I Will Always Love You
The picture of home meant a hut-shaped sketch with a tiny window in one wall, a little door at the main entrance, and a stream flowing straight from the doorstep of the house with mountains in the background. Back then I didn’t understand what home really meant.
And that is not what home was really like. Home was a taken-for-granted house. Home was a small black gate, opening up to a veranda with a swing-for-one hanging in one corner and a cooler in the other. Home was where mess was a constant until Ma came home. Home was about fights for the remote control. Home was everything I wish for today. Home was everything I didn’t want back then.
Gloomy Monday evenings meant waiting for Papa to come home to go for a ride with him to Ma’s office. Saturday afternoons meant waiting for Ma to fall asleep and then sneaking out of bed. Sunny mornings meant sleeping in late, while Ma tried to wake me up on a Sunday morning for breakfast with the family. Half-past seven in the morning meant screaming at my brother to hurry up or we’d be late for school. Half-past two in the afternoon was the everyday lunch hour with Daadi’s Dal and Roti.
Eventually, evenings turned into coming home late and avoiding Ma. The mornings turned into the hour when I’d go off to sleep instead of waking up. Screaming at my brother vanished as he moved to a hostel away in the mountains. Monday evenings turned into workdays for Papa as he switched his day off to a Sunday, like Ma.
Every single minute at home was all about bickering between the family and me. Every day started to seem like a court case — Me vs the State of Singhs.
That is not where stability was found.
From bickering every night, the rooms went empty as Ma moved away from home for work. Coming home to a kitchen filled with the scent of Okra was a faded memory. The end of the day was an empty room now, while I sat in one corner of the house in my room, and Papa in the other. Weekends were all about chores at home and evenings out. Winter afternoons did not have the space for sunbathing anymore. With all four family members in three different cities, four different rooms and a hundred different headspaces, the meaning of home changed. It changed slowly enough for none of us to notice.
Gradually, home changed completely. Not in terms of our relationships or bonds changing, but the house itself. I never knew how much it really meant to me until the day I actually saw it empty. That day, my family found itself again. That day, Papa and Ma started living in the same room once again — every day instead of just on weekends. That day, my parents had one of their children come to live with them, to take care of them, all day long. That day, the other five found home again, while I lost the entire gist of it.
Since the day I stepped foot out of my house, the meaning of home has never been the same. The sense of the word has no meaning left to it anymore. The memories, however, are untouched. Memories are one possession that remain one’s own; untouched.
Growing up meant numerous aspirations, changes in career choices and new relationships every few months. Growing up meant building up memories, which seem to fade away every day. Growing up brought in multiple facets of love within itself. Many of those are still hanging somewhere on the walls of that house. Home meant the moments spent in each corner of every room. All those moments were left behind within the hollowness of the house, the empty rooms and the open kitchen.
I never realized how nostalgic every single stone of my childhood home would be. Every marble on the floor had a different story to tell. The hollow space on the wall, where the mirror used to be, held a thousand reflections. The reflections screamed from behind the wall, while I walked out of the room, one last time. Every time I sneaked in with someone, or sneaked out of the place, little did I know that those doors would remember everything.
“Vaani?”
“Yes, Raghav?”
Our voices still fill the place every time I go back. His voice from when he danced with me on the nights we stayed there, his face from when I woke up early while he slept in on Sunday mornings, my loneliness from when he would leave on Sunday evenings, and the festivals we celebrated together in that house are all still looking back at me while I try to forget everything.
It used to hurt to think about the memories of the place. It still does sometimes. Having him by my side, though, made it all go away most of the time.
I decided to take the plunge and move to a different city. I was still trying to settle on where to move. As I tried to figure things out, my relationship stumbled to find stability.
I met Raghav at the very same place where we used to sit together for hours. The terrace of my old house. The night seemed young as we settled. He sensed something was wrong. I stayed quiet as he sat with me and he didn’t say anything either. He had this quality of sensing when to say something and when to give me time to find the courage to share my thoughts with him. He waited for however long I needed him to.
“Raghav, I have decided to move out of Delhi.”
“Haven’t we both decided, Vaani? We already settled on moving out to another city together.”
“I know, but I need to do it sooner. My family don’t live here anymore, honey, and I’m struggling to sustain myself in this job I don’t even like.”
“What are you saying, babe?”
“I’m saying that I’ve started searching for jobs in potential cities we talked about but I’m not sure if I can go on living here if I don’t find something soon.”
“Where will you go, then? Back to your parents’?”
“Yes. Or maybe somewhere else where I can finally start working on my book. I’m not sure yet. But I do know that this city, as much as I love it, is changing me for the worse. The knowledge that ‘home’ is just a few miles away, and yet, not being able to feel at home hurts so much.”
He didn’t say anything. He simply turned his face away from me and stared into the dark night. I waited for him to process the information and say something.
He stayed quiet for a long time.
“Raghav, please say something.”
“When do you plan to move?”
“By the first week of January.”
“You mean within the next two months?”
I’d never heard that amount of surprise, anguish, shock or even sadness in his voice ever before.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
“What are you thinking, Raghav?” I asked him.
“What do you mean by that question, Vaani? When did you decide all of this?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t involve you in the process, Raghav, but I felt you might talk me out of it. I didn’t know what to tell you. Trust me, Raghav, I’ve been trying to find jobs in the cities we decided on. I’m not trying to move away from you. All I want is a little peace for some time. All I have here is you and as much as that is motivation for me to stay, the rest of my life is going up in flames. I’m finding it difficult to sustain myself here.”
“I understand what you’re going through, but I hadn’t thought of moving right now. I’m not prepared to move away yet.”
“Then what do you want me to do? Keep staying here being miserable?”
“No, I don’t want you to feel miserable.”
“Well, that is what I feel like here.” I understood that it must have been difficult to comprehend. I tried as best as I could to share what I felt, even though I felt like I was losing the battle, miserably.
“Fine, you’re free to go, Vaani.” He hid every possible emotion while he spoke. His voice was so devoid of being even remotely sensitive.
“Raghav, I really need your support with this. I don’t want to leave knowing that my decision will damage us.”
“But it will, Vaani. It will damage us.” He failed to stop his voice from breaking that time.
“Why? Can’t we try to work it? It scares me, too. I’m scared half to death knowing that distance is hard to live with. Can’t we try, though?”
Knowing that moment to be the one I had been dreading for months, I felt myself breaking too. But, I knew that I had to hold myself together, for his sake. He suddenly seemed helpless. It was then that he gave in and let himself believe that he too was only human and couldn’t keep himself together anymore.
“What’s the point, babe?”
“The point is that we love each other and we’d eventually land in the same city. I promise you, that’s my goal. I want to be living with you in a new city in a few months anyway.”
He didn’t say anything.
I didn’t ask him to.
He stayed quiet and so did I. I wished that he would contemplate and realise that we were madly in love with each other and that it would be enough. I heard him sobbing. I wanted to take him into my arms right away. Instead, I asked him, “What’s wrong?”
He looked at me and said, “I’m sorry. I understand everything you’re going through and I want to support you. We’ll work it out. We’ll make the distance work.”
I smiled at him and slept with my head in his lap that night.
Four months later
Moving from one place to another and living in three houses in a span of seven months were difficult transitions for me. I still managed, somehow, until it was time to move away again.
The boxes all around the last house were filled with breakables, clothes, candles, plants and all sorts of other things. Cardboard boxes were ready to be shipped, two suitcases filled and ready to go and I was dressed up too, that Friday night. The movers transported the boxes, one after another, down to their van and left after I paid them half the fee. I took one suitcase downstairs to the car and came back for the other. I took a quick look around the house, said goodbye to my flatmates and walked outside.
Thankfully, something different had worked out for me. I could move away from Delhi, and yet, didn’t have to move to a city with my family.
When I got downstairs, I kept the other suitcase on the back seat of the car, and Raghav looked at me from the other side. I smiled at him and we both got in the car.
“Another road trip, huh? Haven’t we had enough of them already?” He tried to joke with me, as though we were gonna come back together like we did with every road trip we’d taken together before.
The journey was going to be long and we intended to make most of it for the sake of the time we had, to spend together. We put the past few conversations on the back-burner while he came to Goa with me and helped me settle in. Soon enough though, it was time for him to take a flight back to Delhi and that was it. I was alone at my beach house for the first time.
It had been two months since I shifted to Goa to work on my book. I couldn’t find a job that inspired me to move to another city, so I decided to freelance for magazines while I worked on my novel writing.
I’d been away for that long before I saw Raghav again.
I was walking from the beach to the marketplace when I saw him with a bunch of friends.
When I went up to meet him, he was drunk. He recognized me and was hysterical to meet me. We went back to my place.
The next morning, we sat together and had breakfast. I asked him how long he was staying, and apparently, he had a whole week planned to spend in Goa. We spent about three days together.
On his last night, I asked him why he didn’t tell me he was visiting Goa. We talked at least three times a day, every day, and yet, he hadn’t told me.
“I didn’t want to raise your hopes.”
“So, you hadn’t planned to see me the whole time you were going to be here?”
“No, Vaani, I would’ve met with you on the last day of my trip to surprise you.”
“One day would have been enough for you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Raghav, we went from seeing each other every day to not seeing each other for two months straight and you’re telling me that meeting me for one day, out of seven, would have been enough for you?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was as though he had completely forgotten the fact that he was in my city; or even worse. I was afraid to wonder if he had, in fact, wanted to forget about me being a part of that city, too.
“That’s not what I meant, hon.” He tried to explain the situation to me. I found it hard to believe him. I was so broken by that point that I didn’t want to hear any explanations. Yet, I couldn’t let go of it, either.
“What did you mean, really?”
“I can’t move to Goa, Vaani!” he burst out.
“Yeah, I know that, but you’re looking for jobs in Mumbai, right? I will come to Mumbai whenever you’re ready, babe.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. I can’t move to Mumbai either.”
“What do you mean?” I was confused.
“I mean that I can’t move.”
“Why?”
“I can’t leave Delhi, Vaani. The only way we can live together or even be together is if we are both in Delhi.”
“Are you saying that it’s either Delhi or nothing?”
“Yes.”
“But why?” I felt deflated.
“Because my entire life is there, Vaani. My family is there. I know what we decided, but I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I stood there, looking at him. I turned and took a few steps away. We walked to the beach while neither of us said anything. I stood there for a few minutes, looking at the sea.
He held my hand and stood beside me.
“Vaani? I still love you. I hope you know that. I do want to be with you. I want us to be together because I really do love you.”
I still didn’t say anything.
He looked down at my face. I couldn’t look back at him, though.
I stared down at my hands instead and fidgeted with my fingers while I collected my thoughts. I took the ring off — the one he had put on my finger three years ago when he had proposed. And I gave it back to him. When I finally looked up at him, I saw tears in his eyes. I had tears in mine, too. I held my hand over the ring in his palm.
I didn’t say anything. I let go of his hand and walked away.
“Vaani?” He called out to me, his voice breaking. I stopped and looked back at him.
“I love you, too, Raghav. I will always love you, I promise. I will be here, waiting for you. But this is something I have to do, for me. I can’t begin to explain how much it hurts to do this. But you need to do your own thing for your family and I need to do mine, for myself. Maybe, when we’re ready to go the distance for each other without any secrets, we can open our arms for each other once again. Until then …”
Without looking back at him again, I turned around and walked back to my empty home, the house we were meant to turn into a home, together, piece by piece, photo frame by photo frame, and yet, I couldn’t help but feel at peace.
This home was finally feeling more like my own. I knew it would hurt, looking at every piece we’d started to put together that would make me miss him. Yet, I knew that I didn’t miss him any more than I had missed myself in the last few months.
It was finally time to let go of everything that came in the way of me getting to know myself.
. . .
Shubhrika is a fiction writer, photographer, Author and YouTuber among other things. Do you read poetry? Here’s her first book: https://www.amazon.in/dp/B086W98H53/
