Begin Again

“So what’s the point?” Sakhi asks.

“Huh?” she replies with a question mark written over her face. She sits on her bed with her phone in her hands, and seems irritated. Of course she is irritated. She was busy having an IM conversation with Shardul when Sakhi disturbed her with a senseless question.

She and Shardul are already having problems. She obviously doesn’t need another misunderstanding and that too, over leaving him at Seen on Whatsapp. Sakhi on the other hand, sits facing Raahi on her bed, and is staring at her the entire time, completely oblivious to her predicament.

“So what’s the point of it all? Why do we do what we do? Why do you go to college and why does Dad work a job he absolutely hates and why does Matarani do what she does?” Sakhi elaborates.

“What does Mom do?” she asks, not getting the point.

“You know, same old. Her thoughts— that acing household chores is a prerequisite, and getting married is the ultimate achievement for existing on this planet as a girl.” After saying all that, Sakhi stretches her arms and lies on her back. She looks at the ceiling as Raahi looks at her, like all the times she has looked at her, trying to look through her, and like all the times before, in vain.

*

Two days later, when Raahi is having lunch with her college friends, Sakhi sits at the next table and keeps stealing glances at her. Raahi tries not to look back as everyone else is animatedly talking over each other’s sentences about something. When she finally pays attention, she hears someone say vacay and a paper plane hits her the exact same moment. When she looks up, Sakhi is fervently shaking her head. Raahi tries to ignore her and listen to the details.

Apparently, they are planning to go to Alibaug over the weekend. Ambani, whose real name is Shreya, but no one ever calls her that, has her family’s farmhouse there. They would leave on Friday night and be back by Sunday night. Of course Shardul will be there, and of course he is looking at her with a raised eyebrow. But so is Sakhi. And there’s pain in her eyes. She’s pleading, almost in tears. And of course, of course Raahi does what she has been doing all her life.

* 

A long and uninteresting and grammatically horrible text message on the group informs Raahi that the unofficial senior farewell is due this Saturday night and it will be at the Q Lounge. Raahi, who is sitting on the outer staircase of the college, looks up to find Rihaan and Ambani already staring at her from either sides.

“I don’t want a rerun of what happened two months ago,” Rihaan warns her. “You’re coming this time. Period—”

“—oh that’s not due until the 23^rd of this month,” Shrutika interrupts.

“What?” Rihaan almost spits the word.

“What?” Shrutika answers with a shrug and a smug look on her face and goes back to scrolling through her favourite subreddit again.

“Yaar Shreya,” he says and Shreya’s eyes light up on the sound of her name. “Why does this person with the most fuckall jokes on the face of this earth happen to be my best friend?”

“I don’t know that, but I could totally kiss you right now just for not calling me Ambani,” she says and Rihaan leaves shaking his head followed by an audible sigh.

But Raahi is oblivious to all these things being said around her. She is looking straight ahead where she spots Sakhi sitting on a bench on the other side of the campus road. She is totally lost, trying to find an answer she needs on Sakhi’s face, which is why she visibly jolts ahead when Shardul pats her back.

“Um, hi!” he says, clearly surprised at that reaction. “I thought we were dating like adults and not middle schoolers with crushes?”

“Shut up,” Raahi replies as she tries to gain back her composure. “You aren’t good enough to be my crush, okay? This relationship is just because I couldn’t see you so miserable.”

“So you’re pity-dating me? Wow, that’s a first. Anyway,” he says, then spots Shreya and waves at her. 

“What was I saying? Oh, yeah, did you get that text about the party from Mr Abhay Merchant, PhD?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a post-doctoral degree too?” Raahi says trying hard to make Shardul laugh but failing miserably. He’s looking at her and she gets too uncomfortable to stare back. “You’re going to cancel, aren’t you?”

“No,” Shreya replies even before he had finished.

“Oh. I just thought you don’t like such events so I was going to propose that I tell everyone we can’t make it coz I have a family function to attend and I’m taking you along. And then we would go on a date. But anyway, party works just fine. And of course, it’s the fucking farewell. We should obviously—”

“—Lets do the date thing,” Raahi cuts him off. Shardul’s eyes twinkle as he takes in that sentence.

“Wow, look at you. You almost seem like a normal human being,” he says, the corner of his lips curling upward.

“Normal?” she asks.

“Human being,” he replies.

*

Raahi shuts off the alarm at seven o clock in the evening, and finally gets off her bed. She checks her phone and finds selfies on the group from her friends, all dressed up. Poo is sending her voice notes and boomerangs and Raahi low-key wishes she were going. Then she shakes her head and checks Shardul’s text informing her that he’ll meet her at the Dunder Muffin, her favourite place.

She keeps her phone away and starts choosing an outfit from her wardrobe. Sakhi who has been watching her the entire time finally clears her throat.

“Arent you scared?” she asks, when she finally has Raahi’s attention.

“Scared of what?” Raahi freezes but doesn’t turn around. She pretends to continue with her work and takes a long breath.

“You know. So many things. His bike could skid. You both could get your skulls broken. A truck might run over you. Or a car might crash into you.” Sakhi says all of this while nonchalantly going through a cinematography magazine.

“But these are things that could happen on any other day as well, right?” Raahi says, steadying herself by holding the wardrobe’s partition as firmly as she can.

“Yeah, but I don’t feel so good today,” Sakhi answers.

“Don’t you always?” Raahi says, but then shakes her head. As expected, Sakhi doesn’t say anything after that. She just keeps on looking at Raahi with her eyes devoid of any feeling. Raahi puts off the lights, switches off her phone and crashes in her bed. She tries to sleep with a pillow covering her face but all she can see is Sakhi’s eyes staring at her. And lately, sleep has been but a distant dream.

*

“Just tell me what should I do?” Shardul says, frustration dripping off his words.

“I’m sorry. I—”

“I do everything possible to make this work for us. But you just keep on making it difficult for the both of us. If you didn’t want to come, you should’ve told me so.”

“Shardul—”

“It’s not like I forced you. You’re always running away, always hiding. You know, you should’ve just said no in the beginning if you didn’t like me in the first place.”

“It’s not like that, okay? I liked you then and I like you now.” Raahi tries to hold his hand but Shardul keeps on shrugging it away. She notices her mother watching them from the window, so she drags him away from her house towards the pavement.

“Okay. I have told you about my sister, right? You have to understand Shardul. I can’t just leave her,” Raahi says with a little aggression this time.

“Everyone has sisters, Raahi. Don’t bullshit me.”

“She has special needs,” she says her voice down by an octave now.

“Don’t use your sister as an excuse for your irrational behaviour okay? Just grow up.”

Raahi starts telling him about Sakhi, but he is already leaving.

“We are twins—Sakhi and I. We were born sixteen minutes apart.”

She finally wants to speak. After so many years. And in that moment, she doesn’t feel scared or unsure. She calls Divya—her best friend she had fallen out with, because Sakhi didn’t like her.

“She is younger. Apart from the initial sixteen minutes, I guess she has always been there. For me. With me. And no one believes she is difficult. That she can be difficult.”

Divya takes her along to meet a mystic called The Great Ear. He asks her to sit and offers her water, asks her if she’s okay, if she can talk, if she wants to talk. He asks her where she came from, and where she wants to go. Why she does what she does and doesn’t what she doesn’t.

“When I was in school, Sakhi used to stop me from playing, from making new friends, getting new experiences. It’s not like she did it on purpose, or she hates me. But she does make me miserable. I want to do things, live like everyone else. But she always had a way to stop me. No one believed me when I told them all of this, to a point that it was futile telling everyone the truth. If my father doesn’t believe me, why would anyone else. Right?”

“So I stopped telling people about Sakhi. I guess I should have continued with that rule, and not told Shardul as well,” Raahi says, gulping down her coffee as she sits with Divya in Dunder Muffin, now, six months later.

“I think you underestimated me,” Divya says, not looking up from her cold chocolate.

“I guess I did,” Raahi says. “I should say sorry and thanks, for everything you’ve done for me, but I love you.”

Divya smiles and Raahi turns around in her seat to look out from the glass panel at the setting sun and the sky with its orange and purple shades. She looks down and spots Sakhi standing near the pavement looking at her. Her eyes are still empty, and they will probably always be.

But Raahi doesn’t freeze this time. She has a soft smile on her face as she holds her gaze and turns around to look at Divya. She knows that there will be a time when she will have to face Sakhi again. They were born together and they will probably die together.

But right now, Raahi isn’t worried about that. Right now, she looks at Divya, who is busy licking the last droplets of her drink from her mug. Right now, she can smell the powdered sugar and cocoa in the air, and bury her teeth into melted cheese and freshly baked bread. She can enjoy the sunset in the company of a person who accepts her as she is, and she wonders if this is what happiness looks like: friendship and food and all things beautiful.

M&M

The fresher’s party is now at its peak. M&M are engrossed in their Govinda routine when the tap on the mic makes them look up. The organising committee president smiles at the crowd. “It’s time to announce the names,” he says and the crowd goes into a frenzy. M looks at her best friend, shakes her head and pushes him toward the stage.

Of course his name his announced the very next moment, and of course she knew. He’s the most handsome guy she’s ever seen (in real life obviously! Dude thinks he stands a chance in front of Chris Evans?), he’s funny and he’s friends with everyone. But she didn’t know her name would be announced too. M looks at her, beaming from the stage as she stands amidst the crowd, clueless.

When they initiate the first dance, M still has the shades of that shock on her face. She looks at M who is busy watching a girl in the distance.

“She’ll think you’re a creep, May!” M widens her eyes at him.

“No way. My charm will ensure that never happens,” he says and winks.

“You’re so high up your own ass!” M says but smiles at him.

After the snacks are served, and almost the entire class has complimented how good they both look together: he in his black polyester suit and she in her yellow silk gown, and after they’re done ridiculing most of the crowd, M&M set out on their mission.

They run up a flight of stairs, M racing ahead and M chasing her with a few choice expletives they use for each other with such affection that any couple would be envious of.

When he catches up with her though—almost bumping into her—he’s bewildered as she’s standing still. She looks like she’s reliving the announcement from some time ago, only all the happiness from the evening has vanished from her face. When he looks where she’s looking, he sees a couple at the end of the corridor, their faces familiar, as they lean in and M quickly grabs M’s hand. M squeezes back M’s hand and closes her eyes shut. The best of friends who have always gone through everything together, stand there as their hearts break, together.

*

“Okay come on, let’s go,” M says as he tries to pull M off her bed.

“No I don’t want to. Go away,” she says as she grabs on to a pillow.

“You’re telling me to go away? Over a boy you just met? Shame on you, Lily,” he says as he lets go of her hand. She looks up at him to check if he’s really angry by any chance. When he stares at her, his eyes bulging, she smiles and rolls over.

“Okay. Come here and let’s just sob together. Deal?” she says, her voice muffles under the sheets.

“No. Let’s go,” he says as he tries to pull the sheet off her face. When she doesn’t let go, he lifts her up in his arms and steps off the bed.

“What the fuck, May! Let go of me you moron,” she says laughing her guts out. He does, and she’s up on her feet, shaking her head and pulling her hair in a pony. “Mom is definitely gonna think we were having sex up here.”

“Don’t worry. Even though she knows you cannot be trusted, she trusts me. A lot actually,” M quips as he starts wearing his shoes.

“Fuck off,” she says as she looks in the mirror. He flips the bird right back at her. 

“Where are we going though?”

*

“This is so beautiful. Isn’t it?”

“Are you kidding me? I’m freezing my nuts off,” M retorts.

“Ovaries,” M corrects her.

“Go away, sexist,” she answers as she sits on the blanket M has laid on the grass and then pulls a shawl around herself.

“Makes no sense,” M says hopping right next to her. He opens the box of pizza they bought on the way. “It has been 84 years,” he says as he grabs a slice. “How have you been my love?”

“Stop flirting with my soulmate and tell me what we’re doing here,” she says as she tries to decide which slice is the biggest.

“Who needs reasons to have a good time?” he says as he tries to talk while having cheese orgasms. “Seriously, I planned this entire picnic for you. We’re sitting on a blanket by the lake under the moonlight having pizza. And all you’re doing is complaining.”

“Aww my little Floyd Mayweather,” she says and hugs him while ignoring a ‘fuck you’ that he’s muttered in response to her nickname for her. “I wish I could date you. You’re the best.”

“Then date me”

“What?”

“What?”

“May, stop being May for a moment. What are you trying to say?” M says sitting up straight facing him.

“I’m just saying if you want to date me then date me. Don’t just wish for things. Do something about it,” M says as he finishes off his slice.

“May look at me.” M does. “Do you want to date me?”

“No,” he says as he grabs another slice.

“Then why would you say that thing?” she says making him face her again.

“Because you said you wish you could date me. Do you really wish that?” he says, lifting his brow.

“No,” she says looking at the box of pizza that sits between them.

“So why did you say that in the first place?” he asks.

“I don’t know. I just meant if only I could date someone like you. Someone I am so comfortable with, someone who does things for me I never even expect,” M says as she looks at the lake. “That Riddhi girl has no idea what she’s lost.”

“But you already have me, Lily.”

“What?” she asks looking back at him.

“You already have me, your best friend. Why do you need another one?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Because we both need other people to date? Isn’t that obvious?” M looks at him suspiciously.

“Yeah, that’s not what I mean. If you want to date someone, date that guy. But why would you want to date someone like me when you already have me? Don’t you need someone different? Won’t that be too much to handle?” He stares at her, dead serious.

“Too much what? Goodness?” she says, giggling a little. “And don’t look at me like that.”

“Don’t flatter me to change the topic, Lily.”

“What? I’m serious. I call you up when I’m in trouble. You’re always there for me, even if I’m freaking out over a dog-eared page in TFIOS. You’re… I don’t know what comparison to use. You’re the best. What’s wrong in expecting that my boyfriend would be good enough?”

“See,” M says as he takes her hands in his. “That’s what I’m saying. If you need a person who is just one call away, who hypes you up, who entertains all your bullshit, you already have me. Don’t you?”

“I do. But I don’t want you to be only doing that all the time. If I find someone else, and you find someone else, you wouldn’t be busy with me all the time,” she says, sighing.

“Stuck? Shut up,” he says with a tired face. He takes a long breath, but then remembers something. “Wait, are you worried I’ll fall in love with you?”

“May…”

“Don’t May me.”

“That’s not what I was saying. I was saying that it’s different in a relationship. You have your own person. But yeah, I don’t want you to. And I don’t want myself to be totally dependent on you, too,” she says, shutting her eyes.

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Of course. I’m sure you’re a good kisser,” she says, throwing a smile his way. “But when we break up—“

“If”

“—if we break up, we’ll lose what we have now. And I can’t afford that.” A tear slips from the corner of her eye despite the tightly shut eyelids.

For a moment, no one talks. M wipes another tear with the back of her hand while M sits staring at the lake.

“Can’t we just be enough for each other?” M asks, still looking at the lake. “Can’t I be your person? You’re already my person anyway.”

“M…”

“You can share anything with me right? And I have never failed you. We have been there for each other for years now. Why do you need a different ‘your own person?’ You have me and I have you and why isn’t that enough?” He throws a stone in the lake, trying to make it skip but it sinks.

“What if one of us finds a better person? What if one of us gets bored? What if one of us gets tired of the other? What if you get tired of me?” she says, the tears now making a beeline.

“I so want to say that won’t happen but I don’t know what’s gonna happen. I can’t make false promises. But if that happens, that’ll happen someday in the future, right? Don’t punish the both of us for what you think might happen someday.” He tries skipping a stone again, but keeps on failing.

“Punish the both of us? Dude, yeah sure I had a crush on Rajdeep. But I didn’t force you to have a crush on Saba. This is what I’m saying. We’re always gonna like other people.

“We’ll see what to do when we like someone. Also I didn’t have a crush on her. I just wanted to give you company,” he says and looks at her. “Man, its good Raj is with Saba. He would’ve totally run away watching you drop snot on a picnic blanket.”

“Shut up,” she says hitting his arm and smiling. “What if I want to kiss someone?”

“Kiss me then. I could totally let you kiss me for say 100 bucks per makeout session.”

“Asshole,” M says as she hits his arm again. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Should I tell you honestly?”

“Okay?”

“You’re totally gonna date all kinds of guys and dump them coz no one’s good enough and you’re gonna end up 30, all alone, crying yourself to sleep in your parents’ house and then I’ll have to marry you out of pity,” he says shaking his head.”

“Fuck off asshole,” she says as she starts hitting him, not in a playful way this time. He starts running away as she starts pulling off her sneakers to hurl at him.

“Do whatever you want Lily. You can’t change the future. 10 years from now, you’re gonna be at your wedding and you’re gonna step out of the car and look at the names on the arch studded with flowers and you’re gonna realise someone’s made a blunder—”

“SHUT UP,” she says hurling the shoe at him, laughing and having the time of her life as he ducks it.

“As the announcement’s gonna read—”

“ASSHOLE,” she says as she starts chasing him again.

“Mayank beds Maithili.”

“FUCK YOU!” she shouts as she follows him, and hears him shout back an “I love you too baby.”

What If

As the early morning sunrays beam through the branches of the tree across the house, she ties her shoelaces and switches on her armband and starts her daily early morning jog. Chewbacca, happy that at least someone is awake on a lazy Sunday morning, sprints alongside her feet. She knows asking Chewie not to follow her is an exercise in vain, so she just looks down and smiles and continues with her jog.

Twenty minutes later, after she is winded down and Chewie is dragging her tiny feet on the sidewalk, they enter a small eatery by the road. She orders a box of donuts and starts checking her phone. When the boy across the counter starts packing the four different types of donuts in the box, her eyes wander around the place and she catches someone staring at her.

He looks familiar, like someone from a long forgotten dream, or from another life. She holds his gaze for another moment, before the boy at the counter tells her that her order is ready. She smiles at him, picks up the box, tips him a little more than usual and leaves without looking back.

When she is outside, she stands on the sidewalk and draws in a long breath, her hands on her hips. When she’s ready to leave, someone taps her left shoulder from behind. She knows it’s him. She knows it has to be him. She doesn’t turn, though. She is scared of what she might see. She doesn’t want to face him, a whole other world, a whole other life.

It was safer when he wasn’t there. It wasn’t perfect but it was okay. She had been doing okay, pretending he didn’t exist; finding happiness in whatever little that life had to offer now. By turning, she didn’t want to burst the bubble she had built around herself. But it was just the boy from the counter, there to hand her back her phone which she had forgotten there on the counter. He gives her a smile, or so she thinks, and leaves.

Now she didn’t know what was scarier— turning back to face him or not having the opportunity to turn him and face him in the first place. Whatever little she remembered of him, he wasn’t someone who wouldn’t follow you outside. He always would. But maybe, not anymore. She had changed. Wouldn’t he have, too?

#

“I love you,” he told her.

“I love you too,” she said.

“I wish you didn’t though,” he said.

“I wish you didn’t too,” she said, closing her eyes. “Life would’ve been much easier.”

“And yet, here we are,” he said, a wry smile on his face— one that he quickly put away. “What if we—”

“No. No what ifs. There’s no way out. We both know it,” she said matter-of-factly.

They both sat silently for a while as the moonlight shone on the backyard of their favourite ice-cream place. They were the only ones there, and it was a full moon, and a light breeze made the distant branches sway, and it almost felt romantic. Almost.

“I don’t know. I could come with you. Maybe not now. But someday.” He looks in her eyes, searching for a something, a little hope, anything.

“And what would you do there? Your whole life is here. Your family. Your dreams. Your future.” She stared back at him, her eyes full of an unknown emotion— one that she couldn’t quite keep her finger on.

“I could come. I could find work there, however insignificant. I could take care of the house, and cook food for you, do the dishes, everything. I could do everything. I could do anything,” he said reaching for her hand.

“Don’t make it more difficult babe,” she said, her voice barely audible now.

“Think about it. You could live your life and we could still be together. We could have this whole life together, our own little world in the middle of a scary bigger one. We could be happy.” He weaved his fingers through hers.

“You can’t do that. I can’t let you throw away your life for me. And I can’t stay here. I have to go with my parents. You think you’ll be happy but you would just settle for something less when you can have so much more. Sometimes, all the love in the world isn’t enough,” she said, a drop of tear now falling on her wrist.

“What if I don’t want so much more? What if I want you more than anything else? A future with you is something worth giving up everything else for. We could—”

She pulled back her hands abruptly. He was taken aback but got hold of himself somehow. She took a deep breath and then placed her hands on the either sides of his face.

“Look at me. You are going to have a life. And I am going to have one too. It doesn’t seem ideal right now, but time heals. It will be okay. I know we have something special, something people can only dream of having, and I am so thankful for that. I am so thankful for you. But,” she said, noticing that he was now looking down and letting his tears go. “Look at me.” When he did, she wiped his tears with the back of her hand, and held his fingers as tight as she could.

“I could wait for you.” He gave it one last shot, one last ditched effort to save everything from falling apart.

“No. You can’t. You won’t. Look, I wish we could live life on our own terms, but we don’t get a say in everything. You’ve got to accept what comes your way. I wish I could stay. I wish you could come. But that won’t be fair to either of us. I love you. I don’t think I’ll ever love any other person like I love you. Nothing will change that.

“But I also have to go. And even though you don’t believe it now, you will have a life and your dreams and things that will make you happy. Do you listen?” she asked, her voice almost cracking. “Promise me you won’t wait.”

After what seemed like an eternity, he nodded and looked away, but she asked him to look at her and she kissed him and he never knew something as grand and endearing and full of love as a kiss could break your heart into a million pieces.

#

She sits at the dining table with her coffee mug in her hand, at three o’ clock. She looks lost in her thoughts. She has been quiet ever since she got back with the donuts in the morning, but nobody pointed it out. Maybe because they all know what might have happened. At least the adults do. She finishes her coffee, watches everyone be busy with their own things and leaves for her bedroom to take a nap.

At dusk, she wakes up to the sound of her favourite song playing on the stereo downstairs. She looks up and finds a dress hanging beside the dresser. ‘May well be one of her family’s stupid traditions,’ she thinks to herself and shakes her head, smiling. One that she herself might have started. She ignores the dress and walks downstairs in her workout clothes.

When she’s in the drawing room, it is completely dark. She’s about to go find the switch, when a single warm light turns on and she stands, completely clueless as Elvis Presley’s ‘Can’t Stop Falling In Love’ plays and he stands before her, dressed up in a suit. He takes a step towards her, unsure. She doesn’t move, and he continues.

He stands right in front of her now, his face unrecognisable to her eyes. He asks for her hand and she gives, tentatively. He gradually pulls her toward the middle of the room. He keeps his hand on her waist, and she places hers on his shoulder, both faltering and cautious. When they start swaying, she looks into his eyes and she is finally hit by a familiar feeling. He smells like hot chocolates and fabric softener and a boy she knew.

Neither of them speaks for a long long time. She is surprised and shocked and confused and keeps staring at him as if he would somehow vanish into thin air and she would wake up from this dream, but he just keeps looking back at her, a smile on his face the entire time. When she opens her mouth to finally say something, all the lights get switched on.

“Grandma! Look!” her middle schooler grandson screams and runs towards her and hands her a photograph. She stands there with him in the photograph, smiling, and in love. Madly in love. Her eyes get moist and she looks away.

“Did you say yes? Tell me you said yes” her almost-seventeen granddaughter says to her. He looks at her granddaughter and shakes his head incessantly with his eyes wide, and she backs off.

In the corner across, her son and her daughter-in-law stand smiling sheepishly. Her son tilts his head to the side and she shrugs, visibly overwhelmed.

He clears his throat and everybody looks at him. “Can I borrow her for some time? I’ll bring her back by curfew,” he says, and they all burst into laughter.

The both of them sit at a table in the patio of a small café. She looks at his face, lit up by Christmas lights across. “Well you’ve got more,” he says.

“What?’ she asks, checking if she has something on her dress.

“The wrinkles,” he says and they both chuckle.

“How did this happen anyway?” she asks.

“Lets not get into the details,” he says. “I’m sorry about your husband though. Wanted to send a message on Facebook but just couldn’t get myself to do it. And then it seemed too late anyway, and two years went by.”

“It’s okay. Can’t believe it’s been two years though,” she says as she looks in the distance.

“I just thought you had lived your life and I had lived mine and it was time to try once more—one last time to have a life together. We… we could just meet for coffee in the evenings, or ice cream at night, but I would still like to be a part of your world.” He looks at her, his hands calm, his leg shaking under the table.

“I can’t believe you did that. I can’t believe you came. I can’t believe this is happening,” she says, smiling to herself. The rest of the evening is a blur. It feels like a dream. The food arrived and they talked and laughed and gave each other high-fives as if they had been doing this every single day for the past forty-five years.

Later, as they stand at the door to her house, they hold hands like teenagers, like two people newly in love, the air smelling of possibility, of hope, of all things bright and beautiful.

“I’m sorry, though,” he says, as they say their goodbyes. For now.

“For what?” she asks.

“For not keeping the promise.”

Here's To Letters!

Dear ‘Dear Zindagi,’

Hi!

Since you made me realize the importance of letters, it only makes sense that I write about you in a letter. I had butterflies in my stomach before I walked in to the auditorium to watch you. I was wondering if you’d be at the same level as English Vinglish, if you’d be on par with other feel-good movies from Hollywood that I love, since you were supposedly from the same genre. But you made me forget all that. I won’t review you, because I don’t think I understand films and filmmaking so well. But I’d love to share what you made me feel.

As soon as I walked out of the cinema hall, I tweeted that you are a beautiful, beautiful film. I wrote about you on Facebook and BookMyShow and also gave my opinion about you to those who asked me how Dear Zindagi was, using the same adjective: Beautiful. Not because I ran out of other adjectives or something, but I believe beautiful is how everyone should describe you. Because beauty isn’t perfect. It is flawed. But it makes you love it. Not in spite of the flaws. It makes you love the flaws too. And that’s what you did.

Dear ‘Dear Zindagi,’

They say, you are flawed. They say, a therapist cannot take a walk on the beach with her/his patient. She/he cannot go cycling with the patient, cannot roam around the city, cannot share personal experiences, cannot hug, cannot... But I say, why not? Aren’t humans supposed to experiment? Aren’t humans supposed to be humans?

Maybe I don’t know much about psychiatry or counselling. But I know a thing or two about films or fiction. I know a thing or two about stories. I know that they reflect the world we live in, but not necessarily as it is. Stories may portray our dreams, our imagination, our utopia. They may be a form of escapism; from the troubles of my life, from my incessant overthinking, my anxiety, my dilemmas, my problem with the fact that therapists aren’t allowed to be like Jug. I don’t know much, but I do know that you made me feel alive. And I would trade any realities (about therapists, or otherwise) to be able to feel alive.

I don’t want to talk about the therapist you showed me on screen or the actor who portrays him. Not because I have any problem with him, or that I didn’t like him, but for the exact opposite reason. I’ve been a fan of the actor, and I’ve spent my life talking about him. And I would really love to talk about your protagonist and the actor who portrays her. Because both the character and the actor deserve it.

I noticed how polar opposite her reactions were when she was asked “Good for you Kaira?” in Singapore at the film shoot as opposed to the advertisement shoot back in Mumbai, excitement vs frustration. I noticed how her face went, when the guy told her she was a ‘hot DOP’ even though he was joking, maybe because she’s been through a lot of that. I liked how she ate chillies as an excuse to cry.

I noticed how you made clear—well before the final revelation— that she ran away from people before people could run away from her, that she wanted to be the first one to leave; when she untied her hair and danced with the Justin Bieber guy when she realized Raghu will be seeing his ex, when she got furious when Raghu was in Goa telling her it’s good that she took the decision. “What do you mean Tumhe lagta hai?

I loved the way she narrated her problem as her friend’s when she visited the therapist for the first time—clearly uncomfortable with letting people see the real her—and then relaxing after she’s heard the Pyarelal story. I loved how she went from a hell lot of confused to a tad bit hopeful.

I love the scene where she confronts her family. I gritted my teeth when she said “my foot.” I clenched my fists and swore under my breath when she tore into every single one of the elders. That alone is the proof of the actor’s tremendous acting prowess. She was Kaira. In the climax, she didn’t break down all at once. Her face went from being devoid of expression to teary eyed to a complete sobbing mess. I loved how real and relatable your protagonist was. I loved how she was stupid and mature at the same time, and how most of us are like that anyway.

Dear ‘Dear Zindagi,’

A lot of people pointed out your flaws, so I want to point out the things about you that I loved, and some might have missed. I loved all the small things you wanted me to notice. I loved how Jackie, Koko and Fatty’s group is named JFK. It made me smile, making me remember all the silly names my friends came up with for our group. I loved how the camera showed us a close-up of Alka when Fatty says she wished her parents had bought her a villa in Goa.

I love how easily Kaira and Raunaq bring up homosexuality, and how it is the exact opposite at Kaira’s family dinner. I love how Jackie asks Raunaq is he’s crazy because he’s seeing a therapist, highlighting the fact that mental health and therapy is a sort of taboo for even the sweetest of people.

Dear ‘Dear Zindagi,’

I loved the way Kaira admits that she likes Jug. It ends her character arc on a peak as she’s no longer hiding her feelings. I read a lot of people saying she shouldn’t have fallen in love with her because it shows she’s not really independent and I don’t really agree. Why? Because she says she likes Jug and not loves him. All her life, she never has had a person who listened to her. It’s only natural that she’ll develop a liking for that person.

And it wasn’t a sudden revelation. You were dropping hints. The way she cringed when Jug cancelled the session, the way she hid the buzzer, the way she always wanted more time. Maybe she just couldn’t understand Jug’s previous advice: that there are different sort of relationships. Maybe she was already in a relationship with Jug: a ‘share everything without inhibitions’ relationship. She just mistook it for the romantic sort.

I know I said I won’t talk about Jug, but it’s hard not to. I love him. And despite the holding back, keeping a distance, the ‘professional ethics’ line, I’d still like to believe that Jug liked her back. I’d like to believe that the chair creaked for a reason when he sat, and that in that final session, his eye drops were to him what chillies were to Kaira. He was hiding his tears. I’d love to believe that there was nothing wrong for them to like each other. At least for the age part.

I love how Kaira notices everything in the room when the final session is over, as if taking it all in for the last time; as if keeping it all safe as a memory of Jug. And I love how she walks out, and stands at the gate and cries her eyes out at the pain of goodbye, and then gradually the sob changes into a smile: joy of feeling free, of being able to face her fears finally.

That’s why I clapped when you ended. Because you illustrated a beautiful metaphor. Kaira is Dona Maria. I clapped because she won her battle with her fears, and that’s where the heartfelt smile came from when she stood at gate of Jug’s house.

So,

Dear ‘Dear Zindagi,’

Thank you.

Thank you for teaching me so many things. Thank you for making me feel okay with—in fact proud of—whatever I am doing or whatever choices I’m making. Thank you for being so beautiful. Thank you for resonating with me, for reducing me to a puddle of tears (both the times I watched it), for making me love you so much that I stayed back till all the credits rolled up, because I wanted to take it all in, as a memory of you.

Thank you for closing with Kaira playing Kabaddi with the sea alone with a camera in her hand. I felt proud of her—a fictional character—and I guess that speaks volumes about you.

Thank you for making me fall in love with life again. Here’s to life, to beauty, to flaws, to love, to you, and to letters. Markus Zusak, the author The Book Thief, wrote a blurb for John Green’s The Fault In Our Stars, but I think it describes you perfectly:

"You laugh, you cry, and then you come back for more."

Love,

Brü