No Matter What . . . I will always love you!

By Rohit Dawesar

An ordinary-turned-extraordinary tale about the magic of love... From romantic escapes in the beaches of Goa to witnessing the beautiful Manali sky lit up with fireworks on a Diwali night, Rishi and Mishika' s lives were like an exciting roller-coaster ride every moment that they were together. But when Mishika disappears on the morning of their engagement without leaving so much as a wisp of a trace behind, Rishi finds himself alone and adrift in a dark sea of doubts and fears. Was this one of those pranks that Mishika loved to pull on him to test his love for her? Or had something happened to her? Join Rishi as he tries to look for answers in an unforgiving world where holding on to even the slightest bit of hope is a daily struggle. Will he ever find Mishika? Was she even alive? What unbelievable things would his love for her make him do? From the bestselling author of The Stupid Somebody comes yet another gripping story that will make you laugh, cry, and reaffirm your faith in the strength of love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fingerprint Publishing
• Release date: Nov 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9789354405143

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Rishi

Love! Why do we love someone? And what do we love about them? Is it the way the person walks? The way they talk? Or is it the way they behave and care about things? Or perhaps it is all of this? What does it take to fall in love? Maybe all it takes is a glance? A glance that makes us whole, transforms us into a precious and desirable crystal, every part of which glitters with the brilliance of love. But what is it exactly, this thing we call ‘love’?

I had often thought of love as something one sees only in the movies or reads about in books. But that isn’t the case, is it? Love is real. Real, like my hand and my thoughts and the very air around us.

But this is just me juggling and playing around with words, and words can be deceptively funny at times, just like our lives. Both tend to make us believe in something in an instant, only to have us discard it the next, and then make us believe something else altogether right after!

Let me give you an example. The word ‘engaged’, for me, had always existed in the context of a phone line being busy—you know how when you call a person and their phone is busy, you say that the person on the other side is engaged? Well, in such a situation, you are likely to either stay on the line until the person puts their other caller on hold and attends to your phone call, or you call the person again after some time. But when it comes to the social concept of getting engaged to somebody, things are entirely different. Once you are engaged, others don’t stay on the line or call you back later (metaphorically speaking, of course!). And they shouldn’t really. Because that’s what an engagement ceremony’s purpose is, after all. It’s like how in some parts of India, people keep their handkerchiefs on a seat of the bus or the train they are travelling in and say, Hey! That’s my seat! Similarly, with an engagement ceremony, it’s like saying, Hey! That’s my girl!

It’s like two people who, having decided to spend the rest of their lives together, must now announce their decision to the rest of the world so that people can stop dialling the wrong number, if they were dialling it at all, that is. And since it’s pretty well known that people anyway love to party, especially if it’s at someone else’s expense, the ones getting engaged throw a party to gather some rather unnecessary congratulations. Why I use the word ‘unnecessary’ here is because in most cases, like mine, the guests invited don’t really know their hosts and will, most probably, never cross their paths again. I had thought about this subject quite a lot in fact, and I had decided that when I get married, I would ask my mother that while inviting everyone to the wedding, she ask them to buy gifts of our choice. I mean, giving us an induction cooker, which I anyway have two of, would be such a waste of four thousand rupees (or maybe fifteen hundred rupees if they buy a local brand!).

But let’s get back to me. Mishika and me, to be precise. We were hours away from getting engaged. I had blushed just thinking about it every single minute of those 1,440 minutes of the previous day. But Mishika, she hadn’t even talked to me since morning. Another one of those games that she was amazing at playing, like telling lies, making up silly little love songs, and coming up with crazy tests to check my love for her.

The previous day, she had said that she was angry with me over something, and that she wouldn’t talk to me until after we got engaged. Insane! Isn’t it? I mean, what’s the logic here? Angry enough to mete out the silent treatment, but willing to talk after a stupid ceremony? Girls, I tell you! But when even the Gods bow down to these epic but confusing creatures, then who the hell am I? That said, my favourite game was to make every single one of her games as delightful and memorable as I could, although I must admit that sometimes her stupidities really did piss me off. Still, that’s what love is. Isn’t it? Grinning and bearing it all?

Let me call her one last time before we leave for her place, I thought and picked up my phone to call her.

Hello! Mishi . . . I said the second she picked up. But there was no response. And a second later, she hung up the phone!

I immediately messaged her:

Okay! Don’t talk. But at least send me a picture of my cutie pie.

Message sent. Delivered. Read. But again, no response.

God! This girl!

Rishi beta! Let’s go. We are all ready and waiting, my mother called from outside my room. I got up, put the phone in my pocket, and looked at myself in the mirror one last time before leaving—a midnight-blue tuxedo with a crisp white shirt underneath, my favourite Tag Heuer watch, and a deliriously happy smile. I was absolutely engagement-ready.

Let’s go, Mom. Your handsome son is all set! I shouted back.

Fifteen minutes later, we were at Mishika’s place. Heart thumping with excitement, I made my way inside, conscious of all the eyes on me. But even as I got busy greeting all our friends and family who had gathered there, my eyes searched only for my beloved drama queen. But she and her legendary tantrums! Mishika was simply nowhere to be seen! I was pretty sure she was hiding somewhere to make me even more desperate to see her. She loved taunting me with these little tricks and games. But truth be told, I hoped she would never grow up or change even after marriage. I loved her the way she was and I knew I would only love her more in the time to come.

Mr Jaitley, Mishika’s father, spotted us making our way through the crowd just then, and he quickly came over. I bowed down, touching his feet, as my parents greeted him and exchanged pleasantries.

Suddenly, I saw Mishika’s stepmother, Rashmi Aunty, walking towards us with brisk steps. She greeted us hurriedly and then immediately asked Mishika’s father to join her for a quick word in private. They excused themselves and walked a little distance away from us. I watched as Rashmi Aunty, now looking more than a little worried, whispered something to Mishika’s father who turned deathly pale. Was something wrong?

What happened, Uncle? Is everything all right? I asked, walking up to them.

Mr Jaitley turned and looked at me, and then, without so much as a word, darted inside the house. Rashmi Aunty turned to follow him, but I caught her hand and held her back.

Aunty, what’s the matter? I asked. Is Mishika all right?

I looked at her, waiting for her to tell me what was wrong, but she just looked at me with that stricken expression on her face, then looked at my parents who were talking to someone else, and then looked back again at me.

Mishika is missing, she said finally.

What? Wait. What are you saying? I asked, flabbergasted.

Mishika is missing, Rishi! Rashmi Aunty said again.

Hold on. Hold on. Did I hear it right? Mishika missing? Huh? What is that even supposed to mean?

What do you mean ‘missing’, Rashmi Aunty? I had a word with her in the morning. And she— I broke off mid-sentence, suddenly realising that Mishika hadn’t talked to me since morning. That I hadn’t actually heard her voice when I had called her a mere twenty minutes ago. That I hadn’t received a reply to any of my text messages to her either.

She’s been missing since around eight or nine in the morning. I just hope she is all right, Rishi!

Come on, Aunty! This is nothing but Mishi throwing another tantrum. You know her! She’s always like a baby crying for milk, a serial attention seeker, I said, trying to ignore a growing sense of dread.

Nahi beta. This is serious. Even her phone is unreachable now. Some of her friends went looking for her a while ago. They came back just now, having gone to every possible place where she could have been, but there is no trace of her anywhere. Rishi, I think it’s time we call the police.

I stood there in stunned silence as Rashmi Aunty hurried after her husband. I knew something was really wrong because even though Mishika played such games with me rather frequently, I knew that she would never do something like this to her parents, especially not when there were so many of her friends and relatives all there. Something was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.

I felt the claws of an inexpressible blackness clench my heart. My legs felt glued to the ground, and my body numb. I could feel my hands getting damp with sweat. But even as my mind somersaulted from one horrible thought to another, I had no clue, absolutely no clue at all about how this day was going to change my life entirely. Nothing in that moment could have prepared me for the storm that lay ahead.

Life can be deceptively funny, just like words. Isn’t it?

After one year:

Where are you, Mishi? Some say that you have been kidnapped, but even after all this time, we have not received any ransom calls or letters. Some say you didn’t love me and your family, so you left us and ran somewhere far away. Some say you are no more, and that I am beating a dead horse. But Mishi, my heart knows that you are out there, somewhere . . . For me, this is an undeniable fact . . . and I know you love me to death. Your love for me needs no validation. I will find you, Mishi. Just hold on.

I. Am. Coming.

CHAPTER 1

Rishi

Mishika and I were on a rented red Avenger bike, halfway through to Candolim beach. We were with four of my friends, who were also my colleagues—two girls and two guys—and we all were singing a song from Dil Chahta Hai at the top of our voices as we drove along the beautiful curvy roads, enjoying the ride.

That day, Mishika looked stunningly beautiful in a short brown skirt, a white sleeveless top, and a Panama hat that she had bought especially for this Goa trip. Her subtle make-up complemented her flawless skin amazingly. Decoding it in the male language, it simply meant that I would have to take as many pictures of her as possible in the hours ahead. Thank God we live in a digital era; otherwise half my salary would have vanished in buying film rolls!

Now let me quickly introduce you to Mishika. Umm . . . Mishika . . . She was a bubbly girl who was always the centre of attention wherever she went. As people often say, the right attitude is the most beautiful attire a girl can ever wear, and Mishika was a scorching thousand on ten any day when it came to her attitude. The top three in her list of priorities were good food, her looks, and, quite obviously, me. A Bollywood movie fanatic and a blabberer, she was a confused soul most of the times until she set her mind on something, because once she set her mind on something, no one could stop her from getting it.

By the way, I am Rishi, a software engineer by profession, just like Mishika, and a wannabe entrepreneur too. Unlike Mishika, I am neither a Bollywood nor a Hollywood movie buff, and unlike her, I like to be focused on whatever I do. Bikes and travelling are my thing. Mishika says I am soft at heart and cry easily, but at the same time, I am embarrassed to do that in public. My argument is, who isn’t?

Mishika and I had been in a relationship for almost two years now. I mean, she had changed her Facebook status almost two years back. I did the same as well of course, or shall I say I was forced to do the same an hour after she did it!

But let’s get back to Candolim. It was almost six in the evening by the time we reached the beach. The sun was about to bid adieu to the world, turning the sky into a colourful canvas, and the sea was roaring loudly as our bikes entered the parking lot. From there, we headed straight towards the shack on the beach to grab some drinks. This particular shack had become our daily haunt, and for the past three days, we had been satiating our wanderlust and enjoying some of the amazing food the state had to offer right under its roof.

Rishi, let’s go for a walk. Mishika’s sharp yet sweet voice fell on my ears just as I was approaching the gate of the shack.

Startled, I turned and stared at her, my eyes round like an owl’s. I mean, going for a walk on the beach was a good idea, but we boys don’t appreciate getting disturbed when we are on a mission to have a few drinks.

Umm . . . okay. But let me grab a beer before that, sweetheart, I said.

No, please ma chèrie. Let’s go for a walk first and then we will have a beer together? She fluttered her eyes and smiled her signature sweet smile. The cuteness in her voice and her calling me ‘ma chèrie’, which is French for ‘my darling’, made my lips broaden into a smile and my legs come into motion instantly. Mishika actually had a habit of using various terms of endearment while talking to me. Not your run-of-the-mill terms like ‘shona’ or ‘babu’. No, my girl used fancier ones like ‘ ma chèrie’ and ‘il mio amore’, which is Italian for ‘my love’. This, and the secret weapon of hers—her smile—were the things that made her my Miss Universe in the first place.

Now I know this is completely out of context, but sometimes I wonder why a Miss Universe is always from earth. Anyway, never mind.

Ooooooo! everyone cooed and giggled, nudging each other.

Alone time? Haan, haan . . . one of the girls teased Mishika. Let us know if you plan to kiss our friend on the beach, Mishi. We don’t want to miss that beautiful sight!

Making out on a beach is my all-time fantasy! one of the guys exclaimed.

Punching him lightly, I walked towards Mishika while she waved goodbye to everyone. I looked into Mishika’s eyes and smiled. Her honest, mesmerising eyes, which sparkled with every little thing, and also when she talked, could melt hearts.

She tucked her hand into mine and we started walking along the beach, a lovely sea breeze adding a pinch of coolness to the air. There wasn’t much of a crowd that day as it was still off-season for the tourists. Suddenly, some faint upbeat music caught my attention. Not so far away, I spotted a couple of college kids playing ‘The Summer of ’69’ on their guitars. I paused and smiled at Mishika, bobbing my head to the beat of the song. She smiled back and then dragged me forward towards the sea. We took our floaters in our hands and stood just where the water met the sand.

The sun had departed by now and the stars had thrown away the cover they had been hiding under to come out and greet us. And as we went farther away from the lights of the beach shacks, our eyes spotted more of the gorgeous sky sparkling with a zillion stars.

Are you enjoying here, baby? I asked Mishika, oblivious to the fact that I was about to commit hara-kiri. Mishika put her head on my shoulder before saying anything, and I noticed that her hair smelt like fresh lilies. But when a girl does something like that, a guy better be careful because either she is very happy, or she is not. And if it’s the latter, then you are seriously screwed. So I braced myself for whatever was about to come.

Hmm, Mishika replied eventually in a small voice.

What do you mean ‘hmm’? It seems something is bothering my shona. Tell me, what is it? I asked, keeping my fingers crossed.

Mishika only nodded in response.

Tell me, baby, if there is something . . . O Lord, have mercy on me. Please make her say no one last time, I prayed fervently after realising the mistake I had made in prodding her in the first place.

She nodded yet again.

This is a trick that girls always play. They want you to believe that you have won and that everything is fine before they start hitting some home runs, making you realise that you never even stood a chance of winning!

"Actually, Rishi, something is bothering me."

See? I told you, no? Badummba: that was the sound of my all-is-well castle collapsing. That’s why they say, think positive. You invited that charging bull towards yourself, smiling and dancing with a red flag in your hands. Enjoy now, I said to myself, holding her hands.

What is it, sweetheart? What’s bothering you? I asked, hoping her reason would not be me.

Your attitude towards me, Mishika said, gently kicking at the waves. It has changed since the day we came here.

I maintained a poker face while trying to grasp this and understand how it was so. But I-I-I am the same Rishi! I am exactly who I was before coming here. What has changed in me, cutie pie? I asked, trying to sound cute.

Umm. How should I explain that, Rishu? Recollect everything that’s happened since we came here and analyse your behaviour na.

These girls, uff! They can talk nonsense throughout the day, but when it comes to explaining something, they fall short of words. ‘I don’t know’ is their default answer when it comes to explaining their feelings, as is using a hashtag by default when it comes to posting something on social media. Clearly, the biggest social media star of Rishigram was not very happy.

Baby, then also . . . try to explain it, no? I mean, see . . . I wake up every day when you want me to. I eat what you want me to, and I even came for this amazing walk without having a beer. See? How have I changed? I am the same obedient, madly-in-love-with-you Rishi, my love. Amazing walk, is that what I said? Really?

Okay, tell me. Why were you constantly staring at that foreigner at the disco yesterday? She threw a bouncer at me.

Arre, sweetheart. I was . . . umm . . . I faltered, trying to think of an appropriate instant answer. "Okay, yes, I was watching her. You know how you keep asking me, ‘Is this earring looking good on me? Will that skirt suit me?’ So, I was looking at that girl to gain some insight into the subject. And I was also wondering why everyone else was looking at her. Was she really looking that good? But I am telling you, she was not that pretty! SHE WAS NOT! But you, you were killing everyone with your looks and your moves, baby. Your deep-necked silver top and your tight denim skirt were gelling perfectly with your open, free-flowing hair. Uff! Thank God there was no police around! Otherwise, they would have arrested you for slaying all the guys with your looks."

I had surely hit a sixer. Mishika blushed, but only for a nanosecond. And before I could have relaxed, she flung another question at me.

But then your eyes were glued to her for like . . . umm . . . a really long time! It took you so long to just look at her earrings and her dress? she asked, her eyebrows raised.

Oh! I got caught on the boundary.

Sweetheart, the whole place was dimly lit. It took me some time to get a clear look at her.

Yes! The catch might have been taken, but it was a six anyway since the fielder had already crossed the boundary.

But Rishu, is this how you are going to make me happy whenever I feel sad after our marriage?

Huh? Now what? Does she want me to dance and sing for her? I wondered, completely clueless. And what the hell had I done in the first place? I mean, appreciating beauty by looking at it is what we boys do, just like girls come back with bags full of dresses for themselves when they go shopping for their friends. Simple!

Okay. Tell me, what do you want me to do? I asked, looking at her and making a not-so-happy face.

She melted. The look in her soul-piercing eyes softened and her face looked calm again.

Kiss me now, she replied instantly in a stern yet cute voice.

What?

My eyes all but popped out of their sockets on hearing her Fear-Factor-India kind of a demand. I looked at her, totally gobsmacked.

Yes! I want a kiss. Abhi ke abhi. Right here, right now! she said, freeing her hand from mine and running away from me before turning towards me. She stood still, hands on her hips, and shrugged. She was looking like a cute, naughty, sexy little girl, all at the same time.

I looked around. There were almost a dozen unknown faces. Since the moon was not out in its full glory yet, we were neither completely visible nor were we in the spotlight.

There was a family of four playing in the water quite close to where Mishika was standing. I pointed towards them, but she just shook her head in disagreement, making her intentions clear. She was stubborn; she wanted the kiss now. I turned towards the other side to see some teenagers laughing their asses out and splashing water at each other.

I smiled, looking at her, my hands on my waist. And then, I ran towards her. I took hold of her face. Her cold cheeks were resting in my palms now. I took a deep breath before lowering my face to hers. We could feel each other’s breaths and the sound of our racing hearts filled our ears. Eyes locked, our bodies aroused, we felt the cool sea breeze and the wetness under our feet acutely. My eyelids lowered, and gently, I placed my lips on hers. And we kissed each other, forgetting if the world around us even existed.

All Mishika had wanted was my attention. She had wanted to feel special. And she was special. I loved her so much that I was willing to do anything and