The Girl I Last Loved (4 page)

There was a long enough moment of silence to be awkward.

“You know Akash… this… us isn’t going anywhere.”

I let out a sigh.

“Relationships do need a tag,” she continued. “We think tag will restrict us… it binds us to certain responsibilities. But it is about responsibilities. A relationship is about sharing, having time for your common choices; and love is when you don’t have any regrets in doing all those. You accept it’s a change from your bachelor life. Sometimes you even miss the things you used to do when you were single. Still you never wish to return to that time. Snuggling up at night with the person you love or knowing that someone will be waiting for you matters more than having twelve shots of vodka and walking to work with a hangover.
It’s not about violation of personal space. It’s about letting that person in your life, letting them change it and change themselves for you.
You are still a closed book for me.”

“Why mention all these now?” I somehow managed to speak.

Maybe she wiped her tears but it was still dark to see.

“When I was at Kriya’s place…when I saw Kriya and Shrey together, the way they both had given in for the relationship; the way Shrey has been by her side all the time, be it her job, her health… that was love. He returns home early to be with her. He calls her all the time to know if she is okay.

“Bringing flowers to cheer her up… nobody forces him to do so, still he does. These are not his responsibilities; this is what life is made up of.”

“When placing us in that situation I had quite a hard time thinking that you can do the same for me.”

She gave a stern look.

“At that time I knew it’s all over. We want different things in life. Everyone gets one realisation trip; this was mine huh!” she tried making a joke yet it sounded like a cry. “When I met you, even I was looking for a casual relationship with least interference. However, as I came to know you, I wanted more of you and I wanted to give more of mine,” she managed to continue.

Our eyes met for the first time the entire evening. I lowered mine as she carried on with an impatient tone. She wanted to get done with it. Get done with us.

“Things have changed over the years.

“Things which felt cheap are now desirable.

“Something which meant freedom now feels like having no one to count upon.

“Four years back, a girl wearing red bangles with formals used to be a head turner, a gossip initiator. Now as they are in the eighty per cent majority, girls like me get those odd looks – looks that ask, ‘Career-oriented, huh!’

Looks that say ‘girl you are going in the wrong direction’.”

She looked away to avoid eye contact.

Two hours at a bar made me incapable to react or to say anything.

She composed herself.

“Akash, do you know what’s the major problem with girls of all ages? They meet a guy and find him all perfect. They want only that much of love and time, the guy is giving them. They think their chemistry is different. They are not bound by mushy talks, gifts, rituals… they are ‘mature’. She reminds herself of this again and again but never accepts it from the bottom of her heart. I was in that situation, Akash,” she was sobbing now.

“Actually the problem gets even graver when she assumes that she is the girl who can change that guy. She is the one who can bring out the loving, caring person out of him. She is so special that this relationship will defy all his previous history.

“Past years I kept struggling, changing myself in order to change you,” she hung her head down.

A few moments passed.

“Akash, in due course of time I started developing feelings for you. I fell in love with you. You became my priority but I wasn’t yours. That’s definitely not what I want. Now I am tired of all those futile attempts.

“I am ready to accept what you are and what you can be.

“I want to be a normal girl who has marriage and kids on the cards. I want to be pampered. I want to be showered with gifts. I want to call you ten times a day. I want to hold your hand and walk in the rain and I want you to enjoy these.”

She choked as her voice broke.

“Listen, we are going good. We are comfortable together. I like you…,” I took her back in my arms.

“This is the best you can say?” she pushed me back.

As she dragged her luggage to the door, I stood there perplexed, confused…

What to say?

What to do?

What did I want?

When I turned around, it was just me and my solitude, and the darkness within and around me.

She had told me once, ‘The best way to appreciate someone is through your eyes, not by words.’

I am aware I broke her heart… every time she got dressed for me, I gave her a monotonous, ‘You look good’.

Every time she asked, “Where are you going?”, I replied, “Yeah, just hanging out at the bar.”

I know she wanted me to add, “Would you like to join?” at the end.

Every time she cooked for me, I arrived at midnight.

Every time she called me at work, I ended up apologising.

Still I never gave her as much pain as I did today… by letting her go.

By not holding her in my arms and saying, “Please don’t go. I want you to be with me…

“I need you…

“I love you…”

Chapter 4

Whenever I peep out through my office window, I see houses…

Where clothes hang at the balcony…

Where flowers grow in the garden…

Where stray chairs lie on the terrace.

These houses do have curtains, yet you can see inside them. In here, people wake up with a smile to begin a new day – someone prepares tea and everyone sit together, chatting, discussing…

Where in a lonely corner you can read your newspaper and still feel surrounded.

Where every decoration has a story to tell; where people separated by rooms still stay close.

Where someone always cares, whether you have taken your meal or not.

Even if they are housing or in flats, residents try their level best to reflect about their selves in these houses.

Whenever he returned from a conference, Dad used to say that no place feels as comfortable as your home. It doesn’t matter if you have stayed at a friend’s place or in a luxury suit. Whether it is good food, fashionable decor or king-sized bed. Still the sleep you get in your own bed, at your own home won’t be the same anywhere else. Home is the place where you would like to return at the end of the day. A place to hide when you are sad, a place to rush when you are joyous. I always agreed with him, yet was never able to incorporate that philosophy into my own life.

I never called this apartment ‘home’ – as it never was. All the furnishing was done by an interior decorator. It was amazing enough to flaunt to others but lacked every single bit of emotion.

Few scattered flakes of personification were results of disorganised, desperate attempts of her. Some photographs of us, few vases in which she kept white roses – my favourite. Several chandeliers and lamp as those were her favourites. Though she tried to make it a home, all she lacked was my support. I don’t know when she did all these but she definitely left her mark.

For me it was just a place to crash on during the night.

Then two years later, here I am, alone and this place is still a stranger. I grabbed a magazine from the bedside. It was Divya’s. It read, “Do you see a beautiful woman when you look in the mirror?” Bringing a smirk on my face it read to me as, “Can you see yourself in the mirror?” Even if Divya didn’t ask me that, her stuff did.

I collapsed on the bed, though unable to sleep. How amazing is it! When I walked, I was crazy for sleep; a particular happening can change all that – what you want, what you do, everything. So, I was awake, swimming in an ocean of memories.

Memories throwing random questions at me…

Shyama, Kirti, Riya and several other short flings… several other one-night stands were just a matter of satisfying my ego. Making me feel influential. I once committed the crime of falling in love with a ‘out of league’ girl. Those girls whose heads would spin at the very idea of ‘going out with me’. They will brag about my position, my income… my achievements. Even if I leave without any reason, they’ll think they weren’t enough.

But the most important question here is why I date in the first place?

It is the age-old criterion of doing well in life. Study hard for twenty years, get a high-pitched job, get regular appraisal with onsite project, buy an apartment in a metro and date hot-figured girls followed by a trophy wife some years later who inherits a fortune.

Being the Country HRD Head of Adcom-Multimedia, I had everything else in life. Why to leave anything? So, that was me trying to make my life complete.

When I first met Divya, I knew she was different. I was attracted to her from the very first moment I saw her. We met when Ved introduced us at a wine-tasting do. Divya Vashistha, one of the rare owners of enormous legacy, struggling to make something out on her own. Though she got a little advantage from her name, she started off as an entrepreneur three years back and now she defines the benchmark for professional grooming industry in India. Her clients include several top-notch media agencies, IT companies and the list continues.

The way she looked – her hair, her dress, the way she walked, her smile, everything about her was flawless and classy.

She was every bit of the profession she represented.

Her elegance, the way she maintained on and off eye contact. Finally after observing her for an hour, I approached her when she was sitting in a distant corner. Maroon gladiator shoes paired with maroon silk shirt complementing with grey jacket and skirt gave her a professional yet ravishing look. I tried to flatter by praising her tremendous success rate. She didn’t seem interested, probably having heard it a lot more times before. Thank God, the food saved me. I started munching without a word.

“Try some starter with sherry; it’s meant to be like that,” her firm tone reflected that she was being bugged by my deficient knowledge in this field.

“Red wine goes with fish.” This time it was a suggestion that too with a smile.

“I think you might like having beer with meat.”

In our seven-course meal, I was showered with suggestions of several other things ‘I would like to do’.

Desserts are to be with champagne.

I knew one holds the tip of the glass in between their index and middle fingers to prevent them from stains but my knowledge was enlightened by the fact that with one’s touch, the temperature changes, which in turn changes the taste of wine.

In due course, her tone softened and we were no longer strangers.

We talked about corporate know-how, statistics, gossips and what not.

She was the only girl who didn’t run out of conversation; contrarily, she seemed very interested.

“You seem to have lots of friends,” finally I was successful in changing the topic to a bit personal.

“Popular – yes! Friends – no!” she explained with a flat smile.

I raised my eyebrows.

“No one is my friend. They just want to be associated with me. They are my…,” she paused looking for the exact word.

“Connections…,” I smiled.

“Yea…a…ah!! I like you,” she cheerfully pointed out at me.

She started out in an excited tone.

“Having friends is a tricky matter. I am not into that business. When I started out as a management trainee, I tried to be social but following the norms was not my cup of tea.”

“Norms?” I gave a quizzical look.

“Yeah, if you have to be in a group, you have to be a part of most of their movie outings. Have to clash your lunch and dinner timings with them. If you go out for shopping, you’ll have to visit all the shops which your ‘friends’ wish to. These didn’t go along with my ambitions.”

“Still, don’t you have an advantage of never being alone?”

“Actually no. When I reflected what I actually want, I discovered it was definitely not having company. I didn’t have an appetite for roaming around and gossip. I like being alone, thinking, making plans, working. I wanted a no-interference life, be it with family, friends or love.”

I lifted my eyes. She looked away and then continued after a brief silence.

“Whether sitting in a movie or sipping coffee along with friends, I remained worried about the project reports or kept on thinking how I’m wasting my time.

“Then I realised this is not what I want. I want to work… work real hard… that’s what I want… that’s what I enjoy.”

She was exactly like me. I have never given anything else more priority than my work.

Success is all that which matters to me.

“Call me a loner but that’s what I am and I am perfectly comfortable being that,” she chuckled.

I was impressed. Very few people love what they do and there was in glint in her eyes when she talked about her work.

I invited her for coffee. She agreed.

We went out on a few more dates. Life was amazing. She wasn’t nagging or persuading.