Page 113 of 12 Years
‘Yeah. When I was going through the menu, I tried to look for dishes Payal would like. You know, Jain-friendly stuff.’
‘Everything here is Jain-friendly,’ Mudit said, and began reading out from the menu. ‘There’s the Ayurvedic Oats Porridge. Or the Yoga House Khichdi. Or the Tofu Brown Rice. Wow, this place is Jain heaven.’
‘Yeah, well. Anyway, I do think of her all the time. But the thing is, now I’m at least aware that it’s a problem. I want to think of her less. I want to move on.’
‘And how are you going to do that?’
‘Avoiding alcohol. Spending time at the gym.’
‘Okay, all that’s good. How about work?’
‘That’s the thing, Mudit. Something has died in me. Comedy won’t happen anymore. Payal was the fuel, the life force, you know … She propelled me to write, to create.’
‘Oh, stop it, man. You were already on stage when you met Payal.’
‘Yeah, but later on, it all became linked to her. She was my—’
‘Muse?’ Mudit interrupted me. ‘Seriously? We’re comics, bro. Not M.F. Husain or Picasso.’
‘Whatever. Without her, it seems difficult.’
‘You need to properly get over her, bro. Really, this isn’t good. I don’t like what she did to you.’
‘Am working on it. I called you here for that. I’m going to take some big steps just to get over Payal.’
‘What big steps?’
‘I’ll tell you, but promise not to freak out.’
‘Are you turning gay? Bro, I like gay people, and I love you and all, but you and I can’t be that—’
‘No,’ I said, interrupting him. ‘What? It’s nothing like that. Stop it.’
Mudit laughed. I smiled as well.
‘See, youcansmile. All it takes is a half-assed joke,’ Mudit said.
‘I know I’ll be okay. But right now, just like alcohol, I have to avoid something else.’
‘What?’
‘Mumbai.’
‘Huh? What do you mean?’
‘I can’t be here, Mudit. There are too many places here that remind me of her. The dozens of cafés we went to, the lanes of Bandra that we walked, the grocery stores we shopped at. Marine Drive, Bandstand, Carter Road, Nariman Point, Colaba—it’s like every corner of Mumbai is stamped with her memory.’
‘Don’t forget Ghatkopar,’ Mudit said, grinning.
‘Fuck, that too. Though I’ll never go to Ghatkopar. But it’s true. And she still lives in this city. With her husband.’
‘That she does.’
‘I’m afraid of being here.’
‘Why?’
‘Am afraid I’ll have one of those weak moments and end up doing something stupid. Land up at her place, or her parents’ place, or her office, or her dad’s factory …’
