‘Do you want to dance?’ I ask her.
The alcohol in my system is muddling my brain and making me think I’m younger than I am.
‘Are you sure your bones won’t creak?’
‘We will find out,’ I answer.
I take her hand and we step on to the dance floor. Then, she begins to dance, her body is graceful and her eyes sparkle with joy. I watch her for a few moments, then I begin to move too.
Over the music, she tells me, ‘I hope you find who you’re looking for. If you can admit to yourself who you’re looking for.’
When the song ends, Heena and I step off the dance floor, both of us are out of breath and grinning.
‘That was fun,’ Heena says, her eyes alight with excitement.
I smile. ‘Yeah, it was,’ I say.
The two of us make our way to a quiet corner of the club and sit down. Wiping the sweat off her brow, she says, ‘Call whoever you’re waiting for. She will be lucky.’
‘No, she won’t.’
When I get back home and open the app, I see that Heena has unmatched me. Cruel, I think for a moment. And then I change my mind—it must be nice to just erase someone from your memory.
4.
Aanchal Madan
I have diagnosed myself with ‘extreme hotel-room loneliness’. I landed in Delhi yesterday for seven straight days of talks at colleges in Delhi University about exam-related anxiety. I had been excited about going back to my old college, SRCC, and meeting my old teachers there, having a cup of chai like I used to and indulging in industrial-grade nostalgia. But the secondI checked into the hotel, loneliness engulfed me and the room seemed to close in on me.
I called Rajat to check if he was free in the afternoon. But his son had swimming practice, then he was taking him to a friend’s place, and in the night, they were going to watch the newPaw Patrolmovie.
‘These kids’ movies aren’t that bad,’ says Rajat. ‘Have a large tub of popcorn and it’s all good. You can come.’
‘I think I’m good,’ I say, even though the thought of staying alone in the hotel room is worse than watching an animated movie about life-saving pups.
‘Come home after the talk tomorrow,’ says Rajat. ‘But after seven. That’s when my kid goes to sleep. If he sees guests, he gets excited and doesn’t sleep, and it’s a whole thing.’
I stare at my phone for a little while.
And then, like a bad habit, I open a dating app. I keep going back to them like an addict. I find a perverse joy in knowing that there are other people my age who are in the same boat as me and that they like me, flatter me and ask me out on dates. It’s been a long time since I have been on a date with people I have spoken to on the app, but I like the harmless flirtations. As I swipe right through most of the men, I know I won’t go on a date with even the most seemingly flawless of men. Going on a date means setting yourself up for disappointment. I genuinely don’t believe any of these men can be more satisfying than a Netflix show with an 8.3 rating. I check my thoughts. When did I become so pessimistic? Is it my age? Or the thought that I only have limited time, so I should make the most of it? Going on pointless dates isn’t making the most of it. But how is watching three seasons of a show making the most of life?
I’m mindlessly scrolling when I see his face.
He’s smiling in the picture. It’s at a bar. There’s a beer bottle next to him. He’s looking straight into the camera. None of the candid, look right, look left stuff.
Daksh.
His bio isn’t really a bio. It’s a list of things he likes: books, movies, TV shows, celebrities.
My heart twists. My body floods with confusing emotions. It’s been three, four years since I have seen his face. I am happy that he’s lonely, alone, and it makes me sad that he’s so. I swipe right because what else am I supposed to do? It’s been four years since Gaurav died. Four years since I have blamed him for his death. Three since I last saw him. But not a single day has passed that I haven’t thought of him.
A few seconds later, we are matched.
How sad is it? Two people in their mid-thirties, looking at their phones, swiping right among other people, on the only person they had vowed never to meet.
5.
Aanchal Madan
