Things Past

 

Kabir took out his mask and threw his keys on the table. Then he proceeded to the bathroom to wash his hands and face. His cheeks were covered with sweat and dirt, the elastic from the double mask had torn into his ears. 

After washing his face, he looked at the mirror. He was only 29, but the pressure of the job had taken a toll on him. Some would still call him handsome on screen, even if the mask showed only his eyes. 

Covering the political rallies was tough work. There was the risk of Covid from the crowds and the backlash from the right wing if they sensed even a touch of sarcasm or dissent.

His mother called from Lucknow. He had to convince her the weekly tests were negative, that he had been eating properly, that there was more to him than his work. But was there?

His last relationship was a year ago. They worked together at his previous channel, and then he had left his job. It was more casual though. He had never loved her.

Kabir sighed and after eating the biryani he ordered two days ago, decided to tuck in at 1 am. But he couldn't sleep. His mind was full of speeches and promises and numbers. So he sat up and logged into his social media.

The same people, the same ideologies, the same miserable talk of change and revolution. He longed for his Literature days, days of fantasy, days of poetry, of just not wanting to be in the real world. 

He was too sensitive for the media anyway. It was a dark, cut throat world of egoists and ball flashing men and women. 

Even the women, oh my, the women, aggressive, pounce you to tear you up women, who took offence at even being offered a seat. 

The last time he had sex was three months ago. Another loveless encounter. He could barely stand the woman, her skin, her hair, her voice, everything about her repelled him. 

He longed for meaningful connections and late night conversations, but he had no time for all that. Remembrances of things past.

There was a private message that popped up on his screen. 

Dear Kabir Sir,

I watch you every day on PNTV. You have very nice eyes. I am your big fan. My husband doesn't like you. He thinks you don't have experience. But I like you. I like the way you don't push around like other reporters. You are calm and very mature. 

Regards,

Aparna Gupta

He went to the sender's page and saw her to be a sari clad housewife. She looked simple and naive. Her posts were mostly about Radha Krishna or Modi ji or food recipes.

Kabir laughed a loud laugh. At least some woman fancied him or thought him to be mature. Most women just could never understand him and thought he was shy and meek.

He wrote back, saying, Thank you Aparna ji.

The next day there was another message.

Dear Kabir Sir,

I see you have done your studies in French Literature. I would love to know your thoughts on Proust's theory of conscious experience.

By the way, did you have a haircut? The Allure salon at Vasant Kunj is very nice.

Regards,

Aparna

Kabir sat up, almost choking on his own spit. He knew exactly what this was. He had a stalker on his tail. Who he or she really was, he had no idea. But they did know where he had gone yesterday for his haircut. 

He immediately blocked the user's account from sending him any more messages.

The next three days there was nothing. In fact he had now been put on the Kumbh Mela story. The risk of catching Covid was ten times more and he was so exhausted at the end of the day that he didn't have the time to check his social media.

On the fourth day, there was a message.

Dear Kabir Sir,

You blocked me so I had to make another account. You are looking very nice on screen in Haridwar. But please don't eat food at Kripa Sai dhabha. People who have had food there today got food poisoning.

Regards,

Kajal Tiwari

What the holy fuck was happening? This person had followed him here. He had eaten at Kripa Sai today but he was fine. Enough was enough. Time to sort this joker out once and for all.

He replied.

Kajal\Aparna,

If you are in Haridwar, I would like to meet you tomorrow morning. Please let me know if it's possible?

- Kabir

He got an affirmative reply with a time and place. He informed his camera man to come with him in case of any unexpected events.

The next morning, he waited but no one turned up. He had kind of anticipated that as well.

At night, another message.

Hi Kabir,

I'm sorry I didn't turn up. You will never know who I am. I just wanted you to know how it feels to be misguided and misled. Maybe somewhere in your life you have done that with someone too, without realising it. Maybe someone once upon a time waited for you, just like you did for me today. 

It's okay. I won't harass you anymore. I promise. Once again, I'm sorry.

P.S.: I still think you have nice eyes.

He tried replying but the account was blocked. He went to his hotel room window and looked outside. He was glad she finally forgave him. Now he could move on without feeling guilty. She would never know how much.