Joyshree Mitra, my Joy.
A simple, average girl with the exceptional talent to do almost everything perfectly. Sometimes I envied her, but mostly, I loved her, for being the bestest thing that has ever happned to me. A 5’ 5”, wheatish complexioned, curly black haired package of pure warmth and custody to me.
And yet no-one ever understood the chemistry we shared. My other friends thought I was in love with her. They said she was so irresistible that anyone could fall in love with her at first glance, and I had been together with her for almost twenty years. The oldest memories I have of her were the very first ones after my birth. She used to stay with her family in the flat right opposite ours. And she used to come with her mom to play with me while our moms had chat sessions. We used to fight a lot on who was the older amongst us. She was. She was exactly 3 months and 5 days older than me. She always won. The battle always came to an end with our mothers’ interventions, after we bugged and pestered them till a verdict was delivered. I usually used to stop talking to her right after this. But she always won here too. She used to pucker up her tiny lips n redden her eyes, a sure symbol of an upcoming weeping tantrum.
But those were the last times any real fights broke between us. Joy had changed a lot since childhood. Now she had a different perspective to her being the elder. Rather than considering it a virtue which declared her the superior, she now looked at it as a reason why she should be more responsible, responsible for me, keep me out of trouble’s way, always. Not that I felt the same way, but her being older just added an edge to her conviction.
All this, and the fact that I was always immensely happy with Joy around, made me believe that life was impossible without her. But didn’t I just sound exactly like an actor right out of some romantic 90’s movie, who said these words to their lady love, to keep her to themselves forever? I slapped and punched my friends real hard when they used to tease me about me being in love with her; that shut them up pretty good. But nothing could silence the tiny part of me which kept asking me the same question, time and again. Obviously I never had an answer. “What the hell do you mean by ‘being in love’??” I would argue. I knew I couldn’t do without Joy around, and the mere thought of parting ways with her brought me terrible nightmares. But speaking of ‘being in love’, wasn’t ‘sex’ an inseparable part of it? Physical craving? Given that, and I could swear on everything good life has ever given me, that I was NOT in love with Joy. Though I always thought that Joy was pretty, quite pretty for the other girls I knew, but nothing such as a trace of any sexual thought about her ever crossed my mind, let alone fantasies. Neither did I feel any trace of insecurity when other guys glanced up at her, smiling approvingly; nor at times when she returned them.
I was deep in thought when I felt my cell phone vibrate. The display showed a name, a namesake rather, of the way I felt upon seeing the name. Joy. “Hey! Ki korchish?? Oi what should I wear for Sanjeev Da’s wedding party?? I cant decide!” “Who’s…what?” “Abbey idiot! Ki bhabchili be?? What were you thinking?” “Koi nato? Nothing at all. Kar wedding?” “Sanjeev Da! Nicher flat-er.” “Oh! Kal biye na??” I had been completely oblivious of the fact that a guy living in the apartment right below ours was getting married tomorrow. And I wouldn’t have remembered if Joy’s feminine instincts of ‘dressing to kill’, hadn’t invoked the reminder. Yes Joy WAS feminine, feminine in her own way. From what I write you’d think that she was a tomboyish Goth. But then again, you read the diary of someone who considered Joy just a ‘person’, as a human being, and not any ‘girl’. But to everyone else she dressed like a girl, walked like a girl, and may be even talked like a girl, thought like a girl, and of course, fought like a girl, haha! She always made sure she kept from me, things meant to be kept “between girls”. And never pushed anything she felt I was uncomfortable discussing with a girl. Apart from this, there were no secrets kept.
She once told me that Sanjeev Da had a crush on her, and that he had proposed her once. But Joy had found it absolutely funny, the proposal, though I had no idea why. It was the same guy who was getting married tomorrow, to a rich and beautiful Gujrati girl. Sanjeev Da was tall, over 6 feet, fairly fair, and had a face which I could trade anything for. He worked for a leading IT firm in B’lore, and got a package no less than 10 lakhs p.a. And still Joy had laughed at the proposal. I had joked that I would have died to marry him had I been a girl, Joy had just laughed harder.
The day of the wedding finally arrived. I was dressed in fancy brown suit. My hair, dabbed with hair-gel (which, of course, was Joy’s idea), was combed neatly, in a very long time. After choosing my dresses and making my hairdo, Joy went back to her home to get herself dressed. Said that she might be a bit late, asked me to be there and that she’ll join me in a while. I said that I’ll wait for her, and if she wanted not to be kicked openly at a wedding party, she better not be late.
It was a fine reception. I reached there with my family at around 7 pm. It was a big banquet hall, the traditional “Shannai” music played from all around. Everyone was dressed at their best. If you lived in a flat you would know that these kinds of parties always served as a platform for showing off. And then there were the bride’s relatives from Gujrat. Many of them were dressed in their traditional wedding attires. It was clear that they were filthy rich, because even as a novice in the dressing world, I could guess that those dresses had cost a minimum of five thousand bucks each! And then there was the food! The snacks bar alone had enough items to fill up everyone’s’ tummies who were present there. And girls! There were a lot many numbers of dashing damsels flying past me, around me, as if I never existed. I looked some of them in the eye. Only a few looked back, and only one or two smiled. It would take Joy at least about another half hour to be there (in my mind I estimated 8, keeping in mind the odds), and already I had nothing to do. I looked at my watch; it was already 7:15.
7:30, and I was bored of looking at girls. No sign of Joy.
7:45, the hall swarmed with guests, of all shapes and sizes. And still no sign Joy.
8:00, many of the guests made it for the dinner hall upstairs. Still no Joy anywhere.
8:15, I grew real impatient, and dialed Joy’s number. It kept ringing, no one picked up and eventually I was redirected to her voice mailbox. I tried four more times, but all of them in vain.
8:30, and I was visibly fretting. Once I turned abruptly and almost collided with a guest, who asked me politely if I was sick, I realized I was sweating too profusely on a December evening. I said thanks and that I was okay.
At 8:45 exactly, I finally gave up and decided that Joy did deserve a solid kick. Suddenly my mom caught at my arm from somewhere. I realized that she had been standing there for quite a while, chatting with the other guests whom I barely knew. She tugged my arm and said “Sanjeev Da’r sathe dekha korechish? Did u meet him? He was asking of you.” I opened my mouth to say something, but I already was damn angry on Joy, and decided not to wait for her any longer.
I followed mom through the crowd, making my way to the raised platform where the bride and the groom were seated. As the crowd thinned I saw Sanjeev Da, always the prince, looking dashing in a crimson and gold sherwani. I went up to him, shook his hand and congratulated. He motioned at the bride, the beautiful Gujrati girl. She was wearing a dashing blue Benarasi silk, accompanied with a choli and whatever they call those. She indeed was very beautiful. From what I could see of her side face, I could tell that she had got a great color and her eyes specially were exceptionally enchanting. She was turning left and talking to a guest. When she was done with her she turned and looked at me, I smiled and put my hand forward to greet…
...but I froze...
I had opened my mouth to say “Hi” but I couldn’t complete it…my vocal chords felt numb, as did the rest of the muscles in my body…for sitting there in that blue Benarasi sari was none other than…none other than…her…
Everything seemed blurry…and then darkness…pitfall…
When I opened my eyes next I had a strange feeling. That the ground under me was shaking. That too in a rhythm… “trr trr trr…trr trr trr…trr trr trr...” It wasn’t shaking. It was vibrating. And it wasn’t the ground, it was only my cell phone beside my pillow. I opened my eyes, and rubbed them. I realized that I was in my bedroom, on my bead. When realization caught me fully I groped for my cell phone and looked at the display. I froze again! The same kind of chill ran down my spine. Cuz it was the same name buzzing inside my mind when I was falling through the dark pit. Joy. I let it ring for another five seconds and then pressed the ‘receive’ button with unsure fingers. “H-Hello...” “Hey what’s wrong with you? You moron! What took you so long to receive??” “I..I was sleeping…” “Damn get up man! Did you decide what to wear for the wedding?? I have thought of wearing a blue Benarasi. And I think brown will look good on you. Hey you’ve got that brown suit right?? Great! Il come over at 5 sharp and get you dressed! Ok?? Gosh it’s already 9! I have to go visit the parlour! Damn! Ok catchya at 5 then! B’bye!” “Yeah, I’l wait, B’bye...”
I kept the cell and rubbed my eyes again…
