Oh what a crazy thing this heart is! I wanted you to stay so badly and now that you are, my heart questions the motive. What is wrong with me? I’m torn between wanting to believe that you’re staying because you’ll miss me and not because I convinced you otherwise. Between wanting to believe that your heart tells you to instead of feeling obliged to me. Between wanting to believe that my absence will be a gaping hole in your life and not because your absence will cause one in mine.

 .

How pleasing to the ears this piece of news! You are staying! I throw confetti in the air, I dance carelessly to a soundless tune, I wiggle and twirl and turn the news around. I let out a little laugh from deep within, an echo, a proof of a wordless joy. So that if one day one may ask me what I felt today, I could take out this little package that says “Evidence: 30.10.07″ and let it be heard by one and all; this little laugh is proof of my silent secret elation. Can you hear that? Do you trace the smile behind the laugh? The tension let loose, the despair being set free. Would you not then believe when you hear it? Some things aren’t mean to be read with words, its meant to be experienced.

.

Now that you are staying, how liberated I feel. But what is that? A shadow lurking at the nook of my mind. Oh everyone, meet Miss R. R for Realistic, for Rational, for Reasonable. For Ruining my wild joy, for Robbing me of what my heart wants to feel. R for Restraining myself from going overboard.

Miss R tells me “Dear girl, have you forgotten that you are not whole? Haven’t you given part of yourself to someone before? Did you get it back? Of course you didn’t. Do you want to give some more and be left with nothing? Is this worth your joy and effort? Have you given much thought to it yet? Don’t be rash little one. You’re only subjecting yourself to potential hurt. I’m only trying to help you. Why do you set yourself up for heartbreak? What have you got to offer him? He’ll see through you and see that there’s nothing there at all and one day, he’ll leave too. Why bother my dear one? Don’t.”

And she silences me. And I portray my joy to the barest minimum. Oh if you only knew!

as unassuming as a wind’s arrival
a presence so strong and distinct
a void filled and gratified
a joy as deep as it was fleeting

a laugh so free as it was real
a felicity unrestrained
how silly to believe in its permanence
he was just like november’s rain

a man so real yet so abstracted
his words a chime to my ears
a mystery, a secret, a boggling conundrum
he managed to bring out the held-back tears

a burst of rapture, an endless wonder
a dream, one beautiful and sublime
a shower of a million colours
how naive to think its endless
an experience so vivifying
as much as it was soothing
a ‘goodbye’ that got caught in the depths of my throat
for a parting that seemed impending
an encompassing charm that seized my breath
and presented me with dreams of long ago
alas, i was just a stop on his sojourn
“one last coffee before you go?”

Yesterday was one of those nights – where you were fine all along, happy even, and suddenly a song plays and then it hits you. It doesn’t creep up slowly like taking little steps into the ocean before being submerged completely, it was a BAM! like a shotgun, from behind. You’ll never know what hit you. And suddenly you start crying, your shoulders contracts and you cross your arms over heart, make pretend it was someone else hugging you. It doesn’t work though and you feel sadder than you were. But you still can’t figure out why you feel this way. All you want is for it to go away because it hurts, and it always feels like you’re hurt enough. You remind yourself of all that he’s said. You think of the times he’s made you happy. You tell yourself that no, it doesnt matter anymore. Don’t be stupid. But the feeling is too overwhelming. It doesn’t listen to Reason and Logic. More tears come. You know that the past will never leave you. You know that everything happened for a reason and try convince yourself that it was for the better of tomorrow. You know that everyone has history and their stories to tell. But it still hurts anyway, more than it has ever hurt. It was like a huge pressure, pinning you down to your mattress, the quilt was of no comfort or help, it only served to hide how you curled your body like a small child underneath it. Over and over, you repeat the words It doesn’t matter anymore. But you know it does. At the back of your mind, you know it will never go away. However much you’ve tried to all this time.

You will never be someone’s number one.

After two rings, Umairah picked up her office phone.

“Hello?”
“Assalammualaikum Umairah.”
“Oh. Waalaikumsalam. Where are you?”
“I just got off work. Driving now. Do you want me to fetch you? I’m on the way to the mosque.”
“Oh.. Err it’s okay. I’ve done my prayers. Fetch me when you are done?”
Detecting something amiss, I asked:
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah I am. I’ll see you later?”
“Okay. I’ll see you later. Assalammualaikum.”
“Waalaikumsalam.”

Something was definitely up. Umairah sounded tense, and did she sound like she had just finished crying? I sure hope not. Tonight was going to be a big night. I looked at my passenger seat, the square crimson box sitting majestically. The lights turned amber and after stopping the car, I reached out for the box and opened it. The silver band gleamed back at me and the 3 small diamonds reflected a legion of colours on the ceiling of my car. I closed the box again and place it back gently on the car seat.

Umairah & I had been a couple for 4 years now. I still remember when I first met her. It was at a Childrens’ Camp at Ibrahim Mosque and she was a volunteer just like I was. She was 19 and I was 24. She had this aura about her. In front of the kids, she was as bright as sunshine. She knew how to make them laugh and she treated them all with love. At 19, she could be one of the kids and yet I felt like she was so much older. One night, we had planned to bring the kids to a reservoir nearby to feed the turtles but it rained and our Rainy-Day activity was to stay in the mosque and let the kids choose between colouring, watching a vcd or just free&easy.

She was sitting with 3 kids and they were playing some kind of game that involved clapping and several other gestures. For the ten minutes they were playing that game, it was punctuated with laughter so often that Umairah had tears in her eyes. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glistened and her lips were a pretty shade of pink and it was open, alternating between a smile and a laugh. One time, she turned to look at me while she was in the midst of laughing and one tear trickled out her left eye. The next minute happened in slow motion, a mental video I still remember vividly. She closed her eyes and with one finger, she brushed it off. Before she could open her eyes, the 3 kids jumped on her and hugged her. Her delicate body could not take the sudden impact and she slowly landed on the ground, her smile still intact, the 3 kids still on top of her. The whole moment was beautiful in its simplicity. She had a connection with them, they loved her without understanding love. They were free in their expression and it was so pure and sincere. I was captivated. She was lovable simply by being. But I knew she had so much hidden in her.

That night when putting one of the kids to sleep, I heard the two whispering in the dark. Azim, the 7-year-old, was telling her about his mother that left him 2 years ago. “Because I was a bad boy.”
“No Azim, its not your fault.”
“She said I was like my father. She didn’t like me watching my father pray. She said Muslims are bad. She….. she wasn’t a Muslim.”
“Do you agree with her?”
“No. But Miss Umairah, I was sad for awhile. But not anymore.”
“And why is that Azim?”
“Because you are very nice. You make me happy.”
“Thank you Azim. You make me happy too. But after this camp, I won’t be here with you anymore. You must pray and be strong okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good night.”
“Good night Miss Umairah.”

Umairah walked out of the room and I followed her from a distance. She went to the back of the mosque. I stood behind a pillar and watched her. She rested her elbows on the stone fence and her right palm cupped her mouth. She was sobbing. I was torn between wanting to approach her and to remain a shadow behind the pillar. Before I could decide, she had wiped her tears and walked off.

Pursuing her was never easy. After the camp, I was too busy climbing the corporate ladder to volunteer much. We corresponded via email. Waiting for her replies was agonising; like an addict breathless for the next fix. It went on for 4 months before I decided that I had to see her in person again, that smile, that laugh, that dark shadows in her eyes that I wanted to decipher, and so I asked her out. It took me 3 attempts, by the 3rd one I was practically laying my pride on the floor for her and she finally said it. It was not a Yes or a Sure; it was Oh Okay then. Her attempt at hiding her lack of enthusiasm was nugatory but it fuelled me with the impetus to make this one date worth her agreeing.

I’ve never been big on extravagance and the date was simple. I only hoped she could see that I was sincere. I could tell she didn’t appreciate games so I was honest with her. I said that I was attracted and that I hoped she would give me a chance to make her happy, happier than she is. That I knew she had secrets and I wished she would share them with me. I said many things that night. I don’t know which ones made her change her mind, or maybe it was the whole lot. Whatever it is, she never said no to me again.

After prayers I fetched her and drove to an Arab restaurant we’ve never been to before. She had mentioned once how she loved the interior after seeing it in a magazine but we had both been too busy to visit the place. Tonight, tonight was different. I reserved the whole restaurant for us. Tonight, she will say yes to being my wife.

We went in and true enough, the interior was fantastic. Old paintings of the desert and handsome-looking camels and women with blue-green eyes adorned the walls. Brown and khaki drapes fell from the ceiling, hiding the strong lighting. Multi-coloured glass casings acted as lamps on some tables while some tables had a floating leaf-shaped candle. Incense sticks were burning and I knew at once it was sandalwood. Umairah had it in her office sometimes. Walking into the restaurant was like walking into a huge brown tent in the Sahara, minus the unbearable temperature. The air was cool and I could see that Umairah was pleased at coming here.

The waiter looked at me knowingly and led us to the table right in the middle. We had a quiet dinner but after she drank her jasmine tea to accompany her last bite, i thought, This is it, the time is here. I took out my crimson box, opened its lid and slid it across the table. Umairah’s eyes widened and what I had envisioned her to be – slow smile across her face, clasping her hands and then looking at me with joy in her eyes, none of that came. Instead, she looked at the ring and looked away. Somewhere in me, I felt something break.

“Umairah?”
After an unbearably long pause, she said “I wished you would have talked to me about it first.”
“We always talk everything out. We’re the most rational couple. I thought a surprise, a little spontaneity would be appreciated especially when it came to ……. when it came to this.”
“I can’t think now.”
“Think? Umairah, if you have to think about this, then I guess I got my answer.”
“No Haris, its not like that. I just… I had a rough day at work. I wasn’t expecting this at all.”
“I still can’t see whats there to think about. We’ve been together a while now. I’ve got a great job, we have enough savings….” Just as that moment, her mobile rang. It was her msg tone.
“I’m sorry” she said and flipped her phone open to read the msg. She finished reading it and her eyes closed and she pursed her lips. She left the phone lying on the table. I reached out for it and she didn’t stop me.

“Mairah? I got your number from Colin. I never expected to see you today but you’re looking really good. I’ve missed you. Sorry won’t be enough I know but I still love you. I always have. -Raj“

Anger shot through me and I hissed “Who’s Raj?”

“I used to be with him. We were just kids. He has a contract with the school now, a painting job. I haven’t seen him in years Haris. I’m just shocked I guess.”
“And I never knew about him? All this time..”
“There was nothing to tell. We were kids.”
“It certainly doesn’t look like just a kids thing to him” My head signalling towards her phone.
“I don’t know why he said that. You don’t have to worry about him, I’ll deal with it.”

There was something in her eyes, something I hadn’t seen before.
“You love him.”
“Once, maybe I did. Not anymore.”

But her eyes told a different tale. There was something in it tonight, I noticed it after she read the msg. Could it be love, a repressed desire? I couldn’t quite interpret it but it looked a lot like longing to me. One thing was for certain, Raj, whoever this guy is, had ignited that look in her. It was called passion. And it wasn’t me.

I slumped back in my seat, “You still love him. I can see it in your eyes!”
“I love you!”, she said it with more force than she had intended. In that frozen moment, we both knew that she had needed to say it aloud to convince herself more than to convince me. Her hands went up to her mouth and her eyes quivered. Her tears fell like a mid-july’s rain, tainting her flawless face with two rivulets of salt&eyeliner.

“I gave you my best. I took your distance as being part of your personality. But it wasn’t distance, it was a wall. You’ve built a wall and after all this time, I deceived myself into thinking that you love me, that I was worthy of breaking down that wall. You’ve been loving him all this time! This… this man you’ve never spoken about. How much do I really know you Umairah? You never loved me.” I reached out for my crimson box, its presence on the table was mocking me. I had to put it away. I had to leave. The woe in my heart was getting too much to take. Umairah’s silence was intolerable. I clutched the box in my hand, took my keys and wallet and said “Lets go. I’ll send you home.”

“No, just leave me here.”
“Fine.”

Dinner had already been paid beforehand. I took one last look at the woman I thought would have been my fiancee by this time tonight and left her with her tears for company.

Are you bored of me?

Haha why would you say that?

For one, you’re not talking much. And you don’t even look at me anymore. Your attention is elsewhere.

Just because I’m not looking at you doesn’t mean I love you any less.

Yeah it doesn’t mean you love me any more either.

… I love you.

I know. But are you bored of me?

Whats boredom got to do with love?!

Well, there’s no use for you loving me if you’re gonna get bored of me! What happens 5 years down the road and I don’t have anything funny to say anymore. And we don’t play our little games anymore. You love me, so you don’t leave me. But you’re bored so you’re unhappy. And then what?

And then I’ll buy magazines, I’ll get a hobby, I’ll find things to do.

You’ll find new girls to do?

What? No. I didn’t say that. I mean, do other things. Activities, sports, something!

But you’ll still be bored of me.

Babe, you’re being silly. I am not bored of you!

Then you could have just said it earlier when I asked!

Hahaha you silly girl. If I ever get bored later on in life, its you I want to get bored of. Even if I’m bored of your one-liners and I’m bored of your straight hair and bored of the way you wake me up in the morning, I still want you.

But you’ll still be bored of me.

But atleast I’m not bored with some other women.

How is that supposed to console me?

Hahaha I love you. I want you.

But I’m talkin. .

Shut up shut up. I’m not bored of you. If I start buying magazines, you’ll know I am.

Hahaha.

And they kiss.

When you cannot stand messy-ness but you don’t mind his blackened nails and all-over-the-place hair. When you love listening to him speak but you cannot stop talking anyway because you like knowing he’s looking at you. When you take your phone out in the middle of a busy day and type two-thirds of a msg only to delete it again. When you walk around a mall and keep wondering whether this shirt or that jeans or that cap would suit him even though you have a shopping list that needs desperate attention. When you prostrate in prayer and before praying for yourself, you mutter one for him. When you sit and watch him at work and feel like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. When you skip lectures because you don’t want to leave him behind even though its the one thing the nerd in you would never have allowed you to do. When you sit down for lunch and wonder if he’s had his. When you walk in the rain and pray he’s not on the roads. When …
When?
Anytime.

You…
I cannot get enough of you.

.

.

As our heads tilt back, our laughter rang out like a symphony, which the clouds gladly welcome. When you take my hand, your touch explodes into little flecks of gold dust that swirls around the spring of our step. After a bad day, your boyish smile silence the murmurs of chagrin in my heart and a sweet melody starts to play.

You are the poetry on my lips, the song thats stuck in my head, the black&white movie in my dreams, the glitter in my eye, the pink flush on my cheeks – you are my joy.

In my hypnagogic state, I would swear upon every dancing grass in the fields that I saw you. Did I try to reach out for you? I must have. Because when I awoke proper, my arms were outstretched, grasping at your fading apparition.

Its always like that isn’t it? I’m always the one doing the reaching-out; the cautious one, endlessly excluding and censoring certain words in fear of scaring you away, or appearing too straightforward or in-too-deep.

Was I scared that you might think me weak? Perhaps. But you never seemed comfortable with pronouncements of love and these I had suppressed. But how long shall I be able to do so? If I do not utter them somehow, would I forget how to do it when I’m allowed to? If I continue to withhold these declarations behind my lips, would it show in my eyes instead? Would that, in its debased state, still cause you discomfort?

If I knew this was the last time I would speak to you, would I speak these words that I’ve always kept hidden? Would I gather the courage to touch your hand, just lightly, just to satisfy my dreams of long before? Or would I sit, transfixed, and do what I’ve been doing – stealing sidelong glances, biting my lips to prevent the words from spilling, keeping my eyes down in case you could decipher it? Would I be bold enough to say “I’ve loved you; too much and too deep and too long and that is why I have to leave” and really actually leave? Or would I choose to be silent and stay instead, just a while longer, just to hope harder, that you may say it first?

(Before reading this, it’d be good to read Parte Una and Parte Dos first; even if you have already read them, just to refresh your memory. I know its been forever but I promise it won’t take as long now. Enjoy!)

+++

Oh God, what time is it now? Raj was supposed to pick me up an hour ago. Tapping my fingers on my desk, I wondered if I should call him. He sounded so distant earlier, it made me worried. But that was how things are with Raj – blowing hot and cold ever so often. Sometimes, I feel as if I never knew him at all. I sighed, deciding not to put too much thought into it.

My phone beeped and I read the message:

“Hey. Something came up. I’d probably meet you later at night for dinner. Sorry babe.”

Sighing for the second time in a matter of minutes, I gathered my stuff and called a cab.

Sitting in the cab with old songs playing in the background, I was grateful that the driver wasn’t one of those who felt obliged to make conversation. I certainly wasn’t in the mood for it. Being with Raj has been one of the strangest things to ever happen to me. I can’t say for sure what attracted me to him. I first met him at an opening of a new club when I was 20. He was 22 then and he was with his group of friends and I was with mine. Every other guy was getting high and was making passes at girls but Raj actually looked like he’d rather be anywhere else that night but there. Throughout the night, I didn’t see him dancing with any girl and he was gone even before midnight. I felt drawn to him. He seemed so… broken. Like he was in need of someone. I was intrigued by him and asked one of the guys he came with:

“Hey! Where’s your friend?”
“Which one?”
“The one who looked like he was forced here.”
“Haha that has to be Raj. He’s not much of a party animal. And he was forced here tonight. Interested?”
“Just wondered when I’d see him again, thats all.”
“Don’t worry. I’m pretty drawn to your friend as well” – tilting his head towards Megha, grinning – “I’d plan something soon.”
“Thats great. See you then.”

A week or two later, the four of us had dinner together and that was when I actually talked to him. He was pretty quiet during dinner but when Megha and Jay (Raj’s friend) went off for a walk, he talked a bit more. I guess he felt like he had to say something since there was only the 2 of us left. He asked me stuff about myself and what I did but it was pretty generic questions. He seemed so distant and uninterested. I feared that I may come across as nosy but the question was playing in my mind since that night at the club so I asked him:

“Are you hurting?”

He seemed shocked at my question and actually looked me straight in the eye for the first time that night.

“And what makes you think that?”
“I dunno. You just seem … not okay.”
He gave a sinister laugh and said “You don’t know shit about me.”
I was shocked at his response. “Yes I realize that. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about miss.”

There was an awkward silence after that but soon, Jay and Megha came back smiling and the guys dropped us home. I was certain that I would not see Raj anytime soon after how the night went but a month later I got a call around midnight and it was Raj.

“Sumithra?”
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
“Rajesh….Raj. Jay’s friend. Remember me?”
“Oh. Yeah yeah i do. Whats up?” I sat up, the sleep disappearing fast.
“Do you wanna go for supper?”
“Now?”
“Erm yeah. I was just driving around and I happen to be around your area.”
“Oh. Okay then. I’ll be ready in 15.”
“Okay. See you then.”

So we went for supper and I was curious as to why Raj wanted to go for supper with me, even if he said he was around my area. That wasn’t a good enough reason right? We ate in silence and we drove around for a bit after that. Raj then parked the car at some forsaken place, wound down the windows and started talking.

“This is going to be awkward. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you asked if I was hurting. Truth is, I am. And no one has ever been bold enough to ask me. And I wanted to apologize for being so harsh on you that night.”

“Oh. Right. Thats okay.” I was at a loss for words.

I expected him to speak some more but he didn’t. He seemed pretty disturbed. We sat in silence for awhile and then he started the engine and sent me home. He was unlike anyone I’ve ever met and I held on if only to see what was in store.

Its been 3 years now and we got engaged recently. It was more of because-its-the-next-step kind of thing instead of i-can’t-wait-to-marry-you kind of thing. Raj wasn’t the romantic kind and mostly, I was fine with it. But it still hurt when I agreed to the engagement and he sounded more grateful than happy.

Raj rarely opened up or spoke about himself but I love him just the same. He likes helping people and is compassionate and genuinely caring that it was hard not to. Occasionally he would say that I had saved him, that he was glad I was with him, that I understand him. But he never explained what he meant and I never asked. I just went along with it, hoping one day he would blurt it all out but its been years now and I’m still in the dark.

For the second time today, I wonder if I know him at all.

As I lay awake in bed, the phone pressed to my ear, a smile slowly formed on my face & i could feel the warmth spreading through my heart to my toes & fingers. I turned on my side, transferring the phone to the other ear so that both sides would be blessed with your soft, deep voice. I listened to you talk & although it was about the most mundane things, I knew that nothing could be more interesting at the moment.

I let you speak while I punctuated your lines with “hmm” or “yeah”. Closing my eyes while your voice resonated in my head, I let my mind wander & soon, was a spectator.

Hovering above my bed, I see myself pressed against you while one of your arms draped over me lazily. You spoke ino my ear and teasingly bit it while I tried to cover them. When you laughed, it vibrated through both our bodies. I rested my hand on your arm while your other arm stroked my hair. It went on for awhile…

“Hello? You there?”

“Huh? Yeah. Yes I’m here,” I replied, coming down to ground.
I grabbed the phone tighter.