Of Course I Love You!: Till I find someone better… (17 page)

‘So … any last words?’ I shouted as she walked a few yards away.

She looked back and adjusted the tufts of hair falling on her eyes and shouted, ‘Now I know why Avantika is crazy about you. And the other girls. I hope now you feel that I was girlfriend material after all.’ She smiled and walked away.

Did that mean I was a great kisser?
Obviously! And the other girls? There were just four whom I had kissed and none of them had said I was any good.

Anyway, great kiss, though!

Life’s about the small victories and the small battles you win every day. On the farewell night, the most stunning of all girls kissed me. Life isn’t all that bad.

Vernita was right. Avantika was sad at the Spirit of Living meeting nd she didn’t tell me why clearly. Probably it was because her application to change her posting to Delhi had been rejected and she had to shift to Bangalore in a little over two months. I was equally depressed but I knew we would stick it out. Our sadness wasn’t borne out of the fear that our relationship would crumble down in due time, but it was because it was hard for us to imagine
spending days on end without seeing each other. We didn’t have much time left together.

I had started counting time backwards. As we approached the date and she had to leave for Bangalore, she started to slip in and out of depression. We spent those two months trying to spend every possible minute with each other, spending hours at coffee shops till the waiters politely asked us to leave.

We held hands till they became sweaty, we kissed each other till it became embarrassing, we said we loved each other till we got tired and then we said it a few more times. We never got enough of each other. We started to plan ways we could meet each other, compare the merits of Google Talk and Skype, among other things.

With every passing day, I saw Avantika become sadder. Sometimes, she just cried all night and didn’t answer any of my calls. All that made me equally sad because I wasn’t able to make a difference.

Though, even in Bangalore, she would only be a call and a flight away from me. But not meeting her thrice in a week was a depressing thought. I started to look for jobs in Bangalore, but no one was hiring. I would have flushed toilets for a living but all I got were IT job openings.

I had already started missing her and every time I said anything like that to Avantika, she sobbed like a little child.

She was a little child, my baby, my sweet little baby.
Tattooed
little baby!

The crying and the depression took a toll of her face. It was always dry and tired and devastatingly tragic. It took me to the time when we first met. She was sad then. She was beautiful then. She was beautiful now. She would always be beautiful to me. She may be ninety, her face may be riddled with wrinkles, she might lose all her teeth, her gums may bleed, she may miss a few limbs … but she would always be my little child. I would still kiss those hollow cheeks, still hold her wrinkled hands and still say that I loved her. Because I didn’t know what to do if not love her.

She was the only girl I had ever loved and it had taken eight years since I hit puberty to find her. I was going to keep her for the next eighty.

Days flew by and the time for Avantika to leave for Bangalore came near. It wasn’t until fifteen days before she left that I finally realized why Avantika had acted strangely over the last two months. I had assumed it was because she didn’t want to leave Delhi, but there was a lot more going on in her mind than just that. I hadn’t braced myself for it, and I certainly didn’t see it coming.

‘Deb, I need to tell you something,’ Avantika said. She didn’t sound great. I knew that tone. I could sense the despondence in her voice. It was there every time she talked about her family or her ex-boyfriends. Things that troubled her. I wondered what it was this time.

‘What?’ I asked.

‘We need to break up.’

‘WHAT?’ I asked just to make sure I had heard right.

‘We need to break up. We need to end this. I don’t think you will understand this but you have to try. I am sorry, Deb. I am really sorry,’ she said, almost breaking down.

‘Is this some kind of a joke?’

‘No, it’s not. I swear on Tanmay, it’s not,’ she said. She couldn’t be joking. She never swore without a reason.

‘But—’

I was speechless. It felt like somebody had driven a ram though my chest. I started feeling dizzy. For a moment, I wished she were joking. I began to lose my footing and everything Avantika and I had shared flashed in front of my eyes. Just like life does when one is about to die. I felt my heart beat out of my chest. My stomach churned and I could taste bile at the back of my throat. I could feel myself getting sick.

‘Deb, just listen. Please, do this for me and don’t ask for explanations. I don’t have any. You have given me the most wonderful relationship of my life. And I love you and will keep doing that. But we have to end this. Had there been a choice, I would have made it, but there is none.’

‘Is it your parents? Please tell me?’ I begged. ‘I will talk to them. I will talk to mine. We will figure this out.’ I paced around the room, slapping my forehead and trying not to cry and smash the phone against the wall.

‘It’s not about them,’ she argued. I could feel her voice steeling up. The moment of vulnerability had passed and I knew I wouldn’t get past her now.

‘But …? What? Why? What?
What?
’

I was in tears. I wasn’t sobbing softly. I was shouting and I was wailing. Like someone had died. It felt like I had died. I loved her. Avantika was all I had, and I had never thought beyond her in all those days I was with her. My days started with her and ended with her. She filled everything in between. I had come to believe she would always be around. I had accepted her as a part of me, a part of my existence.

She waited for me to stop crying.

‘It’s not in my hands, Deb. I wish it were but it’s not. This is what Sri Guru wants and I can’t go against that. It’s best for the both of us.’

‘Sri Guru? Your Sri Guru? Did he ask you to do this? I can’t believe this, Avantika! Are you out of your mind? You are breaking up with me because that stupid Sri Guru asked you to? You can’t be serious!’

‘Deb! Deb, you can say anything to me, but please not a thing against Sri Guru. He didn’t ask me to break up.’

‘Then what? Did he want you to abandon the world and become a sanyasi? Or did he find someone for you? Huh? How can you be so irrational? I still can’t believe this is happening. Of all people, I didn’t expect this from you.’ It still sounded like an extended joke and she would crack up any moment. She didn’t. I didn’t know whether I should cry, or feel ridiculous.

‘No, Deb. Will you please listen? I have been somewhat disturbed with what happened to Paritosh and Shawar. It happened so suddenly. So I talked to Sri Guru about it and …’

‘Great! And he loaded it with astrological bullshit about you and that you are responsible for it. Hasn’t he? Tell me, Avantika? You never loved me, did you? Why? All you care about is your Sri Guru. He tells you to leave me, you do that. Tomorrow he will tell you to go fuck somebody, you will do that. What are you? It’s like I don’t even know you,’ I shouted at her. I heard Mom and Dad stop talking in the other room. They were then trying to listen in. I knew Mom would come into my room eventually to ask for something she didn’t need.

‘Deb, will you listen, for god’s sake?’

‘No, I won’t listen to you! You can go tell your Sri Guru to fuck off. Do that! That money-sucking swine who lives off stupid, innocent people like you. Why can’t you see it? He is fooling you and everybody around you. How is this so hard to understand?’

‘Enough!’

‘What enough? He is a bastard and nothing is going to change that,’ I bellowed.

‘Don’t call me unless I tell you to. I am hanging up. I can’t be the reason for your pain. I can’t see you suffer because of me. Check your inbox and you will know. Bye, Deb. I love you. I always will. It may hurt you for a while, but it is for your own good.’

‘Avantika, listen. You cannot leave me just like that. Not for that piece of shit.’

‘Deb, I don’t think there is anything to argue in this. It’s about my faith. Go, check your mail. It is not easy for me to do this. Bye.’

She hung up and she it seemed as if she hadn’t shed a single tear. I checked my mail after I handed over the paper puncher Mom asked for. She asked me if everything was okay and I nodded. I told her something went in my eye and she asked if I needed an eye drop. I shook my head and she left my room.

After I read the message, I was sure about two things.

First, I would definitely kill all god-men before anybody, if I ever got the chance. And second, that this was the silliest break-up ever. I always thought Avantika was wild, not stupid and irrational. There is a fine line, a line that everyone who goes to religious
satsang
s,
jagaran
s and pilgrimages invariably crosses. There is no god, or god-men, who can be against two people being together.

The message read:

Sri Guru: ‘It’s you who is responsible for all the trials and tribulations that people around you go through. You determine the happiness or the sorrow that they experience. You have to make their lives worthwhile. It’s you who define their lives. What fate they have is of your giving. It’s you, only you who can make or break their lives. Child, if you think that somebody is suffering around you, it is only you who can set it right. You are the one responsible. It is because of you that they suffer. It is because of you that they don’t.’

Deb, I am not strong. After what happened to Shawar and Paritosh, I am scared. I won’t be able to carry on if something ever happens to you. You were barred from your placements a few days after you met me, you screwed your CAT examination and maybe it was all because of me. I am not sure, Deb. I’m scared after seeing Shawar in the condition that he is in right now. I don’t know, Deb. I cannot take it. I would rather be away from you and see you safe and happy. Your life was perfect before I came along and spoiled everything. It’s best that we don’t talk.

Sorry, Deb. I love you.

Avantika.

Now what was that supposed to mean? If Paritosh and Shawar did something stupid, it did not mean
Avantika
was at fault! If she couldn’t get Paritosh off drugs, how was she responsible? If Shawar was a drunkard, it was not because of Avantika. And even if it was, it did not mean I would end up in the same situation.

I couldn’t believe she could be so dumb! How could she not see the lack of logic behind this? I knew she loved and respected Sri Guru more than anybody else, but this was downright stupid. And he had not asked Avantika to leave me! I texted her and vented what I felt about her and her Guru. She didn’t reply. I called her incessantly from my cell phone and my landline. She didn’t answer any of my calls. I mailed her and she ignored my emails. I left messages with her roommates and friends but there was no response.

How could she move on? How could she not respond to anything? How could she not see that I was wrecked?

The next day, I called her from a PCO and broke down into little sobs as soon she said
Hello
. I knew she was in pain, but she had her reasons to end this relationship. I had none. I wanted this relationship. It was the only thing I had. That relationship was the only thing that kept me going those days. It defined my days.

Two days later, she finally answered my call. I begged her to meet me, make me understand what her fears were, but she refused. She told me that I wouldn’t understand. She told me that if I had been through the things she had been through, I would understand what her Guru meant to her. She told me that I should respect myself and not call her. While I was on my knees, she kept driving me to the ground, telling me that I would get over it. Relationships end, people break up all the time, she argued. How could I have told her that it wasn’t just a relationship for me? How could I have told her that I wouldn’t live to see another day?

I wandered around North Campus every day, hoping to catch a glimpse of her but she had moved out from her hostel. Isha, her roommate, told me that she hadn’t spoken about me since the break-up. I asked her if she ever saw Avantika crying and she
shook her head. How could she not even cry? She had cried for two years when Paritosh left her. Was I that insignificant in her life? Could she move on that easily?

It was hard for me to stay home. Everything reminded me of her. Every day I took the metro to North Campus and walked around aimlessly to block her out of my head. I would come back home, exhausted and teary-eyed, and go to sleep. Weeks went by and I kept pining for her. My calls and texts still went unanswered.

It had been days since I had slept, eaten, breathed or smiled to my heart’s content. I needed her. One touch, one hug was all I wanted. I badly wanted to see her, hold her hand again, capture in my mind what it felt like, and kiss her to know that she still cared. I wanted to ask her how she was doing and see her break down in my arms. I wanted her to tell me that she was crushed and I was all she could think about. Her regret, tears and disappointment would be my consolation. I felt cheated. Like I had died and no one even cried.

Had I died?

More days passed and I continued to spiral down into depression. My parents thought it was because they were moving to Hyderabad and I would miss them. My mom would sit next to me and ask me if I needed her to stay back. I refused.

All their bags were packed and the boxes were sealed a week before they had to leave. It felt like I was being abandoned. They asked me a million times if I was okay and whether Sonali or Mom needed to stay back. I vehemently refused and they left. I remember breaking down in the taxi the moment I saw them disappear behind the airport’s sliding doors.

Now, I was all alone in my grief.

More calls were rejected. Texts weren’t replied to and mails weren’t answered. My restlessness showed no signs of fading. I couldn’t accept that Avantika had moved on. I couldn’t accept
that it was over. I would wait for her, I had already decided. She would come back.

‘Move on, Deb, you have to. For me. For yourself. Bye. Best of luck for your life. I am leaving for Bangalore.’

This is what her message said, a day before she had to leave for Bangalore. I didn’t think a single sentence could be as discomforting as this message was.

From there, it all went downhill. I had asked Shrey to leave me alone and he had done exactly that. The abandonment was complete in the next few days. Shrey left for Germany for a technological start-up with up some guys he knew from IIT, Delhi. Viru and Yogi received their joining letters and they had to start soon. Anyway, they wouldn’t have understood what I was going through. Their relationship with me was restricted to birthday treats and such. The last one I gave was when they found out I had secured a job at BHEL. I don’t remember getting a treat in return.

Anyway, they weren’t friends I could call my own. There were a few people that I called up, who I knew had loved me once, but it made no difference. I didn’t want to meet them either. The tendency of thinking that meeting others would mean cutting into the time I could spend with Avantika still hadn’t left me. Avantika had sucked out of all my energy, love and optimism.

Talking to anybody didn’t help. I ended up in the same damned state. I didn’t need a distraction. I didn’t need a diversion. I didn’t need company.
I needed Avantika.

It felt like I was being punished for who I was, like life had come a full circle. Every iota of pain I had subjected others to, came back to torment me, like ghosts looking over my shoulder and sneering at me. Every break-up came back to haunt me. Every friendship that I had not respected was back to haunt me. I had never felt responsible or sorry for the troubles of any of my friends. I assumed they were strong enough to deal with them on their own. My insensitivity came back to bite me.

Things went from bad to worse. If only there was a sign that told me she was suffering as much as I did. Everywhere I went, I
could see her, feel her in the air, sense her presence, and smell her perfume.
Maybe she is stalking me. Maybe she is behind that pillar to see how I am doing.

The emptiness of my apartment had started to haunt me. My parents had left me the car and I spent days driving around her flat, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
Maybe she hadn’t gone to Bangalore at all.
Nothing happened. I drove back and forth from North Campus to Greater Kailash, where we first met, more than a dozen times each day, hoping to bump into her. Nothing happened.

I spent hours at the Delhi University metro station, hoping that she would walk by, spot me and then come running into my arms and tell me how sorry she was. Nothing happened. I called up her friends to help me track her. They, too, had no idea where Avantika was. I asked Vernita but Tanmay was tight-lipped about Avantika’s whereabouts. I called the office she had joined and the receptionist wouldn’t connect my call unless I knew which department she was working in. After three calls, she threatened to call the police and submit my number. I didn’t try it again.