westlandltdEveryoneHasaStory

A simple girl from Surat, Savi Sharma is the co-founder of themotivationalmedia blog ‘Life&People’.EveryoneHasaStory is her debut novel inspiredby stories aroundher.You can findoutmoreaboutheronwww.savisharma.com

EveryoneHasaStory

SAVISHARMA

westlandltd61,IIFloor,SilverlineBuilding,AlapakkamMainRoad,Maduravoyal,Chennai60009593,IFloor,ShamLalRoad,Daryaganj,NewDelhi110002

Firstpublishedbywestlandltd2016

Firstebookedition2016

Copyright©SaviSharma2015

Allrightsreserved

ISBN:978-93-86036-76-6

DesignedbySÜRYA,NewDelhi

SaviSharmaassertsthemoralrighttobeidentifiedastheauthorofthiswork.

Thisnovel isentirelyaworkof fiction.Thenames,charactersand incidentsportrayed in itare theproductof theauthor’s imagination.Anyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,oreventsorlocalitiesisentirelycoincidental.

Duecareanddiligencehasbeentakenwhileeditingandprintingthebook.Neithertheauthor,publishernortheprinterofthebookholdanyresponsibilityforanymistakethatmayhavecreptininadvertently.WestlandLtd,thePublisherandtheprinterswillbefreefromanyliability for damages and losses of any nature arising from or related to the content. All disputes are subject to the jurisdiction ofcompetentcourtsinChennai.

Thisbook is sold subject to the condition that it shall notbywayof tradeorotherwise,be lent, resold,hiredout, circulated, andnoreproduction in any form, inwhole or in part (except for brief quotations in critical articles or reviews)may bemadewithoutwrittenpermissionofthepublishers.

Dedicatedto

You

Everyonehasastorytotell.Everyoneisawriter.Somearewritteninthebooks,andsomeareconfinedtohearts.

PROLOGUE

IwasneverawriterandIdon’taspiretobeoneeither.IwasneveragoodreaderandIdon’tknowifIwilleverbeone.Butnow,Ihavebeenmuchmore.Everyday,Iwokeup;Itriedtofindreasonstolive.Everynight,whenIslept,Itriedtofindreasons

tonotdie.Everymoment, I tried to find reasons tohope,dreamand love.But Inever found them.UntilImetyou.Isawchaos,confusion,andfearallaroundme.Butnotwithinme,afterImetyou.Time decides our fate, our journey. And when time changes, everything changes. Everything.

Sometimesforworse,sometimesforbetter.Andsometimes,forthebest.Ineverbelievedthat.Untilyouhappenedtome.It’s not a story and maybe it’s not love. It’s about something more real than stories and more

powerfulthanlove.It’saboutyou.Yes,you.Realandpowerful.Ihaveneverbeenhappywithsomeone.Iwantedtobewithdifferentpeopleatdifferentplaceswith

different feelings. Iwanted to explore everything, know everyone. But then I explored you.And Ifound you are not just ONE, you are an infinity. An infinity of love, care, trust, respect,understanding. A universe of inspirations, aspirations, hope and happiness. Maybe you are theuniverseouttherewhichIexplore.OrtheuniverseinmethatIseek.Youdonotstart,nordoyoueverend.Youareconstant,yeteverchanging.Youareeverywhereand

yetjustwithme.Youaremycreatorormycreation,Iquestionmyself.

MEERA

1WHAT’SYOURSTORY?

Ihadalwaysbeeninspiredbystorytellers.IlovedmyjobasanHRmanager.Itallowedmetointeractwith different people from different places, each one having their own different stories, bringingtheirownsongstothedance.Lifewasachaoticstruggle,tryingtosearchforwhereIbelongedandwhoIwassupposedtobe.

EachpersonIhadinterviewedhadhisorherownfascinatingstory,whichmademewonder:what’smystory?Ididn’twanttobe‘normal’,justlikesomanypeopleIhadmetinlife.Beingonlytwenty-six,Iwasn’texactlysurewhatthemeaningofmylifewouldreallybe,andwhereIcouldfindit.EveryweekendIfoundmyselfsittingandlisteningtoamazingauthorsat thecaféCoffee&Us.I

wasdrawntoauthors,fascinatedbytheirabilitytocreateotherpeople’sstories.Howcouldtheydrawthetruthfromeachindividualandbuildabeautifullywoventale?Iguess,havingstoriesstuckinmyownsoulwasthereasonIneededtohearotherpeople’sstories.ButIdidn’tjustwanttohearstories;myheartwasachingtotellabeautifulstorywhichwouldchangepeople’slives,oratleastmine.SothereIwasatCoffee&Us,myhandswrappedaroundawarm,soothingcupofcoffee.Icould

listentotheworldaroundme,hearthesongsoflife,orIcouldputmyearplugsinandmuteouttheworld.Ihadseensomanywriterscomethroughthesedoors,andoftenIwonderedif thiscaféhadsomemagicwithinitswalls.Kabir,themanager,pausedinhisdutiesandaddressedme.‘Whenareyougoingtostopdreaming

aboutbeinganauthor,Meera,andfinallywriteabook?’Hisvoicemighthavesoundedsterntoanoutsider,butKabirhadbecomemygoodfriend.I’mnot

sure when, but at some point while I was becoming a regular visitor to his café, our casualinteractionshadblossomedintoawarmfriendship.Herespectedmyopinions,andItreasuredhis.‘Idon’tknow,’Isaid,frowning.Iranmyfingersthroughmylonghairandletoutafrustratedsigh,lookingaroundatallthepeople

inthesmallcafé.‘IthinkIwillknowwhenitistherightstorytowrite.Ijusthaven’tcomeacrossityet.I’mstillsearchingforthatuniquestory,theonethatwillinspiremetotakethatnextstep.’Hestrolled to thecounterwhereanothercupofmy favouritecoffee—afrothycappuccino—was

placed.Kabirsetitinfrontofme,smilinggently.‘Iamsure,oneday,Iwillbehere,pouringcoffeeandfetchingpeopletheirorders,asIlistentoyouupthere.Theplaceisgoingtobepacked;youwillsee.’HesmiledatthethoughtandIwonderedforamomentifthiswasmydreamorhis.Ofcourse,asfriends,evenourdreamswouldworkinunison,wouldn’tthey?Still,Ilackedtheconfidenceheseemedtohaveinmyfuturesuccess.AsmuchasIwantedtotake

thatnextsteptogivemywordsthelifetheydeserved,somethingheldmeback.Iglancedoveratthesmallareawheresomanywritershadstood,takingasmallsipoftheiricewaterandclearingtheirthroatsbeforespeakingthewordsIcravedtosay.‘Idon’tthinkIwouldbegoodenoughtostandupthereandfacetheworldandagroupofreaders.

Itmusttakealotofcourageforthemtodowhattheydo,’Isaid,blowingonmycoffeebeforetaking

atentativesip.Ismiledasthefrothybubblesclungtomylipandlickedthemoffdelicately.‘WhatifsomeonelaughedatwhatIwrote?’My friend chuckled. ‘They would only laugh if you were reading something funny,’ he said

confidently.‘Now,tellme,areyoucomingfortheauthors’meetnextweekend?’heasked.‘Definitely,’Isaid.Whatwouldtheweekendbringforme?WouldIstillbelostinsearchofmystory?

~

‘Livelife inmoments,not indaysoryearsoryourschedules.It’sourmisconception—mostof thetime—thatweliveourlivesthewaywewant.Everysinglestepthatwetakeisinfluencedbyothers.Onlythepartthatwehidefromeveryoneelseandkeepdeepwithinourheart,isourown.Istronglyurge you all to realize that hidden part of yours.Go, live that part. Live your life.Don’t let yourdreamsdiewithinyou.Trustme,yourstruggle,yourfight,willbeworththeriskinopeningyourselfup.Get up. Inhale the air of passion. Start your journey.Grab your dreams. Enjoy yourmistakes.Dancetotherhythmofyourheartbeats.Smile.Laugh.Love.Live.’AuthorArjunMehrautteredthesefinalwordswithconfidence.Hishandswereclaspedtogetheras

helookedexpectantlyaroundthecafé.Hiseyesmetmine,andIfeltmyheartbeatalittlefaster.Itwasasifhewasspeakingdirectlytome.But,infact,hehadtouchedtheheartsofeverysinglepersoninthe caféwithhismesmerizingwords.Howwas it that an author couldhold such amagical poweroverpeople?IclosedmyeyesandimaginedthatIwasthespeaker,standingconfidentlyinfrontofanaudience.Ismiledsoftly tomyself.PerhapsonedayIwouldactuallybeable tomoveacrowdlikethis.‘What’syourstory,younggirl?’IwastornawayfrommythoughtswhenIrealizedMr.Mehrawas

pointingdirectlyatme.Hissoftbrowneyeswereholdingmine,kindly,butwithachallengingglint.‘Whatisyourpurposeinlife?’Hesoftenedhisquestionwithasmileand,suddenly,itfeltlikeafriendwasspeakingtome.I tookadeepbreath. ‘I…Iwant towrite likeyou,’Ibegannervously, twisting thenapkin inmy

hands as I decided to answer him as truthfully as I could. ‘But I don’t know what to write. I aminspired by the world aroundme, but I am still in search of a story that can change the lives ofpeople.’MywordssoundedhesitanttomyearsandIwishedIhadn’tspokenthem.Mr. Mehra nodded firmly. ‘People need stories. Stories of love, hope, survival, wisdom and

sometimespain.Maybeyoudon’t tell themthefull truth;maybeyoutell themlies.Butwhat is thisworld?Alieinitself.’Iwasstillheldbyhisgaze,butIabsorbedhiswordsandheardothersaroundmechuckle.‘Butyourliesaregoodlies.Theychangepeopleandmostlyforthebetter.Iwishyouthebest,’hesaidwarmly.‘Thank you,’ Imanaged to say, shivering a little at hiswords, even though the caféwas almost

uncomfortablyhot.‘Youaremostwelcome.’Withthat,hestartedlookingforsomeoneelsetoaskhisnextquestion.He

turnedhisattentiontoayoungmanbehindme.‘Sir,whatdoyoudoforwork?What’syourstory?’IhadbeensoengrossedinhiswordsthatIhadn’tnoticedthemanearlier. I turnedaroundtosee

whohewasspeaking toandfoundasmart,handsomeguyaroundmyage.Hisblackcasualblazersuited his brown eyes and short dark hair and therewas an air of confidence about him as he satstraightinhischair.IwassurprisedthatIhadn’tnoticedhimbefore.‘IworkastheassistantbranchmanageratCitibank,’theyoungmananswered.Hisvoicewasdeep

andrich.Mr.Mehra continued his questions. ‘What is it that you demand from life? Is it the thought of

success, money or fame that brings you true happiness?’ I found myself leaning toward the manbehindme,curioustohearhowhewouldanswer.The man cleared his throat. ‘I have money, status and success, but I am still not sure what my

purposereallyis.IdoknowthattherearedaysIwanttoescapethelifeIamlivingandgrabmybagsandjusttravel.’Hetrailedoffanditseemedlikehismindwasalreadyonthosejourneys.Thewriterpressedhim.‘Whatdoyouthinkyouwillfindwhenyoutravel?’‘There will be no onewhowill followme around, demanding things fromme,’ he responded.

‘Therewillbenoonepressuringmetomeetdeadlines.Moneycomeswithaprice,andforme,thepriceisbothfreedomandareallife.IhopesomedayIcanmakeupmymindtochasemydreams.’Theyoungmansippedhisblackcoffeeashecompletedhisanswer.Isawhisshouldersrelaxalittleashesavouredthedarkblend.Mr. Mehra nodded his understanding before he swept his eyes over the audience once more.

Holdinguphishand,hesaidloudly,‘Ihopethesameforallofyouhere.Goaheadandmakeyourdreams come true.’As his lastwordswere spoken, concluding the event, the café filledwith loudapplause.Ijoinedin,clappingsoloudly,myhandsbegantotingle.Ihadcometohearthewriter,butI’dfoundmyselfdeeplyimpressed,inspiredandintriguedbythe

youngman’sanswer.Iwantedtolearnmoreabouthim.Itwasaboldmove,andItookadeepbreathbeforeturningaroundtospeakwithhim.Buthischair

wasempty,ahalf-filledcoffeecupsatonthetable.Istoodup,myeyessearchingtheroomforhisdarksuit,andIspottedhimleavingthecafé.‘Iwillseeyounexttime,’Imuttered,determined.Hemighthaveescapedforthemoment,butthe

excitedpoundingofmyhearttoldmethatIhadfoundmystory.

2MR.TRAVELLER

Iwaswriting furiously inmynotebookandbarelynoticedKabir approachuntilhe slidmycoffeetowardme.‘Soyoufinallyfoundastorytowrite!’heexclaimedwithahappygrin.Ireturnedhiswarmsmileandrespondedwithahintofexcitementinmyownvoice.‘Well,yes.At

least,Ihaveastart.’Heslidintothecomfortableredchairacrossfromme.‘That’sgreat.Tellmewhatyouarewriting.’Ishruggedmyshoulders,suddenlyshy.HowcouldIgivehimasynopsiswhenIbarelyknewwhere

mymindwastakingmyfingers?Isighed.‘It’saboutatraveller.’‘Interesting,’Kabirresponded.‘MayIreadwhatyouhavewrittensofar?’Tiltingmyheadtothesideindeepthought,Irespondedhonestly,‘Iamnotsureifit’swortharead.’Myfriendnarrowedhiseyesatmeandranhishandoverhishead. ‘Youneverknow!Comeon,

nowshowme.’‘Okay.’Iturnedthenotebookaroundtolethimreadmypreciouswords.Igulped.Ihadn’tbeenexpectinghimtoreaditoutloud.‘Iwant to travel, travel thewholeworld. Iwant togoonaroad trip.Stopat randomplacesand

explore their beauty. Run through the woods chasing a butterfly. Talk to new people with differentculturesanddifferent lifestyles.Listen to their stories; sit onaparkbench in the sun.Enjoy everysunriseandsunset, sometimes fromahilltopandsometimesbehind the trees. Iwant tospendhoursbesidearushingriver, feeling thewind inmyhairand listening to thesecretshidden in thewaves.Write a poem about the coldest, cloud-bound mountains and all five oceans. I want to cross myboundaries.Iwanttoadmirenature,andwonderatthemagicofitscreation.Iwanttomakememories.Iwanttofeelalive.IwanttofeeltheCreator.Iwanttofeelmyself.’His hand moved and I watched him turn the page. He read silently for a moment and I waited

anxiouslyforhimtocontinue.Myheartwaspounding,almostpainfully.‘Lifeisnotmeanttobecagedinyourhometown,butitshouldbeawondrousplacetobeexplored.I

mustexploreallthenooksandcranniesofthisworld.Ithasbeenalong-timedreamofmineand,asIsetouttodothis,Irealizethatthismustbewhatitfeelsliketobeababybird,perchedontheedgeofits nest, ready and anxious to fly to other places. I sometimes pity humans for not being able tomigrate the same way animals can. There are no boundaries for animals, except what they areincapableofdoingforthemselves.Humansseemtobetheonlycreatureswhosaytheylivefreely,buttheyareboundbytherestrictionstheyplaceforthemselves.Wearenotjustboundtoourwork,buttoourhomes.Wedonotroam.Weliveinasmall,isolatedlocation—acagewouldperhapsbestdescribeit.Wehaveanareaforbusinessandwehaveanareawhereweeatthesamefoodsandmeetthesametypesofpeople.Punehasturnedintothatcageforme.IknoweverythingthereisaboutPune,butlikealioninthezoo,Icravethefreedomofstandingonarockandlookingdownatthekingdombelowme.Iwant tosee thebirds flying, theelephantsbathinghappily in theirwateringholeand thegazellesrunning freely.That is the freedomwhich humankindwas granted, and I amabout to capture it by

chasingmydreamsacrossthehorizon.’Kabir ’svoicedriftedoffandhesatinsilence.Tryingtobepatient,Itracedmyfingersovertherim

ofmycoffeecup,thendowntheside,catchingarandomdrop.Absently,Iliftedmyfingertomylipsandlickedit.Still, he said nothing. Finally, I nearly yelled the question. ‘What do you think?’ I askedwith a

mixtureofexcitementanddread.‘Howisit?’Hebrokeintoahugesmile.‘It’slovely,Meera!Ithinkitwilltouchmillionsofhearts,’Kabirsaid

enthusiastically.‘Truly?’HenoddedandIletoutanervouslaugh.‘Thankyou!’Kabir turned my diary back around, patting it happily. ‘I would love to read more when you

continueyourstory!Iamsureasthestoryunfoldsitwillbeevengreater.Promiseyourselfonething:neverstopwriting,Meera!’Myfriendstood,straightenedthecreasesinhispants,andwentbacktowork.Istaredatthewordsonthepages,fistingmyhandsinsilenttriumphoverthepen.Iwasjusthappy

toknowhelikedit.BeforeIcouldstarttowriteagain,ayounggirlwiththebrowncaféapronwalkedovertomeand

handedmeafoldednapkin.Ilookedatherquestioninglyand,silently,shesignalledformetoopenit.Curious,butconfused,Ilaythependownandunfoldedthenapkin.Ithadjustonewordwrittenonit

inbigcapitalletters:BEAUTIFUL.Ilookedupatthegirl.‘Whowrotethis?’Iasked.Sheturnedbackandpointedtoachairafewtables

away.Buttherewasnoone.‘Idon’tunderstand,’Isaid.Shefrownedforamoment,butthenherfaceeasedintoasmile.Withanodtowardthecaféexit,she

said,‘Thatyoungmansaidtogiveittoyou.’Itwasthetraveller.Hehadescapedagain.

~

Iwatched themanwalkaway through thedustywindowbefore InoticedKabirwas looking, too. Istoodupandrushedovertothecounter.‘Whowashe?’IaskedKabir.‘He is the assistantbranchmanager atCitibankonTelakRoad,’Kabir saidhelpfully. ‘He’sbeen

hereseveraltimessincelastmonth.’I bitmy lip in thought. ‘Lastweekend hewas at the authors’meet as well. Has he told you his

name?’My friend shook his head and absently cleaned the counter between us. ‘He doesn’t talk much.

However,Idoknowhisnamebecausehepaysbycreditcardeverytime.HisnameisVivaan.’‘Vivaan,’Irepeated,tastingthenameonmytongue.‘Whendoesheusuallycometothecafé?’Kabir shrugged. ‘Oh,when I sayhe is regular,hecomes inoften,but there isno fixed time.He

dropsbyanytimehefeelslikeit.’Ithoughtforaminute.‘Doyouthinkyoucouldtextmethenexttimehedropsby?’Iasked.

‘Sure,’Kabirsaid.‘ButwhyareyouaskingsomuchaboutVivaan?’‘HeisthetravelleraboutwhomIamwritingthestory,’Ianswered.Icouldn’thelpbutgrinasIleftthecaféwithKabirstandingthere,hismouthopeninshock.

VIVAAN

3TWINDIMPLES

IstumbledoverasmallrockontheroadasIwalkeduptomyoffice.MymindwasdefinitelynotontheofficebuildingIwaswalkinginto.Infact,Ialmostresentedhavingtogotoworkatall.Thatwasunlikeme.Yes,Iwantedtobefreetotravel,butItriedtomakethemostofwhereIwas.

Lifehaddealtmesomeroughblows,butIwasalwaysgratefulfortheconstantsinmylife,myjobbeingoneofthem.My shoes squeakedon thepolished floor, announcingmyarrival before I could evenget tomy

office. I couldn’twait to get past the sterile entrance and escape tomyown area,wheremy shoeswouldn’tmakeasound.‘Sir,’thereceptionistcalledafterme.Igroaned;somuchforaquickescape.Iturnedtoher,with

whatIhopedseemedlikeagenuinesmile.Itwasn’therfaultthatatthisverymoment,Ihatedmyjob.‘Ihaveseveralmessagesforyou.Yourvoicemailboxisfullagain.’Now, my smile was not faked. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said apologetically. ‘I appreciate you taking the

messages.’‘It’squiteallright,’shesaidhappily.Ireachedoutand,asItooktheslipsofpaperfromherhand,

herfingersbrushedagainstmine.Itoccurredtomehowattractivethereceptionistwas,butthatwasnotwheremyinterestwasfocused.Thewomancrowdingmymindwas theyoungwomanwhohad sat in frontofmeduringArjun

Mehra’stalktheotherday,thesamewomanwhowasbreathlesslytalkingtothecafémanagerashorttimeago.Ididnotgobacktothecaféseekingherout;atleast,that’swhatItoldmyself.Imerelywantedthe

bestcupofcoffeeinthedistrict.ButshewastherewhenIarrived.Iwasalmostdisappointedwhenshedidnotnoticeme,butafterIsatdown,Icaughtwispsofher

conversationwithKabir.Iwanttospendhoursbesidearushingriver,feelingthewindinmyhairandlisteningtothesecrets

hiddeninthewaves.Ithasbeenalong-timedreamofmineand,asIsetouttodothis,Irealizethatthismustbewhatit

feelsliketobeababybird,perchedontheedgeofitsnest,readyandanxioustoflytootherplaces.Kabirspokethewords,butinmymind,Iheardhervoiceechoingasthesentencesreplayedlikea

favouritesong.The words could have been written for me, I mused as I sat down in my soft leather chair,

immediatelypivotingtolookoutthewindow.Butthat’sfoolish.Shecouldn’tknowmyheart’sdesires.As she andKabir had talked, I could hear the hesitation in her voice. She lacked the courage to

presentthetalentthatshepossessed.Ihopedshewouldn’tgiveup;Icouldsenseherwritingwasasmuchherdreamastravellingwasmine.Iblushed,thinkingabouttheimpulsivenoteIhadleftforher.BEAUTIFUL.Itwasmeanttobetaken

oneof twoways: herwritingdefinitely had a deepbeauty to it.But as spellbound as Iwas byherwords,Iwasevenmoredrawntothegirl.Shewaspetite,IlaughedasIrecalled,butamazing.Thenightshesatinfrontofme,Istaredlong

andhardatherback,silentlybegginghertoturnaround.Herthinlegsweretuckeddelicatelyunderherchair,andIcouldn’tstopthinkingaboutthesoftbrownskinthatwastoohiddenbyherflowingblueskirt.But,mostly,Iwantedtolosemyselfinherdeeptwindimplesandherdarkeyes.Barelynoticeable

whenshewasconcentrating,herbrilliantsmilebroughtmultiplelayerstoherface.Liketwoangelswerekissingheratthesametime.Ishookmyheadtoclearherimagefrommymind.Ivowedtogobackthenextday,toseeifshe

hadanyreactiontothehastily-writtennoteI’daskedthewaitresstohandher.I’dhurried awaybefore; Iwouldnot hurry awaya third time. Iwanted to learnmore about this

blossomingwriterinthecafé.

MEERA

4MISSWRITER

Lifethrowsunexpectedturnsatyou.Onlyafewweeksbefore,Iwaslookingforastory.Andthen,whenIhadone,Ionlyhadthesmallest tasteofwhatIknewcouldbeafull tale.ButIknewIhadastory,anditwouldbethemosttouchingstoryIhadeverheardorwritten.Itwasaboutsix-thirtyintheeveningandIwasabouttoleavetheoffice.Ithadbeenalongdayand

myheadached.Thereseemedtobeproblemspiledontopofotherproblems,andIhadnosolutionsinsight.Myphonebuzzed,butIwassotired,Inearlyignoredit.Iputmyhandinmypocket,andthendrew

itoutagain,leavingmyphoneinitsnest.Afewstepsforwardandmyhungrywriter ’scuriositywastoomuchtoignore.Slidingmyhandinthepocketasecondtime,Idrewoutthephoneandtappedafewbuttons.ItwasfromKabir.‘Yourtravellerishere.’IforgotmyheadacheandstartedtorushtotheexitasItappedbuttonsfuriously.‘Keephimengaged.Iamcoming.’Momentslater,Iwasonmywaytothecafé.

~

IsawhimthroughthewindowasIslowedmyfastwalktoacasualpace.ImetKabir ’seyeasIcameinandInoddedmythanks.IstrolledtohistableasIdidamentalcheckofmyclothing,myhair,andmymakeup.SinceIhad

workedthroughlunch,atleastIknewIdidn’thaveanyembarrassingstainsorpiecesoffoodstuckbetweenmyteeth.Takingadeepbreath,Islidintothechair infrontofhim.‘So,Mr.Vivaan,howareyou?’Igave

himmymostbrilliantsmile,asifwehadplannedthismeetingforages.Helookedupandblinkedtwice.‘Excuseme?’Icouldtellbyhisvoicethathewasastonishedbymy

forwardgreeting.OrperhapsitwasbecauseIknewhisname.Icrossedmylegsandleanedbackinmychair.Mydeliberatemovementsdidn’tbetraymyracing

heart.‘Iamsorry,’Ibegan,‘butbeforeyouleavemeforathirdtime,Ithinkweshouldatleasttalk.’IturnedtosignaltoKabirtobringmycappuccino.‘Well,Ineverleftyou,’Vivaansaid,lookingdeepinmyeyesforthefirsttime.Foramoment,my

calmmovementsbegan to falter. Icould feelmyhandsbegin toshakeashecapturedmygazeandrefusedtoletitgo.Iflexedmyfingertips,silentlycommandingmyhandstobehave.Ishookmyheadthesamewaymy

motherusedtoshakeherheadatmewhenIsnuckawayachocolatecookie.‘Butyouneverstayed.Youescapedeverytime,’Irepliedwithmyeyesfixedonhis.Ifeltmyselfdiscoveringanewuniverse.Afrowncreasedhisforehead.‘Ilovetotravel.Don’tyouknowthat?’‘Iknow.’Myvoicewaslow,quiet.Ididn’tknowwhattosayanymore.Hiseyeshadcastsomespell

onmeandIwascompletelymesmerized.

Hespokesosoftly,Icouldbarelyhearhim.IabsorbedhiswordsbywatchinghisfulllipsmoveasmuchasIheardthesound.‘Andwhatmakesyouwantmetostay?’Iwantedtostayinthatuniverseforaverylongtime, thatmuchIknew.Andinstinct toldmethat

goingsoftwouldnotholdhimhere.Iclearedmythroat,forcingattitudebackintomyvoice.‘Ilovetowrite,’Iresponded.‘Maybethat’swhy.’Igavehimaquickgrin.‘Don’tyouknowthat?’Hesmiledforthefirsttime.Itwasoneofthoserarestsmilesyouencounterinyourentirelifetime.

Thecrystalhiddendeepwithinaplainrock.Thesesmileshavethepowertochangeyoufromwithin.‘Thereisnothingtowriteaboutme,’Vivaandeclared,andshookhishead.I plunked my hands on the table, lacing my fingers together. ‘Everyone has a story to tell,’ I

insisted. ‘Everyone is awriter.Somearewritten inbooks, and someareconfined tohearts.’ Iwasproudofmyanswer.And there was silence for a few seconds. As we stared without blinking, I thought about the

childhoodgameIusedtoplaywithmysister.I felt, rather than saw,movement besideme and a cupwas placed in front ofme. ‘Here is your

coffee.’I had no ideawho supplied the cup, but I thanked her without breakingmy gaze and delicately

sippedmycappuccino,finallyloweringmyeyes.Irefusedtospeaknext.Itwashisturn.Icountedthreedeepbreathsbeforehefinallyspoke.‘Youaregoodwithwords,’Vivaansaidashe

brokethesilence.‘Thanks,’Isaid.‘Andwhatareyougoodat?’IwaseagertoknowmoreaboutVivaan.Heseemed

somysterious,andyetsowonderful.Before I couldgetmyanswer,Vivaan’s cell phonebegan to ring.Hequickly reacheddownand

checked the caller ID. His eyes were regretful when he looked up atme, disappointment ripplingacrosshisface.Thenhechuckled.‘IguessIamgoodatescaping,’hesaid.Disappointmentsoared.‘Again?’Iaskedinalowvoice.‘Always,’hewhispered,leaningacrossthetablesoIcouldhearhim.‘Why?’Iprompted.Ididn’twanthimtoleave.IplannedtokeephimtalkingaslongasIcould.Heshrugged,theshouldersofhiscoatliftingnearlytohisears.‘Love.’Iwantedtocry,buttherewasaglintofteasinginhiseyes.‘What?’‘Ilovetotravel,’heexplained.‘Ican’tstayinoneplace.’Notyet,mymindcalledout.‘Willyoumeetmeagain?’Iasked.‘Why?’heaskedwithachallengingtone.Imimickedhistone.‘Maybeyouaremystory.’‘MissWriter,’hesaidashestoodup.‘Iamreal,notfiction.’Helaughedandstartedleaving.Istoodupaswellandheldhisarmlightly.‘IamMeera,’Isaidsadly.‘NotMissWriter.’Andbeforehecouldescape,Ileftthecaféfirst.

VIVAAN

5ALATE-NIGHTCALL

I sat on the edge ofmy bed,my hands draped overmy knees asmymind raced from thought tothought.I rolledmycellphoneoverandover inmyhands,and thenscrolled throughmycontactsuntil I

foundtheonethatIwanted.She answered,hervoice singing as she spokemyname. ‘Vivaan!Howareyou,my love? It has

beensolongsinceI’veheardfromyou!’‘Iknow,’Iresponded,shamerunningthoughmyveins.‘Ihavebeensobusywithwork…’Iheardhergroan.‘Yes,work.Workisallyoueverthinkabout,’shesaidscornfully.‘Thatisnottrue,’Iargued.Butitwaspartiallytrue.IcarefullyconstructedmylifesoIwastoobusy

forfriends,familyandthoughts.Everyonewantstorunawayfromonethingoranother.Attimes,Iwanttorunawayfrommyown

self.‘So,’shesaid,hervoicebrightening.‘Tellmewhatisgoingon.Iwanttohearallaboutwhatmy

darlingnephewhasbeenbusywith.’I knew Iwas forgiven. PriyaAunty never calledme her darling nephew if shewasmad atme.

Oddly, I felt lighterwith thosefewwords. I thought fleetinglyabouthowimportantwordsare,andhowboththespokenandwrittenwordcanharm…orheal.‘Well,’Ibegan,turningmyattentionbacktomyaunt,‘youareright;Ihavebeenbusywithwork.’‘Workisboring,’sheinterruptedmebeforeIcouldrambleonaboutloansandinterestrates.‘Itis

necessary,butnotatopicofconversationfortoday.Whatisfuninyourworld?’Ilaughed.‘Thereisnotmuchtimeforfun,Aunty.’Shewouldnotgiveup.‘Haveyoubeentothemovies?’‘Notlately.’‘Anygoodrestaurants?’‘Nope.’Iheardhersighinfrustration.Icouldpicturehersittingatherkitchentable,drummingher

fingersimpatiently.Igrinned.‘Ihavebeentoanewcaféthough,’Isaid.‘Really?’Herinterestroseagain.‘Withfriends?’Ilaughed,knowingwhatshemeant:friendsofthefemalevariety.‘No,’Isaid.‘Theyhaveagreat

Frenchroastcoffee that I loveand theatmosphere isveryfun.And theyhavewriterscoming in tospeak…’Ibrokeoff,thinkingofher.Meera.Hernametomewaslikeawarmeveningbreeze.‘Thatsoundsinteresting,’shesaid.‘Butyouarestillalone.’‘It iswhat Iwant,Aunty,’ I said. ‘YouknowIwant to travel. Ineed toexplore theworld, see the

GrandCanyon,theGreatWallofChina.’‘The pyramids,’ she offered, continuingmy path of thinking. ‘I know,Vivaan.And I know you

wouldnothavetheopportunitytotravelif—’Ibrokein,anxioustocutofftherestofhersentence.‘ButIcan,andIwill.’

‘When?’‘I’mnotsure,’Isaid.‘Perhapssoon.’‘Won’tyougetlonely?’‘Maybe,’Iadmitted.‘MaybeIwill.Butapersonneedstolearnhowtobealone.’‘I do hope you find what you are looking for in the great, vast world you encounter,’ she

responded.‘Andwhatwouldthatbe?’Iteased.‘Onlyyouknow,Vivaan.’

MEERA

6MR.LOVER

Idecidednottovisitthecaféforthenextfewdays.Apartofmewasdyingtogo,butanotherpartofmewasstillcrushedbyVivaan’sabruptdepartureandIfeltthatIshouldstayawaytohealmyheartalittle.Not a single day had passedwithoutmy thinking aboutVivaan. Therewas something about his

mysteriouspersonathatdrewmetowardshim.Iwantedtoknowmoreabouthim.Ineededtoknowmoreabouthim.Ineededthistimetodiscovermyselfinsomeoneelse’sstory.

~

Afewdayslater,IfoundmyselfwanderingthegardensofShaniwarwada.GrowingupinPune,thiswas one ofmy favourite places to visit. I lovedwalking around the fortification and its grounds,runningmyhandsoverthesteelgates.Asachild,Iusedtolookupat thespikesinthegates—putinplacetoprotect theentryway—and

wishforthetimewhenIwasanadultandabletoreachthem.Whyis itwearesoanxious inourneed tomature?Itonlyopensusupfor thepossibility toget

very,veryhurt.MyphonevibratedasIwasstrollingdownastonewalkway.Itookitoutofmypocketandlooked

atthesender.Ididn’tknowthenumber.Curious,Ireadthemessage.‘Sorry.’‘Whoisthis?’Itextedback.‘Let’smeet.’Thesenderdidn’tidentifyhimself.Myheart fluttered. I had a feeling I knewwho itwas, but Iwanted tobe sure.Apart ofmewas

excited,butanotherpartwasslightlyannoyed.Iignoredthemessageforafewminutes.Lethimwait.Finally,Iresponded.‘Tellmewhothisis,’I

demanded.‘Don’tyouknowme,MissWriter?’IwassurprisedbythefactthatittrulywasVivaan.IwonderedifhehadgotmynumberfromKabir

afterIleft.‘Idon’tknowyouyet.Youkeepescaping,’wasmyreply.‘Thencomeandgettoknowme.Tomorrow,7p.m.,Coffee&Us.’Iwasn’tgoing tomake thiseasyonhim. I texted: ‘Iwillhandcuffyou to the tablesoyoucannot

run.’

~

Onewholedayseemedlikeaneternity,waitingandlongingfortheanswersthatVivaanheldinhismysteriouspersona.Hisstoryseemedtocallmeandintrigueme,beckoningmetounfolditslowlyandwriteaboutit.Iintendedtogettothecaféearly,butbythetimeIfinishedgettingready,Iwasnolongerearly.In

fact,Iwasthirtyminuteslate.ThecaféwasalreadypackedandIglancedaroundeverywhere,hoping

Vivaanhadn’t left. I lookedover in thecorner and sawhim sitting as far away from the crowdaspossible.Helookedupfromtakingasipofhiscoffeeandsmiled.VivaanlookedasgoodincasualclothingashedidinasuitandIranmyeyesoverhisjeansandblackpoloshirtasImademywaytowardthetable.Darkcolourssuitedhimwell.‘Iwasstartingtothinkyouwerenevergoingtogethere,’VivaanjokedasIsatdown.‘Sorry for being late,’ I said, but didn’t offer any excuses. ‘I ameager for you to tellme about

yourself.’‘Iwill,’hepromised,‘butfirst,howhaveyoubeensinceIsawyoulast?’Iforcedmyselftobepatient.‘Myworkisgoingwell,’Isaidbriefly.‘Haveyoudoneanythingfun?’Ismiled.‘Yes,IwenttoShaniwarwada.Ifindalotofpeaceinthegardens.’‘Iloveitthere,’hesaid.‘Somuchhistory,soclosetous.’Thenwhydoyouwanttotravel?Iwasdesperatetoaskhim,butIwantedtokeephisfocusonour

table.Iwantedhismindonme, in thecoffeeshop.Notroamingtheworld.‘Now,tellmeabout themysteriousVivaan,’Idemanded.‘IwasbornandbroughtupinMumbai,’Vivaanstarted.‘IlostmymotherwhenIwasachildand

myfatherraisedmewithlotsofloveandcare.’Iwatchedthepainflashinhiseyeswhenhespokeofhismother,followedquicklybyawaveofhappinesswhenhementionedhisfather.Ifemotionswerecolours,IknowIwouldhavewitnessedabeautifulpieceofartworkinafewseconds’time.‘Iamsodeeplysorryforthelossofyourmother,’Isaid.Myeyesstartedtofillwithtears.‘It’sokay,’Vivaansaidashequicklylookedoutthewindow,tryingtofocusonanythingoutthere.Iwaspositivehemissedher.IknewifI’dlostmymotheratsuchanearlyageashehad,Iwould

feelthatapieceofmehadbeencarvedout,nevertobereplaced.Althoughhewasstillastranger,apartofmewantedtohughimandcomforthim.Iclearedmythroattobringhisattentionbacktoourtable.‘Pleasegoonandtellmemoreabout

yourself.’Hesmiled.‘Icompletedmymaster ’sinfinanceandjoinedthebankingsector.Afterafewyearsof

hardworkandalotofstruggling,Ibecametheyoungestassistantbranchmanagerinourcompany,’hesaidproudly.‘Iamprobablygoingtobeoneoftheyoungestchiefbranchmanagersthatthebankhaswithinthenextcoupleyears.’‘Impressive,’Isaidtruthfully.Themanbeforemewascertainlydetermined.‘Thatisallaboutme.’Iknewtherewasmorethathehelddeeperandclosertohisheart,andIwantedsobadlytouncover

hissecrets.Icrossedmyarmsinachallengingposition.‘Thatistheentirestoryyouhaveaboutyourself?’I

askedindisbelief,andIraisedmyeyebrowsathim.‘Yes,that’smystory.’‘Areyoukiddingmerightnow?’Iasked.‘No,Itoldyoumystorywasn’tthatinteresting,’Vivaanreplied.‘Iamnotbuyingitforaminute!Youhavemoretoyourstory,andyouarejusthidingit!Tellme

aboutyourgirlfriend,’Idemanded,pushingfurther.‘Girlfriend?Idon’thaveagirlfriend,’Vivaansaidasheshookhishead.Wait. I wondered quickly if I had read him wrong. ‘Then do you have a boyfriend?’ I asked,

suddenlypuzzled.‘No!Shutup!’Helaughedheartily.‘Idon’thaveaboyfriend!’‘Vivaan,’Iallowedmyfrustrationtocolourmyvoice.‘Youdragmedownhereandyourefuseto

tellmeanything!’Ipointedout.Hesighed.‘Meera,Idonothaveagirlfriend.And,mostdefinitely,notaboyfriend.Iamsingle!’IsmiledmythanksasawaitressbroughtmemycappuccinobeforeIturnedbacktoVivaan.‘Okay,

whataboutyourpast?Didyouhavesomeonethatyoucalledyourown?’Hesighed.‘Ididhavemyfairshareofflings,buttherewasnothingveryserious.Iamtellingyou

thetruth,Meera!’Ilookedathim,confused.Theremustbemoretohimthanthis.‘Iamdisappointed.’Idrewthewordsoutthewaymyteachersusedtowhentheychastisedsomeone

fornotturninginagoodpaper.‘Why?’Hefrownedandbegantotaphisfingersagainsthiscoffeecup.Iexplainedpatiently,‘Ithoughtyouwouldhavesomegreatlovestorytotell,somethingfascinating

Icouldwriteabout.’‘Meera,therearestorieseverywhereifyoulook.’Icouldheartheregretinhisvoiceashereached

out,gentlypryingmyfingersoffmycup.Hewrappedhishandaroundmine,squeezinggently,andIfeltmypulsecrackleatthefriendlygesture.‘Idon’tfindstorieseverywhere.TheonlytimeIfoundtheoneIwantedtoexplore,itwasinyour

eyes,’Iwhispered.Vivaanwassilent.HesignalledKabirtobringanothercoffee.WhenKabircameupwithasecondroundofcoffee,Vivaansaid,‘Maybeyoushouldtrytolook

somewhereelse.’‘Where?’‘InKabir ’seyes.’Kabir and I exchanged glances, andwe both seemed equally shocked byVivaan’s statement.My

secondcappuccinosloshedinthecupasheputitonthetable.‘What?’KabirandIaskedatthesametime.Vivaanlaughedatourconfusion.‘Didn’tyouevernoticehowKabirsmileswhenhelooksatallthe

people who come in here? He doesn’t care if they are young or old; he flashes a smile at themanyway.’ I lookedatKabir, suddenlyseeingmyfriend inadifferentway. ‘Thewayhemakes themfeelhereisliketheyarehome,andweareallfamily.’‘ThatissomethingItrytodo,yes,’Kabirsaidhappily.‘Healsomakesthebestcoffeeforhiscustomers.Iamsurehehasbeeninloveandthathehasa

storytotell,’Vivaanfinishedwithexcitement.Isatthereshockedathowhecouldpickuponeverylittledetailapersonhadaboutthem.Slowly,Istartedtospeak.‘IhavetoadmitIhaveknownKabiralotlongerthanIhaveknownyou.I

knowheisalovelyandcourteousmanandheserveshiscustomersverywell.ButKabir ’slovestorynevercrossedmymind.Tellme,Kabir.IsVivaanright?’‘Hmm…’Kabirstoodtheresilently.Hisfacecolouredasheconsideredhiswords.Vivaanreachedoverandpulledoutachair.‘Canyousitforaminute?Iknowit’sbusyinhere,’he

said.Kabir ’seyeslookedovertheplaceandthenhenoddedandperchedontheedgeofthechair.‘Tellusaboutyourself,Mr.Lover.’

7COLDCOFFEE

‘Yes,Ihavebeeninlove.’WhenKabirbegantospeak, itwasinsuchasadvoiceIwouldnothaverecognizedhimifIwasn’tlookingathisface.Iwasassurprisedbyhistoneasbyhisadmission.‘Whoisshe?Whatishername?Whereisshe?’I

couldn’tstopmyselfquestioninghim.‘HernameisNisha.Sheusedtovisitthiscafélongbeforeeitherofyoutwocamehere.’‘Whathappened?Whydoesshenotcometothiscaféanylonger?’Iasked.Vivaanwas silent, listening toKabir throughbothhisbody languageandhisvoice. Iwasn’t that

disciplined;Iwasdemanding, thirstyfor theinformation.Iwantedtoknowthestory,and—asIgotexcited about it—itched to know the details. Kabir ’s story wasn’t the love story I’d pictured himhaving,atleastnotintermsofcausingthepainIcouldhearinhisvoicewhenhespokeofit.‘Meera,calmdown!LetKabirspeak,’Vivaansaidsoftly,flashingmeasmile.Inodded.‘SorryKabir,’Isaidinaquietertone.‘IwanttoknoweverythingaboutyouandNisha.

Pleasegoon.’Kabirtookadeepbreathandlookeddownathishandsasheletoutasigh.‘Iwasbroughtup ina lowermiddleclass familyalongwithmyyoungersister.Myfatherwasa

teacherinagovernmentschool,buthehadtoretireafterhesufferedaheartattack.’‘Oh,’Isaidquietly,butdidnotinterrupt.‘Our savingswent into his treatment. Itwas pretty hard formy family.Mymother and younger

sister both tried to do the household chores, feeding our family while managing his medicalexpenses.Idecidedtogiveupmycollegeeducationandsearchforajob.Mymotherarguedatfirstthatshedidn’twantmetodropoutofcollege,butItoldherwedidn’thavemuchofachoice.’Hebrokeoff,andVivaanmuttered,‘No,Ican’timaginethatyoudid.’Kabirshookhisheadandcontinued.‘Iimmediatelybeganlookingforwork,andfatebroughtme

here.TheyneededanewpersonontheirstaffwhospokeEnglishwelland,luckily,Iwasinterviewed.ItwasbyGod’sgrace that Igot this job.’Hesmiledhappily. ‘Ibecamethemanager in threeyears.Thingshavebeengoodformyfamilysince then,andeverysingledayI thankGodfor the jobHegaveme.’IhadneverknownKabirhaditsorough.HewassofriendlyontheoutsidethatIneverguessedhe

heldsuchsorrowinhisheart.Iwantedtoscream‘Kabir,stopit!’becausemyeyeswerealreadyfilledwithtears.Ideliberatelybitmyliptokeepfromspeaking.‘Itwasalsobecauseofyourdedicationandhardwork,’Vivaansaid.‘Ineverknewyouwentthroughsuchtoughtimes.Youneversharedthiswithme.Youarealwaysso

happyandsmiling,’Ipointedout.Kabirsighedandshruggedhisshoulders.‘Youneveraskedme,Meera,’hesaid.‘Whatdoes thishavetodowithNisha?’Vivaanasked,bringingtheconversationbacktoKabir ’s

love.

Kabir ’sexpressionwasdistantashebegantorecalltherestofthestory.

~

Aftera fewmonthsofworkinghere,Isawabeautifulyounggirlcryingin thecornerof thecafé.Itmademequitesadthatsuchaprettygirlwascryinginsteadofsmiling.Ipreparedanicecoldcoffeewithicecreamforherandplaceditonhertable.Shelookedup,stunned,andshewipedhertears.Shesaid,‘Ididn’torderanything.’Ismiledandnodded.‘Iknow,butIthoughtmaybethiswillmakeyoufeelbetter.’Icouldtellshewastryinghardtosmileasshethankedme.Shecamemanymoretimesafterthat.

Shewasalwaysalone, upset anddistraught.Everyday, Iwoulddomybest to try tomakeher feelbetterwithdifferenttypesofcoffee,eventhoughshedidn’torderanything.Ineverchargedher.Attheendofeachday,herbillwasdeductedfrommysalary.ItwasthenIrealizedthatlovemakesyoudocrazythings.One day, I finally gathered some courage to ask her about her sorrow. ‘If I may ask, what

happened?’She lookedshockedatmy intrusion. ‘Noneofyourbusiness,’ sherepliedshortly.Shestoodupso

quickly, shealmost knocked the chairover.Then, shewalkedaway.She stoppedcoming to the caféafterthat.

~

‘Howcomeshewassorude?Howcouldshejustwalkaway?’Vivaanwasannoyed.‘Lookwhoistalking,’Iresponded,lookingpointedlyathim.HeinstantlyrealizedwhatImeant.‘Didshecomebackagain?’Iasked.‘Yes,shedid.Mycoldcoffeebroughtherback,’Kabirsmiled.

8KAFEKABIR

Kabir ’seyesglistenedasifrecallingabittersweettimeofhislife.Ipushedaglassofwaterthatthewaitresshad lefton the table towardshim.He tooka sip,andseemed tobecollectinghis thoughtsbeforehecontinuednarratinghisstory.

~

‘MayIhaveacoldcoffeewithicecream?’asweetvoicesaidwhileIwasbusymakingentriesinthecaféregister.WhenIlookedup,itwasthegirlforwhomIhadbeenwaitingthatpastonemonth.Therewereno

tearsthatday.Shewaswearingthemostbeautifulcoraldress.Shelookedamazing.‘Yes.Sure,madam,’Istammerednervously.‘Nisha,’shesmiled.‘Kabir,’Ismiledback.Ipreparedhercoffeewhileshewalkedovertoanunoccupiedtable.Shesatinherchairandkept

looking at me. It was as if she had this hypnotizing spell she was holding over me—I couldn’tunderstandwhyshewasmakingmesonervousafterawholemonth.‘Thankyou,’shesaidasIplacedthecoffeeonhertable.‘Youaremostwelcome,’Isaid.She took a dainty taste and smiled. Satisfied that shewas content, I began towalk awaywhen I

heardhervoice.‘Iamsorry,’shesaidinnocently.Iturnedbacktofaceher.‘Why?’Iasked.‘Forthatday,’shesaid,gesturingformetositnearher.Therewereonlyahandfulofpeopleinthe

café,soIcouldsitwithoutfeelinglikeIwasabandoningmyothercustomers.Isatdownandthenshookmyhead,dismissingherapology.‘Ishouldbethankfultoyouforallthose

days,’Isaid.She put her hands on the table and leaned towards me. ‘I need to explain,’ she insisted. ‘My

boyfriendbrokeupwithmeandIwasverydepressedthosedays.Iwanttothankyouforthosecoffees.Theyreallymademefeelbetter.’‘Thankyou,’Isaidsoftly,thoughIfeltsomethingbreakinginsideme.‘I’mgladIcouldhelpinmy

smallway.’‘Youdid,’sheresponded.‘Morethanyouknow.’‘Whydidhebreakupwithyou?’Iasked.Itmighthavebeenrudetoasksuchapersonalquestion,

but Iwaspuzzled thatanyonewouldwant tobreakupwithher.Shewasbeautifulbeyondwordsordescription.Shehadthefaceofanangel,andherhairseemedtoframeitlikeahalo.HereyeswerelargeandIfeltlikeshecouldsearchthroughmysoul.Herlipswereperfectineveryway,asifshewasaporcelaindoll.Nishacontinued.‘Westudiedinthesamecollegeandbecamefriendsveryquickly.Heproposedto

mewithinsixmonths.Iaccepted.Helovedmeverymuch,Iknew.Heboughtmealotofgifts,andheseemedtocaresomuch.Wetookourrelationshiptothenextlevelaftersometime.Webecameveryintimateandmadeloveregularly.Andthen,onefatefulday,IfoundoutIwaspregnant.Hewasscaredand asked me to abort. I refused and asked him to marry me immediately. After all, he loved me,right?’Tearswerebright inhereyes.‘Hesaidhewantedsometimeto thinkandwouldcallme later.He

never called me back and would ignore all my calls and messages. I was completely broken.’ Shecouldn’tcontrolhertearsanymoreandstartedcrying.‘Pleasedon’tcry,’Isaid,reachingouttoholdherhands.‘I’msorry,’shesaid,sniffingloudly.Iaskedfearfully,‘Didyouabort?’‘Yes.Ihadto.ThedayyouaskedmewhathappenedtomewasthemorningofmyabortionandIwas

verydepressed.’HervoicewasfirmandIknewshewastryingtoactstrong.‘Iamsorrytohearthat,’Isaidwithtearsinmyeyes.‘It’sokay.Iamfinenow.Thankstoyou.’Iwassurprisedtohearthat.‘Whyme?’‘Notyou.Actually,yourcoffees,’shelaughed.‘EverydayIwouldcomeheretositaloneandthink

aboutwhat I should do. Iwas on the verge of committing suicide. I had lost all hope. I no longerbelieved in love, life or anything good. But when you gave me different coffees every single daywithoutmeevenaskingyou,Ifeltaliveagain.Youshowedmetherewerechoices.SomeonewastherewhogenuinelycaredhowIfeltwithoutevenknowingme.Iknewtherewerebadpeopleintheworld,butnowIalsoknowthat therearegoodpeople likeyouaswell.Thanks foreverything.Youare thereasonIlookforwardtomovingonwithmylife,’Nishaexplainedwithasmile.‘IamgladImadeadifference inyour life,’ Isaid,awarmth fillingmyheart. ‘Ineverknewsuch

littleactsofkindnesscouldhavesuchanimpactonpeople’slives.ButIwishyoucouldhavetalkedtomethatday,’Isaid.‘Whatcouldyouhavedone?’Shewassurprised.‘Icould…’Istammered.‘What?’‘Icouldhavesavedyourbaby.’Shesatstraighterinherchair.‘Whatdoyoumean?How?’Nishaasked.‘Iwouldhavemarriedyou,’Isaid,holdingherhands.Shepulledherhandsoutofmine. ‘Whatareyousaying?’sheaskedangrily. ‘Areyououtofyour

mind?Whywouldyoudothat?Whywouldanyonedothat?’Nishawasfurious.‘BecauseIloveyou,Nisha.Andlovemakesyoudoeverything.Willyoumarryme?’Isaid,closing

myeyes.

~

‘Kabir!Didyoureallyaskthat?’Vivaanaskedindisbelief.

Henodded,smiling.‘Yes,Idid,’Kabirsaidcalmly.Iwipedmytearsascuriositypushedawaymysadness.‘Didyoureallymeanthat?Orwasitjustan

impulsivethought?’‘Didshesayyes?’BothVivaanandIaskedatthesametime.Hiseyesmistedup.‘Yes,shedid,’Kabirsmiled.Iwassoexcited,Iwasalmostvibratinginmychair.‘Sowhenareyouguysgettingmarried?’‘Idon’tknow,’hesaid.Disappointmentwasinhisvoiceagain.‘Thereisaproblem.’Igroaned.‘Afterallthis,whatcanbetheproblemnow?’Iwasshocked.VivaanandIexchangedalookandheshrugged.‘Tellus,’heprompted.‘Whatistheproblem?’‘ShebelongstoarichfamilyandIdonot,’Kabiranswered.Iwasfurious.‘Don’ttellmethatherparentsrefusedtolethermarryyou.’‘No,theydidn’t.Theyagreedtothemarriageandwereactuallyquitehappyabouttheidea.’‘Thenwhat’swrong?’Iasked.Kabirsighed.‘Iwanttokeepherveryhappy;Iwanttogiveherasecurefuture.Iknowmoneycan’t

buyhappiness,butthefactis,it’sneeded.Idon’twantmykidstogrowupasIdid.IwanttoearnagoodlivingbeforeImarryher.’Vivaannoddedhisunderstanding.‘Butthisisasteadyjob,’hebegan.‘Itisagoodjobforasingleperson,’Kabirexplained.‘Butafamilywouldstruggleonmywages.

Nishaissousedtoacomfortablelife.And,aboveall,IwanttogivemykidsthebesteducationandthelifestyleIcouldn’tafford.’‘True,’Iadmitted.‘Love ispowerful,’Kabircontinued. ‘It canmakeyoudo thingsyoucouldnever imaginedoing

otherwise.’Vivaanlookedthoughtful.‘Howdoyouplantoearnamoresteadyincome?’heprompted.‘Iwanttostartmyowncafé,’Kabirresponded.‘Ithadalwaysbeenmydream,andnow,itismore

critical.’‘Youwouldbesosuccessful,’ Isang. ‘Youdosuchanamazing jobhere,and if itwasyourown

place,Ibeteverythingyoudonowwouldbesomuchbetterthere.’‘Thankyou,’hesaidhumbly.‘Butit’snoteasytojustopenupnewdoors.Ineedalotofmoneyand

peopletoworkforme.AsmuchasIwantto,IamveryafraidIwillnevereverbeabletostartmycaféandmarryNisha.Rightnow,IamjusttryingtosaveasmuchasIcan,’Kabirexplained.‘Howmuchmoneyisneeded?’Vivaanpressedfurther.Iwantedtocryonceagain.ItwasalmostcrueltoaskKabirsuchthingswhenitdidn’tseemtobe

somethinghecouldafford.Kabirhelduphishands.‘Aboutfifteentotwentylakh.’Vivaanreacheddowntopickuphislaptopbagandtookoutachequebook.KabirandIexchanged

curiouslooks.Whatcouldhebedoing?‘Hereisachequeforfivelakhrupees.’Vivaan’svoicetookonafirmtone.‘Getstartedwithit.Therestwillbedepositedsooninyourbankaccount,’hesmiled.Iwassimplystunnedandatalossforwords.Kabirlookedatthechequeindisbeliefandshookhisheadslowly.‘ButVivaan,Ican’ttakethis.You

don’tevenknowme!’hecriedout,pushingthechequebacktoVivaan.Iwatchedseveralheadsturninourdirection.‘DoIreallynotknowyou,Mr.Lover?’Vivaandroppedhisvoicesonobodyelseinthecafécould

hearourconversation.Hesmiledandcontinued.‘Andit’snotafavour;it’sabusinessdeal.Wewillbepartnersonthis.Iwillinvestinthebusinessandyouwillrunthecafé.Dowehaveadeal?’Itdidn’ttakelongforKabirtoanswer,althoughIcouldtellfromhisexpressionthathismindwas

racinginamilliondirections.‘Thankyousomuch.’Kabirwasoverwhelmed.Wewereallsilentforamoment.‘Sohaveyouthoughtofanynamesforyourcafé?’Iasked.‘I haven’t really allowed myself to think that far ahead,’ he admitted. ‘Do you have any

suggestions?’‘KafeKabir,’Isuggestedwithasmile.Kabirnoddedandreachedouttotakeourhands.‘Wewilldothistogether,’hesaid,determined.

~

Whataday ithasbeen, I thoughtas Ipulledmy favouritenightshirtonandclimbed intobed.ThesoundsofPunewerealreadystartingtodissolveasmymindbegantodrift.This sudden change in our stories brought up a lot of questions insideofme. Iwondered ifwe

wouldreallybeabletostartKafeKabir,butIalsobegantothinkaboutotherthings.Weallseemedtohaveadeeperperspectiveinlife,weknewwhatwewantedtoachieve,butwerewe

reallyreadyforthatdaywhenthechangecame?Kabirwasafraidofchange,anditwasnoticeable.Hewantedtomakehisdreamscometrue,buthewasunsure.Vivaanwantedtotraveltheworld.Iwasn’tabletoimaginenotsittinginacafé,drinkingmycoffeewhilespeakingwithhimfacetoface.WithoutVivaan,mycomfortablesurroundingswouldbecomeveryforeign.AlthoughIhadmyowndreamsofbeinganauthor,itseemedasifrealityhadsetin.WherewouldI

fitinwitheveryoneelse,astheymovedforwardwiththeirownlives?Wouldtheyforgetaboutme…orwouldIbetoobusylaunchingmynoveltoevenrememberthem?My thoughtswere interruptedby a beep frommyphone. I turnedonmy side andpickedupmy

phone,smilingasIguessedwhothemessagewasfrom.Sureenough,itwasfromVivaan.‘Didyougetyourstory?’‘Yes.Idid,’Irepliedquickly.IcurledmybodyaroundthephoneasIwaitedforhisresponse.‘What’sthenameofthestory?’he

asked.‘Everyonehasastory!’Itextedback.

9TWOPACKAGES

IarrivedatthecafétojoinVivaanforacoffeeafteranexhaustingdayattheoffice.IhadtextedhimearliertolethimknowIwouldbelate;IhadsomeproblemsatworkthatIhadtofixbeforeIleftfortheday.Vivaanwaswaitingformeatthecounter.Isawhimthroughthewindowanddrankinthesightof

himasIwalkedtotheentrance.Hewaswearingablackbusinesssuit,setoffnicelybyabrightbluetie.Irushedinwithanapologeticlook.‘IamsosorryI’mlate.’‘It’sokay.Howwasyourday?’Vivaansaidwithasmile.Igroaned.‘Iamcompletelytiredandstressedouttoday,’IsaidasIfloppeddowninthechairnext

tohim.Helookedsympatheticandstrokedmyarmbeforehebrokeintoasmile.‘Well…Iwasthinking

aboutyou,’hebegan.Igrinned.‘Youwere?’Henodded.‘Igotyouacouplethings.Iwantedtosurpriseyou.Itwon’tfixyourterribleday,butit

mightmakeitalittlebetter,’Vivaansaidinahopefultone.Iblushedandsmiledwidely.‘Youreallygotmeasurprise?’Iasked.‘OfcourseIdid.Iwantedsomethingtoputasmilebackonyourface,’Vivaansaid,passingmea

bouquetofflowersandtwobrownpaperpackagesthatwerewrappedandtiedwithabow.Itooktheflowersandburiedmynoseinthepetals,breathingindeeply.‘Theflowerswouldhave

beenenoughformetosmile,’Ipointedout.‘No,theflowerswerejustthebeautythatIsawonthewayhere.Therealgiftsareinthepackages.

Theflowerswillsoonwilt,butwhatisinthesepackageswillalwaysbewithyou.’Iwascurious;Iimmediatelysettheflowersdownandreachedforthefirstpackage.Iuntied it to

findanautographedcopyofabook.‘Thisbookistheonetheauthorwasdiscussingwhenwefirstmetinthiscafé.Nomatterwherelife

takesus,Idecidedweshouldcherishthatmoment.Itwasthestartingpointtousbecomingsocloseinfriendship.’TearsofhappinesswelledupinmyeyesasI thoughtbacktothatnight.‘Ohmy,Iamat lossfor

words,’Isaid,openingthecovertoseewhattheauthorhadwritten.Tomyfellowauthor,IhopeIinspireyoutobeabletoventureoutonyourjourneyasawriter.Yourfriendtoldmealot

aboutyouandIcannotwaittobeinacafésomeday,listeningtoyouspeak,asyoudidforme.Rememberthatagreatwriterdoesn’tjustputhisheartintohisbookbuthisreader’shearttoo.Bestofluck,ArjunMehraIthrewmyarmsaroundVivaanimpulsively,hugginghim.‘Wow,Vivaan!Youreallydidn’thaveto

dothat!Idon’tevenknowwhat tosay. Iamso touched.Sohappy,’ Isaid,myvoicemuffled inhisshoulder.‘Ohno,’hesaid,settlingmebackonmychair.‘Youcan’tsaythatyet.Youhavetoopentheother

giftbeforeyoucansaythat.’Vivaanmotionedtotheotherpackagethatwasstillwrapped.Iquicklyuntiedthesecondpackagetofindathick,sturdybookwithaclothcover.Ithadmyname

stampedonit.Confused,Iopenedthebook.‘Thisbookistorepresentthefactthatsomedayyouwillfinishyournovelandbethewriteryou

wanttobe.Igotyouablankone;anditisuptoyoutofillthesepageswithyourstory.’Iheldthebooktomychest,squeezingitastightlyasIhadhuggedVivaan.‘EvenifIwriteonlymy

nameinthis,Iwantyoutobethefirstpersontoreadit,’Isaid.‘But,what is theoccasionforsuchbeautifulgifts?’Iasked.Heshookhisheadandsmiled.‘Nothing.Doweneedoccasionstocelebratelife?’I hugged him again. ‘Thank you so very much for such thoughtful gifts!’ I said as tears of

happinessformedinmyeyes.Itwashardtobelieveitwasn’tthatlongagowewerecompletestrangers.Hewasyetamysteryand

Iwasjustapersonattendingauthors’meets.Wehadcomefarinourdailyconversations.Wesharedourviewsonlifeandrelationships.Everyday,ourfriendshipgrewstronger.IcouldnolongerimagineatimewhenVivaanwouldnot

besittingatthecafé,waitingtodrinkcoffeewithme,discussingthevaluesoflifeandourthoughtsabouttheworldaroundus.Iwantedtodedicatemystorytohim.Hisgiftwouldbeaperfectplacetowriteitin.

VIVAAN

10SANDALS

Aswemet eachday,wegrewcloser. I foundmyself thinkingaboutMeeraall the time.Atwork, Iimaginedhersofthairbrushingmycheek,andrememberedhowwarmshefeltasshethrewherarmsaroundmethatdayinthecafé.Noflowerscouldsmellasfreshasthisbeautifulgirl;nosunsetcouldtakemybreathawayasthelookofadorationinhereyes.IfMeeraworeherheartonhersleeve,sotospeak,Iheldmyownheartcloselyguarded.Iwantedto

open upmore, but every time I started to take a step closer to that decision, Iwould think of theoceansIwantedtocrossandthereasonswhyIwantedtoescape.Freedomtemptedmeasmuchasthesweetgirlinthecafé.One evening, wemet in the café. This timeMeera arrived before I did and she turned around,

flashingthosedeepdimplesinhercheeksassoonasshesawme.‘Hi,partner,’KabircalledoutagreetingasIwalkedin.Bynowthecaféknewhisplansanditwas

nosecretthathewouldbeopeninghisowncoffeeshop.‘Hello,Kabir,’Igreeted.‘Meera.Howareyoubothtoday?’As they responded, suddenly the press of customers became too much. Kabir turned to start

preparingmycoffee,butIstoppedhim.‘Another time,myfriend,’ I said. I saw theconfusion inMeera’seyesas Ibrokeaway fromour

customaryritual.IputsomemoneyonthecounterforMeera’scappuccinoandheldoutmyhandtoherininvitation.‘Arewegoingsomewhere?’sheasked.‘Idon’tunderstand.’‘Five days of rain, and it has finally stopped,’ I said, gesturing to thewindows. ‘Let’s go for a

walk.’Grinning,Meera stood up and gathered her coat and bag. ‘That is a wonderful idea,’ she said,

excitementinhervoice.‘Theparkissoclose,’Kabirsaidhelpfully.‘Thebencheswillprobablystillbewet,butitwouldbe

awonderfultimeforawalk.’IlookedatMeera.‘Whatdoyouthink?’Shenodded.Kabir quickly poured the rest ofMeera’s cappuccino in a paper cup and snapped a lid on it.He

handedmeasteamingpapercupofmyown.‘Enjoy,kids,’hesaidwithsparklingeyes.Westeppedoutintotheair,cleanandfresh-smelling.Itwaswarmandalittlehumid.Meerahadher

long hair pulled back in a ponytail and I noticed the tendrils aroundher face curling softly in thehumidity.We turned and began walking in the direction of the park, careful to give way to the rushing

pedestriansaswetookamuchmoreleisurelypace.‘Tell me about your day,’ I invited, threading my fingers in hers. She looked surprised at the

gesture,butdidn’tcomment.‘Itwasn’ttoobad,’shebegan.‘MybossisonvacationandeventhoughIhavemorework,itisa

reliefthatheisgoneforawhile.’Ichuckled.‘Doeshemakeyourliferough?’Iasked.Meerashruggedhershoulders.‘Idon’tthinkhemeanstobedifficult,’shebegan.‘Buthehasaway

ofmakingeverythingseemlikeanemergency.Eventhesimplesttasksappeartobeacrisis.’‘I’veworkedwithpeoplelikethat,’Iresponded.‘Itdoesmakeyourdayslongerwhenthereseems

tobeaproblemeverywhereyoulook.’‘Imagine howmiserable those people truly are on the inside,’ she said. ‘Theymust have ulcers

fromallthestress.Lifeistooshorttoworryabouteverything!’Wewalked insilence, finallycoming to thepark.Wewaitedfor the lights tochange tocross the

street,andthendartedacrossthebusyroadwaybeforethelightsturnedagain.Attheedgeofthepark,Meerastoppedsuddenly.‘What’swrong?’Iasked.Shelookeddownatherfeet,andliftedastylishhighheelinexplanation.‘I’mnotexactlydressed

forawalk,’sheexplained.Islappedahandtomyforehead.‘Sorry,Ididn’teventhinkaboutthat.’She shookher head, dismissingmyconcerns. ‘It’s quite all right,’ she said. ‘I just need tomake

someadjustments.’Shereachedoutherhand,clampingittightlyonmyarm,andreachedtopullasandaloff.‘You’re

takingyoursandalsoff?’Ilaughed.Shegrinnedandnodded.‘Canyouholditforamoment?’Itookthesandalandheldoutmyarmwhilesheteeteredonherbarefoot,pullingtheotheroneoff.

Then,sheplacedbothsandalsinherlargeshoulderbag.‘Better?’Iasked,amused.Shenoddedfirmlyandwebeganwalkingagain.Icouldn’thelpit;shewasevenshorterthanbefore

andIgaveintotheneedtothrowmyarmaroundhershoulder.Inresponse,shesnuggledclosertomeasshepaddedalongonthesidewalk.We walked through the park, enjoyed the evening as we chatted about some of our favourite

childhoodmemories.Ilovedmakingherlaugh;thesweetsoundfilledmysoulwithsuchhappiness,Icouldn’timaginehowIhadnavigatedthroughmydaysbeforeImether.Whenwelefttheparkandreturnedtothestreet,Meerapulledhersandalsoutofherbagandtried

toslipherfeetbackintothem.Whileshewasbalancingonherfirstsandal,shewobbleddirectlyintome.‘I’msorry,’shelaughedasIcaughther,holdingherfirmlyuntilshewassteadyinhersandalsonce

more.‘It’squiteallright,’Iresponded,stillholdinghertightly.Ididn’twanttoletgo.Meera looked up atme expectantly as I reached out and twirled one of the curls near her face

aroundmyfinger.‘I’vebeenwaitingtodothat,’Iadmitted,myvoicedeepwithemotions.‘Youhave?’sheasked,hereyeslockingwithmine.Icouldn’ttalkanymore.Ibrushedhersoftcheekwithmyhand,runningmyfingeroveroneofher

preciousdimplesbeforeIleaneddownandkissedher.

MEERA

11SCARED

Aftertwomonthsofhardworkanddedication,wewerenearlyreadytoseeourdreamscometrueforourbelovedfriend.KafeKabirwasinauguratedwithagrandcelebrationanda‘KabirWedsNisha’declaration.During that time, I had met Nisha and we instantly connected with each other. She had such a

friendly nature andwas so beautiful; Iwas not surprised thatKabir had fallen in lovewith her soquickly.Kabir,Nisha,VivaanandIbecameveryclosefriendsoverthosehappymonths.Wemetfaithfully

everyweekendatKafeKabirandhadagreattime.AlthoughbothKabirandNishawereworkinghardtomake the place a success, theywere able to take time off to nurture our growing friendship. Ivaluedthosetimestogether,justasmuchasIknewtheotherthreedid.‘IknowIhaven’tknownyouaslongasKabirhas,butyouhavemadehimachangedman,’Isaid

oneeveningtoNisha.‘Helovesyousomuch!IoftendreamoffindingthekindoflovethatyouandKabirshare.’IthoughtofVivaan.Wewerestillwaitingforhimtoarrive.Nishasmiledandranherhanddownmyarm.‘Meera,sweetheart,openyoureyes.EvenIcansee

thatyouloveVivaan.It isnobigsecretwhyyouarepursuinghimforyourstories.Yourhearthastoldyouthatyouhavefinallyfoundthepersonwhomyoursoullovesandrecognizes,’shesaid.‘Itisscary,Iknow,tofallinlove.ButVivaanisagoodpersonandIthinkthetwoofyouwouldbeveryhappy.’Iknewshewas right. Ihaddeep feelings forVivaan,but Ihadnever saidanything tohim,apart

fromsomesmallhints,evenafterthekisswesharedatthepark.‘IwishIcouldexpressmyfeelingstohim,’Iwhispered.Itfeltsogoodjusttobeabletosaythatto

Nisha,butatthesametime,theadmissionfilledmybloodwithabitingcoldfear.‘Whyhaven’t you toldhimhowyou feel? It is obvious you are truly falling in lovewith him!’

Kabirsaid,bringingmyfavouritecoffee.Ishrugged.‘Whatifhedoesn’tfeelthesamewayforme,Kabir?Iamafraidhewillrejectme,’I

saidasmyfaceturnedred.ItwasembarrassingtotellmyfriendhowIfelt.Butthenagain,hehadtoldmeandVivaanaboutNishaandlookhowwellthatturnedout.‘Meera,ifyoulovehim,lethimknowhowyoufeel,’Kabirinsisted.‘Ifyoudon’tmakeaneffortto

tell him and he doesn’t know how you truly feel, he might not ever know. You wouldn’t wantsomethinglikethattopassyouby,doyou?’‘No, Kabir, I don’t want something like that to pass me by,’ I replied as I saw Vivaan coming

throughthedoor.

~

MystoryhadturnedouttobequiteintriguingandfilledwitheventsthatIonlydreamedabout.AlothadchangedsincethatfirsttimeImetVivaan.Kabir ’slovestoryalonehadchangedmealot.Iwas

starting to long for the type of relationship he and Nisha shared. I wanted someone to share myhappinessandmylifewith.Ihad togather thecourage to tellVivaanhowI truly felt.Myhandsbegan to shakeas I thought

aboutrevealingmyfeelings.Whatifhelaughed?No,hewouldneverdothat.Butwhat ifhedidn’tfeelthesameway?Iwasn’tsureifIwasbraveenoughtotellhimIlovedhim.ButIdidn’tknowifIhadthecouragetoholdmyfeelingsinanylonger,either.ItwasmidnightwhenIpickedupmyphoneandsentamessagetoVivaan.‘Ican’tsleep.Areyou

stillawake?’Afterfewminutes,IreceivedapoemfromVivaan.

‘Notthepeoplebutthemind,Notthestormbutthesilence,Nottheanswerbutthequestion,Nottheresultbutthereason,Iamscaredof.

Nottherealbutthedream,Notthemomentbutthememory,Nottheliebutthetruth,Notthedeathbutthelife,Iamscaredof.

Nottheendbutthestart,Notthestrangersbuttheknown,Notthehatebutthelove,Nottheworldbuttheme,Iamscaredof.’

I was not sure how to respond. Should I praise his beautiful poem or should I be worried thatsomethingwaswrongwithhim?Ireplied,‘Let’smeettomorrow.’Islept,myhandwrappedaroundmyphone,waitingforhisreply.

12NOGOODBYES

Thenextday,whenIwokeup,IwassurprisednottofindanymessagefromVivaan.Ifiguredhemusthavefallenasleeptoo,soIdecidedtocallhim.‘The number you are trying to call is switched off,’ a tinny voice announced. ‘Please try again

later.’PerhapsheforgottopayhisphonebillinalltheexcitementofgettingKafeKabirupandrunning,I

thought.Ishoweredandgotdressed,slidingintoasoft,longskirtthatIknewVivaanliked.Itriedtocallhimagain,butgotthesamerecording.Iwasn’tsurewhatwasgoingon.Mymindwenttothesadpoemhehadsentmethepreviousnight.I

keptcalling,buthisphoneremainedswitchedoff.Finally,IdialledKabir ’snumber.‘Hello,’heanswered.‘Kabir, thereissomethingwrongwithVivaan,’Ibegan.‘Hehasnotrepliedtomymessages,and

now,hisphoneisswitchedoff.’‘Hemight bebusyworking. I am surehewill get back to you soon,’Kabir said, consolingme.

‘Don’tworry.’‘Ihopehedoes,’Isaid,andhungup.

~

Two days went by and there was no message or call from Vivaan. Kabir grew more and moreworried.Inthemeantime,Iwasbecomingfrantic.WefinallydecidedtogotoVivaan’sbankandfigureoutthereasonhewasn’tresponding.Itdidn’t

takeuslongtogetintothecarandarriveatCitibank.Iwasunabletospeak,soKabirtookover.‘CanwepleasetalktoVivaan?’heaskedateller.She shook her head, allowing her long black hair to sway back and forth. ‘I am sorry, Vivaan

doesn’tworkhereanymore.Heresignedtwodaysago.’Thewordshitmeasifsomeonehadpunchedmeinthestomachandknockedthewindoutofme.

VivaanhadresignedfromhisjobastheassistantmanageratCitibank.Hehadnottoldmethathewasgoingtoresign.‘Doyouknowwhereheworksnow?’Kabirpressednervously.The teller shook her head again. ‘I don’t knowwhere he went, but I doubt he decided to work

anywhereelse.Iheardhimtellingthemanagerthathewasleaving…no,hesaidhewas“escaping”.Itseemedlikehehadhadenoughfromlife.’I gasped andheldon toKabir asmyknees threatened tobuckle. I shookmyhead in disbelief. I

couldn’tbelievehehadmadeall thesearrangementsandhadn’t toldanyofus.Mybody,mymindwerenumbwhenIrealizedhehadtruly‘escaped’.Ihaddialledhisnumbersomanytimes,butthere

wasnoresponse.Therehadbeennogoodbyeorexplanationfromhim.ItriedtobebraveandatfirstIwasdeterminedtobrushitoff.ThiswasVivaan,andhisdreamwas

toescape.IknewthatfromtheveryfirstnightIsetmyeyesonhim.Buttherehadneverbeenanyrealhintthathewasjustgoingtogetuponedayandleave.Icouldn’thelpthinking,howlonghadheplannedthis?Haditalwaysbeenhisplantovanishone

day? He had told me several times that he couldn’t stay long in one place due to his love fortravelling. I knew that. Then why did it crush me when the day finally came that he fulfilled hisdream?Hehadmovedon.Withoutme.WesomehowmanagedtocontrolouremotionsandreachedKafeKabir.‘ComeonMeera,don’tcry,’Kabirsaidashenoticedmyeyesbegintofillup.‘Meera,weallknew

thathelovedtotravel.Butdon’tworry,hewillbeback.’‘Hedidn’tevensaygoodbye,’ Ibrokedown, throwingmyarmson thecounterandsobbing into

them.Iwasheartbroken,andworse,Ialreadymissedhim.Kabirpattedmyshoulders.‘OhMeera,stopyourtears.Iambeggingyoutostop,orIamgoingto

start,too,’hesaid,hisvoicebreaking.Ibroughtmyheadupandglaredathim.‘Howcanyouaskmetostopcrying?Myhearthasbeen

rippedoutofmybody!Theday I finallyget thestrengthandcourage to tellhimhowI feel, he isgone.Iamlostwithouthim!’Ithrewmyheadbackdownandkeptcrying.‘Meera,wewillallmisshimandyouhaveeveryrighttomisshim,’Kabirsoothed.‘Allwecando

isstaybusyandkeephiminourheartsandmemoriesuntilhereturns.’Nomatterhowlonghistripwouldbe,itwasaverylongtimetolivewithoutVivaaninmylife.His

beautifulsmilewouldn’tbewarmingmysoulanylonger.Isatatthecounterasmywholeworldcontinuedtoshatteraroundme.Kabirbroughtmemycappuccino.‘Atleastyouhaveabooktowrite!Youcankeepyourselfbusy

withthat.Maybeyoucanfinishyournovelbeforehecomesback.Wouldn’thebeproudofyouthen?’MywholebodywasstillnumbandIfelt isolatedinthecrowdedcafé.Iknewtherewasstillalot

moreformetodoandaccomplishinmylife,butIthoughtVivaanwouldbetheretoshareit.NowIwastryinghardtofitbackintothatplacewhereIoncebelongedbeforeheenteredmylife.Ifinallyrealizedthatthewallsofthecafénolongerhadanymiraclesleftwithinthem.Ihadlostall

interestineverythingaboutmylifeormystory.EverythingremindedmeofVivaan.

13BLANKPAGES

It felt like ithadbeen forever sinceVivaanhadbeenhere.Therewere still timeswhena steamingblackcoffeewouldbeservedto thepersonnext tomeat thecafé,andIwould turn tosee if itwasVivaan.Writinghadbecomeastruggle.Many timesIwouldreadwhat Ihadwrittenandcry. I tracedmy

fingersover thepreciousbookwithmynameonit, tryingtofind thecourage to turn toonemoreblankpage.ItwasonlywhenIhadlostVivaanthatIrealizedI lovedhimmorethananythinginthisworld. I

wouldhavegivenanythingtogethimback.‘Kabiraskedmetocomeinandtalktoyou,’Nishasaidoneday.Ijumpedinmyseat,nothaving

heardherapproach.‘Nisha,thereisnothingyoucandoorsaytobringbackVivaan,’Isaidsadly.‘Ihavetofigureout

howtogetoverthishumpsoIcanfinallyfinishthisstorythough.’Shenoddedherunderstanding.IwatchedasshesignalledKabirtobringheracoldcoffeewithice

cream.She sighed. ‘Life is about twists and turns,’ she began. ‘It is about experiencing everything and

anythingitthrowsyourway.Somepeopleareheretoteachuslessonswhileotherpeoplewillbehereforeveraswegrowoldtogether.IamnotsureyetifVivaanwillbethereforyou,buttimewillhealyourbrokenheart.’‘I’msureitwill,’Isaid,althoughIdidn’treallybelieveherwordsormine.Nishapressedon. ‘Just concentrateoneverythingyouwanted.This is the time inwhichyoucan

finallybeanauthor.Thereisnooneheretoslowyoudownorstopyou.’‘ButwhatifIneverseehimagain?’Ifinallyvoicedmygreatestfear.Nisharubbedmyarmlovingly.Shewassuchadearfriend,andIthoughtoftheheartachesshehad

experiencedbeforeKabirproposed.Shewas silent for amoment as she put her words together. ‘I have heard that if two souls are

destinedtomeet,theuniversewillalwaysfindawaytomaketheconnection.Evenwhenyouloseallhope, certain bonds cannot be broken. They show uswhowewere, whowe are andwhowe canbecome.Amidsteverything,naturewillalwaysfindaway.’Despite her confident words and my brave determination to move forward and keep writing, I

wasn’tsurehowtomoveonwithoutVivaan;thatwasthetruth.Vivaanmightneverhavedisclosedhisfullstory,buthealwaystoldmejustenoughtokeepmeinterestedandwantingmore.TherewassomethingaboutVivaan’sstorythathadcalledmysoulasifitwasapieceofmineas

well. Itwashardenoughthathehadmovedon,buthavingtofinishabookwherehewas themaincharacterandeverythoughtIwrotewasabouthimwasevenhardertodealwith.Everypagereflectedhisstories.Ithoughtaboutoneconversationwe’dhadwhenIaskedhimwherehewantedtogo.

Heexplained,‘IwanttotravelbutIdon’tmeanIwanttobeatourist.Iwanttobeatraveller,anexplorer. Iwant to exploreanother countryandbecomepartof it.Climb thehills, swim the rivers,walkonbeaches,findthelibraries,discoversecretsandstoriesoftheplaces.‘Iwant tomeetpeoplewhoaredifferent fromme,butpeoplewithwhomIcanstillbe thesame.I

wanttoseethingswithneweyesandlistenwithnewears.Idon’twanttocomehomewhole;instead,IwanttoleaveapieceofmeineachplaceIhavebeen.Andthus,itwouldbeanevenexchange,asItakeapieceofeachplaceIvisit.’Wasthathowmybookwouldend?WithVivaanvanishinglikehealwaysdid,withoutatraceora

word?Ididn’twanttoendthebookinsuchawaythatmadenosensetome.Ididn’twantit toendsuddenlyintragedyandloss.Itwassupposedtobethegreateststorythatanyonewouldeverknow.Atthemoment,Iwasonlywritingtheworld’smostincompletestory.Nooneunderstoodthat,withouthim,mystorywasincomplete.Leastofall,Vivaan.Ididn’tsayawordtoanyonewhenIleftthecafé.Ididn’ttalkmuchnow.Mycouragetogoforward

inlife, theconfidencetoworktowardseverythingIwantedtoaccomplish…allof itseemedtobelockedawayandhidden.Iwasn’tsureifitwasstillwithinmeandjustcarefullyhidden,orifVivaanhadtakenmydreamswithhimaswell.Iwalked tomy car and began driving. Itwas a route I had taken a thousand times to get tomy

apartment.Thetrafficwasunbearable.Thesunwasbeginningtoset,andtheburstofcoloursonthehorizonmadeitlooklikeflamesweredancinginthesky.Beautifulshadesofblue,pinkandpurplespreadacrossaboveme.‘Iwanttotravel,travelthewholeworld.Iwanttogoonaroadtrip.Enjoyeverysunriseandsunset,

sometimesfromahilltopandsometimesfrombehindthetrees.’Vivaan’svoiceechoedinmymind.TearsbegantoformagainasIhitthesteeringwheelwiththepalmofmyhand.Asquicklyasmyangerbubbledup,itsettledevenmorerapidlyintoablandsadness.‘Ihopeyouat

leastseethissunset,Vivaan,andyouremembermehere,whereyouleftme,’Iwhisperedquietlyinmycar.

VIVAAN

14MYMEMOIRS

Thelastthreemonthshadbeencrazy.SinceIhadleftIndia,Ihadseensomuchoftheworld.IstartedmyadventuresinChina.IfelttheburninmycalvesasIwalkedpartoftheGreatWalland

tastedfoodsodeliciousthatmymouthwaswateringweekslaterrememberingit.ThebluewatersofthePeacockRiverbedinJiuzhaiValleyremindedmeoftheskirtMeeraworethefirstnightwemet.Ismiledatthememoryandmovedontothewaterfallsinthepark,theirthunderingsoundnearlytoomuchformyownthoughtstobotherme.IwenttoTokyonext.Theparkstheyhadwereamazing;therewerezoosaswellaslakesonwhich

peopleusedpaddleboats.IsawthesunrisefromMountFijianditwasbreathtaking.Frommyhotel,Iwalked toYoyogiParkand later toured theHamarikyuGardens. Itwassuchabusycity,and Iwasreadyforaquieterstopnext.InItaly,IexploredMountVesuvius,andlatertouredtheruinsofPompeii.Itwashumblingtostand

in theexcavatedwalkwaysof theancient city and faceVesuvius.A shiverwentdownmybackas Ithoughtofthethousandsthatperishedwhenthegreatvolcanoerupted.ItookaferrytouraroundtheIsleofCapriandremainedfrozenonthesideoftheshipasitcircled

thearea.Itwasbeautifultoseetheislandrisingoutoftheoceaninfrontofme.Ioptednottotakethegondolaridetothetopoftheisland,butenjoyedthesceneryfrombelowjustasmuch.Iwent toAlaskaand,bundlingagainst thecold that seeped intomyverybones, I saw theaurora

borealis.Shiveringviolently,Iwatchedthehauntingbluesandgreensofthenorthernlightsdancinginthecrispairwithonlythesnowysurfaceofthegroundtoreflectit.Duringtheday,IsawanimalsandbirdsIcouldhaveneverimaginedexisted.IwasoverwhelmedwhenIsawmyfirstmoose;therewassomethingoddlyadorableaboutthebrown,long-leggedanimals,buttheirsheersizewasawe-inspiring. I couldn’t help but grin as one looked up from the bogwhere itwas eating. Thewaterdrainingfromitsmouthdrippedoffthevegetationthatitwasmunchingcontentedly.Ihadfocusedmycameracarefully,hopingtocapturetheawkwardbeautyofit.IwenttoNewYorkCitybecauseitiscalledthe‘GatewaytotheWorld’.Thecitywasalwaysbusy,

anditstayedopenallnight.Evenintheearlymorninghourscarsrushbyand,duringtheday,peopleare insuchahurry that theyforgethowto liveall together. Itwassobright there,withall thecitylights, that Icouldnotsee thestars.Therewere justdarkskies, therewasnoneof thebeauty that Iknewwashiddenbeyondtheneonlightsthatformedavisualumbrella,lightingupandmaskingwaytoomuch.Aquickflightlater,Iwasinfrontofanotherthunderousspillofwater—NiagaraFalls.Iwalkedout

on the Prospect Point Observation Tower. As dusk fell, I sat on the cold concrete and hungrilywatchedthemulti-colouredlightsilluminatingtherushingwater.Thenextmorning Idonnedaplasticblueponchoand tooka rideononeof the smallboats that

skitterupNiagaraRivertothebottomofthefalls.Ifeltthepowerfulenginesfightingthecurrentsintheriverasweincheduptothefalls.Theroar

wasdeafening,butIcouldn’thidealaughofexhilarationasIfeltthesprayfromthefallscoatingmyface.ThemonsoonsofIndiabroughtsucharelief,buttheforceofthefalls,withthelight,insistentspray,was breathtaking. Iwatched several couples cuddling on the short voyage, their transparentbluehoodspressedtogetherastheykissedortriedtomakethemselvesheardovertheroar.IwenttotheGrandCanyonnext.Iwantedtoseeif itwouldbeasbeautifulasIexpectedit tobe.

Truly,anyphotocouldnotdojusticetotheview.Itwasawe-inspiringtoseesuchanenormouscavernintheearth.Itookadonkeyridetothebottom,lovingeachjostleasthedonkey’snimblefeetpickedthewaydownthesteeppaths.Returning to the topagain, itwasnearly sunsetand theview tookmybreathaway. Itwasas if a

small child had found his mother ’s painting palette and mischievously splashed all the differentshadesacrossacanvas.

15EMMA

Backon theeast coast, Idecided to spenda fewdays inBoston.AfterNYC, Iwasn’t sure if Iwasready for the press of people there, but Iwas drawn to the rich history of the area. Itwas one ofAmerica’sbirthcities,andIlookedforwardtolearningalittlemoreabouttheculture.IdecidedtotakethesubwaytoBostonCommon,alargeparkinthemiddleoftown.Thesubway

was very confusing, but I found some helpful college kids who helped me navigate through thedifferent colours and lines. Still, I was happy to emerge from the subway as I stepped out ontoTremontStreet,attheedgeofthepark.Therewerepeoplemilling about, but itwasn’t as overwhelming asNewYork hadbeen. In fact,

everyone seemed very friendly. There were college kids lounging on the sun-soaked grass, andpeople playing Frisbee.Walking by a playground, I stopped towatch an oldmanmaking ballooncharacters for kids and laughedwhen he handedme a green dog.As Iwas leaving, a little girl’sballoon popped and she startedwailing. I gave hermy dog andwas rewardedwith a huge hug. Ilaughed.Shesmelledlikeapples.‘Youhaveaprettysmile,’thelittlegirlsaidinnocently.‘Wanttocometothepoolwithus?’I lookedather father forhelp.MyEnglish isverygood,but Ihadno ideawhat shewas talking

about. The father grinned. ‘I think you have a new friend,’ he offered. ‘This is Emma,’ he said,runninghisfingersthroughherdamp,blondecurls.‘MynameisMax.’Heheldouthishand.‘Vivaan,’Isaid.Emmagiggled.‘That’safunnyname,’shesaid.‘Andyoutalkfunny!’‘Emma!’herfatherscolded.‘It’sokay,’Isaid.‘Iamfromadifferentcountry,far,faraway,’Iexplainedtothelittlegirl.‘Whereisyourlittlegirl?’sheasked.‘Emma!’Ismiled.Iwasenjoyingthisspiritedlittlecreatureverymuch.‘Idon’thavealittlegirlyet.Ihope

sheisjustlikeyouwhenIdo,though!’Shestartedtuggingherfather ’shand.‘Iguesswe’reheadingtothepool,’Maxsaidapologetically.

‘Youarewelcometojoinus,though.It’ssohottoday,evenI’mgoingtodipmyfeet!’Iagreedhappily.Aftertravellingforsolongbymyself,itwasnicetohavealittlecompanyagain.Emmaslidherhandinmineandhalf-skipped,half-gallopedaswemadeourwaytothepool.Itwas

actuallyalargestoneareawithasmallfountaininthemiddleandonlyafewinchesofwater.Kidswere scampering and splashing under the fountain.At the side of the pool, Emma dropped to thegroundandyankedoffhershoes,jumpinginthewaterwithaglorioussplash.MaxandIfollowedherexample.Itwasoddtobepullingoffmyshoesandsocksinfrontoftwo

strangers,butMaxdidn’tseemtobebashfulashekickedoffhissneakers.Wesaton theedgeof thepoolanddippedour feetasEmmaplayedwithherballoondog in the

water.

‘Doyoulivehereorareyouvisiting?’Maxasked.‘I’monly visiting,’ I replied. ‘Iwanted to see a little of theworld so I quitmy job in India and

startedtotour.’‘Wow,’heresponded.‘Howlongwillyoubetravelling?’‘Idon’tknow,’Isaid.‘IwouldnevergohomebutIwillhavetoeventually.Iftravellingwasfree,

theywouldneverseemeagain.’‘They?’Maxasked.‘MyfriendsbackinIndia,’Isaid.‘So,you’renotmarried,’heresponded.‘No,’Isaid.‘You?’‘Nope.Emma’smomandIsplitupsoonaftershewasborn.Werealizedwewerebetterfriendsthan

spouses.’‘I’msorry,’Isaidautomatically.‘No,no.It’sgoodforus.Ofcourse,Idon’tseeEmmaasmuchasIwouldwant,butthetimeswedo

have are precious. I cherish every second I have with her. So, there is nobody special you leftbehind?’I thoughtofMeera. ‘Yes,sortof,’ Isaid,stretchingmylegsoutandswirlingmyfeet in thecool

water.‘She’smorelikeafriend,though.’‘But…’hepressed.Ishrugged.‘Buttherecouldbemore,’Iadmitted.Itfeltgoodtofinallyadmitthattosomeone,even

ifhewasacompletestranger.‘Willshebetherewhenyoureturn,doyouthink?’IsighedasIthoughtaboutit.‘Ihopeso.’Hereachedoverandpattedmeontheshoulder.‘Then,myfriend,youmightnotwanttotaketoo

muchtimetogoback.’

16KNOWNSTRANGERS

Finally, I sat in the Promenade Plantéea Park in Pariswith an evening picnic of crusty bread andCantalcheeseasIwatchedoneofthemostbeautifulsunsetssinceIhadbegunmyjourney.Itlookedlikethesunwasburstingintothecoloursoffireandthenfadingintopinks,blues,andpurples.Thecouplenexttomeseemedtobehavingagoodtimeastheysnuggledontheirbench.Iwatched

asthemangotdownonhisknee.‘Elizabeth, I have been a fool. I left you behindwhile Iwent on business trips and travelled the

world.WhatIrealizedwasthefactthatthereisnoplaceIwouldratherbethanwithyou.Thereisnootherwomanwhocanevercomeclose towhoyouareorwhatyourepresent forme.Youaremyeverythingandyoualwayswillbe.WithoutyouIhavenopurposeto live,breatheorgoon.I loveyou.Willyoumarryme?’Elizabeth,theladywhowassittingnexttohim,wastoohappytosayaword.Loveisapeculiarthing,Imused,watchingthemembrace.Whenyoulove,youhavesomuchtobe

gratefulforandtolivefor,butwhenyouloseit,yougoonwitheverysingledayasifyouarejustashell.Survivalistheonlyreasononeisonthisearth.Ithasnothingtodowiththefactthatyoufeelanythingaspowerfulasloveanylonger.‘Oh,Steve!Iloveyoutoo.’Iheardherwords,tightwithemotion.

~

‘Itisabeautifulday.Whatareyoudoinghere?Areyoutravellingforbusinessaswell?’Anoldmandressedinabusinesssuitaskedmeashesatonthebenchbesideme.Ihadn’taskedhimtojoinmeasImunchedonachocolatecroissantthatmorning,butIdidn’tmindtheintrusionatall.Irealized,withapanginmyheart,thatIwaslonely.Ishookmyheadandtiltedmybagofpastriestowardshimininvitation.Hegrinnedandreachedin

andpulledoutapainauchocolat.Heheld itup inasilent toastinggestureand tookahealthybite.‘Mm,’hemumbledascrumbs fellontohis lap. ‘Thankyoumyfriend. Ioweyouacoffee for thistreat.Butplease,tellme,whyareyouinbeautifulParis?’‘I quit my job to travel,’ I explained, setting my own croissant on my lap. ‘I have seen some

incredibleplaces,andParisseemstobeoneofthemostamazingcitiesIhaveseenwithmyowneyes.Thereisnothingthatcouldruinthisdayandthebeautythatitholds,’Isaid.Themanlaughed.‘Youhaveneverbeeninloveobviously.EverytimeIwasawayfrommyyoung

bride,itwouldnearlykillme.TherewassomethinginsideofmethatIcouldn’treplace.ItwasasifIcouldn’tsurvivewithouther.’‘Thatistheproblem.Ihaveloved,andthatiswhyIamtravelling.Iamtryingtoescape,’Iadmitted

quietly.Theoldmanshookhisheadslowly.‘Nomatterwhatyourthoughtsareonwomen,letmetellyou

what Ihave learnedabout them.Ihavequiteabitofexperiencesincemyhair is turningwhite,’he

joked.‘Please,’Iinvited.‘Iaminterestedinyourthoughts.’Hetookanother largebiteof thepastrybeforehespoke.‘MyNancywasa lot likeyou.Shewas

everythingamancouldeverdreamof.IwasnearlyoverwhelmedwhenIrealizedhowmuchIfanciedher.IwasalsoafoolfornottellingherhowmuchIcaredearlier.WhenIfinallydid,herpasttookonalifeofitselfandsheallowedit togetbetweenus.Shelovedsomeonewholeftherlifeinsuchanuproarthatitscarredherbeautifulheart.’Iwinced,thinkingofNisha.IwonderedhowsheandKabirweredoing.Weretheymarriedyet?Hecontinued. ‘Nomatterwhat I toldher, thescarsweredeep,and it tooka long timeforher to

openherheart.Bythenwebothhadcareers,andwegotmarried.Now,astimehaspassed,IwoulddoanythingifIcouldjusthaveherback.’‘Whathappened?’Iasked.‘Shedivorcedme,’theoldmansighed.‘Shecouldneverforgetthemanwhobrokeherheart,and

sherefusedtoletmylovehealher.’I looked down at the freshly-cut grass undermy feet. Before I could say anything, the oldman

continued.‘Remember,myfriend.Loveisthestrangestthing.Whenyouhavelove,youwillbeoverthemoon

and it will seem as if nothing can stop you. Love is something that opens your eyes to newdiscoveries,eveninoldplaces.Youwanttodiscoverthewondersoftheworldalloveragainwiththepersonwhoholdsyourheartintheirown.Whenyouloseit,allthatonceseemedtomaketheworldaroundyouwillshatter.‘Whenyoulovesomeone,timeisnoobject,butthememoriesarealwaysstampedinyourheart.I

think itwouldbe foolish foryou tobe soyoungand try to escapealreadywhat lovehas tooffer.Don’tmake the samemistakes Imade inmy past!Go out there and live and love. In the end,wealwaysregretthechoiceswedidn’tmake,thelovewedidn’tacceptandthedreamswedidn’tfightfor.‘Whenfeelingsarepureandtheheartistrue,evenGodisforcedtochangedestiny,’hegrinned.Mycuriositywascertainlypiqued. ‘But can Igiveupall this?’ I asked,gesturingat the scene in

frontofus.‘AllI’veeverwantedwastotravel.ShouldIgiveitallupforonewoman?Andwhatifsheisthewrongwomanforme?’‘Son,’hesaid,pattingmeontheknee,‘somewomencanstealyourheartbytheirbeauty,somecan

stealyourmindbytheirintelligenceandotherscanstealyoursoulbytheirpresence.Butifyoumeettheonewhocanstealyoureverythingwithoutdoinganything,that’stheonemadeforyou.’Hestoodandbrushed thecrumbsfromhissuit. ‘Whywouldyouchaseyourdreamsalonewhen

youcanhaveyoursoulmatebesideyou?’HereachedoutandIshookhishand.‘Youmakesomeverygoodpoints,’Iagreed.‘Thankyou.’Hesmiled.‘Maybeyoucanwaitfordays,weeks,months,yearsorevendecades.Youcanwasteso

muchtimebyjustlookingatthecalendarandletallthetinypreciousmomentsslipby.Butforsomeofus, there’sonlynow,only today.And the truth is,younever reallyknowwhenGodmightneedbacktheoneswelove.Socherisheverymomentandeveryoneinyourlife.’Theoldmanleftmewondering.Perhapshewasright.

Iwasnotdonetravellingyet,though.ThereweremoreplacesIwasdesperatetoexplore.Myplanelanded inHalifax,NovaScotiaandI rentedacar. Ihadheardpeople refer topartsofCapeBretonIslandastheedgeoftheworld.IwantedtoseeitbeforeIreturnedtoIndia.Laterintheday,Icrossedthe swing bridge over the Canso Causeway and arrived on the island, smiling as the fog driftedaroundme.Thefollowingday,IteeteredontheedgeofthecliffofacampgroundatMeatCove,watchingthe

surfpummel thebouldersbelowme.The sunshinewas comfortingonmyback, its rayswrappingovermyshoulders.Theairaroundmewasvoidofhumanvoicesandanymechanicalsounds.Here,atthenortherntip

ofCapeBretonIsland,ItrulyfeltasifIwasattheedgeoftheworld.Ilookedtomyleft,takinginthegentleslopethatcurvedoutofsight.Itlookedsafe,butIknewtheperceptionwasfalse,andthatthelandabruptlyfellawayintothecoldwatersbelow.Tomyrighttherewasasmallbeach,dwarfedbythreateningbouldersabove it.While the tinyarea lookedpeaceful, theboulderspeppering thesandindicatedhowtreacheroustheareawas.I threwmy head back until the sun atmy back heatedmy upturned face.How long have I been

running? I askedmyself, finally giving life to the spark of loneliness that had been threatening toignite.MymindponderedoverthelastmomentswithMeera.IfIclosedmyeyes,Icouldfeelherlipsgentlybrushingthetenderspotbehindmyearlobe.Absently,myhandreacheduptotouchthatveryspot,butmytouchbroughtnosatisfaction.Ineededher;Ineededthatbeautiful,brown-eyedcreaturethatIhadthrownaway.Atmomentslikethis,IwonderedifI’dmadeamistakeinleavingMeera.Mychindroppedtomy

chest in defeat. All this travelling, all the breathtaking sights I’d seen had been worthless alone.‘Seeingtheworld,’Imuttered,myvoiceforeigninmyears.‘Fornothing!I’vebeensuchacoward,running…forwhat?Andfromwhat?’Absently, I threadedmyfingers through thegrassbesideme, imagining thebladeswereMeera’s

fingers.HowselfishI’dbeen.Iwantedher,butIdidn’tdeservetoeverhearhersoftlaughagain.NotafterI’dlefther,walkingoutofherlifewithoutevensayinggoodbye.Inolongersawthebeautyinfrontofme.Instead,IconjuredanimageofmybelovedMeera.She

wassittinginherdarkroom,tearsflowinghotlydownhercheeks.Herhairwasdishevelledandherproudshoulderswerepresseddownbytheenormityofhersorrow.Ihaddonethattoher.Iheardatearingsoundasthevistareturnedtomysight.IlookeddownandrealizedIwasholdinga

handfulofgrass,pulledbyitsrootsinmyownfrustration.Istoodquickly,almostunawareofthetreacherousdropinfrontofme.Inamorerationalmind,I

would be terrified at how easily I could plunge to my death. But I was not rational now. I wasdesperatetoreturntomyplace.ThemomentIrealizedIcouldonlybetrulywholewhenIreturnedtoMeera,thelonelinesstookformandpressedagainstmesoIcouldbarelybreathe.Ineededtofindher.

MEERA

17SOMETIMES

Asthemoongraduallywanes,sodidmypain.TheholethatVivaanleftwhenhedisappearedwasstillthere,althoughitwasoftenfilled,asaholeinthegroundmaybefilledwithrainwater.SometimestheholeinmyheartwasfilledwithablindingredangerandIwasfuriouswithVivaan

forhisabruptdeparture.Sometimes the hole was filled with a hot determination to move forward and live my life,

convincedthatIwouldnever,everutterhisnameagain,nottoKabirandNisha,andnotinmymostprivatemoments.During these times, Iwould deliberately put his unfinished book inmygarbage,certainthatwaswhereitshouldbe.Itmightbeminutes,orhours,butIalwaystookthebookbackout.SometimessadnessjusteruptedandIwouldcurlup,holdingmykneestomychest,androckgently

onmybed.Some days, I understood.After all, to love is to understand and set your love free to chase his

dreams.Sometimes,Isimplydidnotcare.Abouthim,aboutmyfriends,aboutwork.Iwouldcallofficewith

a dumb excuse and spend the day roaming some remote place outside Pune. If Vivaan was sointerestedinescaping,Icouldescapeaswell.Istarteddoingsomestupidthings,likewalkingdownthestreetsaloneatnight.Iwasalwayswarned

nottogooutbymyselfatnight,butIdidn’tcareanymore.Sometimes,IwouldcreepintheshadowsifIsawsomeoneapproachingonthesidewalk,butwhenI

wasalone,Itreasuredthesolitude,thequiet,thedark.WhenIreturnedtomyapartmentafterwalkingforhours,Iwouldchastisemyselffortakingsucha

risk by going out so late at night.Alone. The newswas full of horrible stories;womenmugged,assaulted…orworse.Iwasluckynottobeapproached,Iwouldtellmyself.Neveragain!And then the next night, I would be tossing and turning in bed until I finally gave in to the

temptationforanothernight-timestroll.Isimplydidnotcareanymore.

VIVAAN

18MISSING

IquitmyjobatCitibankandallIwantedwastotravel.AndyetIfeltguilty,andtherewasnothingIcouldtellmyselftojustifytheregretIfeltthatIhadn’tsaidgoodbye.EverydayIscouredthisEarthtofindhappiness.Ididn’tfinditoranythingelsetosoothemysoul

atall.Ifoundwonderfulplaces.ThiswastheopportunityIwouldhavedoneanythingfor.Igottoescape,buthereIwas,astranger

inastrangeplace.Iwasjustadrifterwhoneverstayedtoolong,andnooneseemedtobecuriousaboutmystorythewayMeerahadbeen.Irememberedaskingheraboutherwritingonce.‘I’msortofjealous,’Iadmitted.‘Iamgreatatnumbersandfigures,butIdon’tthinkI’manygood

atputtingwordstogether.Youcanwriteandyourheartsingsonthepaper.’‘Iwanttoinspirepeoplewithmywriting.Iwanttotouchtheirsouls,’shesaid.‘Iwantthemtosay,

shefeelsus,shemovesus.’Icouldhearhervoice,butwhenItriedtopicturehersmile,Istruggledtocallherupinmymind.I

wishedIhadapictureofher,butnocameracouldevercapturethelookinhereyesandthefeelingsinherheartwhenshelookedatme.Yes,Ifinallystartedtoadmit,IneededMeerainmylife.Whathadcomeoverme?Ihadpromisedmyselfnevertofallinlove!ButIbrokemypromisewhen

IlookeddeepintoMeera’seyes.ShewastheuniverseinwhichIwasdiscoveringmyselfforthefirsttime.Shewasthemostamazingwoman,withafaceofanangel.Hercuriosityabouttheworldaroundheralwaysseemedtobeempoweringtopicsthatwouldfascinatemeforhours.I remembered how thoughts of her came to me during my journeys. Shivering in Alaska, the

northernlightsremindedmeofthegreenjadenecklaceshelikedtowear.InCapeBreton Island, I sat on the edge of a cliff, threadingmy fingers through the grass, and

rememberedwhenwewalkedtotheparktogether,holdinghands.Thedayshetookhersandalsoffandwalkedbarefoot.ThedayIkissedher.Iclosedmyeyes.Icouldfeelthesoftnessofherlipsonmine.IthoughtofthelittlegirlinBostonandhowmuchMeerawouldhavelovedplayingwiththegreen

balloon dog in the poolwith her. She had away of grabbing the important things in life and notworryingaboutwhatotherpeoplethought.Everystoponmyjourney,Meerawaswithme.Imighthavebeentryingtoescapefromeverything

whenIleftIndiawithoutsayinggoodbye,butsomehow,Meerahadfollowedmeeverywhere.Meera.Shealwayscameintothecaféwithsuchabubblypersonality.Therewasnothingthatcould

orwouldstopher.Therewasnothingthatcouldkeepherdown.Shealwaysworeasmileonherface;itmadeyoufeellikelifewouldalwaysbeawonderfulplacetolivein.Suddenly,IrealizedIdidn’tcareabouttravelling.ImissedherandImissedmylifeinIndia.The

factwas,forsolongI’dcaredonlyabouttravelling,Ididn’trealize therewasmoretodiscussand

moretosaytooneanother.Ineverreallyleftthecafé,butwatchedfromafarasshelookedaroundforme.WhenIaskedher

howherdaywas,shewouldalwaysanswerwith,‘Mydayisbetternowthatyouarehere.’

~

EverysunsetIsawfromdifferentplacesoftheworldonlyremindedmeofallthetimesI’dspentwithMeera.Wewereindifferentcities,acrosstheworldfromeachother,andyoucancallitsilly,butitfeltasifwewerestillconnectedbyeachsunriseandeachsunset.I had leftwithout a trace,without agoodbyeandwithout telling anyone.But Ihadmyreasons. I

wishedIcouldtellthemtoMeera.IthoughtaboutwhatthemanintheparkinParishadsaidtome:‘Intheend,wealwaysregret thechoiceswedidn’tmake, the lovewedidn’tacceptand thedreamswedidn’tfightfor.’I needed to get back to my friends. All of them: Kabir, Nisha and Meera. I hoped my abrupt

departurehadn’tdamagedourfriendships.Andifithad,Ineededtogobackassoonaspossibletoaskforforgiveness.

MEERA

19HEALING

OnemorningIwokeuptofindtheacheinmychestwasnotassharpasthedaybefore.IstretchedandrealizedthatIhadfinallysleptthroughtheentirenightwithoutinterruption.Notossingandturning,nocrying.Igotoutofbedanddressed,actuallylookingforwardtothedayinfrontofme.Ican’tbelieveit,Ithought.AmIstartingtoputVivaanbehindme?HaveIbeguntoacceptthatheis

notcomingback?I tookaquickshower, trulylookingatmyself inthemirrorfor thefirst timeina longtime.My

hairwaslongerthanIlikedandIcouldreallyuseagoodfacial.Iwrinkledmynoseatmyselfinthemirror.‘Timetoreallycleanyourselfup,’Isaid.Enoughwas

enough,Idecided.IdidaquickInternetsearchandpickedupthephonetomakeacall.Anhour later, IwaswalkingintooneofPune’sspas.Thegoldandbrowntonesof thereception

areacalmedmeimmediately.Iwasgreetedbyasoft-spokenwomanwhoconfirmedmyappointmentonhercomputer.Iwastakenintoaroomandofferedasoft,whiterobeasthedifferentspapackageswereexplained

tomeatlength.Ioptedforarelaxingaromatherapymassageandfeltsomeofthestressthathadbuiltupinmeslowlystarttoberubbedoutofmymuscles.Idozedtothesoftmusicandthesoundofwater.That afternoon, I continued my day of pampering, driving to my favourite salon for a facial,

manicureandhaircut.ItoppedmydayoffwithashoppingtripwhereIfoundabeautifultealsundress.Thatevening,IwenttoKafeKabirtoshowoffmysuccessfulday.IgrinnedasKabirsawmewalk

inandletoutalongwhistle.IwatchedNishashoothimascowlbeforeshefollowedthedirectioninwhichhiseyeswerelooking.‘Meera!’shecooed.‘Youlookbeautiful!’Icouldn’thelpmyself.IspunaroundlikeI’dsteppedoutofamagazinepage.Nisharushedoverandhuggedme.‘Whathappenedtoyou?Whatatransformation!Hassomething

happened?’Shewrappedherarmaroundmineandescortedmeover to thecounter,babblinghappily.Kabir

keptsmilingandleanedacrossthecounterforaquickhug.‘Doesn’tshelookamazing?’Nishasaid.Kabirnodded.‘Youdo,Meera.Iamsohappytoseethischangeinyou.Didanythinghappen?’he

askedcuriously.‘Ifyoumean,did Ihear fromanyonespecial, theanswer isno,’ I saidpointedly. ‘I justwokeup

todayandfeltlikeitwastimetostopmopingaround.IrealizedIwaslookingprettyscruffy,soIwenttogetmyhairdone.’‘Notjustyourhair,’Nishacommented.

‘No,’Iadmitted.‘Igotamassageandafacial…andthenIwentshopping.’Igrinned.‘Ithoughtthatwasanewdress,’Kabirsaid.Nishagavehimashove.‘Sincewhendomennoticethingslikethat?’sheaskedplayfully.‘SinceImetyou,’hesaidandblewherakiss.Iwascaughtupintheauraofhappiness;Icouldn’thelplaughing,andthenlaughingsomemorefor

thesheerjoyofthesound.‘I’mstillsosurprised,’Nishasaid.‘Youaresotransformed.AndIdon’tmeanontheoutside.You

aredifferentontheinside,too.Youarealmostglowing.’‘Idon’tknow,’Isaid.‘IjustwokeupfeelingliketheoldMeeraagain.Ihadalongtalkwithmyself

andsaid,“Youneedtoberealandtruetoyourself.Don’trunawayfromyourself,yourdreamsorthelifewhichyoudeserve.Yes,youcanstilllivemore,learnmoreandlovemorethanyou’vedonesofar.Youhavenothingtoloseandeverythingtogain.Wakeupandruntowardsthebeautifullifeyoudeserve.”’‘Wow,’Nishamurmured.‘Youareamazing.’‘Ithinkweneedtocelebrate,’KabirdecidedandNishaclappedherhands.‘It’sprettyquietinhere

rightnow…thecrewwehavecanhandleitforafewhours.Let’sgograbdinner.’Nishasqueezedmyarm.‘I’mhappyforyou,Meera.’‘Iamtoo,’Kabirseconded.‘Ourtreat.Let’sgoeat!’Wehadawonderfulmealand laugheda lot. It felt sogood tobe jokingaroundagain.Whenwe

finished,Ithankedmyfriendsforawonderfulmeal.‘Comebacktothecafé,’Nishainvited.‘I’llbuyyouacappuccino.Iknowtheowner,’sheteased,

winking.‘Thankyou,butIthinkI’mgoingtoheadbacktomyapartment.IleftmywritingthingsthereandI

feellikeIwanttogobackandwrite.’Theybothhuggedme.‘Thishasbeenagreatevening,’Kabirsaid.AsIheadedhome,IwonderedwhatVivaanwasdoing.IrealizedIcouldthinkabouthimwithout

thatdeep,bitinghurtthatI’dbeencarryingformonths.

VIVAAN

20THEPUBLISHER

WhentheplanefinallytoucheddowninIndia,ItookataxidirectlytoKafeKabir.Nothinghadchangedinthecafé.Itwasthesamelivelyplacethatwaspackedfullhouse.Thecoffee

smellwastantalizing.Iwantedmybelovedblackcoffee,buttherewassomethingIwantedevenmore.‘HiNisha,isMeerahere?’Iasked,asNishalookedatmeasifshe’dseenaghost.Shestoodtherein

uttershock.Ihuggedherandaskedagain,‘Isshehere?’‘No,youjustmissedher.ShewentwithKabirtothepublisher.Weareallhopingthattheylikeher

book.’Hervoicetookonachastisingtone.‘Youwouldhaveknownthisifyouhadtriedtocontactherinsteadofjustvanishing.’Igroaned.Iknewshewasright,butdidshehavetopointoutwhatIhaddone?‘Shecriedeverysingledayafteryouleft,Vivaan.Youbrokeherintosomanylittlepieces.Vivaan

…really…howcouldyoudothattoher?Tous?’Nishapassedmeacupofblackcoffee.Isippeditgratefully,althoughthethoughtcrossedmymind

thatshemighthavespitinit.‘Ihonestlythinkshewouldhavehandleditabitbetterifyou’datleastsaidgoodbyetoher.Itwasthefactyoudidn’ttellherthatyouwereleaving.Youtoldnooneyouwereleaving,Vivaan.NooneknewyouquityourjobatCitibankuntilMeeraandKabirwenttoseeyou.’‘Theywenttoseeme?’Iasked,confused.‘Yes,ofcoursetheywenttoseeyouandthatwashowtheyfoundout.Meeracaredaboutyou.We

allcaredaboutyou,Vivaan.Youdidn’teventellusyouwereclosingallyouremails,andyouturnedoffyourphone.Shewaitedforamessagefromyoueveryday.Everysingleday.Sheneverreceivedone.Shehungontothosebrokendreamswhichseemedtobespinningheraround.’‘Idon’tunderstand.IthoughtMeeraandIwerejustfriends,’Iwhispered.‘Friendssaygoodbyetooneanother.Friendstalk.Friendsexplainthings.Ifyourideaoffriendship

is justwalkingoutoneday,youneed togoback to school and learnwhat it reallymeans tohavefriends.‘Vivaan,youjustleftwithoutaword.Whatyoudidwasescapebecauseyoudidn’twanttodealwith

something.Thatiswhatyouareverygoodat, isn’t thatwhatyousaidinthebeginning?Youdidn’tevensaygoodbyetoKabirorme.Ithoughtyoutwosharedsomethingspecial.Youmighthaveonlybeen financially contributing, but to Kabir, youwere true partners. I guess you provedwith yourmysteriouspersonathatyouhavemoretoyouthanjustwhoyouhadeveryonebelievingyouwere.’Ihungmyhead.IknewIhadalottodotomakeupforallthehurtIhadcaused,buttohearNisha

layitoutinfrontofmelikethatmademefeelsoashamed.Shewalkedaroundthecounterandwrappedherarmsaroundme.Forasecond,Ifroze.Herethis

womanwas,yellingatmeforleaving,andthenshewashuggingme?‘Mostofall,Vivaan,’shecontinued.‘Friendsforgive.’WehuggedforseveralmomentsasIfeltherangersubside.IcaredaboutNisha,soherforgiveness

wasthemostbeautifulgiftshecouldoffer.

Suddenly,IrealizedwhoNishawasreferringto.Iknewwhothepublisherwas.‘Nisha,’Ibeganinarush,‘youareright.Imadeahugemistake,andIwanttomakeitright.I’msorrytorunoffagain,butIneedtofindKabirandMeera.’‘Goodluck,’Iheardhercallafterme.ThispublisherwasafriendofKabir ’sthathehadoftengoneonandonabouttoMeera.Healways

promisedthathewouldonedayscheduleameetingbetweenthem.Iwalkedintothereceptionist’ssmalloffice.Noonewasthereatthedesk,soIwalkedontowards

theofficewherethepublisherandeditorsat.Theymadethedecisiononwhethertopublishabookornot.Icouldhearvoicesthroughthepartially-closeddoor.‘Ihavetoadmit,Meera,eventhoughthisisyourfirstbook,Idolikeit.It’sfascinatingandwell-

written.Youhavenoexperience in this field, yet it seems that somethingvery specialhas inspiredyou,andittouchedyourheartinthedeepestway.Yougotthereaderstofeelthroughthewordsthatareonthepages.Youcanfeelthelovethatisformingbetweenyourtwomaincharacters,VivaanandMeera.Youshowedusthatsometimesthesmallestchangesinlifearewherethelargestimpactscomefrom.Youcreatedthismysteriousmanwhofallsinlovewithagirlwholovestowrite.Iamstunnedbytheplotlineandloveitbeyondwords,’thepublishersaidfromtheothersideofthedoor.IgloatedinthehallwayasIlistened.‘Thereisoneproblem,’thepublisherfinallysaidafteralongpause.‘Whatwouldthatbe?’Meeraasked.‘The book isn’t finished.You ended itwhereVivaan leaves.You never showedwhat happens to

Vivaan.Allyouhaveshownisthefactthattheyfallinlove,andhegetsuponedayandnevercontactsher. That was the ending of the book. What happens to Vivaan? Does he embark on that worldjourney?Doesheeverreturn?Ifhedoesn’treturn,doesMeerabegintolovesomeoneelse?’‘I…Idon’tknowwhathappenedtoVivaan,’Meerawhispered.‘This would just be a waste of time if you don’t finish it. We cannot publish a book that is

unfinished.Iunderstandthatsometimes,inlife,thesmallestthingsmakethelargestimpact,butyoumustfinishthebookproperlyifyouwantmetopublishit.’Iquicklybargedin.‘Vivaanishere.Turnaroundandlookatme.Iamback,andnowIwantyouto

finishthebook.’Meerastaredatme,herbeautifulblackhairaccentingafacethathadgoneshockinglypale.Istared,

waitingforhertomove.Finally,sheshotoutofherchair.‘Vivaan!’Meerashouted.‘Meera,Iamback,’Isaidwithasmile.Meeraburstintotearsandstartedleaving.Ireachedoutandpulledhertomebeforeshecouldwalk

throughthedoor.IwouldnotletherescapeasIhad.Iheldherhandsandsaid.‘MaybeweshouldgotoKafeKabirandhaveacupofcoffeesowecan

allknowaboutmyexplorations.’Kabirdidn’tsayanything,hejusthuggedme,andthenweallmadeourwaytoKafeKabir.

~

‘IwantedtotellyouthatIamincrediblysorryforjustvanishinglikethat,’IbeganwhenIwassettled

atatablewithmybelovedfriends.‘Iwasn’tthinkingaboutthefactthatitwouldhurtyou;thosewerenevermyintentions.ThechoicesImadewhileleavingwereverywrong.IneversaidgoodbyetoyouorKabirandNisha.’InoddedtoeachasIspoketheirnames.‘ThatwasachoiceIhaveregrettedeverysingledaythatIhavebeengone.Ishouldhavetoldyou

thatmytravelsseemedtobecalling,beckoning…andthatitwasmytimetoembarkonmydream.’Isighed, runningmy thumboverMeera’s beautiful, long fingers. ‘Itwas a great adventure. I saw abeautifulsunsetwhileinParisandImissedyousobadly.Iwantedyoutheretoshareitwithme.’Isearchedherface,hereyes,forahintofhowshewasfeeling.Shewasstillsilent.‘Tomorrow I want to see you. I have something important to tell you,’ I ducked my head and

whisperedinherear.Then,louder,Isaidwithasmile,‘Buttonightyoucanpickmybrainaboutallmyadventures,’andbegannarratingthememoirsofmytravels.OnemoredayandMeerawouldknowthe truth. Itwassomething thathadbeenweighingonmy

mindlately,andIwasnervousaboutit.But,aftertheencounterI’dhadwiththeoldergentlemaninParis,IknewitwastimetotellMeeraeverythingaboutmeandmyfeelings.

21THEWEDDING

Bythe timeIgotback to thecorner table in thecafé thenextday, Ihadrealized thatMeerawasn’thappytoseeme.Shewasupsetandangry,butdidn’tspeakofit.‘Youhavesomethingtotellme?’sheasked.‘Yes,’Ibegannervously.‘IthoughtIshouldexplaintoyouwhyIleftwithouttellingyouanything.’

IsensedthatshewasexpectingsomethingelseandIletoutasighandheldherhand.Inherotherhand,Iplacedamarriagecarddatedfor2012,threeyearsago.Hereyeswerefilledwithconfusion,thenangerasshereadthenamesoutloud.‘VivaanwedsRadha?Youweremarried?’sheaskedwithsuchangerinhertone.‘Meera,’ I begged, ‘will you please letme tell you the story before you react? It isn’twhat you

think.’‘WhatIthink?’Hervoiceroseanoctave.‘Youdon’tevenwanttoknowwhatIthink!’Iblockedoutherangeras I continued. ‘I hadbeen in lovebefore, and itwas toopainful to talk

aboutwhenyouwantedtoknowmystory.SoIshowedyouinKabir ’seyes,hislovestory.Don’tgetmewrong,loveisawonderfulthing!Itisthebeatingoftwoheartsastheyplaythesamesong.Iwentto college with Radha. Everything was going great.We exchanged numbers and our relationshipstartedblossomingintosomethingmore.Wefellmadlyinlovewithoneanother;itwasthetypethatmadeyoufeeldizzy.’Itookadeepbreath.‘Wedecidedtogetmarried.’IcouldseeMeerabreakingdown,butIhadtocontinue.‘Iwassoexcitedwhensheagreedtomarryme.Shewasbeautiful,funnyandveryintelligent.She

alwaystriedtohelppeopleinallpossibleways.’‘Vivaan,’Meerasaidcoldly.‘Itrulydonotwanttohearhowinloveyouwere!’‘Please,justhearmeout,’Isaid,grabbingherhandtokeepherfromstandingup.Shepulledherhandawayfrommine,butnodded.‘Fine.I’lllisten,’shehuffed.‘Thankyou,’Iresponded.‘Theweddingplansmovedforward.Everythingwascomingtogetherso

beautifully.’Meeragroaned.Did she just rollhereyes? Iwasn’t sure. IknewIwasupsettingher,but I really

neededtopushonandtellherthefullstory.Shedeservedtohearit.Ishuddered,bracingmyselftotellhertherestofthestory.Itookadeepdrinkofwaterandpressed

on.‘Thedayof theweddingcame. Iwent toPingaleGardenwherewewere tobemarried. Iwasso

excited;Icouldn’twaittoseemybride.’Itookadeepbreath.‘Butshenevercame.’Meeragaspedinsurprise.‘Itriedcallingherbutshedidn’tpickupherphone.Wewaitedforhalfanhour,thenanhour.Iwas

frantic.Radhawasalwaysontimeanditwas,afterall,herweddingday.’‘Whathappened?’Meeraaskedquietly.‘Shewasmissingforthreedays.Icouldn’teat,Icouldn’tsleep.Nothing.Thepolicecameandfora

fewhorriblemoments,Iwasasuspectinherdisappearance.Canyouimagine?ThewomanIwastomarrydisappeared,andifthatwasn’tbadenough,Iwasaccusedofsomecrime!’Meerashookherheadviolently.‘Icannotimagine,’shesaid.‘Whatahorriblethingforyoutohave

hadtodealwith.’Itookashudderingsigh.‘Theyfinallyfoundherbody…’‘Herbody?Vivaan,ohno.’Inodded.‘Shewasonherwaytotheweddingandshewantedafewmomentstoherself.Shewas

alreadydressedinherbeautifulgown,withastunningdiamondnecklaceandearrings.’Myvoicebecameflat,eventomyears.‘Shewasrapedandmurdered.’‘No!’Meerascreamed.‘Yes,’Isaidwith tears inmyeyes. ‘Herbodywasfoundinapark,halfundressed.Thejewellery

wastaken;eventheearringswererippedoutofherears!’Isaidangrily.‘Please,pleasetellmeyouwereneveraccusedofit.’‘No.Iwasattheweddingvenuewhenshewas…killed.’‘Didtheyfindwhodidit?’‘Eventually,theydid.’Meeradidn’tsayaword.Shedidn’tsayshewassorryaboutwhatI’dgonethrough, likeshehad

aboutNisha’sabortionorKabir’sstory.Shejustsatthere.‘Sothat’sit,’Isaidandsighedagain.‘NowyouknowwhyIcanneverreturnyouraffection,Meera.

Iamsosorry.’‘Areyouokay?’Meeraaskedsoftly.‘Iwillbeoneday,’ I responded. ‘FornowI justkeep thesememories tuckedaway inmyheart. I

neverwanttoforgetRadhaandthelovewehad.’Irealizedatthatmomentthatmyhandswereshaking,andIwascoveredwithsweat.‘Thefatefuldaystillhauntsme.Iwishthatyoucouldhavemether,’Isaid.‘Iknowthat’sweird,but

shetouchedsomanypeople.’Meerasqueezedmyhand,theonlythingshedidashereyeshadtearsinthem.Sheswallowedhard

topreventherselffromcrying.‘Iwaslostwithouther,Meera,’Isaid.‘AndIstillam.’Meerawasnowcryingashardas Iwas.Weboth seemed tobe feeling thepainof love. Ididn’t

meantomakehercryagain;Ireallydidn’t.Butsheneededtoknowmystoryandwhommyhearthadbelongedtoandalwayswouldbelongto.‘IunderstandthatyoulovedRadhaandthatyouwillalwayshaveaspecialplaceinyourheartfor

her,’Meerafinallysaid.‘I told you it wasn’t what you thought. I never cheated on Radha in your company. I have no

girlfriendorwomanonEarthwhoinhabitsthatspot.ThisiswhyIdecidedtotravel.Icouldn’thandleallthememoriesandnightmaresthatsurroundmewithRadha.ShesurroundsmeineverybreathofPuneand India.Shewaswhatkept thisplace lively forme.There isnothing thathaskeptmeheresince.ItravelledtotryandfreemyselffromthepainthatIamconstantlyinfromherloss.’Meeranoddedslowlyasifsheunderstood.Iwasn’tsureifshedidorifshewasjustagreeing.

Shewrappedhertinyhandaroundmine.‘Iamsorrybeyondwordsthatyoulostyourbrideonthedayofyourwedding.Radhasoundslikeshewasawonderfulwoman.Shewasveryluckytohaveyouasherfiancéforthetimeyoutwohadtogether.Iknowshewouldbehappywithwhomeveryoufindafter.’‘That’swhatIneedtoexplaintoyou,IneedtomakeyouunderstandthatIcannotloveanyoneelse.I

amtooheartbrokenandstillinlovewithRadha.YoumustknowwhyIcannotcommittoyou.Ican’tgiveyou the lovewhichyoudeserve. Iamalreadycommitted toRadha,andyoudeservesomeonewhoshouldbecommittedtoyoufully.Ihaveenjoyedyourcompanyandthetimewespenttogether;donotevergetmewrongonthat.Ijustcan’tloveyouthewayIloveRadha.’Meerastoodupthen,andasked,‘Whydidyougivemeallthosegifts?Whydidyoucaresomuch?

Whydidyoukissme?Didn’tyoulovemeever?Notforasinglemoment?’BeforeIcouldanswer,sheleft.

MEERA

22THECLIMB

Hisrevelationsweretoomuchformetobear.Yes,IunderstoodVivaan’slove,andashe’dexplainedwhathappenedtoRadha,hisrunningmadesomuchsense.BecauseIlovedhim,Iwantedtostayandcomforthim,butalsobecauseIlovedhim,Ineededto

escapemyselfandprocessthestorythathehadtoldme.Tearsstreamingdownmyface, I ran tomycarandbegan todrive.Where, Ididn’tknow,butas

longastherewasaroadinfrontofme,Iwouldkeepgoing.SometimesItookaroadontheright,sometimesontheleft.Mostofthetime,Ijustkeptdrivingon

astraightpath.Suddenly,IrealizedIwasinGunjawane.SomewhereabovemewasRajgad,anancientfort.Ihadn’t

beenthereinyears,buttheoldstonepathswerecallingtome.BeforeIleftmycar,ItappedoutaquickmessagetoNisha.‘I’mokay,’Ityped.‘Goingtoclimbto

Rajgad.WillletyouknowwhenI’mdown.Don’tworry.’Theclimbwasnottoodifficult,butIwasgladIhadsensibleshoeson.Iwentupthepathquickly,

andenjoyedtheburninmylegsasIclimbed.Ineededtofeelthatpain.Ineededtofeelalive.AsIapproachedthefort,mylungswereburning,andIsloweddownasInavigatedthewell-worn

paththroughameadow.ReachingRajgad, a soft rain began to fall, coolingmyoverheatedbody. I stopped at oneof the

watertanksandtookalongdrinkofwaterbeforeIwentforward.AsIrested,IthoughtaboutVivaanandRadha.Ilovedhim,butcouldIsettleforbeinghisfriend?

DidIdarerevealthedepthofmyfeelingstohim?Andifhedidreturnsomeofmyaffection,wouldIbechasingtheghostofRadhaallthetime?Mytearsstartedtoflowagainastherainfellharder.IwantedtotalktoVivaanagainandthought

about turningback to descend the path.No. I had come this far and the path toChorDarwajawasclose. I had never taken this path before because it was a steep climb. But the idea of seeing the‘hidden door ’ tempted me on. Perhaps, if I made it to that door, I could find the hidden door toVivaan’sheart?Itwasfoolish,butIwasbeyondrationalatthatpoint.Ibegantoclimbthesteep,rockypath,clutchingtightlytothemetalrailing.Whatwasthat?IthoughtIheardmynamebeingcalledout.Butthatwasimpossible.Onaparticularlydifficultpart,Istopped,breathless.Ineededtorest;mylegswerewobblyandthe

rainhadmadetherocksslippery.AsIrecoveredalittle,Iturnedaroundtotakeinthebeautifulview.Ah…IfeltlikeIcouldtouchheavenfromhere.I smiled, a contentedpeace takingovermybody, but then I thought ofVivaan and realized how

wrongIwastorunaway.Iclosedmyeyesandsawthepaininhis.Yes,helovedher.Hewascapableofgreatlove,butthatimmenselovealsomadehimvulnerabletoimmensepain.ItmusthavetakensomuchcouragetoopenupandtellmeaboutRadha.Heranhalfwayaroundthe

worldtoavoidhismemoriesofher,buthecamebackandchosetofacethosememoriestotellme

aboutthem.Andwhenhefinallymanagedtotellme,howdidIrespond?Itookallthatpainandturnedmyback.

I couldbarely acknowledge thehorror that hehadgone through, and the effort it took forhim torecallthatday;I’dcrumbledupthestoryandthrownitbackathim.Ifeltsuchshame.AllIcouldthinkaboutwerehiswordswhenhe’dsaidhecouldnotloveme.That

intimateconversation,hislovedone,rapedandmurderedonhisweddingday…allofitwaseclipsedbymyreactionwhenhesaidhecouldn’tloveme.Ineededtogetbacktohim.Toapologize,tohealhim.Iwantedtoremindhimthatlifeshouldgo

on.Welost,wemourned,butaslongaswelived,wecouldloveagain.Inoddedfirmly.ItwastimetogobacktoKafeKabir.Ithappenedsosuddenly.IletgoofthemetalrailingtobrushthedamphairfrommyfaceasItook

onelastlookattheview.IbegantofocusonthesteepstepsIneededtodescend,whenmyfootslippedontherock.Istartedtofall,reachingdesperatelyfortherailing,butmyhandcouldn’tfinditinmyblindsearch.Ibegantotumble,therockssmashingmybodyandIletoutaterrifiedscream.Mercifully,darknesscamerushingandIfeltnomorepain.

VIVAAN

23OBLIVION

MeeraleftinsuchahurrythatIknewI’dhurther.Istartedtorushafterher,butIdidn’tthinkIcoulddohermuchgoodwhileIwas insuchastatemyself. Ihadpulledoffa long-guardedbandageandshowedherthedeepwoundthatIhadhiddenfromherforsolong.Iwentforalongwalk,tryingtocollectmythoughts.Iwantedtobeinabetterframeofmindwhen

shecameback.HourslaterIreturnedandwentbacktothetableinthecorner.Kabirgrabbedtheseatthathadbeen

occupiedbyMeera.‘IheardyourwholestoryandwhatyoutoldMeera,’Kabirsaidandthentookadeepbreath.‘Please

don’ttakethisthewrongway,butIwantyoutoknowhowproudIamofyouthatyoufacedyourpastandtoldMeeraaboutyourRadha.’Iwinced,hearingKabirsayhername.But Inodded. ‘Thankyou,myfriend.Andnowyouknow

whyIran,too.Ioweyouanapologyaswellfornotsayinggoodbye.Itreatedyourfriendshipbadly.’‘Weallmakemistakes,Vivaan,’heresponded.‘Andwemovepastthem.YouareadearfriendandI

amhappyyou’reback.’Itookasip,gladtohaveourfriendshipongoodtermsoncemore.Kabircontinued.‘Meeralovesyouverymuch.’Isighed.‘IalreadytoldherthatIcannotfeelthesamewayforher.’Kabirshookhishead.‘That’sthepointIamtryingtomake.Youloveherjustasmuchassheloves

you.Idon’tunderstandwhyyouarelockingupyourheart,Vivaan.Youarepunishingyourself!Youdon’tneedtoloveherlikeRadha;youjustneedtoloveherlikeMeera,’Kabirpointedout.‘That’sthethingIwastryingtotellher,’Isaid,frustrated.‘Ican’tloveanyone.Period.Thatiswhy

Ileftwithoutsayinggoodbye.Iknowshelikesme,butIcan’tloveherback.’Ashadowonthebackdoorcaughtmyeye.IthoughtforsureI’dseensomeonestandingthere,butI

guessitwasjustthewaythelighthadhitit.‘IlovedRadhaandwillalwaysloveher.IcannotjustturnaswitchandsaythatIwillnotloveher

anymore.IknowMeerawasprettyupsetandangrywithme,butIdecideditwasbest tobeupfrontaboutthis.’Kabirlookedatmewithhiseyebrowsraisedindisapproval.‘Doyouknowtheworstthingaman

candotoawoman?’Ishrugged.‘Iamassumingitisbeingunfaithful.’‘No,itismakingherfallinlovewithyouwhenyouhavenointentionsoflovingherback.’IlookeddownwithoutmakingeyecontactwithKabir.Hewasright.Ifeltshameeruptinmeonce

again.

~

‘Kabir!Vivaan!Wemustgettothehospitalquickly!’Nishasaidasshehungupthephone.Myheart

lurchedasIheardtheterrorinhervoice.‘Why?Whatisgoingon?’Iasked.‘ItisMeera!Shewasinanaccident.’Withoutanotherword,weallrushedoutofthecaféandgotintoKabir ’scar.‘Wherewasshe?’Idemanded.‘ShewenttoRajgad,’Nishasaid.‘Rajgad?’Iyelled.‘Whydidshegothere?Andwhathappened?’Nishashookherhead.‘Idon’tknow,Vivaan.Let’sgettothehospitalandfindoutwhathappened.’Howcouldthishavehappened?Wassheveryangryandnotpayingattention?Ithought.We reached the hospital and inquired about Meera. Minutes slipped into hours as we waited

desperatelyoutsidetheemergencywardforthedoctortocomeoutandtellussomething.Ijustknewtherewasanaccident.IfeltasifIwashelplessagain,asIwaswhenRadhadisappeared.TherewasnothingIcoulddoforMeeraasshelayinthatroom.TragedysurroundedthoseIlovedandIcouldn’thelpbutwonderwhy.Icontinuedtopace.ThenIsatbackdown,wrappingmyarmsaroundme.Icried,rockingmyself

backandforthinthechair.‘Tellmeagain,Nisha,’IsaidwhenIcouldspeakagain.‘Rajgad?’‘That’swhathertextsaid,’Nisharesponded,hervoicethickwithtears.Kabirheldhertighter.‘Butwhy?’‘She was escaping,’ Kabir said. It was too ironic. I dropped my head to my chest and started

sobbing.Ifeltahandonmyshoulderandlookedup.Nishawastryingtogetmyattentionbecausethedoctor

wasapproachingus.IwashopefulandterrifiedatthesametimeasIsearchedhisfaceforsomesign.‘Shehasbeenstabilized,’thedoctorsaidquietly.‘Herbodyisbadlybroken,butwehavedoneall

wecanfornow.’‘Whathappened?’Idemanded.‘I’mnotsure.Thereportsarethatshesomehowfellwhileclimbingtothefort.Luckilysomeother

hikerswereclosebyandcalledtheemergencypersonnel.Ahelicoptergottoherprettyquicklyandbroughtherhere.Pleaseexcuseme;Ineedtogetback.’‘CanIgoinandtalktoher?’Iasked.‘Sir,’hesaidcautiously,‘sheisstabilized,butatthemoment,sheisstillunconscious.Shewillnot

betalkingtoyouuntilshegainsconsciousness.We’removinghertotheIntensiveCareUnit.’‘IntensiveCareUnit?’Kabirsaid.‘Ithoughtyousaidshewasstable?’‘She is stable enough that we can move her. She is still in a serious condition. But she is

unconscious,andthelongersheisunconscious,thegreaterthechancethattherearecriticalproblemsthatarelife-threatening.’Thedoctor ’swordsrippedoutmyheart.HowlonghadIbeenthere?Wasithours?Minutes?Icouldn’trememberasI lookedaroundand

followed the doctors after they moved Meera to the Intensive Care Unit. People seemed to besufferinginthisward.Everysingleoneofthemwasfacingalife-and-deathcondition.Somewereill

fromdiseases,whileotherswerelikeMeera,brokenfromaccidents.Meera’sfacewasswollen,andhereyelidswereshut.Herheadwaswrappedinbandages,andshe

washookedtomachinesthatmadeherbreathe.Ididn’tknowwhatall themachinesdid,butIknewthatthesoundsweredrivingmenuts.Ifeltasifthiswasmyfault.Iwasn’tthepersonshethoughtshehadknown.IwasthepersonwhotoldheraboutRadhaandbrokeherheart.Shestormedoffinhercar,climbedthefortandendedupinanaccident;nowIwasprayingforherlife.‘Iwillstayhere.Please,gohomeandrest.Iwanttobewithherwhenshewakesup,’Isaidfirmlyto

KabirandNisha.IsatinachairnexttoMeera.IVswereinherdelicatehandandabreathingtubewasinhermouth.Ifeltthatshewasinastateofoblivion,awebofmedicalinstrumentstryingtokeepheralive.My

eyes stared at the blinking red and green lights as she fought for her existence. I realized I wasfightingformybreathaswell.‘WhatIhavedone?’Isaidsoftlytoher.Ihadachancetofeelloveagain,andthisishowItreatedit.

Kabirwasright;theworstthingamancoulddowasmakeawomanfallinlovewithhimandhavenointentiontoloveherback.ThatwaswhatIhaddonetoMeera.I held her hand as I started sobbing next to her.My eyeswere locked on her and Iwas silently

beggingher torespond.Hereyesdidn’tflicker.Thenoisesof themachinestoldmewhatherbodywasn’tdoingforher.Ittoremeapartseeingherinthiscondition.‘Meera!’ I said. ‘I gifted you things because I loved you. I cared for you because I loved you. I

kissedyoubecauseIlovedyou.Ilovedyoueverymoment.Ialwayshad.ThatwastherealreasonIcamebacktoIndia.Icouldn’tgoadaywithoutthinkingaboutyou.Youweremywholeworld,andIfeltsoguiltythatIwassupposedtostillloveRadha.Oh,Meera!IfIloseyou,Ilosemywholelife.Yougavemeareasontolive.Yougotmetogetupandchasemydreams.Andnowlookatyou.Youarestuckinahospitalbedwithtubesandmachineskeepingyoualive.Wakeup,mylove.Ifyouwakeup,IcantellyoueverythingandhowIfeel.IwillfindawaytodealwithRadha’sdeath.Ijustdon’tthinkIamgoingtobeabletobearitifyoudie.Iwon’tbeabletohandleitatall.’EverysooftennursescameinandworkedonMeera.Theywouldwriteonherclipboard.Someof

thenursestriedtotalktome,otherswouldignoreme.Ididn’tcare.IheldMeera’shandandrefusedtogoanywhere.Whenthedaybecomenight,IproppedmyselfuponthechairasIheldherhandandwoulddozeoff.Thesoundsofthemachinesdidn’tgivemeagoodnight’ssleep,butIwantedtobethere,holdingherhand,ifshewokeup.ShewouldknowthetruthandknowthatdeepdowninsideshecouldneverreplaceRadha,butshecouldfindanotherpieceofmyheartthatwouldbejustforher.Somepiecesoflifefindthemselvessoattachedtoourmindthatwhentheyaregone,theyremindus

ofthemselvesalotmorethanbefore.Yetsomedaywewillrealizethateverypiecebecomesblurry,everymemorystartsfading.Justlikeanoldbook.

24SQUEEZEMYHAND

Hoursturnedintodaysanddaysturnedintoaweek.IwasexhaustedandlookedlikehellwhenKabirandNishacameinanddroppedofffoodforme.‘Howisshe?’Kabirasked.Ishrugged.‘Thedoctorsaidshehasbrainactivity,whichisgood.Otherthanthat,shestillhasn’t

regainedconsciousness.Sheisstillinacoma.Iamscaredoflosingher.IshouldhavetoldherhowIreallyfeel,butIwastryingtoprotectmyselffromthis.HereIaminahospitalroom,goingthroughthisagain.’‘Vivaan,youneedtogohomeandshower.Takeafewhoursandgotakecareofyourself.Youneed

toatleastshave—youhaveabeardnow,’Nishapointedout.‘Ican’tgoanywhereuntilMeerawakesup.’IfeltalmostchildishasImadethisannouncement,butI

couldn’tbringmyselftoleaveherside.Thenursesencouragedmetotalktoher.Sometimes,Itoldherstoriesaboutmytrip;othertimes,I

justtoldherwhatwasinmyheart.Iadmittedtoherthat,throughmyjourneys,Irealizedthatonecanneverrunfromone’sownself,

one’sownsoul.‘Thedaywemet,Iwasalmostfrozen.…YouweresobeautifulthatIwantedtospeaktoyou,butI

wasafraidtoutteraword.Iheldmybreathandwantedtostoptime.RightfromthestartIknewthatIhadfoundahomeformyheart.’AnursecameinandIstoppedtalking.Shegesturedformetocontinue.‘Meera,youturnedmyworldupsidedown.Yougivemeimmensehappiness…youaremysoul.

Mylove,Idon’twanttolookbackinfiveyears’timeandthink,“Wecouldhavebeenmagnificent,butIwasafraid.”Infiveyears,Iwanttorememberhowfeartriedtocheatmeoutofthebestthinginmylife.ButIdidn’tletit.’ThenursewrotesomethinginMeera’schart.Ididn’tlookatherdirectly,butIcouldseeoutofthe

cornerofmyeyethatshewaswipingawaytears.‘Sweetheart,’ Ibegged. ‘Squeezemyhand.With itcomesmyheart, soul, love, trust, faith,hopes,

dreams,pastandfuture.‘Takemyhand,andwithit,allIhaveandallIamisforeveryours.’Ididn’tgoanywhere;Ididn’tescape.EveryonethoughtIshouldleavetheroomtodothings.They

toldmethehospitalwouldcallmeupiftherewereanychanges.Ididn’twantacallfromthehospital.Iwantedtoseeherdarkbrowneyeslookdeepwithinmyown.

MEERA

25TRAPPED

Ilookedaround,butnothingseemedfamiliar.WherewasI?I triedtoseetheground,butitdidnotseemtobeunderme.IfeltlikeIwasnowhere,yeteverywhereatthesametime.AmIfloating?Mymindwasajumbledconfusion.ThenIfeltsomeoneclose.Iknewwhohewas,althoughIcouldn’tseehim.‘Iseeyou,Vivaan,’Icriedout.‘Ifeelyouthroughthisinvisibledistancebetweenus.Iseeyouthroughthewordsyouutterbeside

me.Everytimeyoukeepacheckonme,Ifeelyourtouch.Butthereissomethingmissing.SomethingIcannotfeel.It’syourwarmth.‘Somenights,whenyouholdmyhands,Ifeelyourtearsrunningovermypalm,overmyhand.But

Ican’tfeelifit’swarmorcold.HaveIlostmyabilitytofeel?Vivaan,tellme,whydoIwanttocryevery timeI seeyousobbing. I tryhard toweepandventoutall the frustrationandangerburninginsideme.ButIfail,always.‘Vivaan,Iamsorry,butIamscared.Myonlywishistobeabletomovemyhandandholdyours

tight.Ihavetriedmybesttoliftmyfingersandtellyounottolosehope.Butitisallinvain.Idreamofhowwemetandthemomentswespenttogether.Itrytoescapemyrealityrightnowandfallasleeptodreamaboutusbeingtogetheragain.AndyetwhenIwakeup,whatIseeisthisdarkreality.IwanttoclosemyeyesandseethelightwithinmebutIcannotfeelmyeyes.‘Vivaan,Ifeeltrappedwithinmyself.Pleasehelpme.’

VIVAAN

26AFORGOTTENDIARY

ThemachineswhirledonasMeeralaylifelessintheIntensiveCareUnit.Iwasn’tsurehowlongIhadbeenthere.Nursescamein,checkedMeera’sstatsandwalkedbackout.One day, a nurse—placing her hand on my shoulder—said, ‘Her memories are intact. She

rememberseverything.’Ididn’tknowwhattosay,soIjustnodded.IthadbeeneightmonthssinceIhadseenanysignsof

improvementinMeera’scondition.Iwaitedfortheslightesthintofmovement.Butshejustlaystill.Ididn’tleaveMeera’ssideexcepttogotothebathroom.Onoccasion,anursewouldordermeinto

ashower,andIwouldrushunderthewater.SometimesIputmydirtyclothesbackon;othertimes,IwasabletochangeintofreshclothesthatKabirbrought.Ididn’tgohome.NishaorKabirwouldcomeineverydayandbringmefoodaroundmealtimes.

Oneday, theybrought someofMeera’sbelongings, hoping to seeherwakeup.Oneof the thingsNishabroughtwasherdiary.‘Havetherebeenanyimprovements?’Kabiraskedoneday.Ishookmyhead.‘No,butthedoctorstillsaysthereisbrainactivity.Hethinksthatshelistenstome

whenIreadtoher.Ihopethatisthetruth.Iamgoingtoreadherstoryoutloud,andIhopebeforeIfinishit,shewakesup.’Kabirbentdownandgavemeahugbeforeheleft.Ibegantoramble.‘Oh,Meera!IwishIhadtoldyoueverythinginsteadofactingthewayIdid.Iwas

wrong!There’ssomuchIwanttotellyou!’Istrokedherhair.‘IwanttotellyouallaboutwhyIreturnedtoIndia,nottotellyouaboutRadha,

butbecauseIloveyou.IloveyoumorethanIwantedtoadmit.TherewillalwaysbeaplaceinmyheartforRadha,buttherewillbeadifferentplacehereinmyheartforyou.WakeupsoIcantellyouinperson.’Iwantedtoseeherdarkbrowneyesagainjustlookingatme,butnotevenaflickeroflifeseemed

tomoveinsideher.I letoutasigh.Kabirhadbeenright—Iwasgivensuchagift. Iwasn’tcursed,butgivenanother

opportunitytolove.Ilookedoverather.Herfacewasswollen,andhereyeswerestillshutastubeshelpedherbreathe.Shewasn’tthesameangel-facedMeerathatshewasjustbeforetheaccidentwhenshewashurtandangryatmeandstormedoutofthecafé.‘Mylove,’Ibegged.‘Don’tjustbreathe,liveyourlife.’Still,nothing.Ipickedupherforgottendiaryandlookedather.Therehadtobeawaytohelpherthroughthis.

Eventhoughshewasinacoma,Iwouldhelpher.Ihadnoclueifitwouldmakehercomebacktoourworld or not, but I started reading the story she hadwritten out loud to her. Every single day sheseemedtobeunchangedbytheworldaroundher.I toldheraboutthetraveller inthecaféandhowsomedayhewouldembarkonthisworldadventure,butfornowhetookherhandinhisandwatcheda

sunsetinPune.Then,IturnedapageandfoundtheentryforthedaythatKabirhadreadoutloud.Stuffedbetween

the pageswas the napkin that read ‘BEAUTIFUL’. Shewas beautiful, and herwritingwas beyondbeautiful…ifonlyIcouldtellheragaintoherfacewhenshewasawake.The journey with Vivaan, the traveller, seemed to keep going on. She had me doing and

encounteringallsortsofthings.Shehadcapturedeverymomentasifhermindwasacamera,andIwaswitnessingthisfortheveryfirsttime.IflippedthroughthebookandfoundtheentryfromthedayI’dleft.Thepagesseemedtear-stained,andseveralpageshadbeenremoved.Thatwaswhatshehadthoughtwastheend.IknewIwasnowriterandIwasfarfrombeinganauthor.Iturnedthepage.‘Vivaancameback!’it

read.ItwentintoadescriptivepassageonhowIhadsurprisedher.Icontinuedreadingfurther,abouthowIwantedtomeetheratthecaféandthatIhadsomethingtotellher.‘Ithinkheisfinallygoingtoadmithelovesme!Ithinkhemightpropose.IamsoscaredandexcitedthatIhavebutterfliesinmystomach.’I stopped reading. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what happened.My eyes began to tear up all over

again.WhathadIbeenthinking?HowcouldIhavebeensoruthless?

27YOU

Meerawasstillunconscious.MypatiencewasfinallywearingthinandIknewIwasonthevergeofbreakingdown.IhadtoexpressmyselforIwouldgomad.Iheldherhands,closedmyeyes,andutteredthedeepestfeelingsofmyheart.‘IwasneverawriterandIdon’taspiretobeoneeither.IwasneveragoodreaderandIdon’tknow

ifIwilleverbeone.Butnow,Ihavebeenmuchmore.‘Everyday,Iwokeup;Itriedtofindreasonstolive.Everynight,whenIslept,Itriedtofindreasons

tonotdie.Everymoment,Itriedtofindreasonstohope,dreamandlove.ButIneverfoundthem.UntilImetyou.‘Isawchaos,confusion,andfearallaroundme.Butnotwithinme,afterImetyou.‘Time decides our fate, our journey. And when time changes, everything changes. Everything.

Sometimes forworse,sometimes forbetter.Andsometimes, for thebest. Ineverbelieved that.Untilyouhappenedtome.‘It’s not a story and maybe it’s not love. It’s about something more real than stories and more

powerfulthanlove.It’saboutyou.Yes,you.Realandpowerful.‘Ihaveneverbeenhappywithsomeone.Iwantedtobewithdifferentpeopleatdifferentplaceswith

differentfeelings.Iwantedtoexploreeverything,knoweveryone.ButthenIexploredyou.AndIfoundyouarenot justONE, youarean infinity.An infinity of love, care, trust, respect, understanding.Auniverseofinspirations,aspirations,hopeandhappiness.MaybeyouaretheuniverseouttherewhichIexplore.OrtheuniverseinmethatIseek.‘Youdonotstart,nordoyoueverend.Youareconstant,yeteverchanging.Youareeverywhereand

yetjustwithme.Youaremycreatorormycreation,Iquestionmyself.’‘Beautiful,’wasthewordIheard.Eachsyllablewaslaboured,forcedandtired.Ilookedup,startled.

TherewasmyMeera,withtearsinhereyes.Ididn’tknowwhattosay.Wasitamiracleorthepoweroflove?Wasitalldestined?Ikissedher,andkeptmyfaceclosetohersasourtearsmixedtogether.

EPILOGUE

EVERYONEHASASTORY

Fatehaddrawnmystoryoutofme.IknewwhenImetVivaanthathisstorywastheoneIwantedtotell,butIcouldneverhaveimaginedthedepthsandlayersthatIwouldencounter.Istillhadtowalkwiththesupportofacane;mybodywasslowertorecoverfromthefallthanI

wanted. I had brokenmultiple bones,my leg bearing theworst of the physical damage. I enduredpainfultherapiesand,atonepoint,IwastoldImayneverwalkagain.ButIwasdeterminedthatwhenIstoodupinfrontofpeopleatthecaféandreadexcerptsfrommy

book,Iwouldbestandinginthetruestsense,andnotspeakingfromawheelchair.AlmosttwowholeyearshadpassedsincethedayImetVivaanandhisstorybegantospininmy

mind.HowyoungI’dfeltthen,intenselylisteningtoArjunMehraanddesperatelywantingtobecomeanauthorlikehim.Now,IlookedatallthepeopleandmyhandsseemedtoshakeasIrealizedIwouldbeinfrontof

this crowd, entertaining themwithmy story and explaining how, two years ago,my life changedaltogether.Vivaan noticed and extended a steadying hand out, squeezingmine encouragingly. ThetremblingstoppedasIfelthisenergyanditgavemethestrengthIneeded.Mybookhadfinallybeenfinished.Itwasnolongeran incompletebook.Iwassurprisedthat the

publisherhadlikedtheideathatVivaancontributehisperspectiveaswell,andIwasthrilledatthefactthat,althoughIbeganthisstory,wefinishedittogether.‘Stopworrying!Youwillbefine!’Vivaanwhisperedashekissedme.‘You act like you are positive of that,’ I whispered as I returned his kiss. ‘I wish I had your

courage.’‘I’llshare,’hegrinned.‘Thistimeyouwon’tbetryingtofacethecrowdalone.Wearegoingtobe

doingthistogether.Butyou,MissWriter,willhavetobeginityourself.Youneedtohaveyourtimeonthestagebyyourself.Afterall,thisbookwouldneverhavebeenwrittenifitweren’tforyou.’IsmiledasIlookedintohiseyes.Ilovedtheuniversewithinthem,theonethatmademenotonly

discovermyselfandmystory,butalsomademe realize that sharedhappinesswas thebest typeofdreamcometrue.Kabirpointedtohiswatchandmotionedtome.Hegrinnedandclearedhisthroat.‘Ladiesandgentlemen,’hebeganloudly.‘Itisfinallythetimethatyouhavebeenwaitingsolong

for.IamsoexcitedtobestandingheretointroduceyoutoMeera,ourownauthor.Meerabeganmuchlike you, sitting in those very chairs over many long nights and weekends, writing a marvellousstory,’Kabirsaid.Thecrowdroared,clappinginexcitementasIwentupinfrontofeveryone.Myheartwasbeating

fast,andIwassuresomehowIwasgoingtomessitup.Myeyessearchedthecrowd.Somanyeyesweresetonme,butthenminelockedonVivaan’s.Henoddedhisencouragement.‘MynameisMeeraandIamtheauthorofthisbook,EveryoneHasaStory.Twoyearsago,Iwas

sittinginacafé,listeningtoanauthor,ArjunMehra,talkabouthiswriting.Iwaswrappedupinmy

ownlittleworld,listeningsointentlytotheauthor.Iwasmesmerized,butunawareofthemanbehindmewhowantedtotraveltheworld.WhatIdidn’trealizeatthetimewasthatthecuriosityofthismanwould takeus throughanamazing storyof friendship, loveand life.Neitheroneofus couldhavepredictedhowitwouldend,’Isaid.I sipped somewater andcontinued, ‘Every singleday, anotherpage is addedandasonechapter

finishes,anotheronestarts.‘Remember, everyone has a story. Itmight ormight not be a love story. It could be a story of

dreams,friendship,hope,survivalorevendeath.Andeverystoryisworthtelling.Butmorethanthat,it’sworthliving.‘IfIhaveanywordsofadviceforyou,itisthis:embraceeveryday,eventheroughones.Eachday

isyourveryownpage,andyouhavethepowertowrite thewordsonthosepages.Becourageous,andbestrong,butdon’tforgetitisokaytobeweakattimes,too.’I lookedoveratKabirandNisha.Theywere listening,but theirattentionwas turnedelsewhere.I

could seeher takehishandandplace it overhergrowingbelly.Around thenormal cafénoises—scrapingchairsandbrewingcoffeepots—IheardKabirdrawinasharpgasp.MyeyesfilledwithhappytearsandIwipedthemaway,turningmyattentionbacktomyaudience.

‘Lovehardandforgivemistakes.Notonlyotherpeople’smistakes,butyourownaswell.’Thecrowdonceagainstartedapplauding,andIsmiled.‘Whatwillyoudonow?’agirlfromthecornertableasked,hervoiceprojectingtobeheard.Vivaanstoodupashemadehisway to thefront tostandnext tome.Arippleofapplauserolled

thoughtheaudienceastheyrealizedwhoVivaanwas.He draped his arm overmy shoulder possessively and squeezed it. ‘We are going to travel the

worldtogetherandcontinuetowritestoriesaboutourjourneys,’hesaidconfidently.‘Wherewillyougo?’Ispokeup.‘Anywhereandeverywhere.Butalwaystogether.’Hedropped a kiss onmy foreheadbefore turningback to the audience. ‘Althoughyouhave the

bookinyourhands,ourstoryisfarfromover.’

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Iwouldliketoexpressmygratitudetomanypeoplewhosawmethroughthisbook;toallthosewhoprovidedsupport,talkedthingsover,read,wrote,offeredcomments,remarksandassistedinmakingthisbookbetter.

Iwanttothankmyparents,familyandfriendswhosupportedandencouragedmeinspiteofallthetimeittookmeawayfromthem.

Mostimportantly,Iwanttothankmymentor,AshishBagrecha,formakingmewhatIamtoday.

Finally, thanks to my publishers Westland Ltd., led by Gautam Padmanabhan, for realizing mypotentialandhelpingmetellmystories.