Chapter 24 #2
If I was in any other place, other than this city I call home, I’d have squatted on the footpath and shut my eyes so tight they would’ve hit the back of my skull.
My head was turning, my shoulders weighed a ton and my legs felt heavy.
I knew far too many people here. I’m not 18 any more, and while I’m not famous, this is home.
At home, everyone knows everyone. Even if not by name.
I turned to my right, and I saw a phone cover vendor, who had spread his wares on the ground.
‘Salaam,’ he said. I nodded. I see him every other day.
He didn’t know me, but he recognized me.
‘What are you scared of?’ Chhaya asked.
‘I don’t care if they are seeing each other. I don’t care if they are already sleeping together. I don’t give a fuck.’
‘You are bummed. You should be, even though your heart is with another man. They’re two different things.’
My breathing was heavy. I could hear it.
‘If you weren’t, I would’ve had to rush over and check your pulse.’
I was almost running, and the rumble in my heart was finding expression in my respiratory tract.
‘That relationship meant a lot to you. It didn’t go where you thought it might. Maybe it had run its course, maybe Andrew returned, and you realized the depth of your feelings for him. But this is not either/or; it never is in matters such as this, darling.’
I felt tears running down my cheeks. ‘This is ridiculous.’
‘These are feelings.’
Even if it felt like a storm.
Seeing Ravi and Meena together was bothering me; it roughed up my spirit. Meena was on cue, Ravi had moved on, and my own life was unravelling like a badly bound book, pages fluttering in the wind before finding the floor.
I wiped my tears and took a deep breath.
I moved the phone away from my ear and felt a breeze fan my face, whistle past my ears.
‘The reason why seeing them together has distressed you so is because of where your own life is. Your refusal to take things forward with Andrew. That’s not to say you’re not feeling bad about Ravi and Meena, an ex-boyfriend and a friend, but…
’ Chhaya paused for breath, ‘you shouldn’t want to engage with Andrew because these two have maybe found each other.
Andrew and you, Myra, have what everybody wants. ’
We knew everything about each other, Andrew and I. From how we mixed our drinks to when he smoked his cigarettes and how much water I drank every morning. When I dialled his number and he didn’t pick up, I knew where he was and vice versa.
‘Are you scared to commit, Myra?’
‘To whom?’
‘Brad Pitt.’
I laughed at myself, at my state of disarray.
‘Do you love him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then?’
‘I brought up Meena with Andrew.’
I felt Chhaya nod.
‘Would he have even told me had I not found out?’
‘Maybe not.’
‘Something is broken, but I can’t fix it. I can’t make it whole again, and god knows I want to.’
What was Andrew regretting – the affair itself or what it had done to us?
Only at home can you drop your guard. So what if cart pushers and hawkers, stray dogs and pedestrians, recognized you? I sank down on the dirty footpath where men had peed and women had spat. The ground beneath was solid and strong.
I managed to pick myself up and drag myself back to my cabin. I had seen enough for the day.
Just before I rested my forehead on my forearms, I exchanged smiles with my mother. That picture was from that day.
Despite having denoted a boundary in the life of her only offspring a moment ago, ‘Limit the physical to touching. Nothing more,’ she had said, interrupting me as I sequenced Andrew’s loveliness. That was the only tenet I had to play by.
Andrew of the dysfunctional lineage, however, had no idea about the limits cautioned to me.
Venturing into forbidden territory was the trigger for my collapsing into Andrew’s arms one November afternoon, less than two months into our relationship.
If ever a line was meant to be crossed, this was it. We were the perfect fit, a seamless sentence. As if our 20 and 20-something years were lived to eventuate in this – exquisite bliss. Whole and full.
Later, seated before a television set, I knotted my hands. His hair was a mess, and his tee was askew. He looked so vulnerable. I wanted to reach out, but I didn’t. I didn’t want the dream to end.
I didn’t call him after I got home that evening. He called some 24 hours later.
‘Home?’
A tear had rolled down my cheek a decade ago.
Today, I was clearing a deluge with the back of my hand. The sights of a day. I let it flow, then it stopped and dried, and somewhere during that process, I must’ve drifted off to sleep.
There was a knock. I think I heard a knock. The door opened just as I raised my head.
‘I knocked,’ Andrew said.
My face was a mess. It had to be.
‘Was that a good rest?’ Andrew asked, picking up a pen that had dried.
I nodded, smiling. Everything was in place mercifully. Kajal, mascara, hair.
‘It doesn’t matter, Myraah, that you didn’t know Ravi might contest these elections,’ Andrew said, returning the pen to the holder.
I nodded. I was smiling. I had pulled back in my seat; my arms were crossed. I was the picture of dignity and command, I assured myself. Andrew’s eyes seconded that.
‘This is my line of work, that’s why I heard first.’ Andrew’s voice was so soft and soothing, it was as if he was wary of volume, that it might stoke an unnecessary emotion.
‘I want to go to Coonoor for the weekend,’ Andrew announced, breaking a comfortable silence.
‘Why?’ I had been staring at him, and there was a trace of colour on his cheeks.
‘My great-grandmother… Maybe there’s more to those notes.’
‘I think–’
‘You want to go, too?’ he asked before I could finish. Our eyes met like old friends on a familiar street.
I reached for the pen Andrew had just returned to the holder. ‘I would love to, Andrew.’
‘Great!’
‘Two rooms.’
‘Of course.’
As Andrew left the room, I picked up my phone and opened the camera, turning it to selfie mode. My face, like my emotions, was in disarray. Was. I winked, and then smiled at my reflection, a sexy slant of the lips. A better look definitely.