“Now tell me you are on your way, and not ready to hop into a movie theater,” she says, and I feel proud of my friend for not just giving me one but two brilliant ideas.
“Ditching you,” I say it like a child.
“Dost dost naa raha…” She sings—a friend didn’t remain a friend.
“Okay, I will see you at your place for mehndi tomorrow. Make sure you don’t make any plans with your love. At least for one day, you are mine.”
“Aww…Anju, I love you too,” I say, and hang up, smiling.
I go back inside the restaurant, back to my seat. Nothing has changed here. The food plates lay on the table the way I left it, and his eyes still look past me. Following lunch, a romantic movie experience also goes dry.
We finish the dinner at Manek Chowk in silence where we finally unwrap my chunari off his hand. Though his wound looks slightly better than it looked in the morning, I still insist that we check with a doctor, which I know he is going to avoid. I fail to cheer him yet again, even with the help of the very observant and jolly Chintu, the helper boy at the thela.
After finishing dinner, we hop into yet another auto-rickshaw under the drizzling rain to reach my home.
While the rickshaw sputters forward through the light post rush hour traffic of Ahmedabad, I try to bring Raag out of his gloom and fail persistently. In silence, the cool breeze flows through my hair.
This is the first time in all these months he is like this, and it is killing me inside. I am desperate to find out what is it that is bothering him so much. What’s more to what he shared at the bridge? Tomorrow we won’t see each other, as my whole day is planned for pre-engagement rituals. Besides, stepping out of the house a day before the engagement is considered bad luck. This rule is made by Kaveri Bhatt, my loving mother, and no one can dare to argue with that. That also leaves us with today, before this rickshaw lands us at the circus that’s gathered at my home to celebrate our official engagement.
Please speak, Raag! I beg you.
I ditched Anju’s idea to ask Raag’s mother about his past because it would be unfair to him, even though I am desperate to find out what is it that he is pondering over. Out of my agitation and desperation, I finally ask what I kept myself from asking the whole day. “What is it that’s bothering you?”
Raag inhales and lets out a cold sigh, looking at me as if he is looking at a treasure. I wait for him to speak.
Just tell me! We will get through it together. That’s what lovers do.
When at last Raag speaks, his voice is low. “I want you to think about this whole thing.” His eyes are hooded, and he looks exhausted.
“What whole thing?” Just as I ask, thunder rumbles over the horizon.
“You and me…the engagement, and…and the future.” Raag almost stutters as he says this. Then adds, “Your future.”
What! I thought it was about our future, not just mine! No!
“In the future, I see you and I are happily married, and have two little kids named Zen and Zaya!” I look him in the eyes, and expect him to find this amusing but sadly no luck. After observing his etched face for a while, I throw my hands in the air. “Raag…I already told you.” I hold my head between my hands.
“Over the bridge, you hardly had two minutes to think,” Raag says and shakes his head. “Mayu, take your time…sleep on it. Okay?”
I look up at him and open my mouth, but he speaks before I do. “Please?”
What can I say?
“If it makes you happy, I will.” I sigh.
“Okay.” He exhales.
“Is that all?” I ask expectantly.
“There is this…” He stops too soon as the auto rickshaw comes to an abrupt stop in front of my home.
Damn it! There is more, and he would have just simply told me if it wasn’t this stop. For once when you want the city to be crowded with bustling traffic and delay your journey, disappointedly it doesn’t.
My home shines with rows of red, green, and yellow blinking lights in preparation for my engagement. A few of my cousins hover near the door and a window, trying to catch a glimpse of Raag.
Raag shakes his head, and before we step out of the rickshaw, he murmurs, “Look, don’t worry, okay?” He has changed the subject. “Whatever you decide, I will take care of everything.”
I frown at him in confusion. What does that even mean? What was he about to say? Is he suggesting that if I were to call off the engagement, he would take the blame? No!
I massage my forehead with closed eyes and open my mouth to speak, but to my sheer disappointment, two of my cousins are already standing on either side of the rickshaw, holding umbrellas for us.
Damn it!
Despite Raag’s gloomy mood, he comes inside the house, carrying my shopping bags. I find the window of opportunity to clean his wound and wrap a proper bandage around his hand. Because of a strange sense of apprehension that has taken over my brain, I don’t want him to leave. Ever! Unfortunately, there is no place in the house where I can find some privacy to talk with Raag, and I have run out of reasons to keep him hostage.
One of my cousins forcefully convinces Raag to drop him off in his car, and my mother makes it impossible for Raag to deny. For a change, someone hands him a black umbrella to reach the car.
After a longing look at my brittle face, Raag heads out of the shimmery house and toward the waiting car. Standing at the threshold, as I watch his quickly departing figure, holding the black umbrella under the drizzling rain, I feel a pang of nostalgia. What has happened to us?
Most of my family is staring at him, along with a few enthusiasts from their home window.
Why is my stomach churning? Is there a way I could stop him? He opens the car door, closes the umbrella, and sits inside.
As soon as the door closes, driven by the inner urge, I start toward the car that is now slowly moving forward. To hell with the people staring at me, and to hell with the rain—I have to stop him, for I have to talk to him, for I want to take him in my embrace and never let go.
As I make a run for the car, tears roll down my cheeks. I can’t keep up the pace, and I feel my heart constrict as if Raag is slipping out of my hold like sand in the hourglass.
But then the car stops and, opening the door and then the umbrella, Raag steps out. Once we are close, too close, he holds the umbrella as such that we both are under it.
“Are you crying?” Raag asks, worried.
“No…” I lie, my voice trembling, looking up at him.
“I can’t see you cry.” Raag wipes my tears. “Why were you crying and running behind the car?”
“I had to tell you something,” I reply, and he manages a weak smile, but sadly, it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Let’s hear it.”
“We are not going out tonight, are we?” I hold his hand that holds the umbrella.
“No,” he replies, making me sigh. “That would give you some time to think.”
I don’t want to think. I know what I want! Can’t you see?
I clear my throat and try to steady my breath. “Um…my phone is in Jignesh’s car, and Pappa is busy in preparation for the engagement. He is hardly home. Also, the home line will be busy for one or the other reason or won’t work because of the rain.”
“Okay.” Raag tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.