Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

It had been just one night that you were gone, but the gravity of the long wait ahead seemed to pull me so strongly. I hate the unfairness of the world – the whole idea of having to share you with so many other important people in (y)our life. I am assured that you are just mine, only mine. But it still irks me to part with you, however short the time may be. You were just a couple of hours from leaving, but I was missing you loads already. Or even more, the mere thought of you going away for a short while has been bothering me for the past one week so much so that I was so calculative about every minute I got to spend with you before you were to leave.

The day you were to leave, I was travelling back home from work. A Friday. But it didn’t seem like one at all. There wasn’t going to be that Saturday morning, when I would be all dressed and ready with a hot mug of tea, eagerly waiting for the door bell to ring. There wasn’t going to be that lazy afternoon with just you and me. There wasn’t going to be any of your random babbles to tickle my funny bone. There wasn’t going to be any of your laughter that would lighten up the little world around me. There wasn’t going to be our evening walk after dinner, hand-in-hand, with one ice-cream to share. There wasn’t going to be that sole feeling of happiness which would envelop me during your presence. There wasn’t going to be a you with me to make me forget everything else in this world.

Your absence seemed to have taken away the colours and excitement of a Friday evening. The whole world seemed to radiate an unusual and uncomfortable boredom. I felt numb and lifeless. It was like the emotions J.K. Rowling describes of dementors. I felt like being sucked out of all the happiness by some invisible force. It left me with a deep-rooted feeling of loneliness – a loneliness which made me realize that I was missing you more than I ever thought was possible. A separation that made me realize how much more I love you than I thought or expressed.

With my ipod playing “Aaoge jab tum saajana”, I took each one of those uninterested slow steps home. Tears bloomed in my eyes, as if the song had just given them the license to spill out of their trap hole. I walked with my head down, badly wishing that the evening sun would dry my tears before it set.

I am missing you a lot honey.

Locking hands, we walked out into the open backyard of the plaza that looks into the sea beyond. It’s our favourite spot. Favourite because this is that one place that has seen us together more often than any other in this rather small city.

Just when we were a few feet from stepping into the open, we realized it was raining. Hard luck. We walked back in and found a seat in one of those mall’s fancy-yet-not-so-comfortable benches. As soon as we sat down, he took out the aloo bhujia packet from his bag (about which he had been ranting since the morning) and opened it. He offered it to me first (as usual), his eyes still on the open mouth-watering packet.

I especially loved the look of his eyes then. They gleamed with excitement and anticipation - like that of a little kid irresistibly holding on to a bar of chocolate which is not to be eaten till he gets home. Just imagine the poor kid looking restlessly at the bar every other minute or at times trying to make a small hole with his index finger so that he can just manage to get one small bite, or at most, lick it! It gets all the more frustrating for the kid when he has to offer that valuably held chocolate to his brother before he takes a bite himself. It’s the very same look that reflected in his eyes.

For a minute, I felt as though I were looking into my future son.

Our son.

I smiled. I didn’t describe to him about how I felt. Else, he would think that I were teasing him and give me that ‘droopy’ dog face which would embarrass the hell out of me in that busy mall. Instead I said, ‘You look so cute!’ and kissed him gently.

We spoke of the day’s happenings, most of the talking done by me than him! It was my turn and if I missed it, he would snatch it away to talk about Google’s new browser, the latest Samsung mobile, his utterly noisy and irritating colleague or even worse, the yet-to-be-released horror movie. Not that I’m not interested, but when a girl has something waiting to be told, it’s too hard to get her to concentrate on such ‘trivial’ things!

So the talk went on and on and I took a quick glance at my watch. It read 8.40pm. I realized something and asked him, “Do you know what day it is today?”

“3^rd of September. This time, exactly a year ago, I was taking off in the flight only to leave you behind with teary eyes which refused to dry.” He replied, as if reading off what ran in my head, through my eyes.

“Yup. Such a horrid day it was! But, one year from then, life seems definitely better!” I sighed.

“I told you to watch out for the same day a year later. Didn’t I Babydoll?” He said, closing in on me for a hug.

“Yeah Yeah!” I said shyly.

I had trusted in him. But the incurable pessimist in me didn’t build up much hope.

“Can’t you just come for 5 minutes?” I would ask him over one of those phone calls that went over the roof. The pain of separation had already made me void of any practicality.

“If I could, I wouldn’t be oceans away, listening to you cry honey.” He would reply, never tired of repeating those lines.

He came back sooner than he had promised.

That day, in the airport, I remember holding his arm really tight and telling him, “This time, am not letting you go. No matter what.”

We stood up to leave the mall. I walked alongside him, hugging his arm tighter than usual. He gently stroked my cheek in response.

I knew he heard my silence.

-Ms. Iyer in love

It hasn’t been the best of months for either of us. However, as ironical as it may sound, we were both looking forward to this day as much as we were dreading it – the day we would disclose our relationship to our parents. It started on the 11^th of May, went on and on, finally deciding to conclude on the 5^th of July.

The motive is selfish, said everyone, blinding themselves to the light that glowed at the end of the tunnel and deafening themselves to the melodies that would soon mesmerize them. It makes you wonder if these were the same people whose company you once craved for. It’s amazing how one piece of information can radically change the way people look at you, their opinion and their outlook towards you and every action of yours.

There were a few laughs, a lot more tears than normal to neutralize those laughs you had a few minutes before. Lots of arguments and long periods of silence, giving one another the time to take in the essence of the quarrels. Blame games, as usual, being the highlight.

Simply put – it was like a roller coaster ride, just that you are subjected to one every day. After a few rounds, it no longer remains an excitement. On the other hand, turns into a frustration. At the end of it all, it drives you so crazy that you come to think of it as a way of your life and succumb to accepting it.

The only good thing that everyone managed to do was to make us feel so far away from each other and as a result, drawing us closer in love, bond and commitment.

~

One of those days, when I was rolled into my bed, not letting an inch of my body to be exposed outside the blanket, thinking of random things and weeping over the pillow, making it warm with my tears so that they would feel like his chest, my mobile buzzed and the sms from him read – “Take care of yourself. You are my world.”

I knew then that nothing was going to take me away from him. Nothing. No one.

~

-Ms. Iyer in love

P.S.: Mr. Iyer is too busy trying to balance his work and me. :P

He stood far away from just a whisper. He was frantically searching through the neatly arranged shelves of shirts and that meant he would probably not notice if I gestured to him, even if I waved out high. I could have walked up a few steps, caught him by the arm and walked him down to what I had just discovered. But if I did, I would lose what I wanted to show him, ‘coz the place was packed with arrays of shirts that were hardly different from one another. I didn’t know how I could solely catch his attention without catching others’.

Ok. Now the root cause of this problem is that I don’t call him by his name. Firstly, to make it simple and straight, I feel too shy to call him by his name. Don’t ask me why. I can’t explain. But that’s how it is. Some things are beyond what words can say. Secondly, I have always wanted to intrinsically express respect in words whenever I talk to my ‘special someone’. In that sense, am happy the Indian language has an inherent way of giving respect to the listener, without having to modify your tone or use special ‘respectful’ words. I guess it’s a mannerism that I secretly admired in my mother and wanted to strictly follow. Though he says he would like it either way, am sure he feels special when I talk to him with that innate respect in my words. Of course, that doesn’t mean that you disrespect someone by calling them by their name. But it’s a very traditional and orthodox Indian concept. Am not delving into that. It’s like my tiny dream and I am happy he gives me the liberty to exploit it with him.

So, what’s the alternative? Simple. I always call him by his nickname or some random cheesy-mushy name that looks like it’s just out of fairy tale books. Only people in love can relate and relish those things. For others, it’s too gay to be true. Calling him such chirpy-chocolate-coated names makes me feel close to him and I very well know it makes him feel like a kid in front of me. He loves it. I love it. We love it. End of story.

Hence ultimately (and fortunately), in the past 11 months, I have never encountered a really serious situation which ‘demanded’ me to call him by his name except when I have to refer to him while talking to others. Of course there is one occasion when I do refer to ‘him’ by his name and that is a secret we wish to keep to ourselves. So otherwise, everything is just fine.

Now back to the problem. Well, it might not seem like one in the first place, but it’s too hard for me to come to terms with.

I was standing in the middle of the stack of shirts and he was at one end. I had to reach out to him, without calling his name. I didn’t want to embarrass either of us by calling him any of those cheesy names that flash our love-struck brain. It’s too insane to pick up the mobile, speed dial his number when he is just a name’s call away. What now? No choice. I had to call him by his name or I would have to wait until he turns to me and we were already running out of time.

Finally, even before my heart could accept stepping beyond its own principles in love, my hopelessly-practical brain and ever-sincere mouth reacted and I called out to him by his name. He turned and we looked into each other’s eyes with that tickling sensation spreading like wild-fire within us. With a was-it-really-you kind of smile slowly spreading across his lips, he walked up to me while I held a purple striped shirt in my hand, too shocked by my own unplanned surprise. He was looking straight into my eyes and I held out the shirt and asked him if he likes it. It was clear that we were both struggling to get ourselves out this earth-shattering moment of our life without letting a single soul notice. The shop wasn’t the best of places for even the hard-core romantics to exchange a few moments of intimate glance at one another. We pretended to quickly recover ourselves. However, both of us didn’t.

Neither of us attempted to talk about it ‘coz we didn’t want to. Talking about it would ruin its charm. We wanted to feel that heart-in-the-throat thing and the goose pimples rise on our skin. Neither of us expressed what we felt and yet, we exactly knew what the other was feeling.

Its amazing how sometimes, something as common or insignificant as your own name, causes excitement and makes you feel unique when it preciously drops out of the lips of the person you love more than yourself.