Another Radhika!

Kabir, a Muslim boy, loved Radhika. He likened himself to Krishna, who could never marry his soulmate. A beautiful love story, by Dr. Priyamita, exclusively for Different Truths.

It was 3am when R (Radhika) got that dreaded phone-call. She awoke with a start at the shrill ring breaking the silence of the night…. It was her mother. She was gasping at the other end of the phone. She had slipped and fallen down while going to the toilet and was writhing in pain.

R didn’t know what to do! She lived in Delhi with her family (her husband Ravi and 8-year-old son) and her mother lived alone in Kolkata. Unfortunately, she did not have any of the phone numbers of her mother’s neighbours and had almost lost touch with all her relatives in Kolkata. At such a critical time, only one name came to her mind… K (Kabir)!

R had met K on the very first day of medical college. She was a studious girl, shy and withdrawn. The seniors had organised Fresher’s Welcome (no one calls it ragging in Medical College) and R was asked to dance on-stage! She had just stood rooted to the spot, silently, her head lowered and hands shaking. K (who was in his second year then) had come to her rescue; he had argued with the seniors and most of the freshers were let off easy that year.

They became friends later. They always addressed each other as R and K. K was an orphan, his parents had passed away in an accident when he was little and he lived with his uncle. Also, he was the polar opposite of R! He was an extrovert- actively involved with campus-politics, was the lead singer/guitarist of the college band. He bunked classes and spent almost all his time in the college canteen…a cigarette dangling at the corner of his mouth, endless cups of steaming tea and adda! His only aim in life was to treat the poor people, who could not afford the rising medical cost. Tall, dark, with long hair and piercing large eyes, he was showered with attention from most of the girls. R was in awe of him! He was a brilliant student too and would teach R and a few juniors the difficult chapters of Anatomy and Biochemistry with absolute ease.

Their friendship soon blossomed into something more, but K was always careful that they never got carried away. R was a Hindu and he was a Muslim; there was no way R’s parents would ever agree to their only daughter marrying a Muslim! R used to help him in the blood-donation camps he arranged and bring home-made delicacies for him. Once R had fractured her hand. K had attended all her lectures and written down notes for her! Whatever happened, they always had each other’s back!

R recalled vividly the last time they had met, almost 12 years ago. They were alone on the terrace of the hostel. She was sobbing uncontrollably while K was trying to console her. Bits and pieces of that conversation came back to her like a dream…

R: Don’t you care about me at all, K?

K: You are the person I care about the most, R… you know that very well. I have no family, no one to call my own. You are my everything and that is the very reason why I don’t want to ruin your life.

R: Why will you ruin my life? We will elope and get married.

K: This is not a movie R. Life is tough. You are the pampered daughter of your parents. They would want you to marry into an equally well-to-do family and live comfortably. Besides, I have never wanted to get married and settle down at all. I want to work in the rural set-up, treat poor patients, and work with an NGO. I won’t make money but that has always been my dream! I can never give you a good life.

R: But I also want that, K. I will live anywhere with you. I will also be a rural doctor, serving the people.

K: No, R, no… I don’t want that. Don’t you see? If I had a sister, I would want her to have a good life, the kind she deserved… Same for you. This is my dream, not yours. I know you want to work in one of the top hospitals in the country… And you will. One day you’ll regret it if you marry me, and I cannot forgive myself then. Besides, I’m a Muslim…

R: (she yelled, with hot tears rolling down her cheeks) “So what? We have never let religion interfere with anything. I think all this is an excuse. You just don’t want to marry me.

K: (He held her face with both his hands and replied) “You have no idea how much I love you. Do you know the story about Radha-Krishna? Their love was so pure, so unconditional… their love story is celebrated by everyone, yet they never married! Do you know why? It’s because they were one soul. You can’t marry your own soul, na? How can you marry someone who resides in yourself, who is a part of your very being?

R: Don’t give me all that crap…. Fancy you lecture me about Radha-Krishna! You’re a Muslim, what do you know?

She had kept on arguing, trying desperately to make him see reason, sometimes begging and pleading, sometimes lashing out bitterly but all her efforts were in vain. The first heartbreak always leaves a raw, jagged wound somewhere deep inside that never heals completely.

She got married a few years later. Her husband (also a doctor) was a sweet man who supported her in everything. She worked in the best hospital in Delhi and lived in a swanky apartment in South Delhi. Yes, she did miss the long passionate debates that she had with K (on politics, books, religion, sports…any topic under the sun), the health camps in the remote villages where both of them had worked tirelessly and sometimes free-of-cost to serve the rural people, the frenzied high she used to get whenever K performed on stage in the college fests and all the students kept cheering and clapping…it seemed like a lifetime ago!

When she finally landed in Kolkata and rushed to the hospital to see her mother, she saw K waiting patiently in the hospital lobby. They had lost touch over the years except for the occasional birthday phone-call. However, as she saw him, even after so many years, she felt the same adulation and affection for him that she had felt so many years ago. If she had married him, would she still be in awe of him? Or would the mundane monotony of everyday life wash away the passion that she had felt?

Her mother had suffered a hip fracture and R stayed with her for a month. However, she had to return to Delhi soon, owing to her young son and her medical practice. To her surprise, K volunteered to live with her mother! He assured her that since he was living alone in a small flat and working with an NGO, moving in with her mother wouldn’t be a problem for him. R felt all her worries melt away as she knew her mother was in safe hands!

R called her mother daily and chatted with K too. It was almost like going back to her college days! K was still just as passionate about his work! He told her about the plight of the rural patients – the poor infrastructure, the lack of doctors and nurses… how he was beaten up one day because he had advised a few families about family-planning! R listened, enthralled, like a child! It was a different world, a far cry from her luxurious life! She finally realized what K had said all those years ago was true…she could never be content with a life like his- the thankless life of a doctor working in an NGO and serving the rural people. K lived in a one-room flat in a dingy lane and didn’t own a car. He spent most of his time in remote villages, treating and counselling the poorest of the poor.

R and K became best friends again. K used to send books to her son and once organised a surprise birthday party for her son when R had come to Kolkata to visit her mother. Her mother (who had hated K in her college-days because of his religion) had also developed a soft corner for K and had convinced him to live with her even after she was completely healed. She often told R that K was like the son that she never had!

After about five years, R got another dreadful phone call at the dead of the night! Her mother told her, amidst incoherent sobs, that K was severely injured by a violent mob. He was working (a night shift) in a remote village and a Hindu boy (about 17 years-old) was brought to him, unconscious, who had tried to commit suicide by swallowing poison. Despite his best efforts, the boy passed away. The angry family members started attacking K with lathis, shouting that he was a Muslim and had intentionally let the boy die. K was admitted in the ICU in a critical condition.

R could not respond to her mother; she felt the ground disappearing from under her feet. She immediately booked a flight and went to Kolkata the next morning. Even before she entered the ICU, she knew that her worst fears had been realised. K’s treating doctor gave her an apologetic look and shook his head, the same look that she (as a doctor) had given to so many unfortunate families. K had breathed his last. The same ignorant brutes, whom he had been so passionate to serve, had taken his life!

R did not know what to do with K’s belongings. She thought it was best to give them to the NGO that he worked for. She came across an old diary of K where he used to jot down his private thoughts. As she hugged the diary to herself, a folded piece of paper fell out from between the pages. It was a sketch (done by K) of Radha-Krishna and was signed ‘RK’. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she recalled him talking so passionately about Radha-Krishna, so many years ago…

Visuals by Different Truths