Dobie and Me: Chapter 8

Read Chapter 7 here

The carefree college days, where all that mattered was bunking classes, the hours spent in canteen, going to movies, shopping… Shankar and I drifted close. Soon we drifted away from others, I a shadow of him, he leading me to new worlds.

One world he led me into was that of college elections. He campaigned for Pratyush, our senior. We were sophomores and Pratyush was doing his first year post graduation. Pratyush and I rarely spoke to each other, except when he wanted to give me some instruction. But he never failed to greet me, even after he won the elections and became the president. Shankar, though, became Pratyush’s understudy and spent much time with the ‘men in power’. I complained, but it fell on deaf ears.

When we were in final year, life took an unexpected turn. My father, who had his own business, died unexpectedly. My mother and I had not yet recovered from the shock when we discovered that he had incurred heavy debts that made us bankrupt. My mother followed my father soon after, unable to handle the shock and the humiliation.

What about me, was a question I asked myself several times.

And, where was Shankar, was the other. I couldn’t pay for my second semester fees and I dropped out, and looked for a part time job. Some kindly uncle fixed me up in one of his clients’ offices as office assistant. My basic computer skills came in handy. I shifted to a hostel.

All attempts to connect with Shankar again and recreate the magic failed – he was not interested, I finally got the message after much heartache. And only experienced more heartache.

I tried to be brave, tried to see it from his point of view, but it was not easy. Was it the money, my absence, or just that he had never been serious? Of what use were such doubts except to make one more miserable?

One Sunday, when I was in a dark mood, I had an unexpected visitor – Pratyush. He had come looking for me. That should have lifted my mood. But it reminded me of the days I had campaigned with Shankar, going around every classroom distributing pamphlets and then playing truant half way through.

He offered condolences, commiserated with my plight and was angry at my dropping out. “I am sure we can set that right soon,” he assured me. He was in final year now, and not in the student committee. But he pulled strings, found out my track record, which, despite my carelessness, was not bad; and got me scholarship to complete my final year.

Couldn’t he see how painful it was to see Shankar keep a distance, watch him with link arms with a fresher, ignore me like a stranger? I bunked many classes. Maybe Pratyush heard about it. Maybe he was watching me. He was on my case, urging me to persist, not give up, not give in… He could think only of the tragedy of losing my parents and money. How could he be blind to the pain Shankar caused me?

If Pratyush was blind to my pain, I was blind to his feelings for me. When I graduated, he too completed his postgraduate degree and got a job. I returned to work, not wanting to have anything to do with colleges and classmates and elections and anything that would trigger thoughts of Shankar.

Pratyush often picked me up after work, took me out for dinner, and, strangely, made me laugh. My colleagues noticed and it was they who opened my eyes to his interest in me. I didn’t believe them. I was a morose person, a different person from the girl he knew in college, and I was sure I was pulling him down. I believed it was pity and his good nature that brought him to me so often – that’s how blind I was. So I told him to go find a life of his own.

“Thanks,” he replied. Truth be told, I was disappointed. “So you promise to stop walking around with a long face?” he asked. I chuckled and nodded to assure him.

“Good. So once I am sure you are fine, I shall leave you in peace,” he told me.

“And how will you make sure?” I asked. “Is there some test?”

“Yes, surprise tests. No syllabus, no time to prepare,” he replied in the same vein.

“That’s unfair,” I complained.

“That’s life,” he said cryptically. “If you need a crutch, I will be one. But if you want to be rid of the crutch, then learn to walk alone.”

I was baffled. “I don’t need a crutch.”

“Then stop entombing yourself!” he said half angrily.

“What do you mean?”

“Look up, get a life, do something besides going to work and returning to the hostel,” he said in the same tone.

“How do you know I don’t have a life?” I demanded, now angry myself at being shown the emptiness of my life.

“Tell me one movie you watched in the last two years, one shopping trip just for a lark… Anything out of the routine.” I glared at him silently. “Even I am a routine,” he went on mercilessly.

“If you stopped calling me out so often, I might have the time to get a life for myself!” I snapped at him.

“Fine!” he said and got up. “We will meet in a month’s time,” he said and left. I had to foot the bill that evening.

What did he mean by getting a life? I had one! I was breathing, walking, eating…

But from the moment he left, I couldn’t help but examine my life closely. I had drifted into lethargic existence, letting sadness and depression overpower me. I was young, just 21. I had thought life was much more, and death and betrayal had dashed all thoughts and dreams. I had not dusted the pieces. I had let dust settle on it and slowly choke me.

That night, I cried once more, because I was overwhelmed. In the next few days, I realised I was missing Pratyush badly. Though I had never called him, though we had never fixed our next meeting, I had started expecting him to drop in every second or third day. I had started depending on him to take me out of my dark moods.

And now that he was not there, I did not know what to do. My colleagues were always making plans for movies, shopping, eating out. I would show him! Did he think I would be lost without him? I partied with the girls at work like crazy, but it left me feeling empty. 

The days I declined, I realised how much I had depended on Pratyush to fill the blank in my life.

Read Chapter 9