The idiot

Conversation with Ruma

No animal needs to die in order for us to live; go vegetarian.

CHAPTER-17

I had stopped seeing Aditi as I was disappointed by her sulkiness at the café. It was one moment I would like to forget.

As far as Aditi was concerned it was never her fault. She was upset and accused me of abandoning her. "-after all I've sacrificed for this relationship," she said, guilt-tripping me when I finally met her. When I objected her for making me feel guilty she was infuriated. She took the whole incident and twisted it so out of reality that by the end of our conversation I didn't even remember where we began. To my surprise, she then broke into tears. I stood in silence thinking of what I have done, feeling guilty.

This was not the first time someone made me feel guilty. Guilt followed me around all my life like shadow. I have a vivid memory of feeling guilty at a fairly young age because I had the power to make my mother sick. I find it amazing how my mother could come up with the most elaborate ways to make me feel guilty.

If Aditi was the princess of guilt tripping then my mother was the queen of guilt tripping.

I didn't want Aditi to break my heart again so I made up my mind to break-up with Aditi and steered myself clear of any entanglement with her before it's too late.

I broke up with her in a public place because I knew she could be dramatic at times. As expected she lost her shit and started hysterically crying; yelling out 'you broke my fucking heart' and the other typical cliché sort of stuff. It was awkward to say the least, with 20 different people staring at you, but I had to do it. "She deserved it as the way she treated you was pretty crummy," Raghav said when I told him about the break-up.

***

The next few months flew by in a blur.

I had dedicated myself to the Northern railways project oblivious to the world around me. We had won the bid for turnkey project and Mr. Awasti had asked me to handle the multi-million project and, yet again, Ruma was assigned the task to assist me in the project. We had to meet the time deadlines for each phase of project no matter what or otherwise huge penalties, accounting to 10% of the total project value, were to be paid for the delay in project. Mr. Awasti would not be a happy man if we miss even a single deadline. I and Ruma were working on the project execution vigorously for the past few months.

Although I was the project lead I passed the buck to Ruma whenever I used to get busy with Aditi before the break-up. She was glad to help as it gave her opportunity to excel to her best. She used to fill in for me in meetings with vendors. She used to reply to client's queries for me. When we managed to meet out first deadline to supply material to customer well before time Mr. Awasti was all praises for us and promised us good raise.

I was in office just like any other day. I was sitting and watching Ruma negotiating the price with our vendor. She left me baffled at the maturity and confidence she had. I had always liked her ability to think of her feet and how she dealt with unexpected questions thrown at her very coolly and intelligently. I always believed although life was just getting ready for her, she was more than ready for life. All she needed to do was stride forward with her wonderful confidence, and win over.

However, what I liked the most about her was her dedication. I remember last week she told me over lunch it was her mother's birthday. Given her love for her mother I asked her to take half-day off and celebrate the day with her mother. Much as she needed the half-day leave, she had to refuse as she had to finish project report Mr. Awasti asked on his table before 5:00 pm. She didn't want to go but I deemed it necessary for her to go home. "I will take care of the report. You mother needs you more than we need you here" I said. She thanked me and left for home happily. I hadn't seen her so happy before.

It was lunch by the time I got back to my seat. Ruma had brought lunch for me, of which I was more than happy to know as I hated office lunch. At times I wondered if my mother would make lunch for me for office. I never got the courage to ask her. However, it would be wonderful if she made it.

I took a bite. "Who made these Dum Aaloo?" I asked.

"I made these. Is it bad?"

"Don't worry I will eat it as you brought it especially for me," I said with a straight poker face.

Her face dropped in disappointment. I looked into her eyes and said, "I hate to lie and I always speak my mind. So I often come off as a little harsh sometimes for rubbing people up the wrong way."

"So I will put it straight-" Her eyes quickly turned moist.

"-it's utterly delicious. I have never had such amazing Dum aaloo in my life."

"You are so bad!" she elbowed me and smiled coyly.

We chatted as I relished on lunch. She hardly ate anything and promised to prepare more of these for me. The freewheeling conversation with Ruma over lunch left me zapped at the emotional maturity and confidence she exudes.

While talking to her first thing that strikes you is her clarity of thoughts. We talked about each other. It was strange that I didn't know much about her even though she knew everything about me, In fact she knew me better than me. I was perplexed. It is so unnerving to know that a person knows you better than you know yourself.

She told me about her childhood and how fat she was when she was in school. She also told me about her 'Go Vegetarian' drive. Apparently she was the only vegetarian in her family and pushed everyone to quit meat. I found her childhood stories very interesting while she found my childhood fantasies very funny.

"You never speak of your father. Where is he??" she asked.

"Uh, no idea." I shrugged.

She saw the glints of sadness in my eyes. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"-only if you don't mind answering."

I pursed my lips and looked at her. "The year was 1999. I clearly remember the day. It was a day before my 8th birthday. He came into my room, said, "Hardik, what do you want for your birthday?" I told him I want roller skates. He nodded and left. I was ecstatic because I was going to get roller skates. It was a big deal. I could barely sleep all night. 5:30 am in the morning my dad snuck into my room. He gingerly woke me up. He smiled at me and wished me happy birthday. He, then, gave me my birthday gift, kissed on my forehead, and said, 'Always remember that I love you very much.' I nodded. I was so excited. But then I saw his bags packed by the front door. He picked them up and walked out. I followed him to his car. He put them in the back of the car and drove away. That was the last time I ever saw him."

"But why did he leave?"

"My father always struck me as a real people person who takes pleasure in helping others. Even when our mill was running in loss he never thought of layoff, instead he paid workers from his savings. My mother was very apprehensive about it but at the same time she knew he considered the workers at mill as his family. There was nothing she could have done to stop him, so she accepted the fact and tried to run the house with whatever money she would get from him. Then worst thing happened. My father was diagnosed with blood cancer, Leukemia. His condition worsened with time. Doctors told him to rest more and work less. However, he did the opposite and it deteriorated his health gradually. The medications were costing us a living. As the time elapsed he stopped his medication and worked more, as if he wanted to wear himself off to death. My father had not given up or anything, but he didn't want to use his saving on this disease. He wanted whatever money left with him for us and not for him. Then on my 8th birthday he left us and went away. He started working somewhere and sent us money every month along with a letter. I was hopeful he would come back but it later sank in that he is not coming back. He didn't come but money and letter continued for 16 months before finally stopping."

"I know how you feel and I also know you miss your father a lot. But I want to tell you one thing that where ever he is, he is very proud of you." She said reading me.

I wiped my wet eyes with my fingers and said, "Thanks."

I took out the photo of my father from my wallet and showed it to her. She looked at the photo and said smiling, "Hmm...handsome man. This explains your good looks."

***