The Curse Called Love

Ajay possesses the joie de vivre, always full of ideas, always cheerful. In fact, in many respects, I consider him the most blessed of all the blokes I have ever met in my life. [I write ‘blessed’ because, despite being a poet, I cannot find any other word more appropriate here. I don’t believe in being blessed. I am an atheist.]

Being the youngest in the family, he is invariably the most pampered. His father (my uncle and my guardian ever since that horrible car accident orphaned me) is a noted industrialist in the busy town of Mumbai. Mumbai, my home and my consciousness!

Anyway, what I am trying to say here is that my uncle never really had time for his son, stopping only to pamper him with lavish gifts or asking what he wanted. That means that his latitudinarian attitude has gotten to my brother spoiling him to the hilt. Not that I complain about it. His wallet being always full of credit cards and pocket full of those green papers, I have managed to enjoy a lot as well.

And if these are not reasons enough to envy him, add to that his charm and masterly looks. At 6’ 3” he looks like the modern human prototype of Hercules, the Greek God. Not for no reason have I noticed girls swooning over him. In short he could always turn up into the quintessential hero of the ‘masala’ hindi blockbuster movies, much to the delight of the female fraternity and the envy of the rest of his peers except me.

Right! I do not envy him. Why should I? He is a total waste anyway. If God really existed, he wouldn’t have created such an abject creature anyway. Sure, he created the dinosaurs [i.e. if he existed which, I am sure, is just not the case] but hey they became extinct some 65 million years ago! Such good looks, but such fickle mind, such recklessness and such asinine activities! For a man bestowed with so much genetically and monetarily, the lack of brains should be considered a sheer blasphemy.

Yes, Ajay is an idiot, a lackadaisical, reckless, irresponsible, hysterical idiot! Proof? That’s Neha for you!

How did he fall for Neha, is a question that bamboozles me even today! I mean, sure, she is beautiful and voluptuous, but other than that, there is nothing in the head. Perfect example of ‘likes attract’, isn’t it?

Actually, that’s not true. It would be wrong, absolutely wrong to call Neha an idiot. No, she is not an idiot. She, actually, is a cunning sly, a disingenuous opportunist and a sophisticated slut. Well, that’s what I call her and I hate such girls. Why? Because, she reminds me of Kanika.

Whoops! I was not supposed to say anything about that! Anyway, no more of Kanika now! Let’s get to the story I am trying to say, shall we?

Saturday, August 8th, 2008, time:- 10:00 p.m.  My apartment:-

Where the HELL is he? Two hours have passed since I left him to his crying self. “Hmm”, I say to myself, “Must be now mopping his tear-smudged face in the bathroom.” With painful reminders I drag my feet towards the washroom. Time to babysit the cry baby!

Shit! Load shedding! It’s the third time this week already. God, how many more times is it going to happen?

Cussing the indolent Indian Government and the entire bureaucratic system with some of my choicest swear words, I turn back in search for a candle.

“Ouch!” I cry as I trip over a dilapidated tool ornate at the corner of the door. I cuss even more! Unfortunately, none of that helps any the better.

I keep on rummaging here and there for the candle and the matchstick. Half an hour (of a few more trips and even worse swearing) later I finally manage to get hold of what I need.

“Ajay!” I cry out.

No answer – I try once again.

“Ajay! We have a load shedding here. Come out of the bathroom and help me out. I don’t have time for your mood swings right now.” 

Dead silence greets me for an answer. An uncanny trepidation creeps in. Why isn’t he answering? I call out a few more times before I give up in vain.

Half an hour passes away without any more signs of him showing up. By now I am genuinely concerned. I rush towards the closed door and bang hard. It opens at the first attempt and what I see makes me giddy from head to toe.

Ajay lay bleeding and unconscious on the slippery wet bathroom floor. A pool of warm red liquid trickles down the right corner of his wounded forehead flooding my marbled bathroom floor…

Sunday, 9th august, 2008, time:- 1:00 a.m. Sivaji Medical Hospital

Two hours have passed since they took Ajay to the ICU. He is still motionless. I am pacing up and down the narrow overcrowded hospital corridor. My mind is all in a blur.

Despite my stoical attitude towards life, I find it hard to control my anxiety. This is just not me. It can’t be. I try to mutter words of encouragement under my breath, but to no avail.

I peek through the narrow glass hole into the ICU where my young cousin lay.

Stupid! Idiot! Senseless! But then again, when did he ever have better sense?

****************************************************************************

“Hey Neha! Where are you?” Ajay calls anxiously over the phone.

“Oh! Darling, sweetheart!” (Geez, why does she have to be so loud? Even I can hear her from such a distance) “I am trying to prepare for my exams tomorrow.” (I hear a shit load of female tears and simpering irritating words.) “Oh Aji!” (God! Is that what she calls him now?) “I just can’t stop thinking about you!”

How does Ajay take all that non-sense?

“Oh sweetie!” Ajay sounds much calmer [and, oh no! equally mawkish] now, “I am always there for you, but you really need to study now dear.” Funny how stupid guys can get with girls! Even more funny is how a guy who has never touched a book in his life is suggesting his girlfriend to study.

“Oh but hon!” [I contort my face with disgust.] “I really need to see you. I can’t think of anything else except you nowadays…”

Enough of the two of the maudlin love-birds! I leave my room.

I think that was the day I decided I would look for another room where I would not have to put up with Ajay and his saccharine girl friend.

Little did I know that Ajay would want to move in with me too!

******************************************************************************



  Sunday, 9th august, 2008, time:- 3:00 a.m. Sivaji Medical Hospital

I can still hear Sumit uncle speaking to me in his pretentious tone.

“Nishant, Ajay is in a big mess now!”

Bingo doc, I say to myself. As if any normal person would want to get admitted to the hospital!

I think my skepticism shows on my face. Sumit uncle becomes even more condescending in his explanations.

“Ajay has been taking drugs and not since today, I can guarantee by his looks. And even though you say he tripped over the stairs, this is no accident, and I know it. He has ODed. The pain on his head is superficial and will heal in a few days but only if he wakes up from his temporary coma. Since when has he been taking drugs Nishant? And it would help if you could tell me which drug it was –will save us a lot of precious time.”

I am stunned, petrified. Fear like never before, sweeps in on me and shakes my innards. A repulsive nausea churns my stomach wanting to get out.

“Nishant! The police have been informed. They will be here at any moment.”

“Oh! Wh – Wh - What am I to do?” I look at him imploringly.

Doctor Sumit Katariya tries to look in through me x-raying me with his penetrative eyes. In the end, convinced of my innocence, he sighs.

“Never mind them”, he says at length, “The police I can handle. A little money here and a little there does a world of good. But Ajay is still unconscious. If he doesn’t wake up in the next 72 hours, it would be difficult to save him.”

I listen dazed.

Suddenly, pandemonium hits the busy hospital corridor. At that moment the door to his chamber bursts open as I get to see what is creating the commotion. Two hapless nurses and an equal proportion of lanky ward boys are trying hard to restrain a rotund, angry pink, balding gentleman in an Armani suit, with fingers full of golden rings and eyes full of anger!

“Who’s the bloody attendant looking after my son, Sumit? Why is he left completely alone in the room?”

Sumit uncle seems slightly disconcerted. Not for no reasons no one likes to mess with my uncle when in a bad temper.

He rises up from his chair and starts helping the other four in calming him down.

“Mr. Raheja, you need to calm down. It’s not doing you any good. Your son is unconscious. We are taking good care of him.”

“Good care, my foot!” My uncle bellows like a monster. “He was lying there completely alone.”

“I will send someone there right away, Mr Raheja”, the doctor says trying to placate him. He looks at one of the ward boys who nods his head and makes his way to the room where Ajay lies unconscious. I help Sumit uncle to then bring him back to his usual tranquil self and take him to the room. He is crying profusely.     

“Sumit, what has happened to my son?” he is sobbing hysterically now.

“He will be fine, Mr. Raheja, don’t worry.” He looks at me for help.

I now take the lead. “Uncle, Ajay fell from the stairs. It’s not a deep cut. He will be fine. You go home and rest. I will be here till he wakes up.”

It takes a lot more than that to persuade him to go back home. He is, mercifully, told nothing about the drugs. A man of hypertension such as him doesn’t need to know so much unless absolutely necessary.

Anyway, I see him off and come back to take my position outside the ICU – walking to and fro the claustrophobic corridor.



  Monday, 10th august, 2008, time:- 5:00 p.m. My apartment:-

I am back in my room. Spending a tiring day in the hospital, a torturous haggle with the police and an unbelievable anxiety later, I get to see Ajay regaining consciousness. 

Sumit uncle sedates him for a few hours of ‘comfortable sleep’ (in his language) while I take the opportunity to rush back home and freshen up.



~~~ 6:00 p.m. Sivaji Medical Hospital:-

I am back at the hospital. Ajay is still asleep. He has been moved to a private ward.

My uncle, it seems, has already paid a visit, this time more calm and relieved. He had to leave for his urgent meeting at work as usual. But he sounds great over the phone. It seems he has been sedated as well.

Tip-toeing to the room, I sit in front of Ajay on a chair, blissfully oblivious to him. His eyes are still moving within his closed eyelids. God knows what macabre of a dream is haunting him now! How much shit has this man taken?

***************************************************************************



“Nish! Hey Nish”, Ajay’s voice is ricocheting off the walls of every room in my apartment, “Nish, I did it! I did it!”  As always he pays little attention to my sacrosanct privacy in my writing room.

“Ajay, how many times do I have to remind you not to disturb me when I am in my writing room working?” I say exasperated.

“Oh! Shoot the work”, he persists, “you can do that later. But we gotta go out and celebrate. I am the happiest man on earth today.”

I look at him exasperated. Always a child! No matter what the rest of the world is doing, it’s his happiness that counts. It doesn’t matter that I have to finish my next novel in two days time. Everything has to wait till he is satisfied that we have celebrated enough for some sort of idiotic achievement in his life.

“And what makes you so happy today, may I ask you?” I finally give in.

“Nish! Nish… Nish... Nish, don’t you see? I am a ‘man’ today. I did it! I did it!”

I look at him blank with confusion as he only gives me that idiotic ‘don’t-you-get-it?’ look. Finally, it dawns on me and for no apparent reason my blood seems to seethe in anger. So my cousin brother is now showing off.

“And why should ‘I’ go out to celebrate with you?”

I see his stupid smile get erased.

“Because you are the only friend I have, because I thought you would be happy in my happiness”, he says in a clearly hurt tone.

“Happy, is it?” I maintain my stand, “Happy for seeing you lose your darned virginity to a slut in a brothel?”

This does it. The temperature in the room suddenly increases by three notches. Ajay is already turning red. But I can’t take it back, can I?

“Nish”, Ajay was shaking all over, “Why do you – How could you - …” he is at a loss for words. Nish, it was Neha!”

It takes me some time to get hold of the meaning of that sentence. When I do, I am stupefied. Quick, I have to say something, but what?

And then those damned words come out of my mouth.

“Aha! Neha. So I wasn’t exactly wrong about the slut, was I?”

Why did I say that, why? I don’t know. Hatred is a very detrimental emotion and my hatred for that sly of a girl knows no bounds, but even more detrimental than hatred is jealousy.

Ok, yeah! For the first time in my life, I am jealous. I see him looking at me with venomous eyes. I try to apologize, but I am too late. The next thing I realize, I am pinned to the wall and my neck is being choked by a large pair of hands, Ajay’s hands.

“You impotent hound!” Ajay barks and does that well. “Just that you are not man enough to please a woman does not mean that every girl you meet is a slut. How dare you say that about my girl friend?”

“I am sor_” , I choke, turning all blue.

  But Ajay is way beyond any sort of pacification. “This is the reason why Kanika left you, didn’t she?” He persists trying to add salt to my already bleeding wound, “And what did you do to her then huh? Killed her didn’t you? You murderer!”

This time Ajay has touched a nerve. I wangle myself free forcefully and what ensues can well be omitted. Ajay bursts out through the door and never again comes back for once in the next two years. I never get to finish my book that day either.

******************************************************************************



~~~ 6:30 p.m. Sivaji Medical Hospital:-

Ajay is still asleep. How often have I looked into that face! How many times have I heaved in relief seeing those eyes shut in sleep! Today for the first time his shut eyes are making me green about the gills. No, they are downright freaking me out.

My mind is racing. It’s racing back to those days when he used to smile a lot, when I used to laugh a lot, when Kanika and I were together….

Kanika, my Kanika! No more mine now. In fact she belongs to no one now. She is gone right away from my life.

Shit! Why am I crying? And why is the crazy psychotherapist still speaking to me?

[“Nishant! Do you realize what problem you are facing? You are suffering from sexual anorexia.”

I look at him blankly.

“Nishant”, he continues, “you do realize not many people harbor such a disease, don’t you?”

I nod my head. All of a sudden, his grave smile turns into a really happy, childish one.

“Ok, then! Knowing the problem is half the job done”, he chirps suddenly “and that means I have cured you by 50 percent”.

I only look at his silly face, wanting to slap him.

Then follow a series of weird questions and even weirder answers. Sometimes, I am able to answer them and sometimes only stare at the questions. Not to mention are they suggestive, but they are also lewd.

It doesn’t take me more than a month to realize what a waste of money my gay psychotherapist is and I dump him. Unfortunately, my notion about psychotherapists is so warped up by now that I don’t try to look for another. Who wants to be mentally tortured this way? Isn’t my wife good enough to listen to?]

That was why Kanika left me. Yeah, that was pretty much why she left me. I think that was the day I turned a cynic and an atheist. But, no point thinking about it now, is there?

I resume my post at walking to and fro, this time, round his bed, when I hear it.

It comes out as a distant groan, which slowly changes to words. I look sheepishly at my bed-ridden cousin to see he has finally woken up from his slumber.

“Nish!” he tries to sit up and turns pale with the effort. I rush to his side and force him back on the pillow. He stops struggling.

“You bungling idiot! First, you get smitten by a slut and then you try to kill yourself at my house? MY HOUSE? GET WELL AND I WILL SHOW YOU WHAT IT MEANS TO TRY SUICIDE IN MY HOUSE.”

He looks at me, pain manifested in his eyes. Small droplets obscure his pupils.

“Oh yeah!” I say acerbically, “Now Mr. Kid will cry. Grow up Ajay.”

He looks into my eyes through his silent, yet eloquent eyes. They tell me so much. I see them clearly.

It’s as if they are saying to me now, “You don’t understand a thing, moron! You have no idea what love is!”  Of course, I don’t ever understand.

He turns his head sideways towards the window and doesn’t look at me again. I have seen that look plenty many times since he came back to my place.

******************************************************************************



It’s a Sunday morning and it’s raining heavily. I feel a sudden inspiration to complete my leftover novel. Time to create my magnum opus! All I need is a cup of steaming hot coffee. I rise up from my table walking towards that kitchen when the doorbell rings.

It is a shock, yes. After Ajay left, I have stopped receiving lots of guests around. So, that ring of the bell gives me a start. I open the door to get an even bigger shock, the shock of my life.

Standing in wretched misery, wet from tip to toe and crying sore is Ajay. He looks at me, his eyes pleading with me. The next moment, he is hugging me tight, crying in my shoulders.

“You were right, you were so right!” he wouldn’t say anything else.

I almost drag him indoors, give him some dry clothes and then make that cup of strong hot coffee. 

He is still crying and I can’t get anything out of him. I don’t need to. I just know it. I look at him sympathetically.

“When did it happen?” I ask him knowledgably.

He looks at me with his tearful eyes and then slowly answers me back, “Last week.”

We don’t say anything for a long time. I stand up and look through the window outside. It looks so beautiful, so serene. The fresh tranquil of the morning breeze is so tangible. The wet smell of the grass is overwhelming. The tiny droplets of water that force in through the crevices of my battered glass window fall on my palms cooling my inner being, shedding my tears for me.

“You cannot stay alone now”, I say to him, “you will stay here as long as this is not over.”

Neha gets married to a Canadian businessman two weeks later and blissfully forgets about my hapless cousin.

******************************************************************************

Ajay is still not looking at me. His questions, his accusations are taunting me, haunting me, forcing me to express them out finally. For the first time in five years, my eyes turn watery.

“Kanika was pregnant then”, I blurt out. I don’t know what gets into me now, but I just can’t hide it any longer.

But whatever it is worth, Ajay is at least looking back at me. He looks at me with an incredulity that comes from the biggest shock of one’s life.

“She found her way to happiness when I couldn’t please her. She left me as soon as the doc told me about myself.” I say all this stoically, though from inside I am breaking down.

“She left me when we were holidaying in Kashmir trying to resurrect our failing marriage, for her ‘man’ of a boy friend. I spent a painful year in oblivion. And then – then one day she came back, pregnant and betrayed. I refused to give in to her pleas and she took refuge into the bottom hearts of the mountains into the heavens.”

“Why did you never tell it before?” Ajay was looking at me dolefully, drops of tears rolled down his eyes on the pillow wetting it on contact.

In answer to it, I simply recite my poem:-

Pain and flame

      They do reside

In our inner beings

        Where they hide.



Not for us are they

        To hold and keep,

They find their way

        And through the dark hole they peep.



Fight back you say,

        But do actually you?

For your heart wets

        At the first signs of dew.



My love, you leave me

      A beggar in pain,

But how can I lacerate your wound?

      Can I let your blood drain?

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