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.