're trying to evade the question. Something is upsetting you. You've been wearing that glum expression for a few months now."
"If you must know, I've lost a good friend recently," I told my mother giving away as little as possible.
"Had this friend been ill or did he die through an accident?"
"I didn't mean lost in the sense of dying."
"Oh, I see...That explains a lot."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you've been hiding from me that you've been involved with some young woman."
"Why do you immediately assume it's a girl, Maa?"
"I may be old, beta, but I'm not stupid. Besides, I don't think you would have reacted the way you have if there wasn't a girl involved."
I stayed quiet because I didn't see the point of denying it. She would have cajoled it out of me eventually.
"Did you two part because you had an argument?"
I shook my head instead of replying.
"Did her feelings towards you change?"
"Ma, it wasn't anything like that."
If I had known what it was like, I would have told my mother, but as it happened, I didn't have a clue as to why Maysara had suddenly exited my life.
"Did she tell you she loves somebody else?"
Again I shook my head.
"Beta, rather than me playing a guessing game with you, wouldn't it be simpler if you just told me everything?"
Dr Chopra had already said that if I was in love with Maysara that could explain my loss off of libido. Of course at the beginning I had completely denied even to myself that I was in love with Maysara, but my therapy sessions had forced me reflect and re-evaluate my feelings. I had come to accept that perhaps the doctor had been correct when she pointed out love is not necessarily being permanently on cloud nine, or feeling ecstatic on seeing the person you love. Every person in love didn't spend every waking minute thinking about the person they were in love with. Otherwise the world would grind to a halt. Perhaps love was more akin to feeling happy and comfortable in a loved one's presence. And instead of always being excited by that person touch, most of the time a touch signalled reassurance and engendered a sense of deep fulfilment. At least those sorts of feelings I could relate to. I recognised that Maysara did have that effect on me.
Deep down somewhere inside me I nursed the hope that with my mother's help I might come to understand why Maysara had left me when we seemed to getting on so well together. As a woman maybe my mother could shed some light on the female psyche that I was clearly failing to understand. I had nothing to lose by speaking to my mother about Maysara.
"Let's get comfortable over there on the settee, and you can tell me from the beginning the story you've been hiding from me."
"I wasn't hiding it from you. I just neglected telling you about it."
"And now look at the state you're in. No girl has got to you so much before, except for that girl in America you wanted to marry when you were at university."
"You know about that?"
"Of course I know. Malika wouldn't keep from me anything as important as you proposing marriage. Just keep in mind, I know a lot more about you than you realise," my mother added ominously.
So we made ourselves comfortable on the settee. I told my mother how Maysara and I had met, how we got on together and several months later how I had seen her off at the train station.
"Well Maa, now you know everything."
"It's obvious to me how you feel about her, but you never once mentioned she loves you. Why is that, beta?"
"Because she never once actually said I love you."
"Can't you tell how she feels about you without those words?"
"I'm not a mind-reader, Maa," I commented tetchily.
My mothered just stared at me in disapproval for my disrespectful manner. When it was clear to her that I had understood her silent reprimand, she continued with what she was saying.
"Surely you could tell she loved you from the way she looked into your eyes; the way she touched your hand and the secret smile on her lips when she looked at you."
I deliberately ducked the implied question which could also be construed as criticism of my failure to read cues.
"OK, for argument's sake let's say she did love me. Why then would she leave?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
"Not to me it isn't."
"You're like most men. Useless when it comes to talking about your feelings."
"Are you simply going to criticise, Maa, or are you going to help?"
"I'm your mother. Does that answer your question?"
She stared directly into my eyes until I had to look away. When she felt she had made her point she returned to our discussion by asking "Did you even once tell her you cared deeply for her?"
"I thought it was obvious."
"Well what about telling her you wanted her to stay in your life?"
I shook my head, this time a little embarrassed by my failures because I could see where the discussion was headed.
"Beta, can't you see you didn't give her any reason to stay. That's why she left." Then as an afterthought my mother added buddhoo.
"I guess I deserve that. I have been nave," I conceded.
"So why are you wasting time talking to me instead of her? If you want to be happy, fix the problem. Don't let the silence between you grow. Apologise to her if need be."
"But I didn't do anything wrong, Maa," I felt it necessary to point out.
"So what?"
"So you're saying I should apologise even though I haven't done nothing wrong?"
"Suresh what I'm saying is that you need to decide just how much you want her in your life. If you want her to be with you, then fix what went wrong between you two."
"How can I fix the problem when I'm not sure exactly what the problem is?"
By now my mother was becoming exasperated with my approach and it showed.
"Well, can't you at least pick up the phone and talk to her?"
"I can't. She deleted her number from my phone."
"And you let her do that?"
I fully expected her to call me buddhoo again. My mother was annoyed and surprised in equal measure at my apparent passivity and stupidity. Unsure of how to respond to her comment, I spread my hands in a gesture of helplessness.
"If I could contact her then maybe I could explain she read me wrong. I do want her to be in my life," I said thinking aloud.
"Didn't you say she left for Ahmedabad?"
"Yes. When I took her to the train station, she told me she lives there."
"Since you know she lives in Ahmedabad, I suggest you go tell her how you feel about her."
"But I've no idea where she lives, and Ahmedabad is a big city, Maa. How the hell am I supposed to find her?"
"I don't know. You're the one with the fancy degree and all that money. Surely you can think of something."
"There has to be a solution that doesn't involve me walking around Ahmedabad knocking on every door."
"She must have made friends while she was living in Mumbai. Perhaps one of them can help," mother suggested.
"She did mention a young woman called Rupali who was the assistant manager at the store where Maysara worked. She didn't talk about work or her friends much but I vaguely remember her telling me she shared a flat with Rupali. I suppose I could talk to her. She might know where in Ahmedabad Maysara lives. Or, she might have her mobile number. I suppose Rupali would be a good place to start my inquiries. I'll go down to the store and speak with her."
"Beta, whatever you do, just do it soon."
"I will, Maa."
"And one other thing, beta."
"Kiya?"
"When you do find her, don't ever let this one go, like you did with all the others."
I knew my mother was referring to my history of brief encounters with women. She disapproved strongly of my behaviour and had told me so often enough.
"I will track her down, Maa. That's a promise. However, even if I tell her how important she is to me, there's no guarantee she'll change her mind."
"My female intuition tells me she will."
"What if she wants to be with me, but can't for some reason?"
"Unless that reason is that she's already married, I suggest you convince her that all other reasons are trivial."
"Is being of another faith trivial?" I felt it necessary to ask because I had always considered myself more a pragmatist than a romantic. This love thing was new to me and I wasn't sure yet I could put all my trust in it quite yet.
"No, beta, it's not trivial. But people of differing religious beliefs have made accommodations and lived happily together."
"But what about her parents? They're going to have a say in the matter."
"One step at a time, beta. First find her and speak to her. Once you know she wants to be with you, then both of you can decide together how best to overcome whatever hurdles lie before you."
"It's not going to be easy, is it?"
"No it isn't, beta. But ask yourself this: is she worth fighting for?"
I surprised even myself when I gave my mother an unhesitating answer to such a fraught question.
(The End)
Ye Hai Mohabbatein
