Thank you. That’s all – words like Thank You, mean different things at different times.
It was late in the party. Sanz was getting his last refill when his eyes caught a familiar face at a distance. Anuradha! It can’t be; what would she be doing here. He remembered her leaving advertising after marrying one of the clients.
As the coincidence would have it, she looked in his direction, and there was nothing to hide. She smiled and walked toward him, cutting through the aim Brownian movement of other attendees.
Hey Sanz, what a pleasure to see you after so long. She leaned forward to hug him, and her lips brushed his ears, and he heard her say, let’s celebrate for the old-time sake. She was, as usual, telling him and not seeking his permission.
She asked the bartender for a whisky and settled down next to him on the big sofa. Her long-nailed finger slowly caressed the glass, and her smiling eyes bored into him.
‘You know, people call me tigress on the prowl. The hunter. It is tough being a single successful woman’ She ventured with no foundation.
‘What happened to Gupta’ He asked very hesitantly.
Well, nothing- he found someone fresh. I should have known that if he could leave his first wife for me, he could leave me for another woman. And he did. She laughed. But I milked him fair for the divorce and set my own business. So here I am; I hope you liked my session.
No, I came in late; I never knew it was you who would be speaking; otherwise, I would not have missed it. He replied.
Are you flirting with me? The Sanz I knew used to be more sober, very shy and safe. Remember, people call me hunter and what all behind my back.
They had another drink and another. He was getting high and tipsy for a change, and she was in complete control. It was not like he could not hold his drink. But there was something different, may the moment or Anuradha, maybe both were intoxicating.
You remember that night, you dropped me home from the party. She asked. Yes, I do. Sanz said, and then the whole episode flashed before his eyes. So much could have happened that night, and nothing did. That was so many years back at the office party.
At that party, there was loud music played in the loop. Casually dressed youngsters on the dance floor moving randomly. Few girls danced as if it was OSHO Ashram. Psychedelic lights playing tricks in the dark hall. It has everything that Sanz was not interested in.
Sanz had a problem with loud rhythmic music. So, he usually stepped out with his glass and would step in for a refile or get a bottle outside. Leisurely smoking and drinking and observing people.
It was a perfect advertising night-out with drinks on the house. Usually, people overestimate their capacity to drink, and by 1:30- 2 a.m., someone or the other becomes a problem. That is the time people remembered sober people like him.
At 2 a.m., Sanz saw this beautiful colleague walking toward him, who was a gone case. She stopped next to him, clutching the side rails to stabilize. She leaned in and asked for a smoke, and Sanz lit a Classic Mild for her.
She deeply inhaled the smoke and tilted her head to slowly, purposefully exhale. She has a glassy stoned faraway look in her eyes.
Why are you standing outside?
I can’t dance, and I don’t like this music. He replied
She takes a step back and looks at him from top to bottom. Nods her head as if she has identified the problem. Or if she knows he is not making it up. She says nothing and takes another drag.
What you drinking
Whisky
Can I have a sip?
Silence
One sip, I am not drunk. I am just high. I know.
Silence.
She takes the glass from him. Looks at the drink’s colour, looks at him and gives back the drink. Sanz is happy; she is high, and she knows it.
You are not like him
Silence
Saala can’t *&$#ing dance, but his hands do. I am friendly does not mean I am available. Does it?
Silence
Sanz is surprised. She never used such words. You know, he asked me if he could drop me home. I know what is in his mind, and I can read men like this (and she clicks her fingers). But you are different. Sanz, would you drop me home.’
She did not name the person, but he was supposed to understand the unsaid. Sanz knew where she lived, and it was in the opposite direction for him. Yet, that night he agreed. She was one of the sweetest people he knew, and he had a soft corner for her.
She hurriedly stubs her cigarette, and they leave the party.
During the car ride, she held his hand and that made him uncomfortable. She was sharing what he did not want to know. Why she was the way she was? Why does she drink? What is her unsaid relationship with him? Why does she tolerate things in life?
Many more personal things were shared by her that night. By the time they reached her place, she was high as in HIGH, and Sanz had to part hold, part push her to her 3rd floor flat.
Sanz finally pressed the bell, and after some persistent ringing, her father opened the door. She was strongly leaning on him as he held her by the waist, and it was the only way to make her stand. Seeing her condition, her father took charge of her.
Sanz thought her father would thank him, but instead, he turned back and gave him a lecture full of questions.
Who are you? Why do you all allow girls to drink like this? Can’t you party without drinks? You mean you could not stop her? What if something wrong could have happened? What kind of office do you have those parties so late? Don’t you have arrangements for girls to be dropped home?
Sanz just stood there. There was no point in answering any question of a paranoid father. Sanz could have asked her father many questions. Do you know why your daughter drinks? Do you know why she is out? Do you know what she thinks of you all? Do you… do you?
But all Sanz did was listen to the old man and leave the place. Before starting the car, Sanz looked up and thought he saw someone hurriedly pulling the curtains, and he was unsure.
The best was left for the next day. With no visible signs of yesterday’s drunken state, this beauty, now wholly sober, walks into his cabin and hands him chocolate. He takes it to mean thank you.
And then that day, Anuradha broke his heart by saying. ‘He said you dropped me home last night… thanks’. Before he could say anything, she added, ‘Hope, I was not much of trouble … anyway, I have to hurry for lunch; he is waiting’.
Sanz was back to reality. The drinks were starting to affect his judgement.
Yeah yeah, I do remember. More than anything, I remember your father’s look and questions, even the unspoken ones. As if I was responsible for your condition. As if I had taken advantage of you. In a way, yes, I could have, but then you know me.
Yes, you are responsible for my condition. I liked you. And why do you think that night I came to you and asked you to drop me home. Do you really think I was blabbering, or do you think I told you things about me? I tried, but then it was not destined for me.
Sanz looked at her face; the eyes were telling the truth. He gulped down his drink and asked for a large one. They sat there looking at each other, unsure of what could have been and what will never be.
Finally, with the bar serving the last order, she offered him to rest in the hotel; no point going drunk home. Anyway, there is no one waiting for him. They were in the same boat, loners- like the banks of a river never to meet.
He did not reply but leaned on her for support as they reached for the elevators. She held him close – guided him to her room. Slowly she lowered him on the bed and took off his shoes. She placed the pillow under him… Pulling a sheet over him, she picked up the other pillow and walked to the sofa to sleep.
He half muttered, Thank you. And Anuradha replied, Thank you, Sanz.
None of them understood why they were thanking each other for. Was this for the closure or for the fresh start they deserved? But even at that time and stage, they remembered their manners. They were not cowards. And thanks were long overdue.
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