‘No.’
‘You’re my lucky charm. That’s why I called you here. I have to go, okay? I will see you in a while.’
As she leaves the business centre, I feel alone. I don’t feel lucky, I feel lonely. I feel like the loneliest fucking guy in the whole world.
11.
Daksh Dey
I feel like my heart’s spasming like a lizard’s tail that’s been cut off. I don’t want to leave the Andamans. The reason’s becoming clearer and clearer as the time to leave nears. And the clearer it gets, the more my heart shrinks.
In the afternoon, I see the Madans at the restaurant. Aanchal waves at me and calls me over. She has told her parents about me being lucky for her. Her parents ask me to join them for lunch but I decline. It’s their moment to enjoy, I tell them and leave. Later, I see her near the pool talking on the phone. The way she’s smiling, her tone, I’m sure it’s Vicky. Her giggles, the thought of more pictures being exchanged between the two, feels like someone has plunged a knife into my heart and is twisting it.
In the evening, I decide it’s enough. It’s a crush and there’s no way I’m going to make it seem more than that. I remind myself that Sameeksha dumping me is making my heart believe in things that don’t exist. I decide to see Aanchal, talk to her and let my heart settle.
The opposite happens.
It’s the last night so all the guests are invited for a cocktail hour. Aanchal wears a dress that looks like it was bought just today. It’s a short, black, shimmering dress and she looks painfully gorgeous. Not that she looked any less beautiful in her suits.
I pretended to be busy on my phone the entire time because there was no way a conversation is going to make it better.
I don’t sleep the entire night. I think of her so incessantly my head hurts. I feel like a hypocrite because didn’t I just confess how broken I was to Sameeksha less than seventy-two hours ago? Crushes are supposed to be cute, not damaging. Aanchal whirls around in my head like a raging tornado, eviscerating everything in its path.
The sadness I felt for Sameeksha isn’t a patch on what I feel now. It’s as if it wasn’t even real. That sadness was made up, as was the love. Now I know. I know.
Now, we are at the Marine Museum. A drab place for the last day of our trip. I should have been excited to go back but now I want this little island to be cordoned off from the rest of the world by mile-long waves. Aanchal and I stuck on this island for all of eternity.
‘Don’t you like the museum? We thought you would like it,’ says Mumma.
‘It’s nice,’ I say. ‘Just a little tired, maybe.’
‘Is it about Sameeksha?’
‘Mummy yaar, no,’ I respond. ‘I’m over it already.’
‘It’s her loss totally,’ she says and runs her hand over my head. ‘Where can anyone get a boy like you?’
‘There are plenty of people like me.’ I spot the Madans in the distance. I point at them and tell Mumma, ‘Can you believe it? 100 in four subjects. You remember mine?’
‘It’s not important to me how much you scored. I remember we went out on your results day. We had biryani at Karama. Do you remember that?’
‘I scored 73 per cent.’
Mumma shrugs. ‘It’s just numbers.’
‘Two people in the past week have called me aimless, a drifter. Like some kind of loser.’
‘Whoever said that doesn’t know a single thing about life.’
‘Why weren’t you angry? There were other kids who scored in the 90s. Our neighbour’s daughter, Baba’s colleagues’ sons. Why did you two never sort of . . . push me?’ I probed.
Mumma rubs my back. Maybe they are to blame for my aimlessness. They should have been harder on me. Maybe people like Aanchal will win at life and I will be some guy living off the leftover savings of his parents.
Mumma takes a deep breath, then smiles at me.
‘You were always a good child,’ she says. ‘Do you know that? Other kids used to run around, break things, do all kinds of nonsense. But not you. You were such a well-behaved child we kept thinking you’d get thenazar. You listened to everything we said, ate your food without a fuss, never cried for toys. Some parents know how to raise children. Your Baba and I didn’t need to learn. You were so easy.’
Mumma’s eyes are slightly glazed over. She’s looking at me but it feels as if she’s elsewhere. Somewhere in the past.
