After many years, I finally saw Pratik. Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it a meeting. It was more like I just caught a glimpse of him. But why did he act like he didn’t see me this morning? Or maybe he genuinely didn’t notice me? A flood of questions filled my mind. Even after he walked away, I found myself staring at his retreating figure for what seemed like a long time, not really knowing why. And then it hit me—just like before, when he entered and left my life, today felt exactly the same. I had wanted to talk to him, at least once, but what could I do? He left before I could say anything. And ever since that day, for some reason unknown even to me, at exactly seven in the morning, my feet would automatically lead me to the dairy. A strange pull had been drawing me there for the last eight days. Today, I left the house hoping, as always, that maybe I would run into him. And that’s exactly what happened!
Just as I was about to leave the dairy, Pratik arrived. He called out to me and said, "Hey Anika, what are you doing here?" Pretending I had no idea about him being around, I replied, "Oh! I’ve been living here for the past ten years..."
"Oh, right! I completely forgot. I just moved here last month." "Is that so? You should come over sometime," I said, trying to sound casual.
"Yeah, sure!" he responded, then quickly excused himself. But before he could leave, I called after him, "Pratik! Wait, give me your number. How else will I contact you?" "Oh, sorry! I almost forgot. Here, take it: 980000… and send me a message on WhatsApp, okay?" With that, he hurried off again. He must’ve been in a rush... But now I had his number, and I could finally talk to him as much as I wanted. Still, I didn’t understand why I was feeling this way after all these years. Did I forget that I had a 16-year-old son? Why was I so caught up in all this? It was just a small conversation after years of not seeing each other. So, what was the harm? My mind was racing with a thousand thoughts, but the excitement of having his number made them all disappear. I let go of any moral dilemmas or thoughts of what was right or wrong and got lost in memories of my childhood. I drifted back to that day—the farewell ceremony for our 10th-grade class. Everyone was celebrating, but there was a sadness too. We all knew we would be going our separate ways. There was a fear in me that I might not see my friends again, and that’s why I had decided to talk to Pratik after class. "Pratik, I need to talk to you," I had said. "Sure! What is it? Umm... Actually… Umm..." "Come on, just say it! Do you need my notes or something? If you do, just tell me which subject," he asked, full of questions. "Pratik, stop asking so many questions. Just listen! I’ve practiced what I want to say, and your questions are making it harder." "Okay, okay! Say what you need to," he encouraged, smiling. "I... I really like you, Pratik. I mean, I have feelings for you. I’ve even written your name so many times, even while picking rice. On the last page of my notebook, I wrote ‘Anika Pratik Patil.’ I know this might sound silly, but what do you think?" I finally got the words out, and then I waited. He just smiled and said, "Anika, I care for you, just like I care for everyone in our class. I love all living things. God has made the world so beautiful that it’s impossible to not like something or someone. Liking something isn’t wrong, but what I see these days is that love often becomes about ownership—'this person is mine.' That’s why, at this point, I can’t accept your love. We’re too young now, but maybe later we can think about it." Was that a yes or no? I wasn’t sure. But "we’ll think about it" meant there was still hope, right? Otherwise, he would’ve just said no. I walked away, holding on to that.
Today, after our final SSC board exam, Pratik came up to me and said, "Let’s go grab tea at Bunty’s stall." Bunty had been with us in school until the fourth grade. When his parents passed away in an accident, he had to quit school and run the tea stall. Despite his difficult circumstances, no one could make tea like Bunty. His stall was always crowded, especially in the mornings and evenings. I was thrilled when Pratik suggested it, and we both sat down at a table. Pratik ordered two special teas, and as Bunty brought them over, Pratik turned to me and said, "You’re really smart and beautiful, Anika. I didn’t say anything that day because of the exams, but the truth is, I like you too. But we’re from different castes, and my family is very traditional. So, this relationship won’t go anywhere. Instead of letting love fail and hurt us both, wouldn’t it be better to build on our friendship?" Hearing this, I was filled with anger, but what could I do? His maturity was the very thing that had drawn me to him in the first place. Bunty’s tea, which always tasted so good, felt bitter that day. In the steam rising from the cup, I could see my love slowly disappearing. Even so, I didn’t let Pratik see my feelings. I agreed to the friendship, but deep inside, I had already decided I didn’t want to see him again.
A lot happened in the years that followed, but I never met or spoke to him after that. Today, however, it all came rushing back as if it had just happened. Lost in these thoughts, I didn’t even
realize when I had reached home. Once inside, I put the milk on the stove and picked up my phone. I sent Pratik a "Hi" on WhatsApp. Two hours passed, but there was no reply… That’s when I noticed my WhatsApp display picture (DP). "Oh no! How silly of me. How would he
know this is my number?" So, after many days, I changed my DP to an old, but nice photo.
“If someone’s going to look, changing the DP makes sense. If no one’s going to notice, then even a status is pointless.” Just then, Pratik replied, "Okay, Anika, we will meet again." Reading that made me feel a bit better. He was still the same Pratik, always a fan of English. Even back in school, he spoke such fluent English.
Whenever he spoke to me in English, I would say, "Huh?" and then he’d translate it all into Marathi. I’d laugh and say, "I’m proud to be Marathi!" and we’d both end up laughing together.
Whenever he was around, I never felt like anything was missing. Sometimes, we make life more complicated than it needs to be, and then we blame fate for our problems. In moments like these, we need to stop and ask ourselves, "Am I the one responsible for this?" What happened in Anika’s life that made her so trapped in negative thoughts? To find out more, let’s meet again in Friendship or Love? Part Two.
To be continued ….
