Chapter 13 Aditi
Aditi
I sit on the cold airport floor, knees pulled to my chest, cheek resting on them.
This is real. As real as me sitting down on this cold airport floor.
This has happened. This is my life now. The thing that happens to people that defines their whole life has happened.
This is the before and after. Before, when I knew happiness and hope and love and joy.
And after, which is a countdown to death that started from death.
My phone is on the bench behind me. I’m still waiting for his call.
Not just me, everyone is. Everyone’s on their phones calling the number that won’t ever be picked up again.
A number that will become invalid after a few months.
A number that will be given to another person.
A number that will carry the story of that new person, not mine.
Like he didn’t exist. Like he didn’t tell me he loved me all those hundreds of times by calling from that phone.
I feel nothing. My palms are cold. The tears stream down, but they mean nothing. My lips are cracked. I haven’t spoken in a while. But what will I say? What’s left to say? What’s left to do?
Someone handed me a water bottle ten minutes ago.
I think it was Raghav. He’s been moving around.
I keep seeing him pace from the corner of my eyes.
How ugly is that. Wasn’t he nervous? Paralysed?
And look at him. Finding purpose in death.
How cruel. Sometimes, he’s talking to airline staff, arguing quietly with someone, hugging a sobbing man, offering tissues, calling someone’s family.
How many people has that sobbing man lost today? Does he feel it like I do? I doubt it.
I close my eyes. I try to remember Aman’s voice.
The last thing he said to me? What did we say to each other this morning?
When was the last time I saw him? On the video call, yes.
His crooked smile. What else do I remember about him?
His stupid teasing. His obsession with the World Cup stats and IPL teams. Yes, I should keep going.
What is a person if not a sum total of what he feels, likes, dislikes, hates?
I can stack all these memories up, make a person out of it.
But . . . but . . . nothing comes through clearly.
Like I’m trying to tune into a radio station that’s suddenly gone off-air.
Static. Just static. I’m starting to forget him already.
Panicked, I open his chat. It’s too painful. It’s too painful.
Last seen.
I have seen him the last time.
Then my phone buzzes. Again. A third time.
Tejal.
My hand moves on its own.
I answer.
‘Hello?’ My voice is sandpaper.
There’s silence. Then her voice, clipped and frantic. ‘Aditi. Where are you?’
I don’t answer.
‘I saw the list,’ she says.
I don’t answer.
She continues, ‘Aman was on it.’
I want to say he missed the flight. Changed his mind. But my lips part and nothing comes out.
‘I’m coming,’ she says before I can say anything. The line cuts.
‘It’s too late,’ I say after it cuts.
Thirty minutes later, I see her through the glass. She’s running. Eyes scanning until they find mine. She’s arguing with the guard. A little later, he lets her go. As I look at her, it’s hard to fathom I was angry with her. Did any emotion mean anything in front of what I’m feeling right now?
She drops beside me on the floor and pulls me into a hug so tight I feel something crack deep inside. I sob like a child. I shake and she holds me closer and it only makes it worse.
‘I should’ve called you,’ I whisper.
‘Stop,’ she says. ‘Just stop.’
Her hand finds mine.
Raghav is nearby. Hovering. Why is he not broken? I feel anger prick at my skin. I see him hand tissues to a mother holding a photocopy of her son’s passport. I see him place a gentle hand on an old man’s shoulder. I see him crouch to pick up a crying kid’s fallen toy and hand it back with a nod.
‘No survivors confirmed yet,’ I say. ‘Maybe.’
She nods, but we both know what yet really means.
‘I keep thinking . . .’
‘Don’t do this,’ she says. ‘Please don’t go there. It’s not because of you.’
‘It’s not,’ I say. ‘It’s because of them . . . Maa . . .’ I say between sobs. ‘Papa . . . Bhaiya . . . his family . . . it’s because of them.’
Raghav appears. His jacket in hand. He drapes it around me. Places juice, biscuits, a charger near me. His jacket . . . that brought me bad luck. He should have never placed it on me in the night.
‘I have called Aman’s brother,’ he says. ‘He will be here soon.’
‘Don’t be oversmart!’ I scream at him. ‘They don’t deserve to be here!’
Raghav gives me a long look and walks off. I watch his back disappear into the crowd. Carrying grief like it’s his job? Does he even feel it? He doesn’t.
I lean into Tejal. My body into her. I feel if I don’t clutch her, I will float away into nothingness. Her thumb strokes mine, absentmindedly, like she’s rewinding the months we didn’t talk. Erasing away everything.
The ambulances outside haven’t moved. Their lights still flash. Red, then blue, then red again. We stay there. Together. And that’s when I see two people carry a stretcher out. On it, a charred body. Hard. Falling over. Lifeless. A person. Now nothing.