Unspoken Love

It has been one of the finest afternoons of my life. Everything was as neat as a pin. I feel good. I haven’t felt this tranquillized before. Yet, I miss her. I have been yearning for her presence since thirty years- three decades! Suddenly I feel nostalgic. Whenever I miss her, I simply memorize the moments I’ve had with her…

 Thirty years ago …

          “Raj, you’re my only son. I want you to handle our business more efficiently. I am getting old now, boy!” Dad said, patting on my shoulder.

          “Don’t you worry, Dad. Have I let you down since five years, from the time I am working with you? Mr. Raj Oberoi is at your service!” I said, rather playfully.

          My dad has been one of the leading businessmen in Dehradun. He has been prioritizing his work over anything else all of his life, and that showed in the lavish life we could live in. Before I even thought for something I want, I had it! I always had the best – best school, best parents and a best life. Yet, I always felt like something was missing. And even dad couldn’t bring that to me. I didn’t know what was missing. I felt incomplete.

          Dad had handed over his business to me. I was wholly and solely responsible for all the business now. I used to go to the office sharp at eight thirty in the morning. It was a boring routine, until that day.

          Until that day- when I saw her. She was waiting for an auto to stop for her. She wore a pink salwaar-kameez and had left her hair open, allowing them to come over her face and hide her beauty. She looked surreal. She looked gorgeous. My driver rode the car way too fast, and so, that’s all I could notice about her - she was beautiful. I reached my office and got busy dealing with the meetings and payments to be made. The next day, I saw her again. Same place. I could understand, something was happening - my heart was racing and my face had a smile. I could figure out that I liked her. Not that I hadn’t been in relationships before, but she was different. I couldn’t get my eyes off her face. And like the previous day, I just got a glimpse of her. Next day, similar sort of event happened.

I just used to see her through my car, and it would make my day! It had become a routine now. The day I didn’t see her would be nothing like memorable, everything seemed dull and disapproving. I knew I felt something eternal for her, something very refined. I hadn’t felt such for anyone, literally. I was thirty and without a girlfriend. I never wanted one. And the funniest part was she didn’t know of my existence! She was mild, decent and yet intoxicating. I felt addicted to her. But, I knew nothing, her name, her life, whether she had a boyfriend or no. “Hell! What if she’s already married?” I exclaimed to myself. I was sitting in my cabin, so I silently thanked God that no one heard me. Then I got busy in a file that was brought by one of my colleague and forgot about what I was thinking.

The next day was usual. I woke up mindlessly and got ready for office. I was going quite early, so I doubted if I would get to see her today. On my way, my car broke down. And fortunately, it happened where she used to wait for an auto. The driver told me it would take almost an hour to get the car corrected. I wondered what was so wrong! But positively, I might get to talk to her, provided, if she comes while I was there.

And yes, like a dream come true, I could see her walking towards my direction. (Okay not towards me, but I purposely stood where she stands.) I was getting restless about what to talk and what not, when I saw her panicking and running towards the road. I couldn’t understand what she thinking and why she was running, but something seemed serious for sure. I was trying to make sense of my own thoughts, when I saw her grab a five-year-old-girl from behind. If she wouldn’t have done so, the girl could probably have met with an accident. She caressed the girls face and helped her to cross the road. And after she was satisfied that the little girl was safe to go by herself, she started walking towards where I stood.

This incident – it proliferated my feelings for her and all of a sudden, I developed respect for her. They say, ‘the smallest act of kindness is worth more than any grandest intentions.’ I experienced it today. I saw her heart – pure and plain, full of kindness and compassion and love. I was lost in my thoughts. She came and stood beside me. I thought of talking to her. But what? Initially, I thought of using the trick my great grandfather might have used – asking her the time! But I realized, she wasn’t wearing a watch, and I was! So this idea was flop. I was thinking hard for something that would initiate the conversation.

“Are you waiting for an auto?” she asked.

“Oh, no no! Actually my car broke down, and the driver informed that it would take time.”

“Okay, alright.” She said with a smile.

The driver came and informed that the car needed to be taken to the garage and I might need to use a public transport for today. I wholeheartedly agreed. God was playing from my side today, I thought!

“Using public transport isn’t bad for one day.” She chuckled.

“Yeah yeah,” I said, “Even I would have to take an auto then!”

“Where are you going? I mean, we can share the auto if we’re going in the same direction.”

“Where are you going?” I counter-questioned her.

“Link Road, St. Peter’s High School.” She said.

“Great. I am going in the same direction. Oberoi Textiles. You might know.”

“Oh yes, the great empire built by Mr. Jeet Oberoi. I know.”

“He’s my dad.” I said, kind of blushing.

“You are-?”

“Raj, Raj Oberoi.” I said with a smile.

“Oh. Myself Piya Gupta. I teach at Peter’s.”

Piya Gupta. Piya Gupta. That’s all I could think about.

Soon, we got an auto and went to our respective work places. I was extremely happy that day. The day ended on a happy note.

The next day, I went in an auto again. With her.

“Someone’s using public transport too often nowadays!” She teased me.

“Oh no, I just find it comfortable,” I said, trying to be convincing.

 “You mean, auto rickshaws are more comfortable than your air conditioned car?” She asked, looking genuinely confused. I had no answer.

We became kind of formal friends, exchanged numbers and talked and talked and talked. I told her about the new strategies and policies we are planning to implement and she told me about how she loved teaching her students. I told her about how I admired my dad and she told me about how she struggled to earn a living for her family. And each time we talked, each time we met, each time I saw her, I fell more and more in love with her. I was completely unaware of her feelings towards me, but I loved her. I loved her truly. It was eternal.

Piya was really simple. She wore salwar-kameez, put a bindi on her forehead and left her hairs open. She didn’t use even a single make-up tool for looking beautiful. She was stunning. She was heavenly.

I wanted to tell her my feelings. Holy God, I loved her so much! I sent her a text message.

Hey, I was thinking if we could meet today?

I waited for a response. Three minutes passed by, no reply. I felt disheartened.  Just then my cell beeped.

Sure. Where?

I was euphoric. I replied,

At sunset point, six thirty?

Again, within a fraction of second, my cell beeped.

Done! I’ll be there.

I completed my work at a very fast pace and reached sunset point at five-forty-five. I had to prepare myself to present before her. I couldn’t be lame that day. After every five minutes, I checked myself in the rear-view mirror of my car. I had to look good too. As it was getting closer to the time of her arrival, I was getting more and more nervous.

I checked my watch. It was sharp six thirty. There were no signs of her, anywhere. Another ten minutes went by. Still, she hadn’t come. Piya never came late, but I wondered why she hadn’t shown up until now.

It was seven. I felt like a fool standing there alone. Piya was neither answering my calls nor replying my messages. I panicked. Time was running and she had stopped my heart. I felt desolate because of her absence. It was eight when I finally decided to go home. Disappointed, I drove all the way. I couldn’t sleep that night.

The next day, Piya didn’t show up at her auto-stop either. I wondered what was wrong. I went to office and tried to concentrate on my work, so as to distract myself from being lonely.  I couldn’t concentrate. I turned the T.V on mindlessly and begun switching the channels, when on a news channel, I saw images of an accident taken place at Link Road. An auto was hit by a truck. The passenger was a girl in her mid twenties, and she had died on the spot. The auto-driver had somehow managed to survive. I got restless. Piya’s school, St. Peter’s was there too. She was coming to meet me from there.

Was that passenger Piya?

I was stunned. I was shocked. I gathered courage and called Piya’s landline number. A weak and fragile voice picked up the phone. Maybe she was Piya’s mom. She used to tell me about her mom’s illness.

“Hello, I am Raj. May I speak to Piya, auntie?”

The feminine voice on the other side of the phone broke down. After a while, she said, “Our Piya, our Piya- she met with an accident yesterday. She’s no more, beta. God snatched our Piya away from us.” She said, crying. I was crying too.

“May I come over auntie?”

“Yes, you can. Piya talked so many times about you Raj. She really liked you.”

“I’ll be there in an hour auntie. Be strong.” I said and disconnected the call. I couldn’t react. My tears had dried up and my heart had swollen. I felt numb. I felt lost. I wanted Piya. Piya.

I went to Piya’s house. Her mom told that her body was still with the police. They had sent the body for post-mortem and the funeral was scheduled two days later. Everyone was crying and consoling each other. I wished it was just an untrue dream. I couldn’t imagine my life without her chirpy talks and innocence. I couldn’t live without Piya. After being with her family for a considerate amount of time, I left. I went back home and locked myself in my room. I cried and cried and cried. I cursed God for being so cruel and heartless. I cursed everything that existed in this universe.

I didn’t go to office the next day. I stayed in my room, awfully silent. I thought that my loneliness and sadness would make God change his plan of taking Piya away with him. I know I was dumb. But I needed Piya. The day of the funeral went by. I attended the funeral and crushed myself all over again.

It had been two months since the tragedy. I hadn’t recovered. I couldn’t recover even in my entire lifetime. I helped her family, morally, emotionally and financially. I was alone. I had to live. I had to live with her memories.

Present ..

I didn’t marry since then. I shouldered the role of a good son, a good businessman and a good person. I couldn’t become a good husband, I knew. So I stayed alone, the whole of my life. Actually, I wasn’t alone; she was there with me, like she’s there today – when I recollect my story, my story with her. She’s always there. And I feel complete and calm again.