RUM & SODA

“Cheers!” The three glasses clinked violently to a crisp, glassy sound. The rum and soda glass, held by the feminine fingers of Aditi just spilled into Sreejit’s whisky. They laughed out loud as Rana quietly sipped his vodka, smiling and admiring Aditi’s spirited laughter.

 

Shreejit had come to town for a day and was free only one evening. Rana quickly decided to put together an evening of spirits for Aditi, Sreejit and Rana to drown.

 

Aditi had just turned 45. Sreejit was Aditi’s childhood friend and neighbour. She grew up in a crowded joint family, but was alone. She had classmates, but no friends because her mother taught in her school. Who likes to hang out with a teacher’s daughter, anyway?

 

She had no one but Sreejit to chat and share her views with. Sreejit filled the vacuum of her childhood and teenhood. He was her role model. For her, he was everything.

 

There was not a single day they spent without bumping into each other. She would sincerely collect his college semester report card, delivered by post, to save it from getting into “wrong parental hands”. Sreejit helped her with her school scrap book, sticking those modes of transport and animal pictures in her primary classes and later graduated to doing her biology diagrams. He introduced her to Books, Beatles, cricket and scrabble… It has all been with her till today… those beautiful memories and memoirs. He twisted and turned the film screen and showed her films that went beyond the Indian blood and revenge hyperbole. She would hide her “Disco Deewane” cassette because she did not want him to judge her.

 

She bit into her first chicken piece at 17 in spite of being a vegetarian because she did not want to seem as someone with hang-ups. She got her long hair styled like a fringe on her forehead because he had made a passing reference of this cute American teenager in a television show. She seamlessly wove every being of her into his likes and dislikes.

 

What was left of her? She had no clue till he left her neighbourhood and her city.

 

Today, he was going to be there after 21 years, with another close friend, Rana.

 

Rana! The name always brought an endearing smile on Aditi’s lips. A friend, so unconditional, so unassuming, and a friend, so sad and lonely. He was Sreejit’s school friend.

 

Rana was in the same city as Aditi and they met, and recognized each other after 15 years at a common gathering. “I have seen a lot of you at Sreejit’s. But, you would quickly slip out of the house when you saw the boy gang storming into his house,” Rana had told Aditi. She smiled, self-consciously, not wanting any of her past to intrude into her present. Rana was sensitive and warm. They met up once a while or called each other up.

“Hey Aditi,” his voice boomed on the phone one evening. “Sreejit is in town tomorrow. Will you be able to come home? We could meet up in the evening.”

 

A split second later, Aditi managed a “Oh, he is? Sure I will.” As she pressed the red button of her mobile, she realised what she had said. She would be meeting Sreejit after 21 years. Her lost teens were returning to haunt her tomorrow. She had moved on. Or had she?

 

She drove down to Rana’s place, and before getting down, adjusted her hair in the rear mirror and saw how she looked. She could not adjust her heart and those strings which kept strumming and beating violently against her chest. She stopped before the elevator, took a deep breath and decided to climb the two flights of steps. ‘It is good for the heart and health. It will also give me enough time to settle my heart,’ she told herself. But her heart would just not listen. It continued pounding. Before reaching the landing of Rana’s house, she against fished out her brush and ran it through her hair.

 

“Hi,” she sang, hugging Rana at the doorstep. Slowly, the soft yellow lights of the bright chandelier splashed across her face. She still needed time to come face to face with Sreejit. But it had to happen sometime.

Rana slowly made way and there stood Sreejit; that same smile, this time accompanied by a few creases near his brown eyes, a receding hairline and a beer paunch.

 

“Wow, Aditi. It is so nice to see you,” Sreejit came towards her and gave her a hug. “Your shampoo ad hair, what happened? Why did you cut it short?” That was his first comment after 21 years!

 

‘He still remembers,’ thought Aditi! ‘Wasn’t it a strange feeling? His memory of my long hair. Perhaps, it was attractive,’ she thought for a fleeting second and smiled.

 

Now, that is coming a long way for someone who grew up with a complex that she was short, plump and ugly; and Sreejit’s banter about her plump frame had only made her more conscious.

 

But Aditi never held it against him. He was just friendly. Was it his fault if she saw him more than just a friend?

But today, she did not blush or confess to her “mistake” of doing something without his consent as if she were in her teens.  She simply said she loved it this way and helped herself to a glass of rum and soda.

 

It has been so many years. It was high time she let her head race ahead of her heart.

 

“You have grown into a fine young lady,” commented Sreejit. “So how did you manage to meet Rana in this city.”

‘Was he patronising?’ thought Aditi. Almost immediately scolded herself for thinking like that. She was probably carrying her past baggage and thought he still treated her like a kid next door.

 

‘Grow up, and grow out of that, Aditi,’ she pinched herself.

 

She wanted to normalise his “larger-than-life” image that she carried in her mind.

 

Her teenage eyes had seen him as supremely confident and without a flaw. Today, she wanted to see him as human, as an equal.

 

The evening wore on with some old Hindi film music and sing along sessions. Sreejit in between insisted that a Deep Purple or Pink Floyd would go rather well with the single malt. Sreejit’s music taste had not changed. Listening to Hindi film songs continued to be a ‘big no’.

 

But Rana, very high, was far from listening to Sreejit’s repeated demand. It worked well for Aditi, who revelled in singing along the high-pitched “Raina Beeti Jaaye” loudly, as if rebelling against Sreejit today!

 

The next morning, Aditi got a friend request from Sreejit on Facebook.

 

This new virtual friendship had its moments of high for Aditi when Sreejit became very generous with his comments on her fiery posts on political and social issues.

 

But one dramatic gesture from Sreejit seemed to topple the earlier equation Aditi shared with the person she grew up admiring.

 

“Is there an emoticon for swoon?” Sreejit had commented, seeing Aditi’s photograph.

 

She blushed seeing the comment on her computer screen. Finally, ‘He’ acknowledged that she looked something”.

 

She immediately sent him a personal message, “That was a surprising comment! Couldn't help sending you this personal message with a hug!”

 

Like a flash, he sent back his response before she even signed out: “But you really seem to look stunning as you age. We must catch up for the hug. It has been three years since we met at Rana’s?”

 

She couldn't resist a response. Sitting in the loo, she wrote back, “Ahem! Now this is a very very special message from a person I had a secret teenage crush on and whose attention I have always wanted on me!!”

 

She continued after a pause….“Sreejit, I typed this now and thought to myself, ‘do I delete it and send a nice, politically correct response’? Then I told myself, ‘What the F***! I am 48 and I will not hold on to my teenage pain any longer. So.......here I press the "reply" button!”

 

A flash of lightening response, again!

 

“Teenage pain? You had a crush on me? Why didn't you tell me? I could have made a pass at you!! Hahaha. On a serious note….the saddest words of tongue and pen, ‘It might have been’.”

 

This chat had to continue now. Aditi began typing furiously. “I am not ashamed of the pain I went through. Even today, I dared to confess it to you because of the context. I feel that is the most beautiful part of my growing up years, when I felt the first pangs of love, or call it crush, the pain of not being noticed, the pleasure of spending those few moments with you, the looking forward to you calling me ‘Adi’, that one visit to the Calcutta Book Fair with you (I like to call that my only date with you!)…I am unapologetic about all that because I cherish that phase of my life.

 

“But we all move on, don't we? The scar is the most beautiful part of the past. At least for me, I do not see it as a cruel reminder. I see it as how it has made me stronger, positive and confident from within.”

 

This was a refreshing reflection of her past…like those few drops of rain on a parched soil. The fragrance of the soil fills the air, and the soil thirsts for more.

 

Sreejit sent her a response, again like lightening.“I watched star wars yesterday. Strangely enough, it was a movie which brings back the seventies to life with the same characters but older! I had a sense of Deja vu! I am very flattered by your message. I guess I didn't expect to be a ladies’ man then. Also, you were always my favourite in the neighbourhood. I guess there was something in the subconscious. But I am horrified by the ‘scar’. That is the last thing I would have wished on my lil’ Adi. I will definitely make up for that somehow….till then, keep smiling.”

Aditi smiled and welled up as she read and reread the message. She realised the pain was gone. The scar seemed to have magically disappeared under the fresh coat of skin that had come up with time.

 

She responded: “Yes, isn't it strange or even a coincidence that you watched a movie which reflects the past so much and then this sudden gush of teen-hood and adulthood between us? Do not be horrified by the scar. In this cynical world with so much of bitterness and selfishness around, I am fortunate to have gone through the emotions with all sincerity. My emotions are my very prized possession that I had locked up in my heart very safely. I am glad I had the courage to finally tell you, share with you these nuggets of my past. Perhaps, back then, I feared rejection or ridicule.

 

And, what I was never willing to accept even then was camouflaging my feelings as sisterly love. I hated that hypocrisy. But on many occasions, I was told that you were ‘like’ a brother. I would smile to myself then, almost smirk, and tell myself that people around were so immature that they were unable to leave alone a relationship without labelling it!!”

 

Aditi suddenly felt liberated, buoyant. She had cleared the clogs in her heart. She breathed easy.

 

She had finally “said it”.