Love or Infatuation?
Walking down the least trodden nostalgic memory lane of love.
It is not that I never dreamt of her after we stopped seeing each other, but this was really weird. What kind of a dream was it? I am servicing a fighter jet. Suddenly she comes from nowhere and pushes me with force to one side, and a bullet passes by me. Had she not shoved me away, I would have been dead. I woke up stupefied, dazed and almost trembling.
We were just teenagers. It all started in the eighth grade. We rarely talked. Just accompanying each other from home to school and vice-versa while maintaining a safe distance, frequently glancing and smiling at each other. Occasional exchange of greeting cards, or writing small love letters and throwing at each other, and so many childlike stupid things like that. It had taken almost one year for me to actually approach her to say “Hi!” What kind of love was it? An absolute mismatch with the modern western definition of love! A pure old-school Indian love story. Oh! Those days were different. We never thought that time and age would ever take their toll on us, but they obviously did! We grew up and departed. I remember her once mentioning in a very short meeting about her passion for the Air Force and flying an airplane.
There was a major turnaround in my life after leaving school. I joined the Indian Air Force leaving my graduation incomplete due to certain family situations, also out of a compulsive desire of fulfilling her dream in a sense too. At least, that was how I felt at that time. Even today, I cannot decide whether it was love at first sight or just the usual infatuation of adolescence. It was probably too young an age to fall in love — but who can say — you always remain young when you are in love.
After a moment, I shrugged off my shoulders, dropped all my thoughts, and carried on with my daily chores. I had completed my packings last night before going to bed. I was quite excited. Today, I was going to take up my first ever flight of life. We were going from Air Force Academy, Hyderabad to the Jamnagar firing range.
It was mid-May of 1990. The tarmac of AFA (Air Force Academy) was spreading heat waves with illusive mirages appearing at the horizon. The AN-32 had already landed and was freighted with all the necessary paraphernalia of air combat training planned for budding flying cadets to prepare them for real war situations. Shortly, we took off for Jamnagar firing range (Gujarat).
The training of the cadets had reached its tail end after almost a fortnight of the continuous day-night roaring of HJT-16 (Kiran) amidst the not-so-killing heat of Jamnagar. On the last day, the training was on its full throttle to finish the show. The pilot of the aircraft that was assigned to me had landed and was again about to take off within 10 minutes. Technicians of all trades were rushing to carry out their turnaround checks. I was standing just behind the armament guy, waiting for him to finish his portion of the task, which finally I was to complete and give a thumbs-up. Suddenly a bullet gusted past me, slightly kissing my overalls near my flank, and hit the wall of a distant dilapidated structure with a deadly bang. That was definitely a close shave, and completely unexpected too! Probably, during the previous sortie, a misfired bullet just remained in the chamber, which finally became life and roared when the armament guy was doing his checks.
It really took me a few seconds to apprehend the incident, and then the realization of what could have happened froze me to my bones. I found myself surrounded by all my colleagues and officers who were staring at me awestruck. Suddenly the dream I had just fifteen days back flashed in my mind. A big smile danced on my face and I shrugged the fateful moment with the most casual attitude possible (of course, containing the worst ever consternation within!), as if nothing had happened. The smile infected like a virus to everyone present there, and then we all together welcomed life with thunderous laughter. Truly, the Air Force had made a man out of a geek civilian that once upon a time I was.
Suddenly, someone ran into me and hugged me tightly.
“Oye Pandey (my last name)! Bloody hell, here you are! Thank God you are safe and alive!”
This was Subhash. We had undergone our training together at Chennai. Right since ab-initio training, we became best buddies. We talked to each other for hours, laughed, and cried for hours, the emotions were felt through hearts, genuinely expressed through our eyes. After completion of training, parting ways was really heartbreaking. We were posted to different places, but we kept in touch through letters.
Then, in one letter he surprisingly announced that he was getting married and the girl was from my hometown. Obviously, he insisted that I attended his marriage, which I couldn’t due to some important duty assignments. He was seriously pissed off. Probably this was the reason, or maybe he got busy with his married life, we lost touch since then. I could never imagine that one day we would meet here at Jamnagar.
He announced, “Bloody idiot, we are having dinner together this evening, I will pick you up, we will revisit old days and celebrate your new birth too! My wife will be so happy to see you.”
“Okay buddy, done!” I responded with equal enthusiasm. Anyway, it was my last day at Jamnagar — the next morning we were taking off for our base unit. So, I also did not want to lose the opportunity of spending some quality time with such a great friend. Had this bullet incident not happened, probably we would not have met anyways. In the evening, he took me to his home. Besides other reasons, I was also excited because I was going to meet someone from my hometown.
“Namaste..!” His wife welcomed me with a little hesitance.
“Namaste..!”
Suddenly I felt as if all my blood had turned white and my knees had lost their strength. I just dropped into the chair. “What the hell?” I couldn’t believe who was standing in front of me. “Two equally shocking incidents in one day! Oh God, please help me!” I was crying inside. This memory lane I thought I had left far behind and had never walked again on.
After a few moments, I regained my senses and took control of the situation. Though we proceeded to a normal conversation with an exchange of formal ritualistic whereabouts and we both pretended to not know each other, yet my mind was quite withdrawn. Suddenly I felt like I had developed dual personality syndrome with one person sitting with the hosts, the other one flying back to our school days. Once again, life, like a film, started reeling into flashbacks.
One and a half years later, after my joining the Air Force, suddenly one day she found a thin, tall, sturdy, sunburnt guy in a military-style haircut standing before her. He, without any hitch or hesitation, simply but firmly, proposed to her. It took some time for her to recognize me. Obviously, she couldn’t match this guy with the soft, handsome, fair one whose glimpse she once had desperately waited to have every day.
“No! I cannot marry a military man.” She had responded hesitantly with a clear expression of shock and disgust at my looks. It was like a bullet that tore me asunder. The story was over. I did not want to put her into any kind of dilemma or trouble of giving any clarification. So, the military guy took an about-turn and marched off quietly. That day, I realized how military training had hardened and toughened me, not only from outside but from within too. I was trained to never take life seriously.
“Subhash!” Somebody was calling her husband.
“Excuse me, Pandey, I will be back in just a few minutes.” He left both of us alone for a while.
“He always talked about you and I knew that it was you. I can understand how shocked you are by seeing me here. That day, you didn’t ask for any explanation from me. After you left quietly, a pang of guilt overshadowed me and it has been killing me since.” She tried to be apologetic. I couldn’t go against my family…you see!
“But you married a military man after all!” I realized I was intentionally blunt.
“Wouldn’t you like to know why?” There were so many other reasons too…! She almost pleaded.
“No! It doesn’t matter anymore. Life has moved on a great deal. Now you are the wife of my best friend and that only matters to me.” That was the only balm I had in my kit to assuage her guilt and mitigate my own agony. She had saved me in my dreams. Now it was time for me to save her in real life. I am not sure if I myself tried to come to terms with the situation, or attempted to bring her to terms with life. Anyway, I knew I was ringing down the curtain once more, and probably forever.
That night, lying in bed, I was desperately waiting for a new dawn that would take me back to my base, and once again away from that memory lane perhaps. Was it love or infatuation, who can say? Let it better be unanswered. Today, I am 55, dying of cancer, married, with a grown-up daughter, but I wonder whether I will ever be able to overcome the mixed nostalgia of that love.
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