“Don’t you hate it when people let their past decide the rest of their life?” , I asked, not looking you in the eye.
After months of agony I’d faced in this new city, I was finally in a good place. I was happy. I belonged. Marine Drive was made so people could do more than look at that skyline and feel the breeze of the cold water. It made you want to talk about life while you look at the stars and have ginger tea.
Our phones had died on the way here. There would be no memories of this night and this conversation on the internet and maybe that’s what would make this even better.
You nodded at me as if asking me to elaborate. I never talk about my family. It always seemed like something that should stay private. At this point, I doubt anyone even knew that I had a sibling. Tonight was different though, I talk anyway.
“My father didn’t always have it easy. Lost his mother when he was 2 and then his sister again at 17. I’ve never seen him cry. The most important man in my life has been emotionally unavailable. I’ve never seen him take the time to notice what’s right in front of him. Bringing money to the table isn’t enough, Jai. There’s a part of me that wants to believe that he could’ve filled that void by doing the opposite of what his life was. That there was always more love to give and receive”.
You turn towards me and don’t take your eyes off of me for even a second.
“Maybe we’ll do this life differently. Maybe you’re better because he changed the blueprint of what your life should be. You’re not cold, Meera. You’re out there living the life he never got, going the extra mile to make people smile and you’re financially independent. That has to count for something”.
“That’s the thing, I don’t know if it does. I have never heard him say the words I’m proud of you. You’d think I would’ve learnt by now that it’s futile to expect that out of him. I still need to hear it, Jai. It’s unhealthy how much I want that validation. I could be 50 but I’d still wonder if he thinks I’m enough and it kills me on the inside. At the same time, I refuse to go back home, to a place that’s always been so unfeeling and made me feel small”.
“Look at me. Even if you decide that you never want to go back, that’s okay. Even if it’s too late and it’s at a time where maybe he’s sick, he’ll be proud. He brought this amazing person into the world and maybe he’ll regret never getting to know you that well but he’ll be proud. Every time you think otherwise, I hope you can hear my voice and remember this night. Of all the things he did in this life, raising you was the best thing he did”.
I love that you could do that for people, be sincere, because in that moment I believed you. I liked myself a little better. It was that simple when those words came by from the right person. I’m not sure you knew but you had created a safe place for me.
I could feel a lump in my throat and it took me a minute to gather myself before I said, “Can I hug you?”
“Come here”.
You don’t let go for a while and it left me wanting to stay there, feeling safe for just one more second. My eyes were swollen and puffy from all that crying when you interrupted me, “Meera, it’s going to be okay. In fact, everything is okay.”
“I know. It’s just.. We missed the last train home”, I say laughing and crying at once.
“Do you have anywhere else to be?”, you say, still holding me.
“No. This is perfect”.
……………………………………
Sunday evenings make me want to sit by the window as it rains and read a book. Maybe it’s the fact that I spend all of my weekdays at work brainstorming and getting clients on board for a proposal that I’m always on my toes. But Sundays were for silence. And conversations that stay with you.
I haven’t been home in months but the monsoon reminded me of how I’d drop everything and snuggle next to you for an afternoon nap. I was leaving with tonight’s flight and a few more hours of peace wouldn’t hurt. No matter how old I got, I would always be your child and this was our time. Baba could have you for the rest of the year.
“Why are you so emotional today, Manna? This isn’t the first time you’re going to leave home. Besides you’re back every few months”.
“I’m not emotional, Aai. I’m just grumpy that it’ll be awhile before I can give my brain a rest again”, I say holding you tighter.
It was always so comforting when you’d gently stroke the hair near my forehead. I would be asleep in no time when you did that ever so often. Then, I became a teenager and pushed you away. And before I realised I wanted more of it, I left home for work only to see you once every few months. Right now, time was all we had and time was all we didn’t.
You looked older this time I saw you, like life had worn you out. I couldn’t imagine having the emotional endurance to keep going the way you did. I wonder if Baba ever told you that he appreciated you for giving up your whole life so he could have his. So I could do everything you couldn’t. You often told me you never got a chance to really live. No one fought for you and that’s a shame. I know I certainly hadn’t thanked you.
“I’m sorry I haven’t told you often that I’m grateful for everything you do. I’m also sorry that Baba never acknowledged that the only reason that he’s as successful as he is is because you took care of everything else — his parents, his household, his kids. I just wanted you to hear this before I left tonight. I would never be able to do what you did. And despite the fact that you think you never achieved anything, you have to know that you’re more capable than most people I know. Just because you didn’t bring money to the table, it doesn’t mean that your life isn’t meaningful. I owe you my life”.
I know that you’re not one to cry. Maybe you stopped a long time ago like Baba because he stopped noticing. Pain was always something we kept within us all our lives never to have a release. You whisper a thank you and hold me tighter and I hoped you wouldn’t forget that you were always enough.
“I think it’s too late for me to do anything, Manna. I’m close to turning fifty”. You sounded exhausted and I don’t blame you a bit.
“You’ve always been so wonderful with kids. Have you thought about teaching tuitions? You can always start small or if you want to look up some courses, we can do that”.
“I’m not sure where to start”, you say hesitantly.
“Let’s look something up online right now”. You squeeze my hand and smile from your eyes and I wish I could be that beautiful at your age.
“I’d like that very much”.
……………………………..
I’m giving you up. I used those exact words the last we spoke and I let that sink in as much as I was letting you process those words. After so much pain, you came along and it hit me, I knew I wanted to be happy but I didn’t know how to keep it. And if I did know how, I didn’t want it with you.
I knew so many people who would give anything to have what I had and I told myself what if we met a few years from now when I could make you more of a priority. Maybe, I’m making excuses but who I was becoming meant that I had to learn to be okay with the consequences. I didn’t want to be anybody’s significant other right now. There, I said it. It made me wonder if I had gotten so good at being on my own that I asked you to leave.
Then again, I asked myself about what I was the most sure of. I knew I was driven. I knew that it would take dedication and focus and late nights. It would take timings and time zones that couldn’t possibly accommodate another human being’s needs. It felt like a hard pill I had to swallow — I would not be able to take care of his needs. So I left, and I didn’t look back.
But, on some Friday nights when we’d all leave early from work, you’d occupy some of my headspace. Thoughts, that I’d try to push away. Tonight though, we were all hands on deck till 3 AM and I couldn’t tell where the time had gone. There were four of us left at this point. I guess I didn’t have much of a life in my mid-twenties contrary to what I thought this could be.
I was quiet, private, but my results did all the talking. Corporate environments aren’t exactly meant to foster meaningful ties. The closest thing I had to a friend was my mentor who saw me slog it out in the past year. Oddly enough, we knew nothing about each other and I decided to get to know him for a change.
“Question. Are you married? I realised I don’t know anything about you”, I say and surprise him since I’ve never shared or asked him anything.
“Someone’s talking today. For the record, I’m divorced”, he laughs. I stay silent for ten whole seconds when he nods and starts replies to my awkward silence. “It’s okay to ask me questions you know. And it’s not awkward. It was a short marriage that lasted three years. We both made mistakes and when it didn’t make sense, we also knew better than to string each other along. We were the happiest people in the court and hired the same lawyer. She never asked for alimony and I guess I have two washing machines now”.
“That’s commendable. I don’t think a lot of people value themselves enough to walk away. And then it turns into a lifetime of misery”, I say, meaning it.
“No hot date on a Friday night?”
“I broke up with someone a while ago. Didn’t feel like getting back out there. And the thing is, I’m so relieved you know? I’m focused and it makes me so happy. I don’t think I want anything but that for a while. I didn’t really sit around and cry when it was over”.
“I guess that wasn’t love then, Meera. Because love changes what you thought would be the blueprint of your life. All those checklists get thrown in the trash. I was seeing someone before I got married and we couldn’t make it work back then. But recently, I realised, it was always her. We always found our way back to each other. It’s not the same love we had back in our 20s but it’s wiser and much more committed. I had to become the person who could accommodate her needs. You however, seem to be clear that you don’t want this right now and that’s okay too. You’ll know when the person you want the most is right in front of you”.
“Thanks Adi. I’m glad you found her and this might be the first time someone hasn’t judged me for leaving him. I appreciate it”.
“You are who I was fifteen years ago. I didn’t just want to be good at something, I wanted to be great. So, I sacrificed and when I knew I’d done enough, life happened. My priorities changed. Someday, you’ll know what I mean. Till then, be better than anyone here. Be a force of nature. Travel. And believe me when I say that the one great love that most people talk about will come along”.
And just like that, he understood my ambition. He understood me.
“I’m glad I stayed back for this project. This is way better than a hot date”.
“I’m glad you stayed back too. Besides, who would want to work with Aman at 3 in the morning”.
“Good night Adi. Go home to her and say hi to her for me. She really sounds like something else”.
“I will. Keep hustling”.
“Always”.
…………………………………………………
Autumn 
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