Chapter 29
Stepping forward
JIMMY
“Welcome back, son.” Bhatia Ji extends his arms and gathers me in a hug.
The frail seventy-year-old balding man is way shorter than me, but he squeezes me tight, spreading the warmth of his love and care.
From the first day, when I walked into Mr Bhatia's office in sweaty, oil-stained clothes and slippers tied to my feet with a piece of rope, he has been my guardian angel.
Like Aditya. I shut my inner voice the moment the words appear. Angels don't lie.
Tears roll down my face as Bhatia Ji holds my hand and ushers me into the gym three months after the attack.
The gym is decorated with balloons and festoons.
Sahil and the other staff stand in a line, holding a banner to welcome me.
My old clients are also here. Each of them shakes my hand, and some gather me in a hug.
“Surprise!” Brian, Kenny, Kiron, and Sudhanshu gather around me. Pats, more hugs, and pecks on my cheeks break the dam in my eyes. “Guys, this is not fair. You should have warned me yesterday. I am shedding crazy baby tears, and Sahil will post all these on his Insta account.”
“If we had told you, how would this be a surprise?”
I swivel toward the familiar voice. “Priya, you traitor. We spoke yesterday, and you did not even give me a hint.” She had been relentless for the past month, pushing me to return to the gym. But I kept holding back.
“You would have run away if we had told you about all this.” Priya sweeps her hand, indicating the arrangements at the gym.
“Hmm, so you are an equal culprit.” I tease her.
“Okay, enough of this banter.” Kiron takes my hand and moves me to a table with a two-layered chocolate cake. On top, a four-inch replica of a muscled man in our gym's black-and-yellow trainer uniform stands. 'Jimmy, we love you' is inscribed around the fondant figure.
I squeeze Brian's arm. “Is that me?” He giggles, and I point to my replica. “Aww, but this Jimmy is way more muscular than I am at the moment.”
“You will be in shape in no time, mate.” Brian tucks me to his side, squeezing my shoulder.
“Everyone, please gather around,” Kenny calls, and lights the candles. “Bhatia sir, please join Jimmy.” He makes space once the candles are lit.
Mr Bhatia holds my trembling hand while we slice the cake. A round of applause and hollering breaks when Mr Bhatia feeds me the first slice. “Umm, this is mouth-melting. Thanks, Brian.”
“We want a welcome note, Bhatia sir,” Sahil shouts from his position while snapping more pics.
Mr Bhatia obliges. He conveys the depth of his affection for me in his soft voice. Lumps of love and gratitude form in my throat. No one has ever spoken about me in this manner. By the time he finishes, most eyes are moist. I touch his feet in reverence, but Bhatia Ji pulls me into a hug.
I clear my throat and face the crowd. “Can I say a few words?”
“As long as you don't cry or bore us.” Kenny snorts.
I roll my eyes at him. With folded hands, I address the gathering of friends and people whom I call family.
“Thank you’ are two small words. They are not enough to convey my gratitude for what each one of you has done for me in the past three months.
I would not have survived these tough times without your love and support.
” And without the risk a particular person took, putting his life on the line, I may not even be breathing.
My voice cracks, before tears flood me again. Kiron comes to my rescue.
“Enough mush-slush for the day. This is a celebration of good winning over evil. So let us enjoy the food and the company of friends and family.” Kiron cheers the gathering. They usher me to a seat by a table. “Sahil, don't let this bugger move.”
“Stop fussing over me. I have recovered. I don't need a watchman.” I grumble.
“Who says I am a watchman? I am a friend keeping you company.” Sahil pokes his tongue.
No point arguing with any of them. Each of the guys made sure to visit me once daily throughout the three months of my recovery.
Kiron and Kenny oversaw the food. Sahil and Sudhanshu took care of my physiotherapy once I persuaded them to relieve the nurse from daily duties.
Priya kept in touch through video calls.
Jatin came as a surprise, given how we were connected.
After his visit, he called each month. The photographs Sahil took every day annoyed me so much.
He posted them to the WhatsApp group the gang created.
He even showed me the group contact info when I challenged him to prove the group did not include Aditya, but I strongly suspect some of those pics were sent to him. Aditya never came. Why will he? You shoved him away. A sigh escapes my lips.
“Missing someone?” Sahil pushes the plate of kebabs toward me along with the Coke.
“This is the story of my life. I found one decent guy and weaved dreams of spending my life with him. What a deception.” I shake my head and bite the kebab.
No, I don't miss him, and yet every minute of my waking hours is spent brooding over the time I spent with Aditya or cooking up imaginary scenarios on the fire of what-ifs.
What if Aditya had been truthful? What if my life had taken a better turn?
Scenes of me marrying Aditya, living in his cottage, farming, and, one day, adopting a child have haunted me in the solitude of my room.
Whom am I kidding? Marriage between same-sex partners is a distant reality in India.
The rationale does not reduce the longing for companionship, for calling someone my own, for belonging to someone.
What is marriage? A different part of my mind counters. A piece of paper, only a legality. At least we will have each other in our old age. Each argument is battled down. We can write our wills and register the papers. Like what Sudhanshu and Kiron have done.
“Aditya's feelings toward you were not a lie. Each of us carries a bag on our backs, filled with stones, sticks, and thorns of the past.” Sahil wakes me up from the war inside.
“I want the real him.” The one into whose eyes I look and see the clarity of the crystal-clear waters of hill streams. When I hear his words, I know they are as truthful and pure as the unfiltered babble of a young child who is yet to be corrupted by this world. No second-guesses. No conjectures.
“Jimmy, Aditya has so many good bits about him. Maybe this is the part that isn't perfect. Are any of us perfect? What if you worked with him on this without being selfish?”
“My love is not selfish.” But me? Can't I have this one thing from Aditya? Is honesty between us a self-centred expectation?
Sahil studies my face. Priya matches his stare.
She breaks the silence. “Jimmy, I have known Aditya a bit longer than you. His idea of a fake author disturbed me, but he sat down and opened up the deepest parts of his life. I will not give the details. They are for Aditya to share. But consider this.” Priya wipes her face with a napkin before holding my eyes.
“Aditya is always invested in relationships even after they end.
First, with his mother. He kept his marriage because he had promised her.
After the divorce, he should have lived freely, yet he shackled himself in Shalini's happiness, committing to her to hide his sexuality till she found her way.”
I start to speak, but Priya raises her palm and stops me.
“I agree, building a relationship on a lie is wrong, but Aditya's heart is pure. Sometimes, in his overzealous efforts to help others, he crosses the line of truth. But none of us is a saint. Aditya never means any harm to anyone.” Priya leans and places her hand on my arm.
“Jimmy, Aditya is hurting. If you heal and can forgive him, reach out to him.”
She is right. My scars are still fresh. Not the physical ones. Those wounds on my skin had sealed a month ago, leaving streaks of scar tissue. Once I return to my routine, those would be camouflaged by thick layers of muscle.
The ones inside me simmer. The pain, the anger, the grief of betrayal.
By a cousin who once ate from the same plate, who turned me to the wolves and, in his hatred, came to kill me.
The father, who stood with the bamboo stick to beat the gayness out of me and conspired to take my life.
Of the mother who refused to look at me as if I were a disease.
Yes, the deception, the dishonesty, the sell-out. I worry if Aditya is another one of them. Another name to add to the list. The knife laced with the honey of love had sliced sharper, dug deeper, and hurt more, leaving a festering, infected wound in my heart.
Will I ever heal from those wounds?
***
This is me taking a step forward. I take a deep breath and enter the book launch venue.
The fancy white pole tent brought from Delhi is set up at the park where I first met Aditya.
Sir Wilfred's eyes greet me. The bust has been cleaned and polished, restoring the glorious shine.
Sir Wilfred, in black marble, glimmers in the fancy focus lights hanging from the blooming Buransh trees around the venue.
Next to the statue is a makeshift stage with a mic and a single chair.
A small table is stacked with copies of Aditya's latest book.
Tea lights hanging from the tent periphery twinkle in the dusk. The cool breeze wafts across the open tent, bringing in the fragrance of pine and deodars.
Around thirty people are already seated.
My whole gang is occupying the front table.
I don't dare to join them, so I sit at the corner table with three strangers.
Brian's team is catering the event. Pastries, cookies, and sandwiches are being served.
I pick the glass of Buransh juice to keep my hands from fidgeting, trying to find clarity in the bright red colour of the drink.
‘Don’t let this fester for long. Don’t delay and end up like the woman in the local folk tale.
’ Yesterday, Kiron chided and reminded me of the lore associated with the Buransh tree.
The story is not a romance but speaks of love, longing, and loss.
Despite Kiron and Sahil's reassurances, I am unsure as to how Aditya will react to my presence.
Priya takes the mic and announces the start of the event. My eyes are glued to the man beside her. Aditya is in his light grey suit matched with a navy-blue satin shirt. Side hair greyer than I last saw him. The crowd welcomes him with a round of applause when he takes the mic from Priya.
“Hello everyone. I am humbled by your support and cannot thank you enough for coming all the way from Delhi. We chose to host you here, as Almora is important to me. This town gave me a new life and my best friends.” Aditya smiles at the group nearest to him.
The gang hollers. Aditya turns to the bust. “Including this gentleman here.” He runs his fingers over Sir Wilfred and takes a deep breath.
“More than anything, this town is the reason why the world will read this novel. The book is special. ‘These Lies Between Us’ is a story of finding love, and yet losing out on a happy ever after.” Aditya's voice breaks, but he recovers.
Priya hands him a glass of water. He takes his time to drink before taking the seat.
Aditya clears his throat. “Right. So which chapter do you want me to read?”
I cannot fight the storms in my heart any longer.
“Thirty-nine.” My shout echoes over the crowd's murmurs.
Aditya is startled and searches the gathering.
Our eyes meet. He stares for a while, before the wide eyes behind his glasses settle into an understanding.
Aditya nods, acknowledging my request, and picks up the book.
The sonorous voice silences the crowd, but I am mesmerised.
Priya had sent me an advanced copy. The turn of each page brought the realisation and awakened me to the depth of Aditya's feelings for me.
The protagonists' names were different, but the story was ours.
Two men brought together by fate. One who hated to lie, another whose entire life had been fake.
Their relationship is torn apart by society.
Only acceptance can patch their shredded lives.
One needs to accept that not all lies are wrong, and the other must understand that there are no lies between the one you love the most. Unlike his last novel, though, this one does not have a happy ending.
A tear forms in my eyes. I had resisted, but the efforts failed me after I read those lines on the crisp pages of the novel. I spent each day pining for this beautiful man in front of me. I need love. A man to love. I want Aditya's love.
The longing to create a life with him grew stronger by the day.
I had wasted four months of my life staying away.
Each morning, as I awoke, my hands swept my empty bed.
Despite the company of friends, the chill of loneliness made me shiver.
The forest walks were mere compulsions for recovery.
Dictated by doctors. Commands of Sahil and Mr Bhatia.
I missed the warm fingers entwined and the company of Aditya's musical voice as we walked along the trails with sunlight filtering through tall pine trees.
The endless debates tormented me. Could two men who are all alone in this world be someone for each other and make a life together? The words woven into Aditya's new novel answered the questions and doubts.
“His lips caressed mine. My heart did a cartwheel. The brain's fuse short-circuited. I jumped him. The kiss turned out to be more than a dream. Everything I wanted. I chased his lips like a starving man when he withdrew to break for a breath. I needed more.”
Aditya stops and looks at me, waiting with a plea and hope. The crowd is silent. Kiron's squeal draws my attention to my position. How did I reach the dais? The gang looks at me with hope. This is my moment.
I turn to find Aditya's longing eyes. I lift him by the shoulders and hold his face in my hands. “Did the kiss feel like this?” I whisper into his ear and smash my lips against his. Divine. This is my home.
The claps break my dream, but I keep holding Aditya, tucking my arm around his waist.
Aditya rubs his hands down my arm. “Will you forgive me? I promise-”
I stop him mid-sentence with a brush of my lips on his. Unsure. Afraid he would push me away. He doesn't. Instead, Aditya grabs my coat lapels and deepens the kiss.