I look at Aditi. She’s smiling in her sleep. Clearly a different dream.
Just then, her phone lights up. A message. I see her stir, glance at it blearily. She opens one eye, checks her phone, smiles and then goes back to sleep.
It has to be Aman. Is he up? Is it time for the flight yet? I check my phone. No texts from Megha. Just the wallpaper of us at the temple, a relic from a different lifetime.
Outside, the rain has finally stopped. I take a deep breath.
Tomorrow’s going to be a long day. A happy day. A sad day.
A day when the past will end.
9
Aditi
The soft buzz of my phone pulls me from a dream I can’t remember. I open my eyes. The rain is back, but not like yesterday. This is steadier, calmer. A soft pattering blanketing everything outside the glass. It’s lovely. For a moment, I just listen.
My phone buzzes again, this time with a soft chime.
Aman.
At the security now. Finally.
Aman.
Flight’s on. Weather’s clear here. I’m sleepy.
The words on the screen are simple, but they feel like a starting pistol. The final part of the journey is beginning. And suddenly, I wish it wasn’t. It’s like the world doesn’t want me to wake up too fast. Do I want to wake up? Why not keep dreaming of a world with no kinks? I never saw the point of those movies—the ones likeThe Matrix, where every human is plugged into some machine and they are kept drugged and in dreams, and then one stupid human wants to rage against the machines! Why? I crave an altered reality. Who cares if AI takes over? Honestly, I’m okay. Wouldn’t it be incredible for someone else to take my decisions, keep me in a neutered state of being? Happy, content, managed?
I don’t want to live in this alternating state of euphoria and sadness.
I don’t reply to Aman. Just hold the phone in my hand for a while and look at his DP.
I’m about to reply to him, but my phone beeps again. A different notification sound. A direct message. It’s Tejal.
Tejal: Your brother called. I told him we don’t talk.
I stare at it for a while. I’m hoping she would write something more. My fingers hover. What can I write that will prompt her to call me? What can I write that she apologizes, but not too much because I don’t want to make it weird, and then everything goes back to normal? She’s online but she’s not writing anything.
And then, another message.
Tejal: You’re at the airport?
Me: Yes.
Tejal: Best of luck.
And then, nothing. Every few seconds, I open up her chat to see if she’s online, but she isn’t. When Tejal and I stopped talking, Aman had seen me through that time and told me, ‘The only difference between your girlfriend and me is that you’re not attracted to her.’
It was the truest thing about Tejal and me. I loved her like I hadn’t loved anyone.
I give up and finally message Aman.
Me: Can’t wait for you to be here.
I press send, and the finality of it settles in my stomach. This is where it begins. Everything before now was just practice, a dress rehearsal. The life you live with your parents isn’t real, not completely. It’s a simulation where you get multiple lives to attempt the same thing. When you move away, that’s when thegame truly begins. Aman’s moving to a hospital here, and it’s paying him well enough, but I can’t sit at home waiting for him.
In the past three months, since college wound to a halt, I have shot my CV across to hundreds of companies and recruitment agencies and have only gotten disappointment. There’s a hiring freeze everywhere. Even the handful of people who had placement offers are sitting at home, their offers now rescinded.
