Neeyati
31st December, 1979.
“Maa, I’m leaving for College!” I announced. I woke up late that day. It was very out of the ordinary. Out of all the days I could’ve graced as my first, that day shouldn’t have been it. It was her birthday and we were supposed to meet before our morning classes. I knew she would not miss her classes for anything or anyone.
“Beta, at least have some food!” My maa called out for me but I was already rushing past the front door, shoving my head into the mouth of my half-sweater. My elder brother was out on the porch having his morning chai and reading yet another book.
It is amazing to me that he is so oblivious to everything around him. He just wants to study and make our father proud. He takes that job very seriously. So many girls coddle up our little sisters just to get his attention and this guy brushes it off as nice people doing nice things. I can tell apart general niceness and interest but he just says I romanticize things.
Speaking of romance, I got her a diary and a pen. It was one of those diaries which comes with a lock. In the early days of us dating, which pretty much included me speaking and her listening while she played with my hair, I told her about my writing habits and the countless diaries I’ve had since high school. That peaked her interest. She said, “I could never keep a diary, I would be too honest! Its better I keep things only in my head.” Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago, she seemed to have changed her mind “I sometimes get scared that I’ll start forgetting things with time. My head isn’t enough.” That’s when I decided what to get her. Not that I could afford to get her anything else.
I reached college in about ten minutes and started sprinting towards the old ground, I really did not want to be anymore late than I already was. We used to call it the old ground because it was connected to the abandoned wing of the college building. The college administration had closed off the ground adjacent to that building. Much to their dismay it became students’ favourite hangout place. Professors would hardly be there and well, it was a quiet and secluded place to be, especially in the morning. I turned the corner to enter the ground and then I saw her. She was waiting by one of the benches, wearing a light blue suit with her hair braided into a bun.
“I am so sorry” I said, as I sat down next to her.
“It is fine. My first lecture got cancelled.” She informed me. Amazing.
“Happy birthday” I said. She smiled looking down at the ground. She was not making eye contact with me. I knew it. Even though her class got cancelled she was angry with me because I am late. On her birthday.
“So, I got you a present. I know you said I did not need to but I wanted to. I think you’ll really like it.” I rambled trying to catch her eye but she would not look up. This cannot be about me being late. Just before I could inquire further, she turned towards me and finally raised her eyes up and looked towards me. She was smiling. I finally sighed in relief.
“What did you bring me?” I dug the present out from my backpack. Watching her unpack the present is still one of the most vivid memories I have in my life.
“Remember how you told me about forgetting things? Well, fear not now!” I said. She was silent again, staring at the present I had for her in my hands. I loved her so much. I was so happy at that moment to be with her, that I became selfish. I refused to see that she was not happy. I refused to acknowledge that the smile she gave me was sad. I was so scared.
“One day I am going to let you read my diary. But only some pages, where I’ve written nice things about you. Sometimes I read my entry of the day I confessed to you. Took me a whole year to muster up the courage. I was so nervous I rambled on for like five pages! I thought I would most definitely get rejected. Your answer surprised me. It is all clear as a day for me and I guess it is partly because I wrote it down.”
“What if I don’t want to remember anything?” She spoke, almost in a whisper. I wanted to ask her why but I didn’t.
“What if, it is good that we forget? If we remember everything vividly, what if we are never able to move on and find happiness again?” I remained silent. Why was she talking about these things? Surely, she couldn’t have been suggesting what I thought she was. We met two weeks ago, she had told me she would be out with her elder sister and her brother-in-law. I devised a whole plan to accidentally bum into them at the market and make small talk with them about the wedding that happened over a month ago. She was fine that, we were fine that day. Now, she’s sat right in front of me talking about forgetting things and finding happiness again?
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” She asked me, that snapped me out of my thoughts. Her voice was so gentle and sad.
“I don’t think my words are going to matter” I admitted.
“Your words matter to me” she told me. But not enough to change your mind, I wanted to tell her. I wanted to say so much more. I wanted to get angry at her but I couldn’t. How could I?
“I don’t have a choice.” She said, and finally a tear fell down her cheek and into our hands. We were holding hands. I hadn’t even noticed. She then slowly loosened her hold on me, stood up, left a note and walked away. She did not attend any of her classes that day, neither did I but that did not matter much.
Like all clichéd stories of heartbreak, mine is no different. She is going to get married to a well settled, rich man. She would never fight her parents, I knew that from the start. I had told her I would on our behalf but what can I offer right now? Besides a hope for the uncertain future, and love for their daughter. It is not going to be enough. I am not enough. After her sister got married, her parents must want to get her married as soon as possible. Now that I think about it, she must’ve been waiting for me to bring up marriage. But how could I? I never expected all this to happen so soon, I thought I had some time.
10th October, 1980
My appointment letter came in the mail two days ago. Pitaji distributed sweets to the whole neighbourhood, and maa has been crying non-stop at the prospect of me leaving the house. I got a job before my elder brother but he has his own path, at least that’s what he told me when I said I felt guilty about it. What I didn’t tell him is that it was not just the guilt I had towards him but also her that made this whole ordeal bittersweet. But at least my parents are happy.
The day after I got my appointment letter, she came to our house with her husband of five months. He was my elder brother’s best friend. I wish maa had informed me earlier, I would’ve made sure to not be in the house.
“Chote bhaisahab, I am very upset you did not come to my wedding.” He said. We were all sitting in the living room. Chai and biscuit laid out before the newly married guests. I was not close to my brother’s friends. All but one.
“I am genuinely sorry. I was too sick to even walk.” I lied through my teeth. There was only one person in the room who could tell. How could I hate this other man? Not only was he good to her, he was a good person. The only thing I could hate was timing and circumstances. I needed time, life didn’t have it.
“Nevermind and congratulations on the job” he said, and for a second I thought I saw her look at me.
09th June, 1990
We have brought the baby boy home. He is beautiful, and I cannot stop crying every time I look at him. We had been trying for five years before we found out that we were barren. I was so relived when my wife told me she was also thinking about adoption. If not in most things, at least here we agreed with each other wholeheartedly. He is my everything. In him, I have found happiness again.
-
“Neeyati! Beta, you left your phone downstairs. It’s been ringing non-stop.” My mother shouted from downstairs.
“I am coming mom!”
After retrieving my phone, I went back to reading. “I didn’t even see what page I was on.” I muttered grumpily to myself as I flipped through the pages of this journal I found at the market. “Take it I will not charge you for it, I don’t know who donated a used diary!” The shopkeeper uncle had told me, sounding unnecessarily pissed. I flipped through the pages again, to find another entry.
-
09th July, 1994
I found out she is a mother now. My elder brother had gone to their naamkaran and as life would have it, she named her daughter Neeyati.
© 2025 Anannya Bhatt. All rights reserved.
Note:
Neeyati: fate
Maa: mother
Pitaji: father
Bhaisahab: brother [formal speech]
Chote: here, younger
Beta: kid
Naamkaran: a ceremony held to officially name a newborn baby.
“right person, wrong time.” loved this!🥲