The Gate

I sat cozily on the garden chair looking at the gate, broken and begging for a fresh coat of paint. I could still see the traces of bright green that I had painted it with three years back when we moved into my ancestral home. I could recall numerous instances when I had undermined the importance of that sole piece that protected me always. My father and I always had fought over it. He insisted on not changing it and I was adamant about replacing it with a swanky one, like my neighbour's. This one was cranky and opening it made a noise that would repel the souls that roamed about in this realm at night. Even though I was almost asleep, I could remember how my father used to come in after work. He opened the gate with one hand while balancing his motorbike with the other, and years later I followed the same way. I think it was true, as they say, even the ways of living are passed on. 

But, today, my concern was not the past, it was the future. While the paint of the gate falls under my locus of control, something's in life did not. The gate attracted my attention because that was the last place she must have stopped, glanced back at what we had built and walked away. Here, I was, broken and shattered, filled with remorse over what was possibly my own doing. Her name was, Khyati, and she is my girlfriend. At least the last time I checked, she still was. We got together three years ago with the intention of checking our compatibility before we got married. The initial stages were good, in fact as good as they can get. There was love, intimacy and passion. Our visions regarding our future almost coincided. And, to my surprise, things did not go sour even after three years. Eventually, we realised that marriage was not vital for a happy life together. We did plan to get married, but not if we had better things to do. 

Everything was fine. But, when we think about a calm and content life, we always expect some turbulence waiting for us round the corner. It seems like a calm before a storm. And we knew it.

And then, fate took its own course. One night, three gypsies of police, with two ambassadors, surrounded my house. The sirens were making quite a noise. We rushed out to see what had happened and the lights from all the cars were blinding. Suddenly, an officer asked me, briskly, to follow him as I was being arrested for fraud. For the next few seconds, all I could think of was telling Khyati that it was not true. Certainly, at that point, my words could not have conveyed my surprise or innocence. I had to rely on the emotions in my eyes to tell her what no words could do. I knew I was being framed and I knew this would soon be over with me infact out scot-free. But what I failed to realise was that even though I was unmarried, there was someone who would have to bear the brunt of this. For those of you who are unaware of the feeling that crops up in these times, let me tell you, they are scary. Imagine six cars outside your house, blaring sirens and lights of beacons making sure the world knows you are a criminal. And the worst part is that you are not. I was being taken to the office of the excise commissioner, at night, and all I could think of is whether she will stay put or leave me desolate in this mess that won't last a night. But, this begs the question, why was I so confident that this fiasco won't last more than a few weeks and why was I really scared of Khyati leaving me. 

Sometimes we lie to ourselves, and those lies are so believable that we forget the truth. Funny, the little lies, can break every relationship we hold dear. This certain lie was that I was a married man. One important thing I forgot to mention was that I got married to a woman six years back in Delhi. The woman here was Aruna. A woman who was obsessed with me to the level of insanity. I was surprised at the level of obsession when I realised she hooked up with one of my female colleagues to make her confess she had a fling with me. That turned out to be untrue. I did not object to her deviating from her sexual preferences, on the contrary, I spent quite a considerable time visualising it to my utmost satisfaction. My objection was her lack of trust which had led her to this. The sheer rejection of my promises and assurances that I had made over the three years of marriage. And she tried too, to make it work and to trust me. But her fear of losing me ultimately led her into losing me. I moved to Meerut and picked a small-time job as a petrol pump supervisor. My initial plan was to stay there for a while, detoxify and move back, and I told Aruna the same. I have always been a man with little needs. 

As I sat in the police jeep, I looked back and recalled the day when Khyati barged into my office, accusing me of adulterating the petrol. All I could do was gaze at her. I still remember she wore a blue kurti with embroidery and jeans. Her voluminous hair partially covered her cat-eyed sunglasses and the smell which could raise the dead. I stood there stupefied by her charm. There was something sensuous about her that turned me on, sexually as well as emotionally. And she got it, for she abruptly stopped in the middle of her yelling. After the brief silence, all I could muster was, "Would you like some water?". Then, she just smiled, one that I will never forget. And, then, as they say, what happened is history. 

I reached the office, Aruna's father was an excise commissioner and I knew it. This was just an attempt to rob me of every chance of happiness and get me back to her. Her father knew her paranoia and, he empathised with me too. But, a father has to do what he has to do. While all the documents were being examined, I was summoned for a meeting with the commissioner. I had two choices - resume my life with Aruna or face the consequences. To the best of my memory, I knew getting back to Aruna would be worse than before. The same story but with more severity now that she had grounds. Her husband had been living a dual life for three years. Though it was another question as to why she did not reach out but I wasn't in a position to question. In a short duration, I made up my mind. I will face the consequences, which I thought would be a conviction for some excise fraud I never committed and the impending punishments. I planned that I will explain everything to Khyati who will understand. I felt facing the consequences would give me the chance of retaining my lie as it was 3 hours back. I boldly said, "whatever be the consequences, I will not get back to her. Khyati is the person who made me alive after what Aruna has put me through". The father smiled and told me I was free to go after 1 hour. He said it was to show some work was being done. 

After an hour I went home and saw her gone. All with her belongings and leaving behind a note saying,"I thought you were a decent person". This was three years after we had met and this is all she understood me. Devastated, I was distraught and scrambled for whatever little happiness my life had to offer. Forwarding to the current day, I received divorce papers from Aruna and along with that was a note. The note said," the consequences was not acquittal. It was baring your reality to your beloved. Your act of betraying her and me. We all have our own ways to avenge betrayals. A lot can change in one hour and, in your case, your entire life." 

I am left staring at the gate wondering what could I have done. Perhaps, my father was right, we need not change what we have, we just have to accept it.