A morning like this wasn’t exactly expected. I was startled.
What happened?
Kaushik. A college friend. Haven’t met in a long time. But he saved me a few times from my lack of attendance. In college. He was in the union. The time on my phone reads 9:30 AM.
Nightmare.
There’s more to be shocked about!
Indeed. The room I woke up in isn’t mine. Wait a minute. Some things feel oddly familiar—lots of books, unfinished work, a few theater posters. And yes, a body pillow.
This is…
Hmm, Kuchi’s room…
Whose room??!!
Kuchi’s! Why?
How? And where did you come from?
How much do you remember from last night?
Under the blanket, I’m only wearing a vest. Not even pants. They’re hanging behind the door. A towel is placed beside the pillow. A bottle of water on the stool.
Sinthee More.
I took a few sips of water, wrapped the towel around myself, and got out of bed. Pulled a cigarette from my pant pocket and lit it.
And then?
Blackout. Who brought me here?
I drove. But the one who actually brought you here…
I can pretty much guess what happened. But I don’t understand how! Last night, things got a little too intense. After the premiere, Ronit, Sushmita, Priya, and I were raising hell in Ronit’s car. Drunken, high on meat and women. Just a long drive, maybe all the way to Shantiniketan. The plan was to go from Deshapriya to Moulali, Sealdah, Shyambazar, and then Dankuni. I got off at Sinthee More to buy a cigarette but never made it back to the car. As I was returning, I started vomiting. That’s all I remember… And now, waking up here, seeing all this—I have no recollection of what happened in between. I have an idea of what could have happened. Maybe even how. But this is absolutely not okay.
Where is she?
She went out.
And you?
Freshen up first. Then I’ll tell you everything.
The person Kaushik was talking about is none other than my ex—Kuchi. And this very room… I used to live here during college. Almost two years. First with a couple of friends, then alone. Well, not entirely alone—Kuchi would stay over sometimes. That’s why, later on, I didn’t share the space with anyone else. After we broke up, I left. We were together for about ten months. One moment after another, all of which I had left behind, hoping never to see again.
I guess this is what shock feels like. This is Kuchi’s room? I concealed my reaction from Kaushik. But memories flooded back like a motion picture. I don’t know if Kaushik knows any of this. But in my current hungover state, I can’t deal with all this right now. I took a long shower before stepping out.
I nudged Kaushik—
Let’s get out of here.
Don’t you have a shoot?
Nope. Do you have a Dispirin?
I started getting ready.
Then sit down. There’s breakfast for you in the kitchen.
This is truly humiliating. I have no idea what I did last night. And now, after all that, breakfast? This is too much. My self-respect has been battered since last night. And now breakfast is just unbearable.
I’m leaving.
Calm down. I get how you’re feeling. But don’t you want to know what happened last night?
I don’t want to face her. I don’t want my past to become my present again. I walked away from all this a long time ago. I know what it cost me. Sitting here will only bring me turmoil. Will you let me go?
Alright, you don’t have to face her. She won’t be back for a few more hours. You can sit for a while. And have breakfast. I’m hungry too. After everything, does it really matter? Sit, I’ll get it.
Kaushik put down his iPad and went to the kitchen. It’s 10:30 now. There’s no way I’m tossing away my long-awaited day off. So I don’t want to see Kuchi. Sure, she rescued me from some gutter last night, but apart from acknowledging that, I can’t do much. She may be noble, but I’m not. And I don’t even want to be. Not that I have the capability.
Kaushik returned with two plates of buttered toast and boiled eggs. His Nike-logoed T-shirt gleamed. That’s Kaushik—an ambassador of Apple and Nike. His father’s an MP, TMC party, and his mother a homemaker with Trinamool connections. But their flat has no garden. He used to be one of my closest friends. Now, after graduation, when I’ve lost touch with almost everyone, he’s the only one I still have some connection with. He’s doing his Master’s at Rabindra Bharati but is trying for a scholarship abroad. Not relying on his father’s politics but on his own merit! Though he’s too lazy to put in the effort.
Kuchi probably knows I’m still in touch with Kaushik (even if one-sided), or she wouldn’t have left me alone with him. She’s been friends with Kaushik even before I met her.
After stuffing himself, Kaushik heated water in an electric kettle and dropped two tea bags into two cups. He handed me one and, with exaggerated enthusiasm, sat down. I got flustered and blurted out—
“How are you?”
“Why so formal, idiot?”
“Hangover.”
“You were an absolute idiot last night!”
“Why?”
“Alright, tell me, who was with you?”
“Look, I have no regrets about last night. And I don’t think I will. So please, stop trying.”
“Okay.”
I realized I sounded too rude. He’s here, taking care of me instead of doing whatever work he usually does (apart from smacking Uttara, I have no idea what else he does). He was probably there last night too. I should at least be a little polite. So, swallowing my irritation, I offered him a cigarette. Charminar. He can’t refuse.
“I don’t know how Sushmita puts up with you! But she’s not your type. No offense, but I guess I can make at least this much of a personal comment.”
“Hm. Who else was with me last night?”
“Just Kuchi and me. I and Samadrita.”
Finishing his tea, he lit his cigarette and leaned back in his chair. The fact that he didn’t offer me a light was sheer rudeness. Trying not to show any curiosity, I focused on a bitter tea and an old edition of Anandabazar. But eventually, I had to give up. The way he was staring at me—I had no choice but to hear his version of how he “rescued” me. Not that I wasn’t curious, but I wasn’t willing to let my ego give in. Maybe if only Kaushik were here, I wouldn’t be so rude. But in this room, in this air, even in the smoke from Kaushik’s Charminar, there lingers the scent of someone who makes every bit of softness in me unbearable to myself.
I asked,
“Where?”
“At Sinthee More, where you were vomiting. There was a puja at my house yesterday. I invited you, but you’re a star now.”
“Why do you always taunt me like this? A couple of serials haven’t messed with my head. I’m still grounded. And this so-called ‘star attitude’—you know I’ve always been like this. Just a little less polite.”
“Really?”
“Okay, tell me, what happened next?”
“I was dropping Kuchi off in my dad’s Swift when we saw you causing a scene in front of a car. The police had picked you up. No matter how popular you are, Kolkata’s traffic police still see you as a commoner. I ignored it at first. But Kuchi noticed you. We turned back, and sure enough, it was you. We handled the police. I didn’t recognize your other friends since I don’t watch serials. Sushmita was standing aside after seeing the vomit. Kuchi spoke to her and called me over. By then, I had put you in my car. What the hell did you drink?”
“Don’t remember, but something heavy. Rum, and a few fire pegs. Oh yeah, no water at all!”
Kaushik chuckled. “Ranita didn’t want to let you go. Kuchi convinced them by showing your picture and saying she’s your sister. She still goes to such lengths for you, man…”
Even if she had left you with them, perhaps nothing would have happened to you. Yet he still wanted to pull you away from that company. Oh, and yes, Sushmita said she’s your girlfriend.
Bullshit. Yeah, I spent a night with her, was planning for another last night too. But girlfriend and all? Nothing like that. Bro, what’s the point of explaining this to you? Forget it.
But the others too—Ranita and her guy. That one’s got quite the style. Anyway, if you were there, their plan would’ve been ruined. That’s why her guy handled Ranita and left you with us. The only problem was that your half-girlfriend also ended up tagging along. With both of you in the backseat, I had no choice but to drive towards the petrol pump. I swear, as long as you two were sitting behind, I was scared to even glance at Kuchi—as if she’d burn me to ashes. I half-filled the tank and then, as per Sushmita’s request, dropped her off at her place and brought you here. Apparently, she could keep an eye on you here.
Just as Kaushik was speaking, his phone rang. Sushmita.
When I finally stepped out, it was nearly 12:30 AM. I bid a quick goodbye to Sushmita right after answering. I noticed that Kaushik had locked the door. What a guy! Left the key with some Falguni Aunty from the downstairs flat. She’s new here, so I don’t know her.
By then, my hangover from last night had completely worn off. Everything was now clear. I needed to ping the others about last night’s mess. So, I opened WhatsApp.
Kaushik started his car. Today, it wasn’t the Swift but a small, compact Volkswagen. I got in. Some old memories came flooding back in an instant. But the time between last night and this afternoon hasn’t exactly been normal.
Yesterday evening was the premiere of my first film. I had wanted to make last night special in celebration. Well, special it was—but in an unexpected way. Through all of this, my past kept flashing in my mind. Ever since I left that home. The desperate search for a place to stay, then slowly, steadily carving out my space in my work. It wasn’t easy. Today, it feels like my entire life is flashing before my eyes in an upheaval. So much happening all at once!
And then Tinni stirred things up. On WhatsApp. She’s an assistant director in the serial Gāne Bhuban Bharīye Debo. A good friend. Just a friend. Talented. Wants to make films. Joined a serial to fund herself. No real ties with family. She has built her survival into a tree of self-reliance. Sometimes, I feel like seeking shelter in her shade too.
Yet, I never realized that the same darkness hiding behind all this light could make even someone like her feel helpless. She wrote to me suddenly, “I’m exhausted from fighting with myself.”
I had no answer. I had thought the same thing once. Don’t we all, at some point? These thoughts pull me back. They remind me of those theatre days. The birth of every play, the thrill of every show. Traveling across the country together. I miss that time so much sometimes.
Maybe we all are in the same boat. We—the salad generation stuck between the past century and the present millennium. Born in the ’90s. We had no friends besides ourselves—let alone enemies. That’s why we are always at war with ourselves. Breaking, crying, but still jumping back up, sleeping, and swearing at our own birth, past, and upbringing. Wishing with all our hearts for others to succeed, yet getting frustrated when they do.
By twenty, we had already begun despising half the serials on Star Jalsha, rejecting our own time, our understanding of economy and society. But isn’t this also a battle for existence?
Whose existence? What existence?
We aren’t supposed to ask that question.
I still remember—we had schoolbags, and Bapuji cakes during recess. We had rainy days, and after that, a mother’s scolding. We had a village, and a home in that village. Clashes with our fathers, a desire to stand on our own feet after higher secondary school. And somewhere along the way, I witnessed massive change unfold over a few drops of farmland—last seen in Amkuchi.
Yet, carrying all these memories, we dream anew every day. And every day, we sacrifice a dream and think of leaving a mark—on that famous wall. But where even is that wall anymore?
I’d bet that, so far, we’ve fallen in love the most in Amkuchi. And our hearts have broken the most there too. Yet, with unwavering pride, we keep stretching our shadows longer and longer.
Love remains as mysterious as the day it was born. That’s why we can’t resist trusting again. And for that trust, we feel like enduring life for just two more minutes.
Tinni once told me—falling in love again after a breakup is just the way things work.
After breaking up with Kuchi, I was in a terrible state. Like some Tere Naam Salman Khan. Couldn’t trust anyone. Sat at home in silence for two months. Love, it seems, is exactly how Bollywood describes it.
Anyway, she was the one who pulled me out of that depression.
As I kept thinking about all this, I got lost in the car’s music system. I didn’t know where Kaushik was taking me. Did he know? For a second, I felt like asking. Then I let it go. I wasn’t in the mood for conversation after talking so much all morning.
He only asked me once—
“Will lemon help cure your hangover?”
I understood what he meant and just smiled.
Time had taught him many things too.
In response, he said—
“Then let’s go somewhere nice.”
For some reason, I felt like I already knew where he was headed. Or maybe I wanted him to go there.
But I didn’t ask.
The windows were shut for the AC. Through the hazy glass, I could see us speeding along the Biswa Bangla Sarani. Kolkata was slipping behind—keeping pace with my thoughts and time itself.
Every skyscraper, I saw turning back into the old marshland.
Every flyover, I imagined peeling away, revealing the harsh midday sun.
A stream of faces flickered before my eyes—like a title screening in a movie.
I was starving.
Was Kaushik? Who knows…
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The views and opinions expressed in this novel are those of the characters and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any agency, organization, or entity. Reader discretion is advised.
