What If...

Standing there in front of her, I went back all those years. I was deliberating; I did not know how to answer that simple question, “how r u?” I wanted to say I was fine. I had a lovely wife, children, and a happy life. But somehow her question was not looking for these answers. I could feel it; she looked at me with those searching eyes, trying to answer the unanswered. I remembered those eyes; from years that were so far back in time that they seemed to belong to someone else.

That evening we had found ourselves, alone, in her room. I was going away the next day and she said she wanted to show me something. The rest of the household resided in an expectant hush, waiting and hoping for something to change. The day before, I had said no. No, to a marriage proposal that had made its way across the myriad channels of relationships that linked her to me. She had not believed it. She, who was the belle of the ball, the cynosure of all eyes, every young man’s dream. She had chosen me and I had refused her. I, who was practically an out-of-town nobody, still struggling to juggle my studies and a part-time job. As she sat before me, I knew she wanted to ask me all that was going like a storm through her confused mind. I felt a little afraid. I was not very adept at handling women, far less situations as delicate as this.

She looked at me, her eyes searching mine. It was then that I gathered up all the courage to tell her that my circumstances did not allow marriage, at least not at the moment. “Tell me yes, and I will wait. I will wait against all opposition. But I need to hear it from you.” At that moment commitment was the furthest thing from my mind. And to be fair to myself, I was not really in love. Or more correctly, I really did not feel anything that can be akin to the extreme emotions that one usually associates with love. How could I commit? I had to think of my younger siblings, who were still in school. My father already retired, pulling a decently sized family on the strength of his pension and my meagre earnings. I told her it was not possible. That she should find someone more suitable to her status. She sat there, still looking at me, her soulful eyes still searching for the unanswered truth, if any.

I came back the next day. I left her town, never to return again. And I left her memories, never to think back. At least that’s what I had thought. But, what remained were those haunting, searching eyes. Later on, I had thought many times, what if I had said yes, what if I had asked her to wait, what if…

Now as we stood, facing each other, once more those eyes were asking me something, hoping that the answer would be different from what my face so easily reflected. “I am very happy. I have a lovely family. After all this commotion is over, I will take you home to meet them.” She had come to attend a cousin’s wedding and I happened to be the cousin’s friend. We had met after ten years. We had never been in touch after that day. Our distantly related families thought it best to keep us from each other, lest our marriages be affected by even the whisper of a past association. “How are you?” Before, she could answer, I knew it. Her eyes said it all. “Well, I have a rich husband and a good life.” “Are you happy?” The moment I asked that, I regretted. What right did I have to ask if she was happy? She had wanted happiness from me. She had made no bones about it. And here she was standing here, in front of me, stripped of her poise; her emotions disarmingly at my mercy. It was so plainly there in front of me. How can I be so cruel? What did I expect to hear? Why was I looking for the unanswered “No”? Would that give me some sort of satisfaction? Would the feeling that someone’s happiness was and is in my hand, make me feel like God?

No, that was not it. I was not that sort of a person. I wished everyone a happy life, just as I wanted my loved ones to be happy. I just wanted to flow along with the rhythm of life. I had not done any harm to this woman in front of me. The woman, whose eyes were still brimming with so much of love, that it made me look away. We stood there, as time went by, each in our own thoughts, each in the other’s mind, each thinking, what if…

Hey! It's Just Another Story:-)

She did not remember when she fell asleep. The pillow was wet with tears; the pillow into which she sank her face, every night, trying to shut away the pain. It was so physical, this pain; it felt as if someone or something was twisting her heart. She moved her hand over her chest trying to lessen the pain. She wanted to sleep, fall into a slumber that will take away all the memories, so that in the morning she can wake up with an empty slate for a heart. But life usually was not so kind. It did not let you use an eraser quite so liberally.

Why does it happen sometimes that you are faced with a situation that you have always dreaded? She was not prepared for this, nor was she waiting for it. She was there, whiling away her time away from the noise and chaos, in this sleepy corner of the world. She had not gone out holding her heart on her hand. She had not asked anyone, nor permitted them, to have a peek, discover what they wanted to discover and then pull her along. She was laughing through the labyrinth of life, just as she had promised herself that she would. She could'nt help when a disquieting feeling engulfed her, from time to time. But everytime she rose from that, fighting, gasping, but live and kicking. She had learnt to take care of her emotional needs.

It was then that he came. Like a messiah. She saw a friend, a person who had time for her. Her days took a new turn, waiting for the hands of the clock to reach that position when the phone would ring. She would finish all her work and wait for that time. She would keep everything aside and wait for that voice. She would dread the time when he would say bye. Time would fly. The seconds, minutes and hours would merge into a dream, removed from the reality of time and space. All that mattered was feeling each other intensely across the invisible barriers of the world.

She often wondered, now, why had he come all of a sudden? He of all people, who had the most satisfying and content life, as one can ever hope for? There was no void in his life that needed filling up! Why did he wake her from her slumber, why did he make her want to flow against the tide, why did he say to her, “tell me once, what I want to hear.” Today, every moment she remembers that one single line, that soft oh so soft voice, and all she is left with is her own tears.

They were both burning with the heat of desire, a passion so overpowering that all barriers seem to crumble in its force. It was a ring of fire that beckoned, with mesmerising intensity, even if it meant lives charred for eternity. There was no way either of them could escape it. So, it happened one day. As they came close, fate took over. An insignificant instant from the past, a story of indulgence that left nothing in its path, came between them. Was she trying to be honest? Today, as she looks back, it feels like the hands of God. But she saw that light die in his eyes. As he moved away, she knew she had lost him.

Why was a physical encounter, without love, so important to him? He had loved her, had he not? She had trusted him, had she not? No, he did not go away, which perhaps would have been easier. But he moved away, sheltering himself behind a wall of work, responsibilities, ethics and morality, unreachable, shunning her like dreaded disease.

She complains. He explains. Love is a one-way traffic, if “I love thee what’s that to thee?” He tells her that there should be no expectation. He tells her anything can happen in the future. He tells her that even if nothing exists between them from this moment, can they not live with what they had? All so true, all so sage, all so logical. But she can’t understand such profound thoughts. If all this is true, why did he risk what he had? Was it all a game, played in the spirit of adventure?

Did she deserve this? The question haunts her all the while. She is grateful for these moments they shared. Grateful? Is that the right word? Many years back, someone had said, “love is an illusion.” She had thought, what a cynical idea! Today, it seems true. To be in love with the idea of love. The expectations, the fantasy’s, the waiting and the wanting are somehow more pleasant than reality.

The day he said that he had lost everything, she knew that he meant his family. That day something died within her. The will to flow against the tide.