Our first real conversation happened over complimentary coconuts on an Andaman beach. We buy two and sip them slowly. The heat’s beating down now. Tiny rivulets of sweat snake down my neck.
‘Is this what you want now?’ he asks me.
‘I think so, but I find it hard to trust myself. I want to know what else is there to do. Being in love, having a person to experience things with, seem important.’
He takes a long sip from his coconut. The more time I spend being with him, the clearer it becomes what a part of me wants out of him. I want him to tell me that I’m making a big mistake. I want him to shake me out of my stupor and command me to not go ahead with Saket, not to make a sensible decision, but to make a rash one. I want him to confess that his relationship with Amruta is not what he thought it would be, and make a stupid ask again. I want him to come back to me. It’s been two years that my mind has tortured me with this exact scenario. He andI, talking, the talk of the future in the air, and finally ending with him confessing that he has been thinking about me too, about what could have been, what we left behind. I watch him intently. His eyes are glassed over. I wish I could pry open his brain and know what he’s thinking. Even better, manipulate what he’s thinking. I wish I could do that.
‘This bike ride to the Buddha is the longest time I have spent with myself in the past, I don’t know, ten years.’
‘There’s a sense of peace there,’ I agree.
He shakes his head as if still trying to make sense of what he’s feeling. When you talk to Daksh, his eyes are always on you, listening intently. You’re his hero and he always appears invested in every word you say. This is the first time I have seen him distracted. Or even allowing his story to take centre stage.
‘Not just that, Aanchal. I was alone, like literally just me. That has never happened ever. I have always been surrounded by people, things to do, stuff I fill my life with,’ he mumbles. ‘It was nice. I never thought I would say that.’
‘I never thought you would say that either.’
His voice trails. ‘You remember Jagath and Zeenath, right?’
I do.
He continues as if talking to himself. His eyes flit to the rental bike parked on the curb, ‘They both ride now. They have tried to sell me the concept of long-range rides for quite some time now. My back’s fucked, that’s true, but there’s fun to be had.’
‘Did you like the ride or being alone?’
‘Both.’
His voice trails. He’s right about what he was saying earlier. He’s the one who wants to be alone. He has always found his tribe, and people to surround himself with. This is the old Daksh, the Daksh who fell in love with me and promised me the world. He’s someone else now. Just like I’m someone else.
‘Anyway,’ he breaks out of his train of thought. ‘I’m happy for you.’
‘Happy for what?’
‘That you have figured out what you want,’ he tells me.
‘Something that you figured out way before I did.’
‘I don’t think it’s as simple as that,’ he says. ‘Like I said, I could be wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time I would be wrong.’
He throws the coconut into the garbage bin. He gestures to ask me if I’m done. I nod and he takes it from me and throws it, too.
‘You didn’t tell me when you are getting married to Amruta.’
He hands over the helmet to me. ‘I need to figure some things out first.’
‘About the two of you?’
He shakes his head.
‘About myself,’ he says and gets on to the bike.
12.
Daksh Dey
‘Aren’t you doing that a little too much?’ asks Amruta, as I rev the bike through the quieter streets of Phuket towards the infamous, or famous, depending on how you look at it, Bangla Road.
I have changed the bike to the BMW F850 GS. It’s wholly unnecessary, the security deposit on this thing was crazy, and a small voice in my head is calling out the mid-life crisis, but I’m shutting it out for now. All that matters right now is the power and the torque I’m getting from this thing.
