It has been two long decades since she left Goa after her marriage. It has been two long decades since Peter stole her from me, and allowed me to get married to Juhi (who presently sleeps peacefully in the inner room, while I stand on the porch against the early sunrise reminiscing). The news came to me in the form of a Facebook message, and ironically it was her brother again who told it to me (he was the one who gave me that one moment of extreme happiness a long time ago when he said that his sister and Peter’s engagement had broken off). But then, he snatched her away from me later, and even when I stood in the Church, perhaps the only one who was truly unhappy, when I had the chance to perhaps kick away the ring (or maybe hide it in my pocket), even that would not have stopped her. And the rich boy drove away with her in his convertible, while I remained behind (destined perhaps to marry Juhi, but then Juhi has always been more of a friend than a lover...) Anyways, I have come out to reminisce (and smoke, Juhi hates the smell inside the house) and I have been awake for the past six hours, ever since that Facebook message came. And with it has come a barrage of memories, of our tone-deaf music band (of whom only two remain in Goa now, and the other one comes and jams with me on weekends). I see Father coming from the opposite end of the road, he has always been an early riser. He looks at me with mock-contempt and makes a sign that says I shouldn’t smoke. Out of respect and shame I crush the cigarette instantly. I step out to greet him and he passes me a knowing smile, he looks at his watch and says ‘Her train comes in a couple of hours.’ Goa is still a small place, already everybody knows (except perhaps Juhi, or maybe she too knows...and pretends to ignore). ‘I am married now, Father.’ I say as I bend down to touch his feet. ‘And so was she my child...and so was she.’ The child in me raises my fist to the sky in a two decade late triumph, ‘Ha’ah, I always knew it would never work out between those two.’ ‘My child, expecting someone’s misery is one of the seven sins...or maybe its not, but then its a very very bad thing.’ Then he proceeds to point inside the house and say, ‘Does she know?’ ‘Father, if you know, then maybe she knows too. Maybe she knew it before me.’ ‘Don’t do anything rash.’ He gives me another benign smile and walks off. Some things should be done properly. I take out my tool kit, and start to polish my twenty year old motorcycle. I try and remove the rust that has covered parts of it, I try and make it shine the way it used to. I tighten its bolts and siphon petrol in it from my car. I try and start the engine, in the third attempt it splutters and coughs to life. I do a small circle around the house and I am happy with what I have achieved in an hours time and with a twenty year old motivation. She is 46 years old now, the same age as me. Juhi comes out and does a morning stretch, the noise has woken her and half the neighbourhood. She sees me grinning like a child and she knows what’s up. And then she does what she does best, she smiles and dwarfs the early morning sun. And in that moment I realize that I have the best and weirdest wife in the world. She goes back inside and comes out with a cap and my jacket, she throws them at me and says ‘Bring her home directly.’ Some things need to be done properly. Unfortunately today I don’t have Peter to compete with (nor his car to puncture, sadly) today I compete only against my own memory and age. I don’t know whether she will come home with me, I don’t know whether she will even talk to me, but I do know that I am going to renew a twenty year old friendship, and bring to full circle a life time of unrequited love. I kick-start my motorcycle and head towards the station, and for old times’ sake I sing ‘Deewana!! Dil Deewaana!! Kabse kare hain tera intezaar....kab aayegi meri jaan-e- bahaar.. ...’
Posted on: Tue, 01 Oct 2013 06:19:58 +0000
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