Love Lasts Forever Read online

  I still remember one night, we (Joe Singh and I) tip toed to his room while he was asleep, undid his pajamas, and then well, his panty (yes panty - it was a baby pink colour with cute little bunnies all over). Joe Singh had tooth paste in his hands which he brought close to Priyanka’s butt while I held a torch in my hand, and man, was it clean. There wasn’t even a single strand of hair…over there, and for a moment, just a very small moment, I thought I got an erection. Joe Singh placed the tip of the tooth paste over his anus and squeezed it bottom to top generously till it covered the entire area.

  ‘Now we’ll see how this slut is the first to report at the fall-in tomorrow,’ Joe Singh whispered in my ear.

  And then, just the way we came, we tip-toed our way out the room.

  The next morning was complete hysteria as he hollered and pranced all over the bathroom floor with a hand over his butt.

  ‘Ooh, aah, urgh, who the hell has put this paste?’ he screamed. ‘Oh God, this is burning like hell.’

  All of us laughed our lungs out.

  ‘Who has done this? I’ll complain to Shukla ji.’

  He kept whining but no one paid a heed. Although everyone knew it was us, but no one took our name. By the way, he also knew it was us, we also knew he knew that it was us, but we also knew that he knew that nobody would support him.

  At the fall-in, Priyanka was late as expected as he spent a major chunk of his time in…well, cleaning his ass. And then the best part to top it all – he got punished. So with his clammy butt he ran nine kilometers. Watching him suffer like that gave us a lot of pleasure.

  And yes, Shukla ji didn’t buy his bull shit: ‘Don’t give excuses Priyank, no one can do such a morbid thing, we are all officers here. Learn to accept your mistake.’

  Divine pleasure!

  And then another time, we’d stolen his shore pass. Once in a month we’d get a holiday in form of a pass to leave our institute in the Nhava Island via a boat to see Mumbai. It was anybody’s guess that Joe Singh and I stole his pass not once but thrice. So while all of us spent the entire day away from the confined atmosphere in Nhava Island and enjoyed sightseeing in Mumbai, Priyanka darling was confined to the four walls of his room shedding tears. Yes, he cried. Again we knew that he knew it was us. And so on.

  So yeah, when Joe Singh calls me to have fun, I am all game for it.

  ‘Hey Priyank, congrats for the prize,’ Joe Singh said as we reached his table. ‘You had a nasty fall there.’ His tone was borderline sarcastic.

  I pursed my lips and pinched him from behind.

  Priyanka nodded stoically and introduced us to his parents. We knew he hated us from the bottom of his heart. Of course, the feelings were reciprocated. We checked out the odd pattern of mud formed over his shirt. Why the hell was he not bleeding?

  ‘Hi, I’m Aisha, Priyank’s sister.’ A perky voice greeted us from behind a minute later.

  When I turned, the prettiest pair of eyes on this planet twinkled at me.

  I gaped at her in amazement and felt a hundred needles run up the back of my neck. My heart did a little dance and my eyes were locked in hers. Beyond her, the entire world was out of focus.

  I’m in love. Oh man, I’m so in love.

  3. PIRATES

  25th June 2011, Somewhere in Somalia

  My thoughts about my graduation day overwhelm me with grief and guilt. Why did I join navy? And more importantly why did I meet Aisha that day?

  As I traverse back in reality, I still can’t get over the shock. The pirates have hijacked our ship…It’s been less than an hour since the pirates boarded and they have already taken command of our ship. There are at least a dozen of them with us on the bridge and another dozen all around. The skiffs or boats through which they boarded were actually launched by a mother ship some few nautical miles away from us. No wonder neither me, nor Captain, could figure out from where the two boats appeared. The lone white light that we saw first was of the mother ship itself. And then the two lights were of the boats. So by that time, the mother ship had switched off her lights to catch another prey.

  After boarding they asked us to approach their mother ship from where another dozen of pirates boarded so as to be in complete control. All the pirates are armed with sophisticated and modern day weapons viz. RPGs and AK-47s. The Somalis are insanely dark and ghoulish looking people. Even if it wasn’t for their guns, I wouldn’t mess with them. Most of them are lanky but some of them are stout and massive built. However they all invoke the same amount of terror. I remember the speech of our dean during my pre-sea days some seven years ago. He was so darn right. We are living the most dreaded day of any seafarer’s life.

  As soon as they entered the bridge, they told Captain to follow their route in a smattering of English. Their accent was hard to place, both of us pressed hard. Later, Captain and I studied their route carefully. They were taking us in a south westerly direction to some port in Mogadishu, Somalia’s capital. No one amongst us uttered a word in retaliation. We knew its outcome. A bullet!

  Two decks below, all our ship’s crew members, some twenty-five of them, have been assembled in the small mess room. They have been made to sit on the floor with the pirates strategically positioned around them, guns in their hands, with orders of shoot if any one moves.

  Here on the bridge, the atmosphere is relatively safe. Of course the ‘shoot orders’ apply here as well but they are a bit wary about it as they need us, at least till the time we get there. The pirates are not good navigators and have a limited knowledge of bridge equipments; they lack essential radio communication skills as well to communicate with their partners ashore. So till the time we reach their desired location, we are pretty much in safe hands.

  Till the time we reach we are safe!

  My own thought has managed to send a shiver down my spine and props up disconcerting questions in my head.

  What would happen after that? Would they kill us? Would they torture us till we are dead? Will we ever be out of their custody?

  4. OUR FIRST DATE

  February 2004, Mumbai

  Barely twenty four hours into our first meeting, and here I was, already, on a date with Priyank’s sister Aisha.

  After a cursory visit to the ‘Gateway of India’ we made our way to the Italian joint ‘Pizzazz’ in Mumbai’s up market Marine drive area overlooking the Arabian Sea. As we entered, we caught an intoxicating whiff of hot dough and mozzarella cheese, and it was the most amazing smell. There was a rustic ambience about the place, and I couldn’t notice many unoccupied tables. The walls were adorned by posters of Hollywood stars, and some of them, I noticed, were peeling off from the edges. Western rock music blared from the speakers toward the left of the table we settled in.

  As she checked out the menu dithering on what to order, I checked her out. I must admit that I was completely blown over by her beauty yesterday, and today, she looks even prettier than I remembered.

  From the very little that I have known her, I would best describe her as someone with an understated elegance and a charming personality that oozes confidence and grace. She isn’t tall, few inches over five feet perhaps, has thin golden brown hair, immaculately manicured hands, and smooth white skin like Priyank. With blue jeans complimented by a flowery mustard top and the slightest hint of make-up, she managed looking sensual.

  I was so inundated by her beauty yesterday that I ditched Joe Singh to have lunch with Priyank’s family. He’s not Priyanka by the way; I have stopped calling him that. After all, he’s my future brother-in-law, he deserves some respect now.

  Yes, I have decided marrying Aisha some day in the future. Love changes us all, doesn’t it?

  Yesterday over lunch we sat across each other and invariably I noticed her checking me out from the corner of her eyes. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach and sensed something skeptical. I smiled incredulously at her and wondered how on earth could a beautiful woman like her get attracted to me? Maybe her brother had told her about us, how
we tease him and all that, and she’d decided to teach me a lesson.

  But as sense dawned, I realized I was decent enough to attract pretty women after all. Closing in at six feet with sinewy body and chiseled features, I too was a catch for her. That’s when I decided to ask her out.

  While bidding adieu to Priyank’s family and hugging him dramatically pretending how much I would miss him, I offered Aisha a nice meeting you hand shake passing her a little note scribbled over a tissue paper:

  I don’t know if I’ve been searching for true love,

  Or waiting for it to come knocking at my door,

  But the moment I’ve rested my eyes on you,

  I’ve found what I’ve been looking for, and never want to let it go.

  Tomorrow, 5pm, Churchgate.

  She cast a furtive glance at the paper at once, rolled her eyes quickly through my words, and then deftly nodded her head with her eyes twinkling in unison. I almost screamed in excitement.

  ‘Why did you call me here?’ she asked, looking up from the menu, as though oblivious of the reason.

  I rolled my eyes and exhaled sharply. Now that is something I hate in a woman. Why do they have to pretend they are dumb? And why do they think we are dumb?

  OK, if that’s what she wants, here’s the answer:

  ‘Because I love you,’ I replied unfazed, looking straight in her eyes. I really did. I had only heard about love at first sight, but yes it happens.

  ‘What?’ She sort of snorted throwing the menu at the table. She still couldn’t decide what to order. ‘You can’t love me, you barely know me,’ she declared.

  ‘Yes, I really do,’ I said, taking her hand in mine.

  I knew I appeared a bit in a hurry, but I had no choice. I’d be leaving for my first ship next month for the next six months, and I didn’t want to wait that long to convey my feelings to her. Besides beauties like her have a very limited span of availability.

  She blushed. Gracefully, she withdrew her hands from mine, and a faint smile engulfed her face.

  ‘You’re so bad,’ she drawled, tucking her hair behind her ears.

  ‘I am,’ I chuckled, leaning back in my seat. Was that a yes?

  She cleared her throat, handed me the menu, and we ordered. During food we chatted on inane topics and contemplated life. She thrust her brother in our conversation from nowhere and that’s when I almost threw up.

  ‘Priyank is such a sweet lad, isn’t he?’ I saw a gleeful spark in her eyes as she dug her fork in the pasta. ‘I mean he is the sunshine of our life, he’s so competitive and full of energy; no one can beat him in anything. He’s just the best.’

  ‘I can’t agree more,’ I replied non-commit-tally, looking everywhere else but in her eyes.

  Sweet lad?

  ‘Isn’t it?’ She adjusted herself on the seat and moved closer to me. The exuberance in her expression was disconcerting. ‘You know my whole life revolves around my brother. He is my best friend, my mentor, in fact he is everything to me other than a brother.’

  ‘Really? Wow!’ I held the glass of Pepsi and took a long sip. The brother-sister talk brought tears to my eyes, well almost. Not due to affection, of course, but due to fear. Did she even know how much her beloved brother hates me and Joe Singh, and likewise?

  ‘Does Priyank know you are em…here with me?’ I asked, hoping for an outright no.

  ‘No, I haven’t told him yet…’ she replied almost instantly while chewing her food along.

  Thank God! I breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘…And I’ve been feeling guilty about it all this while.’

  She looked wistfully out the window. I followed her gaze. The sun was slowly beginning its descent down the horizon. The sky was orange, and the sea glistened in gold, reflecting its colour. In the distance, dusk was slowly making its way over.

  ‘You know’ - she scooted her head over, facing me - ‘I never hide anything from him. I think I’m going to tell him about you today. You guys are friends, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled by the news.’

  ‘Oh sweetie, you have no idea.’ I took a small bite of the garlic bread before dipping it in ketchup.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she raised her brow, wiping her lips with a tissue paper.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘I just feel this is not the right time to tell him, let’s see where we go first. We should take it easy for a while.’

  ‘Yeah, actually, you are right,’ she agreed.

  Thank God, again!

  She took a slow breath. ‘He’ll be so bamboozled by the news, I mean, you know, you are his friend and all, dating his sister. That might shock him.’

  I smiled. ‘There you go, sounds about right, SHOCK!’

  She nodded. I relaxed my muscles, unclenched my fist, and suddenly air flew more comfortably to my lungs.

  But suddenly, a very unnerving question popped up in my head. What would happen if Priyank tells her about me? Will she kick me or slap me?

  ‘But you know Ronit,’ she resumed in a concerned tone, breaking my thought. ‘Priyank tells me there are some rowdy and unethical batch mates of his who are so jealous of him that they’ve been troubling and ragging him right from the onset of this course. I want to kill those guys.’

  ‘Em...sorry…what?’ I preferred pretending I never heard that.

  She repeated her statement verbatim but ended with a question, ‘Do you know who those guys are?’

  ‘No idea at all, absolutely no idea,’ I answered spontaneously and avoided looking in her eyes again.

  ‘I hope those guys rot in hell.’

  She said it with so much power and conviction, I was pretty sure Joe Singh and I would actually end up that way.

  ‘Hey look!’ I pointed through the window toward a horse cart galloping down the Marine Drive, primarily to change the topic. ‘You want a ride later.’

  ‘Love to.’

  We left the restaurant an hour later after settling the bill and I ensured Priyank’s topic was completely knocked out her head.

  On the ride, as the cool wind of the Arabian Sea blew past our face and caressed us, I looked at her and couldn’t help but wonder, how could I possibly be in love with a person so madly, whom I met just yesterday.

  5. Joe Singh’s advice

  February 2004, Mumbai

  Joe Singh resided in Jalvayu Vihar in Powai; a complex developed by the naval and air force housing board. Although he spent more time in Delhi than Mumbai, he preferred the Mumbaikar tag over a Delhite one. And I didn’t know why, but I hated him for that.

  With the morning sun shining nice and bright in the sky, I found myself reaching for his place. After my first date yesterday with the love of my life, I’d been bubbling with excitement to share the news with him. I wanted to see the reaction, or perhaps shock - as Aisha had put it - on his face; hence I decided to meet him in person. Joe Singh’s parents left home early so their maid opened the door. Joe Singh once confided in me that he had the hots for her daughter, and well, that was the weirdo in him.

  Talking about the ‘weirdo in him’, he also had a thing for Priyank. Correction – a thing for his arse. That ‘toothpaste night’, Joe Singh had brought a camera with him.

  And I hated that screensaver on his computer screen. It was there for two months!

  Shunning my best friend’s thoughts, I approached his room. A poster of ‘Rabbi Shergill’ and ‘Beatles’ competed with each other on the wall opposite the bed. The room was tiny yet looked elegant with just the bare minimum furniture - an ebony coloured TV unit, two side tables on each side of the mahogany coloured bed, a wooden attached wardrobe, and two bean bags occupied the side.

  Joe Singh’s head was buried under the pillow and the blanket slovenly covered his body.

  ‘Wake up you moron, its eleven.’ I jostled him.

  ‘Um…’ He moaned.

  ‘Get up man, got some interesting stuff to tell you.’

  ‘Um…’

  ‘I was with Aisha yesterday.’r />
  Still nothing.

  ‘Aisha…is…Priyank’s…sister,’ I drawled to create a dramatic effect.

  ‘Whhaatt?’ He threw his blanket and as if like a sorcerer sat beside me the very next moment. ‘Who?’ he asked; his curled lips and narrowed eyes manifested his curiosity.

  ‘Yes! You heard it right! Aisha, Priyank’s sister!’

  ‘Hold on dude,’ he cut in, thrusting his arms at me, ‘first things first. Since when did you start calling him Priyank? We’d already established he’s a girl, right?’

  My memory raced back to that night when Joe Singh creamed his butt with toothpaste. The way he screamed in the corridor cavorting all over the place, the way he sobbed, and then didn’t speak to anyone for two days after the punishment was enough evidence to establish he was a girl. It appeared as if he was having PMS those days.

  And that’s when we morphed his name to Priyanka.

  ‘Since I fell in love with his sister,’ I replied, traversing back to the present.

  ‘Fell in love…His sister…What are you even saying?’ He scrunched up his nose and threw his blanket further away. ‘What is wrong with you? Are you completely out of your mind? Had we not established love and marriage is a disaster and we’ll stay away from them at least till we are thirty? You can’t be falling in love,’ he declared.

  Again, my memory raced back to that day, few months back, when we were having an innocuous argument with our instructor Shukla ji in the mess room. At fifty-five, he was still a bachelor and at the peak of his health. He exhorted us to never get married and live life to the fullest. I still remember his little poem partially that he recited that night. It went something like this:

  Seaman life, no wife;

  New port, new wife.