Love.
It was a 4-letter word that I strayed far away from. For others, it brought feelings of happiness and joy. But to me, it brought memories of deceit and loathsomeness. It was love that tore Pooja away from me. I thought I had loved her like no other. I vaguely remembered telling her a few days before the incident that no one could love her more than me. She must've laughed at me. She already had another person in her life. Pooja said he gave her more love. He understood things that I didn't. According to her, I was childish, I didn't understand these concepts and ideologies of love. I was just a best friend, someone to hang out with when you needed a stress buster.
Maybe she was right. I was incapable of love. That's why I failed to see Zoya's love for me.
Zoya Siddiqui, my best friend and confidante. She was a breath of fresh air in my rather dark and lonely life. Strange, isn't it? The woman who was the wife of my dead ex-wife's boyfriend was my best friend. I mocked myself for calling her all kinds of absurdities and rude things when we first met. The truth was that Zoya was always stronger than me. Yes, in a moment of weakness, she attempted suicide, but that doesn't change her ability to rise from things. In the six months after reading Pooja's diary, I escaped to Paris. I ran away from my home, my family and cocooned myself in alcohol and sorrows, but my Zoya? She stayed here and created a whole new business. She was truly the girl everyone underestimated. Her capacity to prove everyone wrong and her newfound joy and zest for life made me want to stay around her like a bee on honey. She was everything I wasn't. Strong, courageous and capable. For once I wondered what it would be like to be in her life one day, to have a good relationship with your family, to make your parents proud and to easily forget the betrayals of the past as if they didn't matter.
But I didn't realize in my selfishness to be by her side, I was hurting her. We spent all of our time together. She would be at my house ever so often. Despite knowing her father did not approve of our friendship, she turned a blind eye to reality. She was sacrificing her sleep, time and life for me. Heck! She even stayed in Mumbai for me. To stay guilt seeped through me was an understatement. Zoya was the most precious aspect of my life, I hadn't experienced someone ever giving me such comfort and undivided attention.
Maybe Pooja was right after all. I was a child. I selfishly made decisions without anticipating who would be affected by them and now here I was doing the same thing all over again. I had failed to understand the dearth of Zoya's emotions.
But what I failed to understand was that I loved her too. My dependence on her was unhealthy. I easily talked about moving to Paris as if it was no big deal, but after her outburst and reality hitting me, I couldn't picture a life without her. Without her infectious energy, her willingness to always exude love and radiance everywhere she went. She was like walking sunshine. And somewhere I was scared, because I had already made this mistake once. I didn't understand Pooja and yet again, I was unable to understand Zoya.
The girl that loved unabashedly, deserved love of equal fervor.
I sighed looking at the bags that remain semi-packed in front of me. Was this Paris job just a mechanism for me to run away from my feelings again as Zoya had said?
**
My call was disconnected again as I tried ringing her number. It was so unlike her to avoid me for hours, let alone days. My time to leave was approaching faster than anticipated and without Zoya by my side, it felt like I was stuck, as if I was paralyzed. I was so accustomed to her comforting glances or reassuring words every time I felt an ounce of anxiety. But without her, my heartbeat seemed as if it was consistently thumping against my chest, as if something was wrong. It made my insides twist. That was the power of her love, the love I had gravely turned a blind eye to. Her love was my sheltering angel.
I had laid down in the blanket of comfort all because it was her love allowing me to do so. She didn't taunt like Pooja did, she didn't find shortcomings in me, she accepted me the way I was. She protected me like no one did. Her love was always my guiding force. The reason I had something to look forward to, the reason a man who pent himself up in a shell for six months had finally learned to smile.
I couldn't take it anymore. I needed her, so badly. Being without her felt like I was without oxygen. I wish I could simply rewind time and wrap her up in my arms, telling her how much she means to me. Would she have stayed? Would she have given me a chance? What if I understood her love? Would we have been happy...together in this moment? Would she be resting her head on my shoulder as we watched the stars light up the night sky on my balcony?
I shook my head in the negative as thoughts filled me up with anticipation of her again. Her comforting hand, her soothing words, her smile that cured the worst of aches and pains. She had so much to give and never took anything in return.
What could I give her? The woman who loved selflessly had nothing but pain and hurt to get from me. I couldn't even understand her feelings for me. What would I do when I hurt her and she remained quiet?
My eyes grew cloudy from the feel of tears building up in them. I would never be able to give her the love she deserved, I couldn't even keep her happy as a friend. How would I be able to even understand her needs?
No, she deserved so much better than me. I had to leave her alone, for someone worthy of her. Pooja was right. I was a manchild. I couldn't do things that made people I loved happy, nor could I ever keep them happy.
Zoya deserved better than me.
____
Somethings are better ended before they begin. Now do you think AdiYa deserve their happy ending or are you all willing to leave this story on a bittersweet note? Given the latter happens quite often in reality ...
