A Place Lost in Time
Sonu Sabir
I was already dreading the motorbike ride back home. The narrow roads leading to my apartment complex would bathe me in dust and stench from garbage dumps on the sides. Topping it would be the sea of vehicles jamming the roads almost round the clock, the horns blaring leaving my head numb. I keep living there because it’s cheap, and my indecisiveness as to when I would leave this job or the city. The area is one of those neighbourhoods near IT hubs, in the outskirts of Bangalore.
‘Where are you going so early, it’s just 4pm. Friday night party, huh?,’ Santosh asked from the next desk.
‘I have to meet a friend,’ I said, as if meeting this friend was a matter of life and death. The truth was I just wanted to go somewhere different from my routine. Rohan lived in Kalyannagar, a nice and neater part of Bangalore. I feel good when I visit such parts of Bangalore where there is less dust and more glitz. I was thinking ‘maybe a beer with Rohan’ later in the evening. I rode my motorbike eight kilometres from my office, to reach Kalyan Nagar. I saw a nice tea-shop-bakery, quite near Rohan’s apartment. I parked my bike in front of the shop, and turned back to see that it is not blocking the road in any manner. There was a woman coming on a scooter staring at me. I thought I must have done something wrong or she wanted to ask me something. I made a face gesturing ‘What is it?.’ She just continued staring while her scooter slowed down until it stopped just near where I stood. She took off the helmet.
‘Whoa, is that really you?,’ I said, surprised.
‘Is it really you, is what I’m thinking,’ she said.
‘What are the odds? This is.. I don’t know.. I didn’t know you were in Bangalore’
‘Hmmm ... I knew you were in this city, not exactly where.’
‘Are you not on any socials?’
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Good question, do you want to have a cup of tea here?’
‘Not today, I can’t.’
‘When then?’
‘I don’t know Jason.. We’ll see. I have to go now, I’m in a hurry.’
‘What? How can you just leave? Give me your number.’
‘I know how to find you, in case.. bye,’ saying this, she left, her face nonchalant, yet there was a glistening melancholy in her eyes perhaps, I wasn’t sure.
Seeing Shifana brought a deluge of memories up from the skies. That Sunday, 16 years ago, when I was in college. Vinod and I stood near the Caravan ice cream parlour on MG road, Ernakulam. It was about 11 o’clock on a Sunday morning. I looked constantly at my watch and then at the street, examining the passersby.
‘Are you nervous?,’ Vinod said.
‘No no. They should have been here by now. Why would I be nervous, dude? It’s cool’
Vinod guffawed, ‘You don’t look cool, I’ve been watching you. Don’t worry, bro. I’ll handle the situation, I know you’re not experienced in these situations.’
‘Yeah that’s why I brought you along - you frickin ladies’ man. By the way, the friend she is bringing along is Sandra Dcoutho, from Mattancherry.’ I looked up at the sky, ‘It’s a bit cloudy, I’m sweating, should we go in?.’
‘Oh, an Anglo-Indian friend. Interesting.’
‘Portuguese Indian right?’
‘I like that name. Sandra, here I come. Here begins our journey from India to Portugal’
‘Bruh, she’s from Mattancherry.’
‘That’s not the point. Forget it. So, you met this Shifana on Orkut huh? Nice shirt by the way, you look great, she’ll be swept off her feet’
‘Thanks, but you have proved that looks have nothing to do with impressing … you know.’
‘I’m a talker, I talk my way up. What to do, not good looking like you, no?’
I bowed my head and said with folded hands, ‘Make me your disciple, Mr Casanova.’
At that moment, two young women walked past us, walking up the stairs to the entrance door of the Caravan. I recognised them as I had seen their photos online. It was Shifana and Sandra. Shifana was wearing a sky blue churidar set with a white shawl, Sandra was in blue jeans and a purple top. Shifana had no make-up on, Sandra’s face was a bit glossed up. I followed them up the steps.
‘Shifana, right? I’m Jason,’ I stuttered.
‘I don’t believe you,’ she said, looking terrified.
Then she looked away. Her pallid face looked like she'd just seen a ghost. She took Sandra by hand and moved a bit far from me, huddling for a little scrum. I went back to Vinod and told him what just happened.
‘I could practically hear you from here,’ Vinod said.
He looked at the girls and then looked back at the street calmly as if he had a plan to sort things out.
‘Say something you idiot, you said you’ll handle everything.’
‘Dude, the girl doesn’t know you. My skill has limits, do you want to get me arrested or something?’
‘She’s confused or something, bruh. I know it’s her, from the photos. I don’t know why is she acting weird
‘Just relax, it’s not the end of the frickin world, give them some time.’
After a few minutes I went back to the girls
‘You have seen my photos online I guess, it’s me Jason.’
‘Okay, let’s go in. You look different from the photos.,’ Shifana said.
‘She’s meeting someone for the first time. She’s stressed…’ Sandra said with a grin.
Shifana scowled at her which made her stop her sentence in the middle.
Now we sat at a table inside the cafe. Vinod and Sandra hit off very well, started joking, teasing and laughing, the patter of their voices incessant. While the two of us sat there awkwardly, watching them, faking laughter and nodding our heads.
A year later, in a computer engineering fifth semester classroom, a female teacher was lecturing students on how compilers work for programming languages. It was a big classroom, about fifty students sitting on benches with desks in front of them. Windows were open on either side of the hall and there was a low murmur of chatter. The teacher's voice was audible only to three or four benches at the front. There were around ten rows in total I suppose. On the second bench from the last row, sat Vinod and me chatting with each other in whispers.
‘I went to Sandra’s house last weekend, you know what, nobody was home,’ Vinod said smiling widely. ‘Thanks to you, for your little date.’
‘Oh, I hate you more and more day by day,’ I became rueful. ‘My life is sooo uneventful.’
‘How’s it going for you?,’ Vinod said.
‘Look at this class, so full of guys who don’t show up for other classes,’ I said, taking a look at the teacher. ‘Look at her, she is so beautiful.’
‘Dude, stop. Respect your teacher. How’s it going with Shifana?’
‘She asks me to prove that my love is real. She looks at me as if I’m a dacoit in the middle of a highway, trying to loot her or something. I'm not sure what she really wants. I love her, she’s so sweet. I would marry her’
When I met Shifana in the evening, she told me about what happened at her house that day.
‘Family friend huh, what did you say his name was?,’ I said.
‘Safeer.’
‘Did you talk with him privately, did you tell him about us?’
‘Yes, I took him to the porch. At first, I didn’t tell him about you. I just told him, to tell his parents that he didn’t like me’
‘Un-huh, what did he say?’
‘He said, he can’t do that because he had already told them that he likes me. He was surprised that my parents hadn’t asked me my opinion.’
‘What did your father exactly tell you about this?’
‘Papa said he is a great guy and they all will be very happy if this happens. He said to agree to this marriage in the name of Allah. He said that Allah will bless us with all the happiness. Can you believe that?’
‘Actually, I can. That’s very common.’
‘Is it so?,’ she looked annoyed. Her anger glowed yellow, under the sodium street lights. We stood in that college campus street, staring at each other for a moment.
‘By the way, you’re so famous,’ she said.
‘How so?’
‘Safeer knows you. He said that his house is somewhat near to yours. He said that you're a drunk and your friends are womanisers and thugs. That you are possibly not serious about me as you’re just two years older than me. And, by the way, I didn’t know that your name ‘Jason Diego’ comes from Diego Maradona whom your father is a big fan of.’
‘Did you think that my father’s name was Diego?’
‘Maybe, I don’t know much about Christian names.’
‘Did he say anything good about me?’
‘Yes, that you’re good at cricket and football,’ she sighed. ‘I really don’t want to get married before completing college.’
‘That’s not far away, you’ll graduate next year, right?’
A month later, I was called to the police station near her house. I was questioned about her whereabouts, which I didn’t know. I had talked to her a week before. I was drinking in a bar late evening with my friends, she had called continuously. I didn’t answer a couple of calls, but the third time I picked up and pretended that I didn’t see her earlier calls as I was riding my motorbike. She told me that we have to elope, that her father is forcing her to get engaged to Safeer. I was quite drunk and didn’t know what to say. All I said was ‘Relax, nothing is gonna happen. You just don’t agree to it.’ The police officer, in front of her father, told me to never meet her again. That I am causing a social and communal issue. I nodded to everything and got out of the station. I tried calling her many times, but her phone was switched off. She called me about ten days later, asking to meet. So, we met near marine drive, Ernakulam,
‘Why did you come back?,’ I said.
‘Ran out of money, ran out of shamelessness. They’re friends, not saints, right?’
‘What did you do in Bangalore?’
‘Nothing much, spent most of the time in their hostel. Some evenings went out. To cafes and bars’
‘What? You … and bar? You always swore at me for drinking.’
‘Hmm, I guess…’
‘Look. Let’s be serious about us. You don't have to marry that family friend guy. Just give me a couple of years. You know I’ll graduate this year. Then I will have a good enough job. We will get married then, run away if needed. We can live in Bangalore, you liked it I guess’
‘You have flunked so many semester exams and you think you can do all that in two years. You're delusional.’
‘Oh, come on.’
‘You think it's about being pragmatic about things. But it’s not, I would marry you even if you didn’t have a job. But you don’t love me truly. I’m just a good option for you. It’s not like you’ll die without me. Then, why not at least make my parents happy.’
*
We didn’t meet much in the following days. The circumstances weren’t favourable for us to meet. She got married to Safeer within a year after we last met. I didn’t see her afterwards, not even on social media. I kept going to Kalyannagar once every three or four weeks, to meet Rohan, typically after a gloomy work week. Three months had passed since I saw her on that scooter that day. One Friday late evening, I was in a pub in Kalyannagar with Rohan, when I noticed her sitting at a table, a bit far from where we were. There was a man with her whom I certainly felt was not Safeer. Being tipsy, I couldn’t resist my curiosity to find out who it was. I went to her table and asked if we could have a word. She was irked at my request but still walked with me to a corner.
‘Sorry to barge in like that. But who is it?,’ I said.
‘None of your business.’
‘Are you on a … date?’
‘Yes, I’m on a date.’
‘What about Safeer?’
‘Why are you asking all this?’
‘I thought you were still married to him.’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Hmm.... Sorry to pry,’ I began to walk away slowly, when she said, ‘Jason, when I see you, I remember my miserable past. I don’t want to see you or talk to you. Hope you understand. And yes, I’m not happy in my marriage. I can’t leave because of the two kids. He was never there. With the kids I suffered a lot. He was always gone, for work or whatever.’ She took a pause, with a stern face continued,
‘So, that’s it, I hope you’re satisfied now. Please do me a favour, ignore me if you see me anywhere, by chance, like this.’
I went back to our table to Rohan’s questioning eyes, ‘What happened bruh, you look like you need another beer. Who was that?’
‘Just an old friend,’ I said, trying to sound normal.
*
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