Beautiful Nights - Night 6

Latitude restaurant exuded enchantment on the evening of September 25th. Its dimly lit ambience, accompanied by soothing music and the tantalizing aroma of exquisite cuisine, enveloped me in a cocoon of happiness. Surrounded by beauty and merriment, I found myself oddly solemn amidst the lively atmosphere.

As I sat at the dinner table of a distinguished restaurant in Belapur, New Mumbai, I found myself repeatedly glancing at the clock on my mobile screen. Amidst the wait for my companion, I battled the urge to check my Instagram account, lost in a cascade of ruminations.

More than 20 minutes passed, each second dragging as my mind spun with questions. Where do I stand in life at this moment? The arrival of a new presence in my life prompted contemplation about the future. What potential does this relationship hold? How can I strike a balance between personal desires and familial responsibilities while embracing the vitality of youth?

Lost in introspection, I failed to notice the arrival of my friend, my thoughts consuming me entirely.

"I noticed you've been waiting here," she exhaled, pulling out a chair and settling beside me. Her demeanour hinted at fatigue, yet her gaze probed mine, searching for something that my composed exterior did not reveal.

"I was searching for you outside, only to find you already here in the restaurant," she remarked.

I met her gaze with mute curiosity.

"Why would the esteemed Author Sahab wait outside for me?" the nag subtly alluded to the night I had rendezvoused with the girl I'd grown fond of. As I waited outside the dining establishment, her teasing persisted, "Maybe dinners with me don't hold the same allure as they do with someone else." She found amusement in her jest, chuckling at her own wit.

Despite the playful banter, I remained mysteriously quiet, sporting a mild smile, partly amused by her jest directed at me. However, my silence seemed to irk her.

"You're not going to say anything?" Ishani's inquiry pierced the silence.

I regarded her attentively before finally offering a greeting, "Hello, Ishani. It's good to see you."

She paused, studying my expression. "Forget it. It doesn't seem like my presence truly delights you. Seems like there's only one person who can light up your world with just a glance."

I smiled with a spark in my eyes. 

"There!" Ishani exclaimed, catching a glimpse of something in my expression. "That's where you were thinking of her, isn't it?"

"It seems I've been caught in the act more times than I realized. Is it really that obvious?" I replied with a hint of playfulness.

"Seeing you smile with such genuine happiness, it's hard to miss. Whoever she is, she clearly has a special place in your heart," Ishani remarked knowingly.

I met her gaze briefly. "Don't jump to conclusions so quickly."

"Why not? Are you not sure of it?" Ishani pressed.

Our eyes engaged in a silent exchange, but I diverted the conversation, attempting to change the subject.

"Let's order some food. I'm famished," I suggested, breaking the momentary silence.

She chuckled softly as she reached for the menu card, well aware of her responsibility to place the order for both of us. She understood that her writer friend wasn't particularly adept at navigating restaurant menus. With practised ease, she summoned the waiter and swiftly placed our food order. Meanwhile, I remained lost in contemplation, my gaze fixed on the window where rain had begun to softly fall, casting a serene veil over the evening.

Sensing my distant demeanour Ishani gently stirred my thoughts with her soft tone, "I'm sorry."

Startled, I refocused my attention, puzzled by her apology. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said, I'm sorry..." she reiterated, her tone carrying a hint of remorse.

"I heard what you said, Ishani, I'm just not sure why you're saying it," I replied, still confused by her sudden contrition.

"I wasn't exactly welcoming when you arrived. I was a bit..." she hesitated.

"Annoyed," I finished her sentence, catching the subtle undercurrent of her mood.

She looked mildly irritated at my astute observation, her gaze meeting mine. "Don't..." she cautioned, her tone defensive.

"What?" I feigned innocence, though I understood exactly what she meant.

"...try to read me," she clarified, her defensive stance evident.

I smiled coyly, pouring myself some water and taking a sip. "I already have."

Her expression shifted, a hint of vulnerability creeping in. "Then I hope you understand that I'm not upset with you, but with my own circumstances," she confessed softly.

"You don't have to worry," I reassured her, attempting to offer comfort.

"Easy for you to say now that you've found someone," she retorted, her frustration palpable.

I regarded Ishani with a calm demeanour, yet inwardly troubled by her current state. The typically resilient and forward-thinking Ishani appeared vulnerable, grappling with the disappointment of not finding a compatible companion for herself. In the bustling metropolis, where opportunities abound and success seems within reach, loneliness often lurks in the shadows. Despite the allure of city life and its promises, the harsh reality of solitude can weigh heavily on even the most driven individuals, haunting them with the sobering truth that, despite their achievements, they remain alone.

I regarded Ishani with a calm demeanour, yet inwardly troubled by her current state. The typically resilient and forward-thinking Ishani appeared vulnerable, grappling with the disappointment of not finding a compatible companion for herself. Metropolitan life seduces smart minds, it offers ways of success and a better life, where opportunities abound and success seems within reach, loneliness often lurks in the shadows. Despite the allure of city life and its promises, the harsh reality of solitude can weigh heavily on even the most driven individuals, haunting them with the sobering truth that, despite their achievements, by the end of the day they remain alone.

"I understand, loneliness is a challenging burden," I offered, hoping to ease her internal turmoil with my words. However, my attempt seemed to only exacerbate her distress.

"Stop pretending like you know anything about it. Living alone has never been a struggle for you," she retorted sharply, instantly regretting her harsh words. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, as if seeking refuge from her own frustration.

I remained calm, unfazed by her outburst, simply observing her without taking offence.

"Look, I'm sorry. It's not that I'm not happy for you," she apologized, her voice tinged with shame. She paused, grappling with her reluctance to admit her deepest fears.

I felt a profound concern for her well-being. Meeting her gaze with sincerity, I spoke softly, "It's the fear of being left alone that's truly troubling you."

"Exactly," she responded, finding solace in the acknowledgement. "It seems like everyone around me is either getting engaged, married, or finding companionship, while I remain alone."

"Trust me, I've been there," I reassured her, hoping to dispel the misconception that she was alone in her struggles. I wanted her to know that I understood her feelings and that she wasn't alone in her experiences.

"Tum to chup he raho. You were alone by choice. I am not. Every attempt I made, failed due to some sort of bullshit followed by the next person." she lamented, her voice tinged with weariness. It was comforting to know that she felt comfortable enough to confide in me, perhaps seeking understanding in my empathy.

"Sometimes, I long for solitude, but then there are moments where I yearn deeply for companionship. It's frustrating not knowing what truly troubles me," she confessed, her vulnerability laid bare.

"You're intelligent, Ishani. Surely, you must have recognized the struggles of your heart when it faced unreciprocated emotional connections," I suggested gently.

"The intelligence of the heart is your forte, Parth, not mine. Emotional turbulence often clouds even the sharpest mind. You can't expect everyone to possess the same emotional intelligence as you," she replied with a touch of self-awareness.

"I once found someone," I confessed, pride tinged with the ache of a shattered heart.

"Only to realize she was the one who couldn't comprehend you, especially when you needed her the most," she observed, her gaze probing.

I fell silent, my gaze drifting downward to the glass of water before me.

"The cruellest way to inflict misery upon someone is to shower them with love and care, only to abruptly depart, leaving them bewildered and tormented by endless questions about what went wrong, until they eventually resign themselves to the belief that everyone will ultimately abandon them, and that they are fundamentally unlovable," Ishani concluded, her words resonating with a haunting truth. Her words struck a chord within me, as if she was articulating my struggles and reality.

"We're here to discuss your troubles," I deflected, attempting to shift her focus away from me.

"Are we, though?" she prodded sceptically. "It feels more like you're seeking confirmation from me before moving forward with this new phase of your life."

I smiled subtly. "Because I value the insight of a sharp mind."

"I'm not as sharp as you make me out to be," she insisted.

"Perhaps not, but you're still one of the brightest individuals I know," I countered, meeting her gaze with a steady look.

For a moment, we both simply observed each other, taking in the unspoken dynamics between us.

"Accept her," Ishani asserted with unwavering resolve. "You wanted some smart advice, didn't you? Well, here it is: embrace this new girl who's entered your life."

"Why?" I countered, a hint of irritation creeping into my voice.

"Because she brings you happiness," Ishani declared firmly.

I scoffed and shook my head incredulously. "Why is prioritizing happiness always the answer? Why isn't sadness given the same weight?"

"Don't be an asshole. Your blogs speak volumes about the emotions you feel in her presence. You were basking in pure joy," Ishani pointed out, her words striking a chord within me.

Feeling frustrated with the notion of happiness, I looked away, my annoyance palpable.

Ishani's insistence seemed to hang in the air, challenging me to confront my own resistance to happiness.

"But the real question is, would she accept me? Women often take pleasure in rejecting a good man and gravitate towards toxic traits," I remarked, glancing at Ishani, unsure if my previous statement had offended her. "I didn't mean to imply...all women..."

"No need to backtrack," Ishani interjected, her tone matter-of-fact. "It's true. Some women overlook the nice guy right in front of them in favour of temporary excitement, only to end up hurt in the long run. Toxic men have a certain allure, a twisted thrill that appeals to some, but most women are seeking a good-hearted guy. And this 'Chubby Cheeks' of yours..."

I couldn't help but smirk in amusement.

"...deep down, she might also be yearning for such a man. With you by her side, the likelihood of her disappointment is minimal."

"Ah, a compliment from Ishani Shah. Quite the achievement for me," I quipped, a hint of playful sarcasm in my tone.

Before I could utter a word, the waiter arrived with our steaming hot soup. The aroma alone triggered a rumble in my stomach. With a grateful nod, I eagerly indulged in the comforting warmth of the soup, closing my eyes to savour its rich flavour.

"It's often said these days that you shouldn't let someone else be the sole source of your happiness," I began, addressing the topic that had been weighing on my mind. "You've emphasized how this new girl brings me joy with her mere presence, so I can't help but wonder if I should heed that advice."

"Those are the words of fools," Ishani interjected firmly, her assertion catching me off guard. Despite my amusement, I listened intently, intrigued by her perspective. "I disagree because our own experiences have taught us the undeniable truth: people enhance our happiness. It's through their presence that we find true joy."

Her conviction was unwavering, and I couldn't help but admire her steadfast belief in the power of human connections.

"But should they leave you, wouldn’t you lose your happiness?" I questioned, probing deeper into the complexities of our discussion.

"Is that what you are afraid of?" Ishani countered sharply, showcasing her ability to discern the underlying meaning behind my words. It was one of the qualities I admired about her—her keen perception, her knack for deciphering the unsaid.

"Am I?" I responded cryptically, my eyes hinting at a hidden layer of meaning.

Annoyance flickered across Ishani's face at the enigmatic glint in my eyes. What did it signify? She pondered, but the answer eluded her as she took a mouthful of hot soup.

I smiled faintly, lifting the soup spoon to my lips for another sip, relishing the warmth as it trickled down my throat.

"You're not so much afraid that things won't work out with this new girl, but rather, you're anticipating it, haunted by the echoes of past experiences," Ishani deduced, her sharp gaze cutting through my defences as she attempted to unravel my thoughts. "So what truly terrifies you about her?"

"Shall I offer you a hint?" I teased, flashing a coy smile as I met her puzzled gaze, then casually took another spoonful of soup.

She looked intrigued, yet couldn't quite grasp my intentions. "You're not afraid of having your heart broken," I stated matter-of-factly.

"It's already broken, Ishani. You know that well enough. You've read my books," I reminded her.

"Yes, I have. But even after all this time, I still don't know the name of the girl who broke your heart," she admitted. I chuckled softly, savouring the irony of the mysterious suffering that seemed to surround me. "Why keep it a mystery?" she pressed.

"Pick your poison," I replied cryptically.

After a moment of contemplation, she ventured, "Because you still hold onto her memories. They bring you joy, yet they also torment you."

I closed my eyes briefly, nodding at her astute observation. "I often tell Sanika Ma'am, 'Pain will create art.'"

"I doubt even your favourite confidante, Sanika Ma'am, knows her name," she mused.

I shook my head, confirming her suspicion.

"If she doesn't know her name, I should let go of the idea altogether," I responded, a hint of resignation in my voice.

"I can't divulge her name; it's best for her well-being. Our paths have diverged, and her actions are no longer my concern," I explained.

"Even if she's with someone else?" Ishani probed further.

Her question struck a nerve, and I glared at her furiously, realizing I'd fallen into her trap. She recoiled, feeling a mix of disgust and anger at the harsh reality I was confronting.

"It still stings somewhere, doesn't it? The thought of her being with someone else while you hold onto cherished memories as if hoping for a return to the past," Ishani observed perceptively. I turned away, attempting to gaze out of the window, but in truth, I was battling back tears. "She's moved on, and yet you cling to the hope that things could somehow revert to what they once were."

"Ishani," I interjected, wanting to halt her train of thought.

"You're consuming the poison of her memories to satiate your longing for love," she continued, her tone laden with concern.

"It's what keeps me going," I admitted.

"But at what cost? The burden of pain and suffering," she remarked, her expression suddenly grave. "Parth, let me caution you. If you truly care for this new girl, you must release the weight of your past memories. She won't want to be with a man who's still tethered to someone else's past while she's with him."

I responded with a mysterious smile, acknowledging her words without offering further explanation.

"Unbelievable, you've already considered this," Ishani sighed, shaking her head in dismay. "So now I understand. Your true fear isn't that she'll reject you; it's the possibility that she'll accept your love. Because if she does, it will bring you happiness, and that's what you're afraid of. You're scared of losing your pain, your melancholy, because without it, you fear you won't be able to write your stories."

"Cheers," I offered, raising a glass of cold water to her, taking a sip.

She regarded me with disdain, feeling a wave of revulsion. "You'd do anything for a good story, wouldn't you? Even if it means getting your heart broken."

I remained silent, calmly enjoying my soup, though I knew I must have looked incredibly rude at that moment.

"So that's why we're here, so I can offer you some comforting words, in case she does accept your affection," Ishani continued.

"She won't," I asserted firmly.

"But what if she does? What if life gives you another chance at happiness instead of keeping you in the burning pain of unrequited love?" Ishani pressed.

"Eventually, everyone who brings us happiness leaves, leaving us in misery," I replied, my tone resolute.

"There. I'm struggling so hard not to hit you. When you say things like that, it feels like you're stuck in the same place as before," Ishani snapped, visibly irritated by the mental torment I was subjecting her to.

"Where am I, Ishani?" I pleaded desperately, my eyes betraying the weight of old wounds—the pain of cherished memories tarnished by heartbreak. Ishani regarded me with deep concern. "It's been three years since she broke my heart."

"Would you please, just once, say her name?" Ishani's request carried a mix of disdain and curiosity.

I shook my head firmly. "No."

"You see, this is where you're stuck. Everyone knows someone broke your heart profoundly, yet nobody knows who she is," Ishani pointed out, frustration evident in her voice.

"And they never will," I murmured, my gaze falling to the ground.

"And yet, everyone seems to be under the impression that someone has caught your interest. You're openly acknowledging it, dropping hints, and even writing about it in your blogs," Ishani pointed out.

"What's your point, Ishani?" I responded flatly.

"Since when have you started publicly flaunting your budding relationship? It's so out of character for you, Parth. You've always been private about such matters. Even after all these years, you never disclosed the name of the girl who broke your heart. And now, suddenly, you're telling everyone—friends, family—that you've met someone and taken a liking to her. Yet, you still harbor this mindset? Why? What's your game?" Ishani pressed, her frustration palpable.

I responded with a coy, mysterious smile, further aggravating Ishani.

"Do you realize the consequences if that girl rejects you? You'll be the laughingstock of your social circle," Ishani warned.

"Good. That's exactly what I hope for," I replied nonchalantly.

Ishani studied me for a moment before presenting her deduction. "You're not afraid of the humiliation and disgrace it might bring. In fact, you're anticipating it..." She held my gaze as I focused on my dinner, satisfying my hunger. "You want to prove to your loved ones that you're the unfortunate one. You want to convince them that despite your attempts to move on, you were met with a resounding rejection from this new girl. You hope they'll leave you to your solitude, believing you're not meant for any relationship." Anger simmered in her eyes as she recognized my manipulation. "You want them to accept that it's better for you to be alone, all while playing with their emotions, keeping you tethered to memories of your past love. Don't you find it difficult to be alone?"

I smiled, setting my fork down on my plate. Taking a sip of water, I gestured for Ishani to continue with her meal. Now, it was my turn to speak.

"Living alone has rarely been my issue," I remarked calmly yet with a weight of seriousness. "It's living with others that's always been challenging for me." A peculiar coldness settled over my features, revealing a glimpse of my true inner turmoil to Ishani. "I couldn't bring myself to truly connect with anyone else, Ishani, no matter how hard I tried. I was always held back by..." My words caught in my throat, her face haunting me even after all this time. "...I was held back by her memories. I yearned to spend my life with her alone. She's the one I always wanted to kiss for eternity," I confessed with a deep sigh, as if attempting to release a multitude of pain. "But then, she was with someone else...and now, who knows if she's still with him or with someone new."

A bitter laugh escaped me as I reflected on the love I had once felt for my former partner. Ishani witnessed the depth of my brokenness, and I could sense her helplessness in that moment. It was clear she wanted to offer assistance, yet she knew deep down there was nothing she could do, and that realization weighed heavily on her.

"She told me when she broke up with me that she found comfort in his arms, in his kisses..." The words caught in my throat like sharp knives, causing me to sigh heavily. "And here I am, with offers of proposals, one-night stands, friends with benefits... Yet, this foolish writer friend before you, Ishani, rejected them all," I said with a smirk. "I couldn't bring myself to get close to anyone, no matter how hard I tried. She wouldn't allow it."

"Parth, your concern isn't that this new girl will bring you happiness and erase the pain of your heartbreak. It's that you'll forget the girl you once loved so deeply," Ishani remarked, her voice filled with understanding.

I struggled to contain my tears, but they still shimmered in my eyes. "I loved her. I truly loved her."

"You still love her, somewhere," Ishani concluded softly.

I let out a deep sigh. "That's why I asked you, Ishani. Where am I, really? What is this phase I'm stuck in?"

"Love and melancholy," Ishani replied simply.

I chuckled, recalling a page with a similar name that both the new girl and I followed, where we shared exotic content related to love, sex, and literature.

"I wasn't as fortunate as you to taste the experience of love," she sighed, unburdening herself this time. "I'm somewhat envious of your sufferings, too." I felt a peculiar sense of curiosity as I looked at her. "At least you had the chance to be in love with someone. Many people wait their whole lives and never find someone to experience love with. What a tragic existence those souls must lead. And here you are, sitting beside me, wounded because you lost it," she remarked.

"I just wanted one person to love, for my entire life. And only death could truly separate us," I admitted, feeling a pang of embarrassment.

"Wow. A guy searching for forever in this temporary world," Ishani scoffed. "Should I admire you or consider you foolish?"

"Foolish will suffice," I replied with a hint of self-deprecation.

The waiter arrived with our food, momentarily breaking the trance of our conversation. As he began to serve the dishes, Ishani took a sip of water.

Once the waiter had departed and I had focused on my food, Ishani spoke up gently, "I know you like this new girl, despite your best efforts to anchor yourself in the pain of old memories. I've read your blogs. You see paradise in her smile, don't you?"

I found it difficult to eat, feeling the heat rising to my cheeks.

"Don't be afraid if it turns out to be temporary in your life. Just go with the flow. Enjoy this beautiful time you could have with this girl. Then, after a year or two, we'll both sit down for dinner again, having the same kind of conversation," she said, starting to laugh. I couldn't help but join in, laughing heartily.

"You'd better find me a boyfriend so I'll have something to talk about when we're both heartbroken again," she added, with a mischievous glint in her eye.

I chuckled. "By the time my heart is broken again, you'll probably be married."

"Hopefully," Ishani replied wistfully. "I've given up on the idea of a romantic relationship leading to marriage. An arranged marriage seems to be my only option for companionship now. I blame all those books I've read—they filled me with unrealistic standards for love, and now I'm suffering from FOMO," she admitted, her tone tinged with sadness.

"Smart people often struggle to find someone they truly connect with," I offered gently, hoping to ease her emotional burden.

"Why is that?" she asked, sounding a bit annoyed.

"Because the world is full of idiots," I replied with a smirk.

We shared a hearty laugh and resumed our dinner. As we enjoyed our meal, we discussed our corporate lives—Ishani's recent job change to an office in BKC, and her aspirations for future success.

"Are you upset with me for what I'm doing?" I asked tentatively.

She took a moment to collect her thoughts before responding. It was evident that she didn't entirely approve of my methods, yet she endeavoured to maintain our friendship. "I can't say that I fully endorse your approach. But I want to emphasize one thing: those who truly care about you would be deeply upset if they discovered that you're using this setback as a shield—a guise of being a failed lover destined to solitude—to alleviate their concerns about you. It's a deceitful game you're playing with everyone, including people like Apoo. Isn't she your college friend?" I nodded in confirmation. "You may have to confront her anger if she ever uncovers your forthcoming deception."

"But you have, and you aren't furious?" I asked deliberately, just to gauge her reaction.

"I didn't exactly unmask it; you unfolded the deception yourself because you were burdened by guilt and needed to talk to me about it," Ishani stated confidently, her voice and gaze unwavering. "Parth, I'll tell you something you truly need to hear: 'You're allowed to like this new girl. It's completely fine if you spend time with her and enjoy yourself. Who knows, she might just be the one you'll kiss for the rest of your life.'" Ishani punctuated the last line with a playful jab, unable to hold back a burst of hearty laughter.

I knew I couldn't outwit Ishani; she had a knack for teasing me. So, I decided it was best to focus on finishing our dinner. Throughout the meal, she continued to playfully rib me about one thing or another.

As the waiter arrived with our bill, Ishani made a playful attempt to grab it.

"No, it's my turn now," I asserted to Ishani. Last time, it was my proud feminist friend who had graciously paid for dinner. I admired her for embodying true feminist values—recognizing that equality comes with equal responsibilities, unlike those who only seek equal benefits.

"Thank you," the waiter acknowledged once the online payment was completed.

I turned to Ishani. "Shall we head out?"

She nodded with a pleasant smile. Exiting the restaurant, we reached the parking area where my bike was parked.

"So, this is your bike?" she inquired.

"Yeah."

"Don't worry, you don't have to drop me home," she quipped again.

I glanced at my teasing friend with an indifferent stare. "Sejal."

"What?" Ishani appeared puzzled.

"This new girl, her name is Sejal. And that's her," I said, showing Ishani a picture on my mobile screen.

"Wow, she is... she's really beautiful," Ishani remarked.

I wore a smug expression, as though it were my personal triumph that Sejal was beautiful, as if her parents had no role in producing such a fine daughter. And every time someone complimented her beauty, it stirred butterflies in my stomach.

"You shared her name with me," Ishani observed, eyeing me curiously.

"Next time, you'll know the name of the girl who broke my heart," I replied.

Ishani smiled proudly, nodding slightly. "Good night, Author Sahab."

"Good night, Ishani."

"And one more thing," she said as we entered the parking area where she had parked her vehicle. I looked at her with curiosity, awaiting her next observation. "Either way, this is a win-win situation for you." My gaze remained fixed on her, intrigued by her words. "If Sejal accepts you, you might find the love of your life and experience happiness for a lifetime. But if she ends up breaking your heart, causing you immense suffering, you'll turn that pain into another story. You'll have another book credited under your name," she concluded.

I smiled, my eyes fixed on her, genuinely joyful at how accurately my smart friend had deduced the situation. The meeting had achieved its objective.

Ishani retrieved her scooter, ignited the engine, and rode off toward her home. I glanced up at the dark grey sky of Navi Mumbai, now veiled in a light drizzle. The cool raindrops kissed my skin, sending a refreshing shiver down my spine. Mesmerized by the sensation, my thoughts drifted to Sejal. I admired her, yet I couldn't be certain if my feelings would deepen into love.

My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts of her. It was Apoo. I answered the call.

"Hey, Apoo," I greeted.

"Bhai, I met Sejal. We need to talk," she said urgently.

- The End of Night 6 -