DEARLY BELOVED.
There’s nothing more appealing to Shruti than sitting back and enjoying a cup of kadak chai (strong tea) while listening to her favorite Kishore Kumar hits on a lazy Sunday evening. She leaned out of the window and saw Aunt Anne sitting on her balcony and knitting herself a scarf for the upcoming winters (or that is what she would call them at least). The sight of Aunt Anne always made her relieved and happy. She was a sweet old lady and made the best plum cakes ever in the entire world (nope, her recipe is not from the Youtube or a cook book, but is 100% authentic). Shruti had moved into this city about a year ago. She had never been to India before this, though her parents were Indian. She was born and brought up in the city of San Francisco. She had heard a lot about India, she had seen it in the music video of one of her favorite Coldplay songs (yes I am talking about Hymn For The Weekend) and even in some movies. She had also read about the place, but never heard much about the place from her parents. All she knew was that her parent’s hometown was Mumbai. San Francisco, on the other hand, had become Shruti’s hometown then. In fact, it was Luke who was always very curious to know about India, way more than Shruti at times, and he had promised her that they would spend a long vacation there once they got married.
As her three hour long episode of listening to songs ended, Shruti went to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of red wine and screened through the recipe books lined up on her kitchen cabinet. She had bought a good four or five of them when she had come to India. Being a foodie, she had promised herself that she would learn a new Indian recipe every weekend and treat herself to it. Be it Sanjeev Kapoor, Tarla Dalal or Vikas Khanna — they were all there in her kitchen. She had tried a good number of dishes from various parts of the country and the butter chicken she had made seemed to triumph over everything else she had tried till date. ‘I don’t think I have too many ingredients with me to make something fancy today. Let’s try out this Egg Biriyani with Raita. Looks simple’, she thought. She hated cooking as a teenager and would crib quite often when she had to do so for the first time in her college life. Her mother was a brilliant chef, but that had completely spoiled her and Shruti could hardly boil water by the time she had graduated school. If it wasn’t for Luke, she was thoroughly convinced that she would have starved to death by the first few months of college.
After she finished dinner, she went to her bedroom and sat at the study table. It was quite calm outside, with a light breeze brushing up against her face. She loved this weather. Mumbai actually had quite a moderate weather throughout the year, compared to most other places that she had been to within India, for her work. Her trips to the cafes near Juhu beach seemed so similar to her weekend trips to the Baker Beach with Luke. Of course, Juhu was way more congested, but she loved it. It used to be their tradition to go to the Baker Beach and play a game wherein they would be making a castle while talking about their future plans in life. Whoever was the last person to add a wing to the castle while narrating their plans, would win. Yes, there is no doubt that the rains in Mumbai terrified her initially, but the way the people in the city tackled it, was quite similar to the way in which she had been tackling her life so far. ‘It all seems impossible at first, but as and when you take one step at a time, you realize that though it definitely is difficult, it is also doable.’
She opened her diary. The picture looked as good as new. Luke standing with his arms around her, laughing away to glory, while the strong winds at the beach was making her have a difficult time keeping her hat on her head as the bartender kept trying to click their photograph. She flipped through the pages. All the memories kept gushing back into her head. But they were no longer overwhelming for her. She had gotten used to them by now. After all this was her routine every Sunday. There was a time when Luke and Shruti used to sit and read their favorite novels each day after dinner, both competing as to who could finish faster. In fact, after a point they had ended up buying so many books that they had to convert their guestroom into a library. But neither of them regretted the decision since their love for books exceeded their love for socializing by an epic margin any day. But now the only book she would read was this diary.
The clock struck eleven, and the cuckoo peeped out of its little door to play “Edelweiss”. Shruti never complained about Mondays. In fact she looked forward to going to work. People said it was good for her and that it helped her keep her mind distracted. But then that’s what people said. She, on the other hand, genuinely loved her work. She was among those lucky few who had pursued her career in her passion. Since childhood, she used to love doodling and drawing. She had even asked Luke out for the first time by making a really cool graphic portrait of him, which he just couldn’t say a ‘NO’ to. Initially when she started working here, she wished that Luke could see how she had been chasing her future plans just as she used to narrate them to him while making the castle. But eventually she stopped missing him and had made him an inspiration for herself to work harder.
As she flipped through the pages of her diary, she stopped at the last page. The memory of it was as fresh as if it happened a few minutes ago. She had not been on good terms with Luke for the past few months. There was a girl she had gotten suspicious of, whom he had started meeting quite frequently. But little did she know that, that evening Luke was about to set everything right. He had been meeting this lady for a month now who was helping him get a new house for himself and Shruti and he had finally found the perfect one for them. Everything was set up in the new house, as he had planned to ask her to marry him that evening. But before that he had to pick her up from work and she had not been answering her phone for the past few hours. He was aware that Shruti had gotten suspicious about the lady but he didn’t do much to erase them away as he wanted to surprise her. Finally, someone did pick the phone up. It was a guy’s voice. Luke asked him where they were, and the guy told him that Shruti had passed out at the bar. Luke got so disturbed hearing the guy describe her condition that he missed the red light at the crossing and that was the last conversation he had. When Shruti recovered the next morning, she found herself lying in Luke’s mother’s lap. She was a fine lady, with an extremely cheerful persona, a lot like Aunt Anne. But she was sobbing while caressing Shruti’s hair that day. The last time she had seen her shed a tear was at Luke’s dad’s funeral. Shruti was then scared, and slowly the facts were unfolded to her.
It has been four years since the incident. She has been through hell and back within these four years. Be it leaving her home, drug abuse, rehabilitation, suicide attempts, depression, psychiatric appointments — you name it and she had been through that phase. She used to constantly blame herself for what had happened and couldn’t bring herself to face that unbearable guilt. Until two years ago. That is when she met Aunt Anne at a bus stop in San Francisco. She was a 60-year old lady visiting her daughter. She had spotted Shruti crying silently at the bus stop. She gave her a piece of her plum cake and a really warm smile, one which Shruti had last seen on Luke’s face. She took her home and gave her a place to crash. Shruti had been living off her backpack for the last six months now which had her diary, three pairs of clothes, a wallet and a charger. It took her a good four five months to recover, sober up and think clearly for the first time in three years. Aunt Anne was surprisingly a great comfort to her. She had a vibe about her which matched Luke’s and gave Shruti a sense of familiarity which she had been missing for years now. She learnt that Aunt Anne was a British lady who lived in Mumbai. Her daughter had moved to San Francisco for work four years ago and since then she used to visit her every year. She would constantly console her and make her understand why it was important for her to let go of that guilt. It was necessary for Shruti to remember Luke from the best of their moments spent together rather than the worst ones. One day, when the two of them were out for a walk, Shruti made up her mind and told Aunt Anne that she wanted to settle in India. She had decided to cut off her ties with her old life and forget everything but her relationship with Luke. She changed most of her habits — she learnt how to cook, she stopped reading novels, she did visit the beach but only for her own peace of mind as she sat at a cafe across the beach and enjoyed her hot chocolate while gazing out into oblivion.
It was 1 in the morning. She shut her diary. She walked over to the other side of the room and crossed out yesterday’s date. ‘A brand new week again’, she sighed to herself as she walked to her bed. She had a habit of sleeping with pillows all around her. She called them her guarding angels. As she switched off the light and turned around to sleep, a slight smile flashed across her face as she could see Luke’s ring shine on the ring finger of her right hand, which rested on one of the pillows. She shut her eyes in peace and in no time one could hear her snore lightly.
