Love Lasts Forever (29 page)

It is the last week of May and much to our consternation we see more than fifty pirates boarding our ship through the gangway. My first thought is that they’ll be transferring all of us to somewhere else, but when they tell us that today we’ll be going home, a wave of euphoria washes over us. At first none of us believe them dismissing it as another of their mock acts. But when they begin packing their weapons in duffel bags and tell us we are free to move, reality slowly sinks in. I burst out in tears in anticipation of meeting with Aisha again. Captain smiles and embraces me tight in his arms.

‘You know what you need to do now,’ he whispers in my ear.

‘Of course
sir,’ I reply, wiping my tears. ‘Thank you so much for sharing your story with me.’

He nods and ruffles my hair.

One by one we all hug and congratulate each other. 
The company has finally agreed to pay the ransom!

             
An hour later we see a helicopter approaching the ship. The whir of its blades is deafening and we press our hands against our ears. It hovers above the ship at a height of at least hundred metres. All loose items on deck scatter with the column of air under it. Few bags of canvas are dropped on the ship’s deck from the helicopter and then it vanishes into the overcast sky leaving behind a trail of smoke. The pirates scamper toward the bags and begin counting the money. Fifteen minutes later, together with the bags and their weapons, all of them disembark the ship. This confuses us as without any fuel and supplies it is impossible to sail back to India. After receiving their ransom they should have at least helped us with that. However we know our priority should be to leave Somalia first lest another pirate gang hijacks us.

T
he ship’s engines are started immediately to exit Somalia’s territorial waters and soon we begin sailing in a south-easterly direction toward Mumbai port.

Few hours later the ship’s engines break down. Without running for eleven months and with no maintenance done on them this was not unexpected. Luckily a naval ship not too far from us rescues us and they tell us they are en route to Mombasa in Kenya which would take two days. Medical help is rendered to us, and we inform our families of our freedom.

On arrival Mombasa our company arranges the tickets for us to fly to Mumbai. Finally after eleven months and five days our ordeal is over.

But my next ordeal begins.
Aisha, I’m coming…

47. Joe Singh’s advice, again

30
th
May 2012, Mumbai

At the Chatrapati Shivaji International Airport of Mumbai, we have to fight our way through a scrum of media persons and journalists.

‘How was the entire experience of living as hostages?’ asks one journalist.

‘Were any of you physically hurt or tortured?’ asks another.

‘How are all of you feeling now?’

I quickly trail behind Captain who leads me to the exit area. I don’t have even a minute to waste and I guess Captain could sense that. We leave our crewmembers with a blizzard of questions from the journalists.

How are you feeling now?
Can a question get any lamer?

Outside
, Captain hugs me. We exchange our telephone numbers and address. He urges me to visit him at his place with Aisha once everything is settled.

‘Of course,
sir,’ I say. ‘I promise.’

Next,
I take a taxi straight to Joe Singh’s home. Perhaps it’ll be a good idea to speak to him first before facing Aisha.

‘Holy shit! What the hell happened?’ Joe Singh screams at my sight in front of his door.

             
Of course, with my long, unkempt hair, and straggly beard I expected him to be shocked.

‘Can I come in first,’ I ask
.

             
He moves aside, his mouth wide open as I struggle with my luggage. His house smells how a typical north Indian’s house would. The smell of paranthas waft toward the living room and I find myself basking in it. How much I missed good Indian food in the last eleven months?

             
‘In case you don’t realize,’ he says with a confused look, ‘I’m still waiting.’

‘Our ship got hijacked,’
I say, throwing the luggage in one corner and crashing on the black rexine couch.

             
‘Oh God, when?’ His hands fly to his mouth and he plunks down beside me. ‘And why did no one tell me about it?’

             
‘That’s because they didn’t allow us to call, you slob.’

             
‘Oh, okay,’ he says, making a face while poking his finger in my rough, disheveled hair.

They are smelly, sticky
, and I do realize I desperately need a haircut.

‘Tell me everything, will you?
’

             
As if I have a choice. I tell him everything right since the day the pirates boarded, their harassing, mock executions, crew lock downs, and I couldn’t stop myself from sharing Captain’s story as well. In between, his maid offered paranthas, and I devour at least a dozen of them while recounting my last year.

             
‘My God!’ he says when I’m done. ‘That’s an incredibly sad story, dude.’

             
I nod.

‘Okay, wait,’ I say, gulping down the curd I was offered
along. I must admit that has to be the most delicious meal I ever had. ‘Which sad story are you referring to here – the pirates’ or Captains’?’

             
‘Captains” story, of course.’

             
I jerk the curd bowl in his face and his beard gets smeared by the last bits of it. ‘I almost died that day and you find Captain’s story sadder, you psycho.’

             
He runs a hand through his beard and smiles. We both shake our head and say nothing. Instead we just look at each other and share another smile. For whatever reason we high-five. I can’t escape the thought it’s been a year I shared such a moment with my best friend. Nothing can be more important in life than friends. No – wait - wife is the most important.

             
His maid returns with a despondent look and asks me if I need any more paranthas.

‘Only two more,’ I say. I hate that
smirk on her face before she marches down the hallway toward the kitchen. ‘And another bowl of curd, please,’ I call out to her.

‘You know,’
he resumes, ‘he’s so right when he says you can’t forget your first love. Seriously, you can’t. Maybe a woman can, but never a man.’

             
‘Joe,’ I say for a change, ‘how the hell do you even know that. You’ve never been in love, man. And how do you know so much about women anyway. This is something that has always intrigued me.’

             
‘Oh!’ he leans back in his seat. ‘Yeah…well…’

             
I eye him askance. ‘Joe, what are you hiding?’

             
He takes a deep breath and then looks away. ‘Nothing…really.’

             
‘Joe Singh!’ I say, widening my eyes at him.

‘
OK…, well, there’s something…I’ve hidden from you.’

             
‘What?’ I scooted closer to him. For a moment I forgot the purpose of my visit here.

             
‘OK…,’ he looks away again. ‘The thing is I’m in love with a woman for the last seven years.’

             
‘Okay.’

             
‘Um…actually…she is Chinese,’ he says slowly.

             
‘What?’

             
‘Yeah…and I met her in a bar in China.’

             
‘Go on.’

             
‘You know one of
those
bars.’

             
‘What?’ I shot up. Even the last two paranthas the maid got me a minute ago didn’t interest me anymore. ‘She is a prostitute?’

             
‘No, not exactly,’ he countered. ‘She just works there.’

             
‘So she is a bar dancer.’

             
‘No, damn it.’ He hurls a cushion at me. ‘I said she just works there.’

             
‘So she’s a bar dancer cum prostitute, okay, got it.’

             
He makes a face.

‘
Anyway, so what about her?’ I ask.

             
‘Well,’ he says with a smile, scratching his beard. ‘I’ve been madly in love with her ever since I met her and want to get married to her. You know we’d been dating each other for a long time and then we broke up last year, again patched up and again broke up, and then one more time this year. She is a typical woman and pesters me so much, yet I can’t stop loving her. That’s why I always sail in Chinese waters, so I can be with her most of the time. Being with her has made me realize what a woman really wants. And well, that’s how I know so much about women.’

             
I am stunned. I’m not even hungry anymore. So this is the reason he knows so much about women, something that has been plaguing me for the last so many years.
And
I’ve been following all his insanely advices about women…
No wonder, my marriage has fallen apart.

‘So let me get this again,
’ I say, my hands stretched out. ‘Being with a Chinese bar dancer cum prostitute you learnt what a woman wants and
that’s
how you know so much about women…I mean, wow!’

             
‘Yes!’ he says. ‘So what man, love is blind. You forgot your own time. You fell in love with our enemy’s sister, Priyanka’s sister, he, he...’

             
‘So…you do believe in love then.’

             
‘Of course, man. It’s the most beautiful thing in the whole world.’

             
‘So then why have you been hiding this all this while?’

             
‘Because…dude, it’s embarrassing.’

             
I shake my head in disbelief. ‘Can you even imagine what sort of children both of you will give birth to? Can you not see it? Chinese eyes and a turban on top, Oh God, Joe, buddy, you are amazing!’

             
He says nothing.

I kn
ow what I have to do now. If Joe Singh can be in love with a Chinese…whatever and still can’t get her off his head, then I will never be able to forget Aisha.

I
leave his house and run with all brute force toward Aisha’s place.

Ten minutes later, I am
still running.

Why the hell
did I not take his car?
               

4
8. Sorry Aisha, sorry Priyank

30
th
May 2012, Mumbai

I bring Joe Singh’s car to a screeching halt outside Aisha’s house.
Why the hell was I running if I could drive?

That definitely had to be Bollywood’s
melodramatic effect. As sense had dawned on me I’d sprinted back to Joe Singh’s place, crawled behind the steering wheel of his car, and then drove at breakneck speed.

Now,
here I am, outside the door of Aisha’s place in Bandra. A sinking sensation forms in the pit of my stomach as I imagine what her reaction would be.
Would she be happy to see me? Would she fall in my arms? Would she take me back in her life or…would she kick me out her house?

             
I knock.

             
After a minute, for what seemed like an hour, the door creaks open. It’s my handsome brother-in-law Priyank. He looks dashing in his sky blue chinos and um…pink shirt that is rolled behind to expose his fair arms.

             
I clear my throat. ‘Hey Priyank!’

             
‘Oh! Look who’s here,’ he says; his voice cold and surly. ‘The mystery man is back. We thought you got lost.’

             
‘Actually my ship got…um…never mind. Is Aisha around?’

             
He archs his eyebrows. ‘Why do you want to see her now, after such a long time?’

             
‘Please.’

             
‘And what’s with all that hair and beard,’ he says. His nose crinkles to form a frown. ‘You like
Devdas
of some shady movie.’