Four years later…
Paritosh had just delivered a guest lecture for Rupali’s class at JHU (Johns Hopkins University). She was now an Assistant Professor there. Paritosh was in the US to attend a conference at UCB (University of California, Berkeley), but he had made a stop at JHU to meet her.
“What time is your flight?” she asked.
“We have about six hours before I have to leave for the airport.”
“We… can go… home… if that is fine by you,” Rupali proposed hesitatingly.
“Sure. I need to compensate for all the hostel day celebrations I missed.”
She chuckled, looking embarrassed, “I really pestered you about it, didn’t I?”
“And then you forgot about it when I was all prepared to go.”
“Yes,” she became thoughtful and nostalgic.
“And since that year,” Paritosh spoke after a pause, “I have not missed a single hostel day. And it is silly, but somehow I always find myself looking for you when I go there, before reminding myself that you are not there.”
She smiled uncertainly.
“I wonder though. I always see the otherwise nerdy engineering students all decked up for the hostel day. Did you do that too? Or did you attend that also in your I-am-forever-a-teenager attire?” they had reached her home and she was parking her car.
“You disliked my attire so much?” she frowned.
“No. On the contrary, I liked them very much. But that doesn’t stop me from wondering how you would look all decked up.”
Rupali paused to open the door and spoke once they were inside her house, “I can show you the photos.”
“Or I could see it in real life.”
“Now?”
“No. On a suitable occasion.”
“What occasion?”
“I was hoping you have someone in your life by now. And someday soon, I would see you all decked up. In a traditional Bengali wedding. Actually, even an American wedding would do.”
“Dr. Khanna!” Rupali should have known that he wouldn’t try to flirt with her. What wasn’t right in his eyes four years ago was not going to miraculously become right now. But as irrational as they were, her hopes had a tendency to rekindle themselves at the slightest of the pretexts. The way the conversation was going had given them more than ample reasons. But he had stayed true to his character and had given the conversation just the turn that was expected of him. Rupali was embarrassed for more than one reasons.
“It is difficult to ask these things over e-mails or phone, Rupali. But I… I do feel responsible. And I need to know that you have moved on. You are young and you have your entire life before you.”
“If moving on is your problem, then rest assured. I have dated, I have had relationships. But don’t demand a commitment from me.”
“You haven’t found the right person yet?”
“May be. It is difficult to find someone who thinks that I being myself is all right and that it even makes me special.” Paritosh chuckled at that and Rupali joined in. Then she added, “But more likely I am not the right person for someone to settled with.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. I am scared of commitment.”
“Why?”
“What if someday I realize that committing to that person was not a good idea?”
“You mean what if someday you find yourself in my position?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“I do know you well enough, Rupali. Unfortunately I became your role-model even where I shouldn’t have.”
“Don’t blame yourself for that, please.”
“Rupali. You don’t have anything to fear. You are not going to commit in the world I committed in. My world didn’t allow for personal considerations or tastes, it did not allow two individuals to make decisions for themselves. It was always about others. First about your parents, society, then about the helpless girl you married, then about your kids. If that is the kind of commitment you are asked to make, don’t make it. But you can do better. You can make commitments for your own happiness.”
“Tell me the story of your marriage,” she switched on the coffee-maker and brought out some snacks from the kitchen cabinet.
“There is no story. My mother was ill. She wouldn’t leave our village for her treatment though. Her only wish was to see me back in India and get me married. I complied. The girl, of course, had to be ready to stay with her in the village and take care of her even if I worked elsewhere. She, with the help of my relatives, chose Amrit. And Amrit was the very incarnation of my mother’s idea of a good daughter-in-law. She took care of my mother till she drew her last breath. She did things I have seen professional nurses wince at. The old woman died peacefully. I am indebted to my wife for that.”
Rupali smiled, “You have always been thinking about others. Since those days.”
“Don’t make me sound like a martyr. Those were the circumstances, and those were the expectations people like us were brought up with. There are many like me.”
“May be. But in my life there is only one like you.”
“Have it your way, then. But don’t let my experience dictate yours.”
“I will keep that in mind. Coffee is ready. Let me get you some. I still don’t cook much. We can go out for lunch. Any preferences?”
“You are the host! By the way Amrit sent something for you.”
“She knows you are here?”
“Yes. Here are some home-made mathris. I wasn’t sure it would make past customs. But I couldn’t explain that to her. Thankfully, customs did not bother,” he took out a box from his suitcase and handed it over to her.
“Wow! Thank her on my behalf. And–” she suddenly fell silent.
“What happened?”
“I feel guilty that she thinks so well of me. I was more comfortable with her feelings towards me for the few days when she hated me.”
“What do you have to feel guilty about?”
“My feelings?”
“They don’t matter in her world, Rupali. What you do is all that matters. And you haven’t done anything to feel guilty. If my conscience is clear, yours should be too.”
“You are right,” Rupali smiled weakly.
“By the way,” Paritosh chuckled as he thought of what he was going to tell her next, “Amrit thinks that I am responsible for you not getting married.”
“How so?” Rupali was alarmed.
“She thinks that the incident where you had told the police that we were together that night has marred your reputation and no good proposals come your way now.”
“What?” Rupali laughed out loud.
Paritosh smiled fondly, “Thank God. You are still as loud.”
“Not many people thank God for that,” her laughter vanished and didn’t leave even a smile in its wake.
“You will find the one person who will. And that is all that would matter.”
Hours flew by as they alternately experienced the feelings of hilarity, camaraderie and longing for each other through their conversation. Soon Rupali had parked the car at the airport to send Paritosh off. They did not talk for the last few minutes. As they stood in the terminal facing each other, unspoken emotions clouded their faces and mind yet again. And yet again, it fell to Paritosh to break the silence, “It’s time. Take care, Rupali.”
She nodded and forced a smile, while blinking back her tears. “Dr. Khanna,” she called him just as he turned to leave, “Forgive me for this, but I have to.” Then giving him no time to prepare, she went forward and hugged him tight. Paritosh was startled, but then he let go of the strolley bag he was holding and put his arms around her. His left hand went over her back, while with the right hand he protectively held her head, pressing it into his chest. He could feel a drop or two of her tears wetting his t-shirt.
They separated after a few moments. Paritosh turned and walked off wordlessly. The volcano became active whenever they were together. He couldn’t risk being near it any longer!
– The End –
P. S. I can anticipate the demands of uniting them ultimately 🙂 But not all love stories are the same. This isn’t a story of passion and romance and union. This is a story of longing and separation and unfulfilled desires. The pain is what will keep them going. There will be no continuation!
