‘I don’t drink tea,’ I said.
‘More for me?’
‘I can’t stay away from you.’
‘Raghu—’
‘Let me finish. It took me two hours to get here and I have been thinking a lot about what to say to you. I finally know what I have to do.’
‘What you have to do about what?’
‘About us,’ I said.
‘Raghu—’
‘Brahmi, our story has to end now. It’s the only way to go. I have thought about this long and hard. Clearly, you have a life here. You don’t need me. And I can’t keep waiting for you in school. You don’t even have a phone from where to call.’
‘Raghu—’
‘Even if you do I will have to wait for your calls. It’s not your fault. Don’t look that sad. It breaks my heart. I realize what I feel for you is stronger than what you feel for me. And that’s okay by me. You’re you, you know. Like only the best possible girl ever, and I am me. Even I wasn’t prepared for what I felt about you. I can’t do this to me. I have to stop thinking about you.’
‘So what do you suggest we do?’ asked Brahmi.
‘I want to stop waiting. I want to stop thinking of you. I want to stop being in love with you.’
Her silence was deafening.
I could hear my heart thump. Lup-dup. Lup-dup. She stared at me and her eyes said a thousand things, all of which had I had to translate would say she was in love with me.
‘If that’s what you want,’ she said as if doing me a favour.
She didn’t fight. She didn’t question my decision. She just sat there and said it like it was on her mind as well.
She drank from both the cups. She cleared the bill. Even gave me some money. ‘Go back in a taxi,’ she said.
We walked to the taxi stand. Just before leaving, she said, ‘You were wrong about one thing though.’
‘What?’
‘I needed you here. More than ever.’
I rode away in the taxi and came back home thinking of how else the conversation could have gone. But now all I am thinking about is the last words she said to me. There was something in her eyes, a sadness, and a cry for help that’s haunting me. Maybe it’s just my mind playing tricks on me, giving me pretexts to reach out to her again. ‘I am fine,’ she’d said as a consolation prize.
Like everything around me, what I said to her was a lie as well. I didn’t want to stay away from her, I didn’t want to stop loving her, I didn’t want to stop thinking of her; it was not even close to what I wanted. All I wanted was for her to fight for me, stop me from going away, to love her and feel loved. That’s all I really wanted. But I needed to know what she felt for me. And now I know it’s not much.
Had she told me a lie before?
29 January 2000
I told Maa–Baba, Dada and Boudi, all of whom insisted on a party, that I didn’t want to have one. They asked me if my friends weren’t asking me for a treat.
‘Of course, they are. But this time we aren’t doing treats for anyone. I told them what we did for Dada’s birthday, so now they want me to give away the money to a charity. I’m thinking Helpage India. What do you think?’
If they can lie so can I, and as convincingly.
Maa raised her hands in protestation. ‘It’s your first birthday after their marriage. You want it to be that boring? Okay fine, we will do whatever your Boudi picks. So Mamoni, tell us!’
We all looked at Boudi. I hoped with all my heart she wouldn’t insist on a party. Won’t it be sad? To be surrounded by non-existent friends and a family that I could hardly respect.
