name:- The Dead End
word count:- 4500 words
published on:- 8th December, 2019
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[ unedited ]
N A N D I N I
Next day,
Early afternoon,
After the presentation:
"I don't believe I'm here!" I say, my eyes twinkling as I kept staring at the Eiffel Tower in front of me. It was beautiful in photos, but the actual body was even more beautiful then I had imagined. It was tall, made of wrought-iron, and easily reflected back the blue sky, making it shine.
I always wanted to visit the Eiffel Tower at night, but it looked equally heavenly during the day. What made the experience even more surreal was my hand that was held firmly in the hand of the man I love, our fingers entwined.
I had worn my favourite dark red dress, which was long, covering my legs to the ground, and had a long slit on my right leg till the thigh, along with hoop earrings. I felt slightly overdressed, but Manik was wearing a tux too, and it was him who asked me to dress this formally.
I had asked him a total of ten times until now, for the first four times he told me it was a surprise, and then ignored me for the next four times. On the ninth time, he glared at me, telling me he'd send me to nursery because I clearly did not know the meaning of surprise. The last time I asked him, he told me he wanted to push me from the top, and I was dressed so that I could look nice on my funeral. I didn't ask him after that.
A small surprise awaited me as we went upstairs and instead of stepping out on the common floor from where you can look out at the whole of Paris, we stopped on the floor below that.
I looked at Manik with questioning eyes, but he just smiled proudly as the elevator doors opened, and we stepped out into an apartment.
An apartment?
It was like a one room- apartment, with long glass windows that overlooked below. The living room wasn't as furnished as it should've been, the wall was half painted and there was a ladder, indicating the painting work was still on. Nonetheless, the other half, next to the window, was all done. There was a table of two with rose petals and a candle in the centre.
"Manik?," I asked in shock as we stepped inside. This was beautiful, but, shocking. I couldn't figure the right words to say.
"The Eiffel Tower opened apartments on this floor a few years ago, and my friend bought one recently. I had helped him set up his new business generously a few years ago, and when I asked him if I could use the apartment for a lunch, he agreed and insisted to do all of this for us. It's not me, it's him," he grinned sheepishly as he led us to the table, pulled out a chair and tucked me in before sitting opposite to me.
I still felt too dumbfounded to speak a word, and only broke out of the bubble when a lady approached from inside.
"Champagne?" She asked with a polite smile and a bottle in her hand. Manik nodded, and she turned the glasses to give us some.
"This is awesome," I said, my eyes twinkling. Still unbelievable... and that's what my life had been since I stepped into London, but this was... too good to be true perhaps. I was in the place I have been dreaming about for so long, sitting in a luxurious private apartment with the love of my life, eating lunch and having champagne while having a good look at most of Paris.
This was more than a dream.
The love of my life. I have never ever called Manik that, even to myself, but now that I think of it, I think he is the love of my life. I don't think I'll ever be able to love anyone as much as I love him, and it's not about the things he does for me, it's about how he makes me feel.. as if the universe was made only so that I and him can exist and meet and love.
"What would you like for lunch?," he asked, "Mexican? Indian? Chinese? Italian? Arabic? Jap—," I stopped his trail of cuisines with wide eyes.
"Chinese," I mumbled. The lady near me nodded and the empty plate was replaced with two plates of already put Chinese food.
"You have all this food here?" I asked, my eyes wide.
"I was just giving you options," he grinned sheepishly, "There's only Chinese because I knew you'd choose Chinese."
I smiled, as we dived into the food, and it was easily some of the best I've ever had.
"Do you know that the Eiffel Tower shrinks by six inches during winter?" He randomly said and I looked up.
"Seriously?" I asked, amused, and he nodded, "It actually even sways six to seven inches in the wind."
"I don't believe this," I insist.
"Arrey," he had wide eyes, "I swear I'm not lying."
"You mean there's a good chance that when we're up here, a wind comes and we get knocked by six inches?" I ask and he casually nods.
"Wow," I say, looking out. The world around me seemed smaller, and I felt like I was on the top of the world, although I was very much aware this wasn't that high.
"Do you remember the diary you used to have in college?" I ask. He looks confused for a moment.
"The dark red one, in which you wrote poems?" I remind. "Ah! Yes," realisation struck him.
"I have it," I grinned and his eyes widened.
"Seriously?" He asks, mimicking the expression I had. I nod proudly. "Thief," he shows me his side eye and I show him my tongue, laughing.
"Seems like your diary isn't the only thing I stole," I tease, "I have your heart too."
He mocks being coy, "You're such a flirt, Nandini."
"And you're my Drug, Manik," I grin, reversing roles. His smile reaches his eyes as we finish the lunch.
"Can I interest you in a dance?" He asks, giving me his hand.
"Again?" I ask, smiling. We just danced last night.
"If you'd like," he smiled.
"I'd love it," I place my hand in his as we get up from the chair. He plays a song in his phone and keeps it on the table.
Kacchi doriyon, doriyon, doriyon se
Mainu tu baandh le
Pakki yaariyon, yaariyon, yaariyon mein
Honde na faasle
My eyes twinkle as I hear the song. It had been my favourite song for so long, and listening it after so long triggered memories I had hidden deep in my heart.
Eh naraazgi kaagzi saari teri
Mere sohneya sunn le meri
I looked into his eyes and they mirrored the same expression as mine.
Dil diyan gallan
Karaange naal naal beh ke
Akh naale akh nu milaa ke
Dil diyan gallan haaye
Karaange roz roz beh ke
Sacchiyan mohabbataan nibha ke
"Do you remember on our first date, you had worn that pretty long red jumpsuit?" He asked. I nodded, of course I remembered. It was only odd that he remembered.
"And years later, on our second official date, you've worn a similar long red dress, and you still look as pretty as ever," he whispered before spinning me and then pulling me close.
Sataaye mainu kyun
Dikhaaye mainu kyun
Aiven jhuthi mutthi russ ke rusaake
Dil diyan gallan haaye
Karaange naal naal beh ke
Akh naale akh nu mila ke
"It feels like nothing's changed, right?" I ask, dazed. As if time just stopped there and somehow six years went by and as if life was paused there, and played here.
Tenu lakhan ton chhupa ke rakhaan
Akkhaan te sajaa ke, tu ae meri w–
He was about to reply when the music paused, and it was replaced by his phone which was ringing.
He sighed and I gave him a smile, as he went ahead and picked up the call, putting it on speaker and keeping it on his shoulder, balancing it as both his hands wrapped around me again and I stifled a laugh.
"Hi Jeff," Manik said, faking enthusiasm and I pursued my lips, playing with the buttons of his white shirt.
"Hi Manik," She replied, mimicking his tone. "I am so sorry to disturb you and Nandini in your oh-so-professional trip which, by the way, I'm sure will be all about work. I call it professional because I'm sure it isn't like you both had gone for a date or kissed, right? So–"
I bet she could go on. In a way, she reminded me of Abhi. The way she could go on like him, and she always knew what's up.
"Yeah, Yeah," Manik cut her off, "I got it. What's the point?"
"Right," she mumbled sheepishly, "Two Reasons. For firsts, I'm finding you a new personal assistant, hoping you wouldn't throw her out for another crazy reason. But then, if you're interested in keeping Nandini as your P.A. as well, I shouldn't take the effort of going through an entire hour of interviews."
"No," Manik said, without glancing at me, "Go ahead with the interviews." Just a gentle reminder of how nothing would be the same when we go back.
"And I was hoping you would've kissed her," she mumbled to herself. "Have you taken up my advice and spoken to her, or are you still in your I-am-a-monster-and-I-don't-care phase?" She questioned like she was his mother and only God knew how much I wanted to laugh. She mimicked his tone and behaviour to perfection.
"Jeff," Manik said in a warning tone, "The phone is on speaker." In another words, he was telling her he had company, so fucking keep the phone now.
"Oh, hi Nandini," she said, ignoring the hint Manik was subtly dropping. "Hi Jeff," I laughed. I love this girl.
"So Nandini, did he buy that flat in the Eiffel Tower he was speaking to me about last night, or did he be a kanjoos and–?" Jeff started. My eyes widened as Manik stiffened.
"Jeff. Jeff. Jeff," he cut her off. "Sweetheart, the second reason?" I was still in shock. He bought this? This fucking apartment. And if he tells it was because I wanted to come here, I'll faint. Leave faint, I'll probably jump from here in shock.
"Right," her voice went silent, as if she was preparing herself to speak ahead. This caught my attention, since Jeff was never gloomy in all the time I had known her.
"Uh, actually, something happened at office last night," she said, "Your– I mean, Mrs. Malhotra came to office."
"What?" Manik said, shock written over his face.
"I'm sorry, I should've called earlier, but I wanted you to complete the presentation, and we took care of it last night," she sounded low.
"What do you mean, Jeff? How could you not call me earlier?" Manik shouted. Literally. His facial expressions went hard and his body stiffened.
"I'm sorry," she kept apologising, "I just wanted to give you some time to yourself, it's like the first break you've taken in the past three years. And you know I was not very fond of the equation between Mrs. Malhotra– Inaaya and you–"
Manik instantly picked up the phone, removed it from speaker and placed it on his ear. His hand left mine and he moved to the corner.
I leaned behind on the wall taking a deep breath as my mind replayed while Manik spoke on the phone.
Inaaya.
The word brought back a lot of facts that I was hiding, it just picked up the reality and threw it right at my face. The truth that I was trying to ignore just came off, and the virtual reality in which I was living since the past three days broke.
'Mrs. Malhotra– Inaaya, and you.'
Inaaya was back.
And in the worst way possible.
As his wife.
As Mrs. Malhotra.
My heart felt heavier and my chest felt tighter.
It shouldn't be this way. I should be happy, right? I left Manik for this. To be happy. To move on. To probably accept that he'd have another family.
But it was nothing but so.
I knew I made a mistake that night, leaving him and blaming the reason on the excuse that Inaaya is pregnant.
I should have stayed. It would have been difficult, but we should have stuck together like we always do, and the problems would have left one by one like it always does. No phase lasts forever, and that one wouldn't have as well.
But I made a stupid, idiotic mistake. And I'm paying for it now.
Manik returned from the call and faced me with pursed lips, an unknown emotion in his eyes.
"We have to go," he informed in a low voice. It wasn't a question. It wasn't a choice. Just an affirmation to do what needs to be done.
"Where?" I asked, slowly, not looking at him. This was the most stupid question I could've asked.
"London," He replied, "Back Home."
Probably for the best.
I always knew the bubble I was living in for the past two days would break, and it broke in the worst way possible.
It was crazy how heavy even my empty heart felt as I followed him back to his house, bags were packed, and we drove to the airport. The journey was just how we came to Paris, in silence, and I was hoping it would change but neither did I have to power to ask questions, now did he the power to answer the unasked ones.
We didn't speak until necessary, and I left it that way. There was a tension between us, and I knew that when we chose different seats to sit on in his private jet. As the airplane rose and Paris became smaller below me, my heart just kept getting heavier, as if it would burst out of my chest any moment.
I also realised that I was leaving the City of Love with a broken heart. How ironic.
Along with that, I was leaving Aliya behind and it hurt to think that I don't know at all if I'd ever see her again. We'll have quite many chances, possibly, but nothing will ever be the same. I was hoping to see her again in the next two days before I leave, but that just seemed like a shattered dream.
She had given me Cabir's new number. Sick and heartbroken, I dialled it moments before take-off, and then cut the call in the second ring and immediately switched off my phone. I don't know what was I thinking. I just felt lost, and needed someone to probably show me the light back home.
We were fifteen minutes in the air when I felt Manik tug into the seat beside me. I was half asleep when I felt his hand entwine into mine.
When I looked at him, his eyes reflected the same emotions as mine, a fear that we'd get back to how we were before Paris. That we tried very hard to run away from reality and now it's caught up with us, when neither of us were expecting it.
"I'm sorry," he voiced.
"It's not your fault," I replied with a sigh, not knowing what else to say.
"I know," he said, "But I still am." I nodded as I kept my head on his shoulder, my free hand wrapping around his bicep and he kept his head over mine.
Despite being sleepy, I didn't sleep, and I'm sure neither did he.
I was trying to collect every second, every moment, to take in his scent for one last time, register his touch, remember his voice, feel his presence, not knowing when it'll be repeated again.
But the more I wanted time to stop, the faster it passed and the hour was over before I barely held it.
The plane landed, but we both stayed in our places. I think I was just trying to accept that it was finally over, in the proper way. This was goodbye to our story.
But how do you say goodbye to something when your heart still wants to hold on?
I didn't know why he didn't get up, just stayed their with our hands entwined. I wondered if the same thoughts roamed in his head, if the same pain stabbed him in his heart.
Walking away last time was still so much easier than looking into your love's eyes and whispering goodbye.
As I looked at him, and he at me, and then he leaned ahead and kissed me gently. Before I could respond, he pulled away.
Along with the feeling of his lips on mine and the tears that lingered, the illusion was over and we both knew that. It was too soon. It got over before I could even feel it once.
"London's here," I whispered.
"Let's go," He replied firmly.
And then, he took his hand away like it was not supposed to be in mine in the first place.
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Manik drove me back to my house from the airport, insisting me to take the day off. To be honest, I didn't quite resist the holiday. The past three days had been tough, a lot had changed, and I needed time to rethink everything.
It still felt like everything was moving too fast.
One moment, I was in London, the other in Paris, and now in London again. It seemed like the more I was trying to plan systematically, the more my life was complicating itself.
The past that I was running from for years opened once again in front of my eyes and I couldn't stop it, I couldn't stop it from affecting me and making me feel homesick.
That is exactly what I felt. Homesick.
The worst part was, I was home. London, this place, this house... it has been my home since the past five years, a place where I learnt to break and pick myself up and kept doing that again and again until I could manage to look at myself in the mirror without faltering. I might not have taken my first steps or spoken my first words in this home, but I had learnt to manage to smile for the first time after a long depressing period here and made myself strong enough to face the world again. This house might not be built with love, but the two storey villa that my parents had left for me was more than a home.
But oddly enough, despite driving towards my home, I felt homesick. There was a heavy feeling in the bottom of my chest that felt like a stabbing pain, like I was afraid of something, like I wanted to return to my comfort place and it'll all be fine again.
I felt homesick for my past. I was feeling homesick for an old friend I left behind in Paris, for a friend I lost to death, for friends I didn't where they were, for the memories and the love that I left behind five years ago. That time, I was strong enough to do it, but right now, I felt like a wreck. I felt like I was about to repeat the same mistakes again, to leave someone important, someone I couldn't live without behind.
And that scared me, because this time, it wasn't me. The fate of the relationship lied in the hands of the man who was driving next to me, and the fate was sealed.
The bubble had blasted and just well, and I had jolted into reality once more. The reality where we were in London, where Manik was my boss and not my love, and where I had to live in the empty and lonely walls of my house again.
The car stopped in front of my house, and I should be oddly surprised as to how he still remembers the exact address, I didn't question.
"Thanks," I murmured, not having the power to look at him anymore. He nodded, as stiffly as he could, his eyes on the road ahead. I got down with my suitcase and shut the door behind me, my heart beating faster.
Somewhere, I still had hope he'd stop me, he'd run out of the car like he once had during college days to engulf me into a hug and hold me one last time, to let my lips linger on his for one time more and for me to memorise as much of him as I could in that single moment, before he'd break my heart and walk away from me like I had done five years ago.
But expectations often lead in disappointment.
The engine roared and his car drove ahead. He didn't wait, didn't call me once, as he sped past my house and my life.
But I couldn't complain. The bonus days we got, the limited time, was our time stolen from destiny, to end a story that should've ended a long time ago. And I was eternally grateful for that, even for the pain in my heart that made me feel alive once again.
As they say, pain makes you human.
I was opening the door of my house when my phone rang in my bag, and I instantly reached out.
My heart fluttered as I saw the number calling.
Cabir.
"H–Hello?" I said, my voice lower than I wanted to.
"Hi, who's that?" He said from the other end and I closed my eyes once lightly, as I felt his face roaming in my head. His voice was a little different from how I remembered it, somehow more authoritative and deep.
"Nandini," I breathed as I got into the house and pushed my bag with me, shutting the door behind me and throwing myself onto the couch.
He paused for a moment, and the silencing was captivating.
"Nandini Murthy?" His voice was unsure and I took a relieved breath.
"Yes," Tears I had been holding back lingered in my eyes now, "The same Nandini Murthy when you brought a red dress for her first date in Mumbai."
"Oh my God," I could feel it in his voice. The sudden happiness, surprise, relief, amusement, sadness, and so many more emotions in that one single sigh. "Nandini," he breathed, "How are you?"
"I'm–," my voice broke and I collected myself again, "I'm good. I miss you. So much."
He took a pause again, "I miss you too. Where are you?"
"London," I said, and I knew he knew, "Where are you?"
"Still India," He replied, "Everyday, I waited that you'd be ready to talk to us again, that we'll be able to reconnect. You have no idea how much I and Navya have missed you."
The tears I was holding in flew off. "Please eedhar aaja Cabir," I cried, "I need you with me. I'm sorry I pushed you all away. Please come back. I miss you. Please take me home."
I was a mess.
"Nandini, I–," he was going to refuse, and K understood. Five years had passed and he was probably working, a busy man, and leaving everything and flying to London with a phone call isn't really practical.
"Fuck it. I'm booking the next flight to London. I'm coming there okay, just don't run away again," he said in haste, and I just cried more.
I think he was crying too. "Navya!" He shouted, "Cancel my meetings for the next few days. We will be going to London. Find the VISA papers and get out bags ready...." by the end, he was talking to himself, "We're going to go see our Nandini."
I sobbed, trying to stay as silent as I could and I knew although he denied, he cried too. Cabir was the one person I bonded the most with in Mumbai, except Manik of course, let that be his food obsession, or fashion taste or humour. And oh the relief when he told me that he and Navya were still together.
By the time we kept the call ten minutes later, he had promised he'll leave as soon as possible, maybe the next day, and send me the flight details. I texted him my address in return and made him promise that he and Navya will stay with me.
Cutting the call felt like a heavy goodbye, but I had to if he wanted to check the flight details and let his fiancé know. Atleast there was a reassuration, that this wasn't a joke. Cabir was coming. For real.
By the time I wiped the tears off, I noticed something bulky in one corner of the room.
I switched on the lights instantly, to see a huge bouquet lying there. And when I saw huge, I meant a wide circle of white flowers– my favourite daisies.
I walked to it in confusion, careless in my behaviour. I should have been more aware, after all, how did the bouquet be brought in? The house was locked while I was away.
I was more cautious as I picked the huge, and surprisingly heavy bouquet up, placing it on the side table. Oddly enough, in between all white roses, there was one red rose, on the upper right side, as if the one rose was meant to pop out.
I plucked the rose attached to it, and a thorn in it's stalk cut through my right index finger. I hissed in pain as the blood oozed out and immediately put it between my lips to suck it away.
Along with the rose, a note plopped out. Ignoring the pain in my finger, I read the note to me aloud.
Nandini,
I'm hope you like the flowers.
I made sure to send you your favourites.
Couldn't help but add one rose, 'cause you know how much I love roses. They stand out, you know, in a weird way. If you found this note, it's probably because you plucked the rose out. I said it stands out, didn't I?
But I'm not going to send anymore flowers, because it's a one way talk, and I'm dying to finally hear you. It's been years.
Don't worry, I'll visit soon enough.
Love,
Abhimanyu.
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