Work Text:
Being an author isn't quite easy, you know. Most of the days you just sit down on your writing table, open your laptop and just type and delete words from your document, and plots from your head. Or maybe move your pen through the paper, crumple it, and throw it away and after sometime, find yourself surrounded by a lot of paper crumples.
Ideas. Something we all authors would love to have in abundance in our heads but they don't come up when we actually want them to.
I am not an author. I mean, I don't write to make a living. I am a human resource manager, working at the Tata Consultancy Services. I write because I love to and that's the only reason behind it.
Well, umm…. not the only one though. I also write for the person I love, because the person I love loves what I write. Infact, we came to know each other and fell in love through my works. I won't beat drums, but I am one of the few lucky humans on this planet who has actually found someone who loves them for their actual being.
I am not that regular a human who is called a 'decent guy' by society. For example, I love wearing loose, colourful clothes, I cannot sit straight (as I am not), I am always just fully loaded with energy, singing, dancing, jumping, etc. Some people like me for always being so cheerful, but most of them don't. So when someone has loved me despite me being this enthusiastic as a grasshopper and energetically weird, it surely means that the person is some avatar of God!
"Mujhe tere unfiltered self se pyaar hain Kartik, kabhi khud ko mat badalna, main tujhe pehchaan hi nahin paunga!"
That's what he told me when he asked me out and I told him that I won't be able to change my weird self for anything. I didn't tell that out of self love, I didn't have self love that time. I told him that out of experience.
I was always hated by my family for having awkward choices and for my irrationally free behaviours, so I am kinda habituated to hatred. Trust me, I tried changing myself. My thought process, my way of walking, talking, my choices, carefree nature, all of it. After all, who likes being hated by their own family? But quite unfortunately, all efforts of me trying to change myself went straight into the water innumerable times. So I gave up on the hope that I can ever change.
To be honest, he has been my muse for so long. All day, in whatever I do, he is constantly on my mind. I cook myself something, I imagine how he would narrate tales about the history of the food. I sit to eat, I imagine how he puts the spoonful of the food into his mouth and then chews slowly. I sit down to write, I find myself musing about him and end up writing nothing.
Just like now. I was sitting at my table trying to write something, but ended up musing about Tripathi, Mr. Aman Tripathi. My boyfriend. And he has been calling me up for the past one hour. Neither am I receiving his calls nor responding to his messages.
"70 missed calls and 52 messages."
Ummm....yeah, that's the number of times he has been trying to contact me.
There's a reason I'm not picking up his call.
"Tujhe humesha har baat mein mazak soojhta hain na?"
Aman shouted at me over the phone.
"Achha achha, relax darling! Gussa kyun kar raha hain?"
"Stop being a fucking idiot Kartik! Tu nahin janta main gussa kyun hoon?"
"No. Gussa kyun hain?"
"Mazak ka mood nahin hain Kartik! Yeh teri aadat ban chuki hain har baar aisi baatein karna."
"Toh maine fact hi kaha hain. Galat kya hain is mein?"
"Har baar mujhe facts yaad dilane ka kaam kisne diya hain tujhe? Tu jaanta hain mujhe bilkul pasand nahin hain yeh sab baatein."
"Kya kaha hain maine? Jo tu itna chilla raha hain? Woh bhi phone par?"
"Achha? Ab tu yeh bhi nahin jaanta?"
"Kya? Maine bass itna poochha ki main agar kisi din marr gaya toh tu kya karega?"
"MUJHE NAHIN SUNNA HAIN DOBARA!"
"Tune hi toh poochha main jaanta hoon ya nahin ki tu kyun gussa hain? Maine yeh kaha, phir tu chillane laga!"
"Aisi baatein karega toh gussa nahin aayega mujhe?"
"Kyuuuunnnn? Wahi toh poochh raha hoon main? Facts sunke gussa kyun aa raha hain tujhe?"
"Mujhe aisa behuda facts se sakht nafrat hain Kartik! Aur yeh baat tu jaanta hain!"
"Facts are like the scrabble of life, jaaneman! Ek ek fact theek se jodoge, tabhi na zindagi banegi!"
I heard silence for a while from the other side of the phone. I realised that this was the calm before the storm.
"Sahi kehte hain sab! You are the weirdest being in existence! Galati ho gayi meri jo tujhse pyaar kiya maine! Ughhhh! Aisa kyun hain tu Kartik?"
Now this was unexpected. That hurt me. Now it was my time to pause a while before I spoke with a heavy tone.
"Sahi hain Aman. Maine toh pehle hi kaha tha, ki mujhse pyaar karna mushkil hi nahin namumkin hain."
I replied being the extraordinary Amitabh Bachchan fan that I am. But that doesn't mean I'm not angry or hurt. Currently, I feel both.
"Look, Kartik I…."
"What you? Did you listen to me when I told you I'm impossible to love?"
"No Kartik, it's not that. Baat aisi hain ki yeh sab baatein nahin karni chahiye. Some words turn real and I don't want ...."
"Get rid of these stupid superstitions Aman! Aj agar main keh doon ki main….main JK Rowling hoon, bann jaunga kya? Is it that simple?"
"Kahan ki baat kahan le ja raha hain tu Kartik? These are not superstitions! They might turn true, you never know. And…. I just don't want to lose you to these things!"
"No, that's not the point. Get rid of these or get rid of me! Why? Why did you love me? Main hoon tedha medha, ghatiya, irritating, pagal insaan,....main jaanta hoon mujhse pyaar ho nahin sakta kisi ko aur agar ho bhi toh woh mistake hain unka…. Nahin hoon main pyaar ke layak aur maan liya na maine yeh? Kyun tu mujhe galat sabit karne aaya meri zindagi mein?"
"Bass yaar chup bhi ho ja ab! Kitna bolta hain tu?"
"Main kitna bolta hoon? Achha! Wow! That's how time fucking changes. Kabhi tu mujhe aisa kehta tha ki teri baatein main din bhar sun sakta hoon, aur aj tu bol raha hain main kitna bolta hoon? Ho gayi apni galti ka ehsaas? You know what? Main chup hi ho jata hoon! Humesha ke liye!"
It's quite obvious that when you love someone and later hear that the person regrets loving you, it hurts. It damn hurts!
I know I'm missing Aman. I really hate getting angry at him and that's because…. I love him. Yes! I do love him more than I love myself.
Aman taught me self love. There was a time when I hated myself like anything. My family hated me for years, and living with them for so many years made me believe that they were right and I was the only one who's wrong. Aman, after I met him, made me realize that no one's fully right and no one's fully wrong. Honestly, everyone is unique in their own way and society only terms those as 'weird' or 'abnormal' who know how to live their lives in the unadulterated and unfiltered way.
Not that I love myself a lot now, but yeah, a little bit of self love does exist in me. And Aman is okay with that. He says that if I don't hate myself a bit, my writings will have no scope for improvement. Thus, a little bit of hatred is good for everyone. It helps keep their feet on the ground and helps them to stay in touch with reality. And Aman says, the amount of this hatred should be 0.01%. Neither more, nor less than that.
Some 102 messages came from Aman and I could no longer resist reading them or listening to them. But also I had to show that I was angry. Of course! It's Aman who's always angry with me. Now, when I have got a chance, why should I let it go so easily? I was hurt, but not angry. But I had to show that I was. Thus, I came up with the million dollar idea of switching off my read receipts and checking what he sent!
"Kartik!
Mujhe darr lag raha hain!
Kartik!
KARTIK!
FUCKING PICK UP MY CALL MAN!"
There was a voice note after that.
"Kartik main maanta hoon mujhse galati huyi hain. Gussa aa gaya tha mujhe isliye….flow mein nikal gaya. Maaf kar de yaar. Phone toh utha le meri! Baat karni hain tujhse."
I wasn't surprised to find a small smile over my lips after listening to that. Teasing Aman is one of my hobbies and I loved it when he got worried about me.
"Kartik!
Darr lag raha hain mujhe.
Kya kar raha hain tu?
Tu theek hain na?"
I chuckled after sensing the immense concern in his messages. I didn't realise when that momentary hurt changed into an intense desire to tease my love. I won't lie, I loved it when he got worried about me.
For a second, I moved my eyes from the phone and looked at my table and found my notepad and pen over it. They reminded me of my unfinished work. I had to write for a magazine and had taken some advance payment for it too. Thus, I looked back at my phone, sighed, and then switched it off.
For two hours I struggled on a love story by scratching my pen over innumerable papers. There's this prince who falls in love with a princess as is very common in historical tales. This prince wants to marry this princess who belongs to a very powerful kingdom, both for political importance and because he loves her. He wins the princess in a traditional contest and takes her back to his kingdom. But after a few days, he finds the princess, or rather his wife missing from his palace. He suspects his wife to have a romantic affair with some other king and that she must have eloped with him. The angry prince therefore practically searches entire India, every palace and every kingdom, but can’t find her. After a year, one day, one of his soldiers tells him that they didn’t search for one kingdom, in reply to which the prince says that the king there had no son, he only had one daughter and therefore it was meaningless searching there. But even then he decides to check out if his wife was there or not. To his surprise, he actually finds his wife there and learns that she loved the princess of that kingdom and both the princesses were now married to each other and were leading a happy life.
The story doesn’t end here, but unfortunately, my thoughts do. I am stuck here and cannot write any further and this is where I started musing about Aman, my prince!
Talking of Aman, I looked up at the clock and found that it was eleven in the night. My phone was switched off and I felt it was mean of me to tease him for so long. I plugged in my phone to the charger in order to switch it on.
“TING TONG!”
The doorbell rang at this hour and I got scared as to who must have come now. Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt somebody? Does somebody want to take revenge on me? But I don’t think I have any enemies. No, I do! These people in my society hate me. Did somebody come to beat me up? Was I going to be killed now by goons? If I were dead now, Aman wouldn’t even come to know that I died!!!!!
“TING TONG TING TONG!”
Oh god! These goons are too restless to kill me! What should I do now? These are my last hours on the planet and I cannot even see Aman for one last time! I should have spoken to Aman back then. I shouldn’t have acted angry on him. Kartik! Now pay the price of your deed! You didn’t want to s[peak to Aman for some time, you will never be able to do so now! Well done Aman’s idiot!
“TING TONG TING TONG TINNNNGG TONG!”
I should open the door. Or else these goons will break my door and kill me. Anyways I will die. Let me save my door at least! Very slowly I headed towards the door and unlocked it. I prayed to the heavens to save me from these sudden night invaders and slowly opened the door!
“Saale bewakoof aadmi!!!!!!”
For a moment my heart stopped beating and I forgot the fact that I had to register stuff in my brain. Someone darted into my house and now I feel a bit heavy. But then realised someone clinging on to me tightly and breathing at intervals which seemed a bit familiar to me. Wait! Even the voice was familiar! Wait wait! Even the height of the human hugging me was familiar! Wait wait wait! Even the human was familiar!
"Tu theek hain? Tujhe kuch hua nahin na? Kuch nahin kiya na tune? Dekh main aa gaya hoon! Kyun aisa karta hain tu?"
Phew! It was Aman!
Wait!
IT WAS AMAN!!!!
I finally registered that it was Aman who came to my house, not any goons. But the way he showed concern for me felt like he was more scared than I was.
“Huh! Aman! Tu yahan hain!”
The words came out from my mouth, more as a relief than as a question. Aman looked up at me with worried eyes.
“Kyun? Mere alava aur kitne logon se pyaar karta hain tu? Jo is waqt woh tere ghar pe aayenge?”
“Nahin….woh…..”
Of course I couldn’t tell him that I was expecting deadly goons at my door who were supposed to kill me now. Stammering was a better option than that.
“Kya woh woh? Tu aisi baatein kyun karta hain pagal? Jaan nikal gayi thi meri!”
“Main kahin nahin gaya. Yahin hoon!”
“Matlab?”
“Abhi toh tune kaha ki teri jaan nikal gayi thi, aur humesha tu yeh kehta rehta hain ki 'tu meri jaan hain, Kartik!'. To isi liye keh raha hoon, main kahi nahin nikla. Idhari hoon.”
Aman chuckled and I found him blushing at my response.
“Par tu is waqt yahan kaise? Sab theek hain na?”
“Yeh toh mujhe tujhse poochhna chahiye. Aisi baatein kyun karta hain tu jisse insaan darr jaata hain? Aur phone kidhar hain tera? Aj main phek hi doonga use. Jo cheez zaroorat parne par kaam na aaye, woh kura hi hain. Aur kure ko ghar se bahar hi phekna chahiye.”
Saying so, he rushed to my bedroom where my phone was put on charge. I went behind him, realising that it was my teasing which did it all.
“Do you have any idea how many times I tried calling you?”
“Yeah, 70 times.”
Aman glared at me hearing my response.
“150 TIMES, YOU IDIOT!”
Aman pulled out his phone and showed me his call log.
“Haan? I mean haan, haan! 150 times! Par mere paas notifications kyun nahin aaye?"
"Kyunki tera phone off tha! Tu phone kaatne se pehle ulti seedhi baatein karega, phir na messages ka reply karega na hi calls receive karega, phir tere ghar aaun toh darwaza kholne mein ghanta lagayega…. What is this behaviour?"
"Arrey ruk ruk meri rail gaari! Dheere! Pehli baat toh yeh ki phone kaatne se pehle kya ulti seedhi….?"
I remembered my foolish act before I could complete my question. I had said a "marr hi jaata hoon" back then but I was pretty sure that I had cut the call before I said that. And that phrase, it was momentary. I didn't want Aman to hear that, for sure.
"Par maine sun liya!"
Aman replied looking at my face, as if he read my mind.
"Maine sun liya. Aur tab se meri baji padi hain! Maine socha kya kuch kar raha hoga tu! 150 missed calls, 279 messages, kya kuch nahin kiya. Phir maine socha late nahin karna chahiye, aur nikal para ghar se. Kambakht traffic jam mein phass gaya main der ghante ke liye!!!!!"
I felt sorry for Aman. My one foolish act caused him so much trouble. I wanted to tease him, but not this much.
"Main itna kuch kar ke aa raha hoon aur mahashay yahan maze se baithke noodles kha rahe hain!"
Aman said, finally completing his words. I remembered I had a plate of hot (now cold) noodles waiting for me at the table. Anyways, noodles don't matter any more now.
"Woh, aha….ummm….."
I tried to justify my act.
"Nahin nahin! Koi zaroorat nahin hain! Main jaanta hoon! You didn't want me to hear the last phrase but unfortunately I did, and you, Mr. Singh, were completely unaware of the fact that I was going through so much tension, worries, panic attacks….."
I could no longer let Aman worry. I took a long stride towards him and planted a gentle kiss over his lips. He struggled to speak even under the pressure of my lips for a while but calmed down and realised what happened to him.
Let alone noodles, a switched off phone, 150 unanswered calls and 279 unread messages; who cared as long as we stood there in each other's arms? Everything was meant for us and now that we were in close proximity with each other, everything else barely mattered.
"You know what? I'm hungry. Your might, but my stomach won't fill with a kiss. I need food to satisfy my hunger!"
Aman said after a while breaking the moment between us. He looked into my eyes for a moment before he headed towards the kitchen. I followed him in a manner as if he had cast a spell on me.
After a long one hour of conversations munching on partly cold noodles and veggies, Aman came to my study table to check on what I was writing. I didn't let him go back to his house as it was quite late. Okay, the actual reason is that I never want him to go far from me when he is close. He is such an addiction!
"Kya likha? Completed?"
"Not yet! Unfinished!"
"Huh! Not completing work is your character trait Kartik! And I love to complete you!"
"Well, I know that my love. But this time I'm really stuck and I don't think it's a very good idea to go ahead with the story."
"Every idea out of your mind is a good one. Let me see!"
"NOOOO!"
I ran and snatched my notepad from him.
"Kya hua? Main hi toh padh raha hoon! Aisa kya gupt likha hain?"
"Gupt nahin hain. It's just that....I want you to read it once it gets published...as always?"
Aman looked at me for a while and then broke out to laughter.
"But why so?"
He asked with humour in his tone, though I knew that he was well aware of the answer.
"Because every time you read the magazine and tell me your views on my story, it reminds me of the first time we met each other. I love reliving our first time, every time!"
Aman's face glowed differently as he had a wide smile across his face and I wondered if any facial or beauty product in the world could promise such a glow.
"Kartik Singh, tum pagal ho!"
"Haan…. is duniya mein kuch pagal insaan hain, isi liye toh yeh duniya boring nahin hain, Tripathi sahab!"
Aman laughed at my lame words and can forward to hug me. I welcomed him with open arms and caught him tightly as I felt him wrap his arms around me. My little heart!
I couldn't find an ending to my historical work. Maybe I will in some time, but I definitely found a new thing in life. I don't know if superstitions exist or not, I won't go into this debate either. But I can say one thing firmly now. These superstitious thoughts only increase the love and bonds between two lovers. If I keep aside the belief, it's evident that it's just Aman's regular concern for me that brought him over to my place at an odd hour. And that concern comes out of love, which I know (touchwood) exists in abundance in between us. See! Even I said touchwood! We are all superstitious when it comes to concern about our loved one, aren't we? And concern, that too born out of love, is like that drop of water which falls on a leaf, when the leaf feels like it's time to finally dry up, has arrived. This water drop assures the leaf every time that it's always there for it whenever the leaf gives up the hope to stay green.
And quite undoubtedly, Aman is not just a water drop, but a heavy rainfall to my drying leaf!