Saudade

There’s no feeling worse than being stuck searching for an appropriate response to bad news. Weirdly enough, Jon had no idea whether what he just heard was relayed to him as a mere piece of information or the lament of a friend who wanted to be comforted. Either way, he was sure that the ensuing conversation would take them back to a time that every adult remembers fondly - college. But Jon wasn’t sure if he was actually ready to engage in a conversation that dwelt on those memories.

Saturday evening was Jon’s time alone. An active social life was something he wasn’t particularly fond of. He loved spending time with himself, taking sanctuary in his anchoritic lifestyle - a few joints, soft lighting, Pink Floyd playing in the background and he, in the kitchen, experimenting with some Italian fare that he dared not to try and pronounce.

The impatient ringing of the doorbell jolted him out of his shell of comfort. Visibly irritated, he walked towards the door and swung it open.

The irritation disappeared the moment he saw Rohan at the door – with his head hung low, shoulders drooping as if they were sagging under the weight of an invisible load, teary-eyed and reeking of cheap local booze. Rohan, the chirpy one in their clique, the charmer and the ladies man, was not his usual self and seeing him so morbid and downcast told Jon that something was seriously wrong somewhere.

“Hey bro,” Jon greeted Rohan, unsure as to if he should smile or not and thus, mustering a smile that looked as if he was constipated yet happy.

“What’s up?”

Rohan didn’t say anything. He just walked in, headed straight for the couch, and sunk deep into the cool, black leather. The silence hung in the air for a few seconds before he finally spoke.

“Varsha is getting married,” he said softly before letting out a long, deep sigh.

“Oh…” was all that Jon managed to say in response. This is the part where the shitty feeling sinks in.

Varsha is Rohan’s ex-girlfriend. Actually, she was more than JUST an ex-girlfriend. She was his first girlfriend, his longest and most serious relationship. They were together through all of college; a couple insanely in love with each other. And one fine morning they broke up for reasons still unknown to any of them.

“Ummmm….well, good for her I guess. Who’s the guy?” No sooner did he say that, he wished that he had said something else; even something as random as a comment about Stalin’s testicles - anything but the words that he just uttered.

“I dunno…some guy she met on vacation or something.” Rohan shrugged.

“Uh huh…so who told u about it?”

“I’m her ex-boyfriend Jon. There are a million people who’d want to rub it in! The wedding’s in another two months.”

Jon sat down, looked at Rohan for a while before he asked "So, what's biting you now?"

Rohan turned his head, gave a wry smile and went back to his cave of silence. Jon knew exactly why Rohan came to him. Jon had a reputation for being incredibly blunt; and that is exactly why his friends come to him for advice. He tells them things about themselves that they fear to realize or accept. Rohan wasn't here for comfort or sympathy. He was here for a typical "Jon's shake up, wake up treatment."

"Well, so tell me what exactly is bothering you Rohan."

Rohan sat upright on the couch as he began telling Jon about his break-up. As broken down as he was, Rohan couldn't help choke on his tears as he spoke. It wasn't very different from a church confession...only except that Jon's reaction was peppered with profanity.

Rohan and Varsha were together for around two years. They shared an amazing relationship and perfect understanding...but once they were done with college and stepped out into the open world, both became different individuals with priorities of their own. Varsha started working while Rohan went on to study further.

They were in the same city, but rarely met.

Rohan started to feel that he didn't know his girlfriend at all...and Varsha, on the other hand, was changing as a person; changing her priorities without ever realizing it.

Before they knew it, things became bitter. Rohan spoke rude, and Varsha, the usually understanding and supportive girlfriend, just took her boyfriend’s outbursts as a reason to move further away. The relationship withered away into nothingness and their break-up wasn’t much either. Varsha called up Rohan and suggested that they break-up. Rohan agreed and cut the call. Maybe the numbness and the frailty of the relationship were so bad that Rohan did not even realize what had just happened. He was waiting in line to buy tickets for a movie as the break-up happened. He went ahead, bought the tickets and joined his friends for the movie. It was only until much later did he realize the gravity of that phone call. By then, he was angry with Varsha…angry with her for not trying to hold on, angry with her for not fighting to save their relationship. His ego told him not to call back. His anger told him to walk away and never look back. He listened to both.

Now, he hears about Varsha’s wedding and the same anger comes back. He feels betrayed and alone. The ego told him not to call back and to ignore the feelings when he missed her or wanted to talk to her. Anger further fuelled his resolve when Varsha told his friends about their break-up and when they blamed him for it. Again, the ego and the anger kept him from going back to her.

He was now struck by an overwhelming want to get back at her.

Rohan declared to himself that he was now free and single and therefore, he had the freedom to live his life on his terms. He started going out with a girl from his class – someone whom he forced himself to fall for and ask out on a date. Like all things with a loose foundation, this relationship broke down too. From then on, Rohan lived a life of debauchery; something that he grew comfortable with as he went further into its depths.

Jon listened to the whole story, and at every pause, all he said were “what the fuck?!” “you are bloody weird!" and "God save the Queen!" in no particular order.

Rohan finished speaking, and he looked at Jon...He was clutching his bag tightly as he tried to fight the tears streaming down his cheeks.

Jon shook his head slowly, a nod of disapproval, and said..."Rohan, brother, you fucked up." And as Rohan looked up, he continued, "And I say fucked up for lack of a better word. I need something stronger to explain this."

"I know I did Jon, but I don't need a sermon," Rohan said dismissively.

Jon got up from the couch and he stood in front of Rohan. "Alright, you listen to me now...and LOOK at me!"

Startled, Rohan looked at his friend. It was time for the shake-up treatment...but whether he would wake up from his morbid state was yet to be seen.

"Sure, Varsha and you had problems. Which couple doesn't? You think that every seemingly happy couple leads a perfect life? NO! They work hard to take the relationship to that level. Sure they have fights; they have issues...but..."

"But what Jon, but what?" Rohan was wiping the tears from his eyes.

"But...it requires patience. Varsha and you had a smooth start and a great relationship...and when things went slightly awry, neither of you knew how to handle it." Jon was pacing up and down the room, continuing his disapproving head-shake, quite resembling a parent rebuking his child.
"That's the problem with all of us today. Everything comes easy to us. We meet people, fall in love, are in touch all the time...and find it as easy to call it off at the first signs of trouble. We believe what came easy the first time will come so again."

"Well, I was the one who put everything into the relationship," Rohan said defensively. "I did everything to make her feel special, and the least she could have done was fight to keep the relationship going when we hit a bad patch! She rather suggested a break-up and blamed me!"

Jon rolled his eyes and continued pacing about. “Goddamn, you are an egoist pig and she's an impatient, immature hag!"

Rohan looked at Jon incredulously and said softly, "Wow…that was subtle..."

Jon knew that he was extremely harsh with his last comment, but he had to drive the message home, no matter how much it might hurt his friend.

"Look Rohan, you know it's true. You were plainly riding on the high horse of your ego and she was riding the pretty frilled butterfly of her immaturity!"

Rohan shrugged.

"Alright...let me break it down to you. In the end, it doesn't matter who fucked up. The way I see it, both of you did. But there's nothing you can do about it. Varsha's gone. She'll be somebody else's woman in barely 2 months."

The tears started to flow again.

"Good God man! You have to seriously get over it. These tears are not just because you miss her. You have been hit by the realization that you screwed this up and your ego is not letting you admit that you are wrong!"

Rohan looked up, an expression of surprise; like Jon had read his mind, as his friend pointed out something that he was trying to deny. He said nothing. He just kept looking at Jon with his tired eyes.

Jon knew that Rohan had entered a realm of self-realization. Now what mattered was the fact whether he was ready to accept it or not.

"Ummm..you know what Rohan, it's about time you let it go. Varsha is getting married and that's how the story ends. She'll be someone else's wife and you can't think about someone else's wife! I mean, you can...but dude, that's soooo wrong!"

A thick veil of silence hung over the air as the two friends looked at each other before bursting into a riot of insane laughter. Rohan was lying on the couch, laughing hard and holding his tummy. Jon hunkered down, unable to laugh anymore, but still letting out short spasms of high-pitched giggles like a teenage girl. The air of depression and morbidity flew out the window.

"Good. So we are all set then. How about we roll a joint and then leave all this nonsense behind us?" Jon managed to speak, heaving for breath.

"Ah...allrity. Now we are thinking on the same lines!" Rohan sat up.

After a few joints, peals of laughter and silent tripping on rock classics, Rohan told Jon that he was heading home.

"Ok man, you take care alright?" Jon said as the friends hugged.

"Hehe...I'll try," Rohan said. "I mean, it'll definitely be in my head for some more time. But I'll get over it...I guess..."

Jon let out a long, loud sigh in jest and punched Rohan on the shoulder. "Ok then, off you go!"

“ ‘Nite Jon…and thanx!”

Jon waved Rohan away. He stood by the door and watched his friend trudge down the hallway. "I hope he'll be fine," he thought to himself. He was still standing at the door, lost in his thoughts when he caught the strains of a song playing from his speakers:

Hello.
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone home?

Come on, now.
I hear you’re feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain,
Get you on your feet again.

Relax.
I need some information first.
Just the basic facts:
Can you show me where it hurts?


"Ah, how apt!" Jon muttered to himself as he closed the door and went back to his Italian dish.

***********************

Rohan stepped out into the street. His head was buzzing with thoughts; almost all of them attempting to make sense of his conversation with Jon. As soon as he set foot on the sidewalk, he felt tiny droplets of water graze the nape of his neck. It was drizzling.

Muttering curses, he turned to walk back into Jon's apartment, but he froze midway, and he walked back to the street. The drizzle was growing stronger. Rohan stood on the sidewalk and looked upwards, and as the first of the heavy raindrops caressed his face, a fleeting montage from his past ran through his brain. He thought of Varsha and the first time they met. He knew that he wasn't supposed to think of her, he knew that he was supposed to let go...but he let himself indulge in this flurry of thoughts.

It was raining heavily now. Rohan tucked his hands deep into the pockets of his coat and plodded down the flooded road.

Being stoned had its moments. Rohan was allowed to let his imagination run free. He told himself that the rain was a sign - a sign for all the tears that Varsha shed for him when he let their relationship end without a struggle. Maybe she was the one who should have fought, but he was equally responsible too. Maybe she did wrong in a lot of ways; in talking shit about him, making him look like the villain and ultimately, letting someone else walk into her life without even turning back to give him another chance.

"Well, why should she? I never bothered to ask her for a second chance!" The debate inside his head became clearer as he now understood its purpose. He was looking inward; at why he was responsible for letting the most amazing thing that happened to him walk away.

Every time he missed Varsha, he found a million reasons as to why he shouldn't any more. Anger and ego are powerful companions and extremely convenient when you want to run away from responsibilities; be it responsibility over your words, thoughts, actions or your responsibility to preserve and protect something as sacred as a relationship.

Now here he was, broken by the news of Varsha's wedding. The powerful companions slunk away into the cold night, leaving him helpless and confused. He wanted help to find answers. He let Varsha go and she was never coming back. He wanted something to block the pain. He didn't mind even if it was the anger or the ego that supported him. He wanted escape.

As desperately as he sought escape, he sought to backtrack those memories he treasured. Of course, his time with Varsha was the happiest he ever felt. He felt loved, wanted and cared for. But those are all memories now.

As the tiny droplets of memories showered on him, Rohan told himself that in the tussle between people and their petty egos, relationships totter, trip, fall and break. People move on, but memories remain. These memories of a past once lived make you feel alive every time they visit you. In the end, you lose people to human error, egoistic clashes, misunderstanding and ultimately…death. Varsha has moved on, and he should too.

Rohan paused for a moment, the rain still beating heavily on him. He reached into his bag and pulled out a thick bundle of papers – the letters Varsha wrote him. He let it get wet in the rain, the ink dripping through his fingers. He threw the bundle into a puddle and watched the rain claim two years of declarations of love and faithfulness. He closed his eyes and thought of Varsha one last time. He thought of the last time they held hands, the last time he hugged her, the last time they kissed…and the last time he made her feel special.

In the pouring rain he stood; no more in denial, no more in pain.

He smiled…He was free.

My tryst with history

It is not every day that someone makes a tryst with history. My moment came in June 2007 when I went to Delhi for the first time. I really cannot describe the excitement I felt when I went exploring the most romantic city in the world. Delhi, the old Mughal capital, the city Mirza Ghalib passionately wrote poems about. The high point obviously was the trip to Old Delhi. It was indeed an experience to see the modern high-rise buildings, fast food outlets and shopping malls slowly fade away to the charm of the Red Fort, The Jama Masjid and Humayun’s Tomb.

Due to lack of time, the only place I could visit was the Jama Masjid. Walking through the busy Sunday bazaar of Chandni Chowk, I saw the elevated structure doggedly braving time, yet, majestically towering over the street. I tried to conjure up an image of the Jama Masjid as it was during the Mughal times. I could imagine Theophilus Metcalfe and his infantry run up that very road I was walking on to capture the jehadis who were based in the Jama Masjid during the siege of Delhi in 1857. Chandni Chowk still retains the charm of the old world. The narrow lane leading to the Mosque and the street vendors on either side of the road calling out to prospective customers seemed no different from how it might have been a century and a half ago.

While entering the lofty tower-like gateway, I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer majesty of this building of red sandstone. It has been nearly four centuries since it was built. Of course, it would have had its share of stories to tell me and I was listening. Climbing up the worn out steps up to the northern gate, I walked into this sanctuary with reverence for those who built it and for the religion that inspired its construction.

Once inside the Jama Masjid, I walked to the wide open courtyard. There were people sitting beside the reservoir in the middle of the courtyard and cooling their feet. I was taken back to a time when Delhi was the abode of Emperors. I could see the Princes, the Nobles and the common folk of Mughal Delhi offering their prayers, I could see the jehadis hiding from the British and the Sikh Regiment setting up camp in that very courtyard after the siege in 1857.

Despite the sweltering summer heat and the crowd inside the Masjid complex, I silently lived my moment through history. I stood in awe of the massive domes and the hall with its Islamic arched entrances under these domes. On its walls of white marble were inscriptions inlaid with black marble narrating the story of the building of the Mosque and words glorifying the reign of the monarch who built it-Shah Jahan.

As I stepped out of the Masjid, I realized how detached our generation is from the history and heritage of this country when my friend commented that despite being in Delhi all his life, he had never been to the Jama Masjid until that day. I turned back one last time and stood for a moment in respectful silence to the men who built it and in respect to the four hundred years of history this majestic Mosque has seen. Shah Jahan has rightly named it “Masjid-i-Jahan Numa” (the Mosque commanding a view of the world).

The 'Red Label Incident'

The best part about life is the different characters you get to meet at every step along the way. Ron Thomas is one such character who made my last two years of school a laugh riot and definitely worth remembering. Ron is someone who stands testimony to the phrase “appearances can be deceptive.” At first sight, he will seem to you as a serious, refined and intellectual guy. But then, my association with Ron did go beyond the first meeting and that’s where my story lies! Like any typical adolescent boy, Ron too was fascinated by the opposite sex, and his attempts at finding himself a girlfriend will fill volumes if anyone ever decides to write about it!

Ron Thomas is handsome. He fits a description of the word perfectly- square jaw, nice eyes, a charming smile and all that. Sadly, that’s where it all ends. The poor guy is twenty paise short of a rupee in the head! Perpetually spaced out, he is the source of many a classic comment such as this one for example;

“Let’s go for ice cream. Ah, ice cream! Should be cold!”

Now, do you see my point? That is just one example of what we call “Ron-isms”. They were so popular in school that some of us still quote him!

Every time we old friends from school get together, there is one incident that is often repeated and each time, it never fails to have us rolling on the ground with laughter. We call it the ‘Red Label’ episode. It happened when we were in the twelfth grade. Ah well, school boys, as everyone assumes, are nice, decent and innocent. But then, those who knew us in school would say that we were anything but any of those!

One day in school, Ron comes up to us and this other friend of mine, Dhanush, and invited us over to his place that evening.

“Dude, my parents are not home today and I want you guys to come over. I have a surprise for you!”

Dhanush and I are not the patient kind and definitely not patient enough with the idea of waiting till evening to find out what the surprise was all about. We pestered Ron to tell us until finally he told us that he got a bottle of Red Label at home and he wants to drink it with us. Neither Dhanush nor I had ever had alcohol before, and especially not something like Red Label!

Come evening and we are all ready for the first drink of our lives! We head to Ron’s place. All thrilled, we run into his room, dump our bags on his bed and wait for him to show up with the booze. Now that I think about it, I really can’t figure out what all that excitement was about. After all, whisky is not the best tasting beverage a seventeen year old can drink. Maybe, it was the whole idea of imitating the ‘grown-ups’. Well, whatever it was, we sat on the bed with our glasses and chips all ready to drink and waiting for the Red Label to come.

Ron did walk into the room with a bottle of ‘Red Label’, and along with it, the biggest shock of our lives! On contrary to our expectations, it was not a bottle of Red Label whisky that he brought, but another bottle with a red label on it.

In most parts of the world, they call it…Coca Cola!

Looking like complete jackasses, we ask him what kind of prank he meant to pull by doing that! Of course, we might have lost it if he was really playing a prank on us, but the kick in the story lies in the fact that Mr. Ron Thomas was not aiming at a prank! He was actually dead serious about the fact that he wanted us to join him to drink coke! We still can’t figure out why he picked a time when his parents were not home to invite us over to drink coke! Well, with Ron around, logic seems like a myth. The moment we realized that he was serious about the whole invitation, we burst out laughing and ended up sharing the coke.

Dhanush and I had our first drink together eventually. It was almost a year later, in our first year of college. We made a toast to our dear friend Ron who technically gave us our first ‘drink’. Sadly, he was not there with us to share our first experience of getting drunk. Even now, when Dhanush and I meet up for a drink, this story never misses being narrated.

Ron Thomas has not changed one bit in the past four years. He is now doing law in Pune and he still is short of that twenty paise!