Chapter 7: Fast Forward (Part 1)

                                    

                                          
It had been a while since I had thought about Kabir. As devastating as it had been to know that Kabir had simply decided to disappear from my life, I eventually accepted it. Life and circumstances often eroded the pain of young love - lost love.
In my 20s, I looked for him in every boy I met. They always seemed to fall short in comparison. It wasn't just the physical traits, mind you. Well, who am I kidding? It was that too - until the dreaded 30s approached. Family pressure (read as emotional blackmail), peer pressure (those damned instagram posts!) and maybe even wisdom from growing up had taught me a valuable lesson. Never judge a book by its cover.. delve deeper. Despite all that, I never managed to find the right guy. I didn't feel a connection or spark or the closeness that I felt with Kabir. 
I eventually realised that it wasn't the fault of the men I met. It was me. I didn't let people in. I didn't let their charm affect me. I was aloof. It had strangely made me desirable and mysterious (for a few men at least). How very wrong they were. I guess some part of me still hoped that he would come back to me. 
I met Sam when I was 28. Samarth Kumar. He was.. different from the others. Sam was cynical, self deprecating and made no attempt to woo me. Ironically, our first meeting was when I accused him of following me. He had scowled and said that I thought too highly of myself. It wasn't a pleasant meet cute. We soon became friends and because of that reason, I never drew comparison between Sam and Kabir. 
Sam actively participated in my groom hunt. My parents had signed me up in all matrimony websites (worrying that I was getting older and the options were getting fewer. Solution? Sign up to every matrimony website there is!) 
"You should marry this one."
I frowned as I was just about to move on to the next profile. It was more of a curtsey to my parents that I looked through the profiles they shortlisted. I had no belief that any of these would work out. 
"Why?"
"Vanity. He looks like someone who spends all the time in front of the mirror. That should give us plenty of time to still be friends.".
I laughed and rolled my eyes and moved on to the next profile. Later that night, I remembered what he'd said. It wasn't so much as the statement itself - people did drift apart after their wedding (many of my friends had) - it was the way he'd said it. I detected bitterness and anger behind veiled in his humour. He had been that way since the first time we met so I hadn't paid much attention.But, that night, I kept pondering over it. It was easy to guess why he was so angry all the time. He wouldn't tell me how but Sam was scarred. Mentally and physically. His face was marred with healed bruises and he had a long mustache to cover a slightly disfigured mouth. He wore thick glasses and still sometimes had trouble with sight. He could have been handsome but something had robbed him of that. 
I realised that his looks truly didn't matter to me. I felt a kinship with him and I also didn't pretend to be someone else when I was with him. He once asked me what it was that I was looking for and I spoke of Kabir for the first time in years. I thought I detected a twinge of pain and anger in his eyes as he heard me retell the story. Or maybe it was just me. The fact remained that Sam had grown on me and I genuinely cared for him. 
Was I in love with him? I could be if not for the ever hanging hope inside of me. I was broken and so was he and maybe we could be each other's companion. 
"Absolutely not!" was my parent's first reaction. 
"Have you lost it? You've rejected dozens of boys who were much better.. far more qualified."
"Much better how, ma? Just because they look better? You've met Sam. He's a nice guy. You said so yourself!"
"Nice friend! I didn't mean that you should marry him!"
Arguments had become a daily routine. Most conversations seemed to end as an argument (all owing to this marriage business). Some days there were tears while other days angry storming (on my side) and cold war. Even my father, who for most part had been a neutral party, struggled to understand this decision. 
"Have you thought this through? We want to support your decisions but this seems rather abrupt. I didn't get the feeling you liked each other that way."
"I know. I still haven't even spoken to Sam about it."
"You mean this is all your idea?"
"Of course. Look, I like him. I tried your way of looking through those profiles - really I did. But I just didn't find the right guy for me."
"Sam isn't the right guy for you."
I glared at my mother with a angry retort on the tip of my tongue but my dad hastily interjected. 
"I think what your mother is trying to say is that you might regret this decision and hurt a lot of people."
"I won't." I stood up, not wanting to continue this conversation. "I am going to speak to Sam."
"Mika-"
"Please. I know you mean well but I really am sure."
"We know nothing about this boy! We need to speak to his parents."
I opened my mouth to argue but a look from my dad shut me up. "We'll need to worry about that only if he says yes."
My mother snorted. "Why wouldn't he? He could never find a girl like my daughter." It was said in such a matter of fact tone that it took me aback. The bitterness of past arguments had made me forgot that my parents loved me - unconditionally. I enveloped my mother in a tight embrace. "It will be ok, amma. I promise."
Charged up with emotions, I decided to break the news to Sam. I felt butterflies in my stomach.