The Tale of Four Hearts (Part 2) Continued from here

“Don’t do anything. We’re OK.J J ;) ;) ” That’s the next message I see from Sheetal, as I scroll down my inbox archives today. I know. Women!!

In spite of being ineffective in splitting up the couple, which I knew – and still know – is what Sheetal needed, this hiccup in their relationship holds a huge significance to me. This was the genesis of a deep friendship between me and Sheetal. My depression wasn’t getting any better. I was desperate to trust someone, to open up to someone, to have someone croon me a few words of sympathy. I held on to Sheetal like a drowning man to a straw. She didn’t hold back. We became the best of friends, sharing everything about Ranja and a tiny little bit about Rahul. (Sheetal is a Bharatiya Nari, remember? ;))

Months passed by. Our exams ended. Rahul travelled to another university in a different city for his internship. And then one day I received a call from him.

It fills me with anger, pain and shock as I relive that call even today.

“You think I’m a fool, don’t you? You think I don’t know anything about what’s going on? I’ve checked out all of the messages that were exchanged between you and my girlfriend you son of a b***h! You see, I had plenty of time when you were deep in sleep, probably dreaming of her naked body. I can’t stoop to the level of “battling this out with you,” so to speak. So let me tell you this once and for all – you’re free to get as close to my soon-to-be-ex girlfriend as you want, but do not contact me ever in this life again. For you, I never existed.”

I sat on my bed, shaking, with tears running down my cheeks even long after he’d hung up. I had no idea what had just happened. I had never, ever thought of Sheetal as anything other than an understanding, trusted friend. How could I? Ranja – and the pain of losing her – occupied every square millimetre of my heart. More than the pain of losing my best friend of three years – the pain of feeling wronged overwhelmed me. I wailed and wailed for what felt like hours but was in reality 15 minutes. And then I popped two Avomine tablets and slept the whole day.

“Tujh se naraaz nahi zindagi, hayraan hoon main…”

Yeah life is ironic sometimes. That’s the painful tune which woke me up next morning as I peered at the screen, barely recognizing Sheetal’s name through my groggy-eyed haze.

One more deluge of tears. Rahul had used up his entire dictionary of teenage slangs in an hours long call he had had with her the previous day, Sheetal informed.

“I almost hate myself now. Even though it never crossed my mind that you could be anything but a very close, very dear friend to me, maybe he’s right. May be it’s impossible for a male and a female to be just friends. I’m sorry for everything Rana … ” The trauma had left her out of her senses.

We talked. For hours. Sharing our sorrows. Our pain. The hurt we felt for being misunderstood by someone closest to each of us. And in the end we agreed he was beyond us. He had something in him that was tearing him apart. And honestly, neither of us had the capability to handle it. From this point, we started avoiding him.

to be continue......