March 18th, 2012 would have been Rajeev’s 33rd birthday. I would have made it a big deal because, in addition to my husband, I also love palindromes and multiples of 3. But mostly, I would have made it a big deal because I love my husband.
I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle that day. As the day approached, I felt more and more panicky. Until one day, my sister Shivonne finally got fed up of my shenanigans and told me, “Sher, get it together! It’s just ONE day!” But it was just one day in the same way Hitler was just one dude. But she’s right. It was just one day. So instead of wallowing in self-pity, I faced a few fears and then pampered myself with a pedicure and a trashy novel. It wasn’t stellar, but it was deal-able. And for now, deal-able is quite enough.
But not always. Sometimes there just aren’t enough pedicures or trashy novels. Sometimes I just don’t know how to deal. Sometimes it hurts so bad that I almost wish I had never met Rajeev.
Almost.
Sometimes.
Anyone who knew Rajeev, knew that he was passionate about music. He was also alarmingly attached to his iPad. I used to joke that if the iPad and I were trapped in a burning building, he’d probably save the iPad. “What about your wife?” – I’d ask. His response? “I hear there’s an app for that”. Hmph.
But I digress. Yes. So. The one thing that Rajeev was truly, truly passionate about, was music. And he was terrified about the possibilities of ending up with a girl who wasn’t. I remember the first time he ever called me up. It was the first time we really spoke actually. We were so terribly nervous. See, when I get nervous, I get super chatty and friendly. I may even drop a couple of swear words in my desperate attempt to seem cool. But Rajeev was the exact opposite. He used to get super formal and business-like. The first 10 minutes felt like an interview and he used douche-y words like “horizon” and “paradigm-shift”. It was super awkward until we started talking about music. I still remember his answer when I asked him what kind of music he liked – “I like everything from Madonna to Metallica.” To which I replied “Which Madonna. Coz if you say ‘Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina”, I’m hanging up right now.” And then he laughed. And then we were fraaands. But despite his love for hard rock and his hopes to find a girl who understood it, Rajeev also wanted a fairly traditional kinda gal. Someone who was independent yet liked to take care of a home and family. In fact, one of the first questions he ever asked me was if I knew how to make dal.
Growing up, I did not have too many friends who shared my tastes in music. It is hard to meet other girls whose idea of a perfect solitary afternoon was decorating cupcakes while listening to Wolfmother. I wasn’t edgy enough for the rocker chicks and I wasn’t homey enough for the domest(ch)ics. It bothered me. I thought I was weird because I did not fit into a stereotype. It was years before I became comfortable with myself. Well… comparatively at least.
People would often comment on how well Rajeev and I suited each other. We had such similar tastes in music! Oh what a happy coincidence!
But there’s more.
As a kid, my entire world about music revolved around my big sister. She’d come home for the holidays and she’d bring us bags and bags of Mad Comic books, Civic lip gloss, and yes, lots of brand new music. She was the one who introduced me to Roxette and Def Leppard (and, in a moment of weakness, Ace of Base). I started listening to music pretty much because of her. At that time, she used to study in Pune, along with Rajeev’s sister. And sometimes, on weekends, she’d even crash at their place. And guess who was on hand to introduce her to all that awesome new music?
See, I wasn’t meant to fit into stereotypes. I was meant for Rajeev. I can moan and groan about why this had to happen to me. And some days I don’t even want to get out of bed. But it’s gratifying to know that Raja’s and my story is so much bigger than just the two of us.
It’s hard though. Sometimes I feel like I’m becoming the exact opposite of the person Rajeev loved. I was never known for my saccharine goodness, but I was never suspicious and cynical either. I know that I cannot afford to be the naïve, trusting person that I used to be, but I really, really don’t want to end up this shriveled up ball of bitterness. Oh what a waste of life that would be. I want to be happy. Genuinely, unashamedly happy. And not because it’s “what Rajeev would have wanted”. Because as much as I’d hate to admit it, “what Rajeev would have wanted” doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t let it. As much as I love and miss him, Rajeev can only be a chapter. Not my whole story. And hopefully one day, I’ll stop feeling so guilty for thinking that way.
My sister told me the other day that I WILL get through this. And I thought “No. I AM getting through this.” My way may not conform to everyone else’s idea of how I should deal with this. I will not cry in front of random visitors who I know mean well. I will get monumentally pissed of whenever anyone, not biologically related to me, brings up the topic of remarriage (Seriously. What the what!). I will laugh. I will sing. I will joke. And when I feel really sad, I will cry. (‘cause face it, crying can only help you so much. I read this the other day- “Crying doesn’t indicate that you’re weak. But it doesn’t always solve your problems either.”)
So yeah, I will not get through this. I AM getting through this. I am. I am. I am.
I think.
