Ved, Tamasha was never your story; it was mine!
I was the one who was stuck in an unending corporate circus. I was the one who plastered a smile, put on her best formal, tied her hair into a bun and incessantly gave presentation after presentation. That became my identity- a dull, pragmatic and nerdy Tara who only wore black, grey and monochromes. Tara was supposed to know which stock was trending on the share market and not the new trending Bollywood number. That’s why Ved and Tara went on those trips where she could be all alone. A Tara who no one knew and no one judged based on where she came from and where she was headed to. I could be the Tara I always wanted to be – the story-teller, the artist, the dramatic, the clown, the girl who cracked silly jokes, made senseless puns, the girl who let her hair loose and wore white jackets with loud prints and who did not need visiting cards to introduce herself. A Tara who met people not with an intention of a potential client pitch but for the sheer joy of exploring her extroversions.
In Corsica, I lost my passport and bags, and a kind stranger helped me. And Ved, that stranger’s face became your face in my story. That’s what kindness does to you, and it shakes the parts of your soul that is way too stubborn even to move. I became the storyteller for the next few days, and you were my muse. I liked doing that, you know, creating these characters in my mind and making them live the story I wanted to. I called you ‘Don’, a hero from my favourite movie, and I became your Mona, the comrade. Those days I did everything I was never allowed to do. I let myself loose, found happiness in simple things, drank from streams and danced on the streets. The corporate Tara could never even put such things on her pitch board. Tara had never felt so at peace and in love with herself. With you, I realised waise feel karna possible tha!
I came back to Kolkota, and for four years, I buried you, Ved. Andar se kuch aur hi hain hum. Aur bahar se – majboor. Those were my worse days. I wanted you for real. I had fallen in love with you. I had fallen in love with myself. How do you un-love the muse who is your own self? Kaun the tum, Ved? Just my alter ego who wanted to tell the world that he existed.
Until I came to Delhi for training, and my eye caught the Catch 22 at Socials, a book I had read when I was in college. A catch-22 is a paradoxical situation from which an individual cannot escape because of contradictory rules or limitations, as coined by the author. That was precisely where I was, and that was my sign from the universe. I had decided if Tara could not reveal herself to the world, Ved would.
It took me a while to create a Tara in you, Ved; I wanted you to be as real as I was, I wanted you to struggle with your own identity, I wanted you to know what it feels to feel nothing and then everything, I wanted your rawness to ripen, your wilderness to catch fire. Ek din mujhe pata chala tha ki Santa Claus nai hota, bahut bura laga tha, but tum real the Ved. Kyunki tum Tara the. Amidst Ved’s character, I did not want to write off Tara. How could Don operate without his Mona? How could something as simple as a message of ‘Follow your heart’ be conveyed without a great love story? I wrote myself into your story. I never liked how my real story was going, so in yours, maine ending badaldi. You were always me Ved, and aaj mujhe darr nahi lagta. Apni kahani bataane me, kaayar nahi hoon main. Batadi apni kahaani, batadiya kya tha dil ke andar
Writing this book, you know what I realized, Ved? Like every Ved needs his Tara, every Tara needs her Ved too! Sometimes you find them in other people and sometimes within your own selves. And when you find your Ved or Tara, you do not let them go.
Kise chahiye mann ka sona, aankh ke moti. Kise padi hai andar kya hai? Ek din milega tumhe bhi ek aisa Tara jo tumhe shayad roshan na kare, but atleast batadega ke tumhare andar andhera hain!