Agastya Singh Chauhan

Things have changed. It’s what I love about life, it’s never constant. Like river, it paces forward, meets the seasons that almost cease her existence, goes through the places that aren’t always favourable, sometimes she flows over the bridge, sometimes she cannot even touch it, but she persists, seeking the ocean—a wider world, and without forgetting the journey she has taken to come to this point, she sets out on another.

“Fuck, I think I should be a poet.” I wonder aloud. Togo perks up, looking at me with a tilt of his head, probably deeming me mad for talking to myself at the break of a dawn. “Tomato?” I ask him, holding up a cherry tomato as a treat for him. He scrambles up on his four legs and with his adorable little feet pattering across the wooden floorboards, seeks me out in the kitchen, sitting on his hind legs with his electric blue eyes looking up at me like a Bambi. “You’re such a cutie.” I murmur, tossing a cherry tomato in the air which he catches in his mouth. Both of us look shocked that he did it. I quickly go down on my knees to shower him with the appreciation and praises.

Getting back to my feet, I go to pick up the knife when a familiar voice interrupts, “Uh huh,” causing my gaze to lift. Ira stands at the threshold of our bedroom, an arm crossed on her chest, and with the other hand, she wags an index in a no. “Wash your hands first.”

“But he’s clean. We got him groomed just yesterday. And I haven’t taken him to his morning stroll either.”

“Doesn’t matter. The food is not just for us. It’s for Lara and her family also.”

“But they have a dog,” although I protest, my hands automatically approach the tap. “I mean, we wouldn’t do this if we had a kid. I just find it unfair to discriminate like this between a baby and a dog only because one is an animal and the other is a human. What hypocrisy.”

“It’s not about discrimination, darling,” she chuckles, coming over and washing her hands after me. “It’s being considerate. You cannot discriminate between an animal and a human because they’re both entirely different species. Also, Togo is a grown dog now, has a thick fur and his hair are always growing and falling, not to forget he’s not really aware of the concept of personal hygiene. It’s fine when we’re cooking just for us, but not when we’re taking the responsibility for someone else. We don’t know how strong their immunity is. Whether they have a dog just as a pet or as a family member. So, let’s not take the risk, okay?”

“Why would you ever have a pet if you’re not comfortable making him a part of your family?”

“Well, dogs were not exactly bred for that. They were bred for survival, to help humans with labor work. For examples, Siberian Huskies were bred solely for transport purposes in colder region.” She shrugs.

“How utterly selfish!” I gasp, my gaze flying down to the dog sprawled on the kitchen floor, a cute obstruction. The irony. “You know you were bred for transportation in colder regions? You cannot even walk straight in the snow.” He only blinks at me.

Ira laughs, “True, and he needs boots when he goes out in the snow.”

“He’s a diva,” I smile, “And what about the other breeds? Like the poodles, retrievers, labradors, and such.”

“Well, labradors are guard dogs or search dogs. Same with German shepherds and Great Dane, etcetera. Retrievers were bred for search as well, but they are not guard dogs. It’s in their name. They’re retrievers. They retrieve lost things. And the smaller breeds like poodles, chihuahuas, and shih tzus are a show dog. They are fancy breeds. Like a status symbol for rich people. If you look up British royalty or any royalty from around the world, they never had a labrador or a German shepherd as a pet. They always had those tiny dogs.”

“The world of dogs is so fascinating.” I comment.

She laughs again, shaking her head and taking over the rest of the work for me. “You should be on your way to the gym now. It’s almost time.” As soon as she says that, my gaze darts to the wall clock in the living room and I gasp, taking off my apron and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before rushing off in the direction of our bedroom.

Getting ready, I pack my duffel bag with a protein shake I made this morning, a water bottle, my bandana because I’m cool like that, sport shoes and the leather belt for squats and weight-lifting. Calling out see you after me, I head down to the gym on the ground floor.

The gym is bustling with people, filled with the clatter of weights and the hum of treadmill, the sound of heavy beat music throbbing low in the background. Near the center, my coach stands, tapping his wrist for me in an exaggerated gesture, a frown of irritation crowning his forehead. I smile sheepishly and make a de-tour to the changing room, stripping off my normal clothes and putting on my work-out clothes, sitting down on the bench to tie up the laces of my shoes. Grabbing my bottle of protein shake and water, I step out, meeting Jack where he previously stood with his arms crossed. He gets me started with a twenty-minute warm-up and stretches, before we proceed towards the weight training.

 As much of a tyrant Jack is as a fitness trainer, he’s also damn good at his job. With his help, I lost the necessary weight and today’s the day of my shoot. Max was shocked when he saw me yesterday at the café, because he couldn’t believe I changed so much in less than a month. And that too without an extreme diet or exercise. All I had to do is let Jack torture me to death in the gym for over two hours every morning, then eat exactly as he told me and voila! I’m back to looking like the Agastya Singh Chauhan I was used to.

I know I look better now.

Though I’m long familiar with women’s admiration, the envious or appreciative looks from men rekindled memories of my school days, when I was the one my peers looked up to. I had a great childhood. I did feel the absence of my parents, but the overwhelming attention I got from the outside world did a perfect job to distract me. And then it all came to an end.

In just a night, I was back to being a nobody. Pity was never an emotion associated with me. It was pride. But it all changed within a night.

People sympathized with me, shared their condolences with a forced smile, told me there’s more to life than just baseball. But I knew it, from their body language, the tone of their voice, the pitiful look in their eyes, I knew I’m nothing but a failure. The attention that I was so used to, the attention that made me feel seen, like I matter, that my parents may not have loved me, but the world does, that attention—it was stolen from me. And now it’s coming back. I’m becoming something again, something to be looked at, something to be envious of, something to be admired. And this time, no matter what happens, I’m not letting it go. It’s mine. It has always been, it’ll always be.

“C’mon, Agastya, just ten more!”

Except that I’m struggling to finish fifty push-ups right now, and before my life can change for better, I think I’ll die.

“Push, Agastya, push!”

Exhausted like a dead rat, I look at him in disbelief, drenched in sweat from head to toe, “I’m not in a labor.” Just as I say that, a group of women passing by break out in a fit of laughter. Jack looks away flustered. Shaking my head, I struggle to resume. “I- I can’t… my arms are dead!”

Jack kneels down beside me, “Don’t you dare give up now. Look at me, Agastya,” I’m struggling to keep my eyes open and he wants me to look at him. “Look at me, Agastya!” I startle, meeting his eyes tiredly. “You’ve already done forty. What’s ten more? It’s all in your head. Push past it!”

Gritting my teeth, I lower myself slowly, “I.. I’m trying… but it’s so hard…”

He places a hand on my back, and I know he’s trying to be supportive and motivating, but the added weight is not worth it. “I know it’s hard. That’s what makes it worth it. You’re stronger than you think. You’re here to change, remember? To push your limits. Let’s do this together-“

“I don’t see you on the floor with me?” I look at him cluelessly.

Someone in the background laughs again.

“I- I mean, I’ll be your support system. You can do it, Agastya. You can move mountains if you want.”

“Now that’s a stretch.” I deadpan. “I can’t even move myself here.”

The person laughs harder.

Jack sighs. “Just do it, dude. I’m tired. I wanna go home. My cat’s waiting for me.”

“You have a pet?”

He nods, “Her name’s Lucy. And she’s very moody.”

“I can understand. My Togo is moody too.”

“Yeah, so please get on with it. Both of us are stuck here until you complete your set.”

“Okay!” Taking in a deep breath, I focus on channeling my inner strength into finishing the set.

“That’s it. One at a time.” Jack grins, “Focus on your breath. In through your nose,” I inhale while going up, “Out through your mouth,” and exhale while coming down. “Eight more. You can do this!”

I push myself with a grunt, “Seven..”

“Yes! That’s what I’m talking about. Six more, Agastya. You’re almost there. Don’t stop now.”

I collapse and pant, before pushing up again, “Five…”

“Halfway! Picture the finish line, Agastya. Every push up is one step closer. Four more! You’re a machine! You’re a force to reckon with!”

“Dude, it’s not that serious!” I glare at him. “You’re pressuring me with that talk. Can we talk about your cat, please?”

“Okay, yes, sorry I can’t help it.” He shakes his head.

I push myself up again, my teeth gritting with determination. “Three.”

“Just two more, Agastya! C’mon, you can do it!”

I let out an exhale as I rise again, “Two.”

Jack smiles and claps, “One more, Agastya. One more. Give it everything you’ve got, please, Lucy is waiting for me. Don’t disappoint her.”

“This is for Lucy,” and with a final surge of effort, I push myself one last time, “One!”

Jack cheers, “That’s it! You did it! Fifty push-ups! I knew you had it in you!”

I collapse onto the floor, laughing breathlessly, “Oh man… I thought I was done at forty.”

Jack squats down beside me, offering me a fist bump, “Never underestimate yourself, Agastya. You’re capable of so much more than you think. Remember this moment next time you feel like giving up.” I open my mouth when he shakes his head, “Don’t ruin this. I meant it from my heart.”

Laughing, I return the fist-bump, grinning ear to ear, “I was going to say thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you, coach. My shoot is today. And it’s happening because of you.”

He clicks his tongue, rejecting the credit, “I just stood here. You put in all the work.”

“Still, thank you.”

He smiles, getting up, “Anytime. Now, rest up. Tomorrow, we’re aiming for sixty.” And strolls towards the exit of the gym.

I groan and flop back down on the floor, “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

All I hear him is laugh on his way out.

As I prepare to get up, a slender, bare arm reaches out to me. My gaze lifts. Looking down on me stands a beautiful young woman, smiling softly, her soft blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Thanks,” awkwardly reciprocating her smile, I hold her hand and push myself on my feet, dusting off my pants and brushing a hand through my sweat drenched hair.

“I’m Cecily.”

“Hi, Cecily. I’m Agastya.”

“Yeah, I heard.” She nods, “You have a great sense of humor, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Picking up my duffel bag, I swing it over my shoulder and look back at her, “See you.”

Just as I turn to leave, she speaks again, “I- I was hoping we could grab a cup of coffee someday?”

And that’s when I see it, the fire in her eyes as she stares at me, completely transfixed. Oh, she wants me. “Sorry,” I take a step back, “I have a girlfriend.”

“She doesn’t have to know.” Cecily shrugs, smiling coyly.

My smile disappears. “I don’t think you heard me right. She’s my girlfriend, meaning the woman I love and am loyal to. I’m hoping that gets my point across. Excuse me, now.” Walking out, I shake my head in disbelief, stopping abruptly in the changing room when I remember it’s how I used to approach committed women, holding the same stance and confidence. “Wow, I was an asshole.” The realization sticks as I grab a quick shower, change into my normal clothes and return home.

“What’s with your face?” Ira enquires when I toss my duffel bag over the coffee table.

Turning around, I place my hands on hips. She gives me all her attention, knowing I mean business with that posture. “So, I met this woman in the gym. Her name’s Cecily. Pretty young, model-like figure, like the kind who knows she’s beautiful.” Ira hums, “She approaches me, compliments me on my sense of humor, which by the way is great so I don’t blame her,” Ira chuckles, “And then she asks me out.”

“Okay, I’m interested now.” She puts her coffee cup down, leaning against the kitchen island.

“I tell her I have a girlfriend. You know what she says?” I ask her in disbelief. Ira raises a brow. I put on the dramatics of being a frail woman with a coy smile and fiddle with my fingers, “She doesn’t have to know.”

“Haw!” Ira gasps.

“Exactly!” I shake my head, “Can you believe it? And that was me in the past. I used to say those same sentences without an ounce of shame. And I used to feel like a stud. Now that I’m not him anymore, I feel sorry for that bastard. He was a dumbfuck.”

Ira laughs, “Oh baby, don’t be so hard on yourself.” She croons.

“I feel guilty now,” I plop down on the couch, prompting Ira to sit down beside me. My eyes meet hers. “I helped so many women cheat on their partners. And I know, I didn’t owe them any loyalty, but there’s something called moral obligation right? You don’t hurt someone intentionally just because you have something to gain.”

“You’re changed now.”

“Doesn’t matter. I still hurt those people. I can’t imagine being in their shoes. Granted, not all of them must have been good husbands, but sure some loved their wives or partners?” My gaze falls low to my feet.

“You know your best quality, Agastya?” Ira places a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“My sense of humor?”

She chuckles, “Yes, but apart from that, it’s your introspective nature. You’re a gem. To acknowledge one’s mistakes, their flaws, their errors, and to change them, that in itself is a very huge thing. And you do it seamlessly, like it’s a part of your nature.” She cups my cheek, “Trust me, it’s not easy to own up to your wrongdoings.”

“Thanks.” I smile softly. “That made me feel better.”

She nods, “And now you’re running late for your shoot.”

“Oh, shoot!” I spring off the couch.

I get ready in a rush. Ira stashes a wrapped burrito in my hand on my way out, warning me to finish it. Since she started her Christmas break from yesterday, I’m free to use her car for my daily commute. And it makes so many things exponentially easier for me.

Reaching the studio, I meet the crew and make introductions with everyone before changing into the clothes they selected for me. The shoot lasts for over five hours. I don’t even get the time to have my lunch break, internally making me grateful for the burrito Ira handed me this morning.

By the time I return home after depositing my cheque in the bank, Ira is ready in a ribbed white bodycon with a deep V-neck. She looks so sexy I stop myself from jumping her bones and only settle on kissing her passionately. While she wraps up the tray of Lasagna and bruschetta, I get changed into a custom-made tailored black suit. I heard Lara’s sons-in- law are also coming, and one of them is an Indian. Now that I’m somewhat at the same level with their sons-in-law, I don’t want to waste any opportunity to impress the couple.

“You carry the basket of the biscuits and Togo’s leash, please,” Ira tells me when I offer her help.

Obliging, we step out of our apartment and ring the doorbell for the one across from us. Lara opens the door alongside one of her daughters with a beaming smile, the smell of food and the sound of chatter, mingled with the tiny sounds of barking welcome us into the chaotic but lovely family, seamlessly making us a part of them.

“Oh, you guys brought so much!” Lara gasps, guiding us to the kitchen where we place the food. “I was about to set up the dining table. Ira here will help me along with my daughters. You go and get comfortable with the guys outside.”

“It’s fine, I can help.” I smile sheepishly.

“How cute!” Kiera, her youngest daughter says.

“Don’t be silly, go. This is a traditional household. And I don’t intend to change it.” Lara waves her hand dismissively.

More like patriarchal?

I look at Ira for her opinion. She nods at me with a small smile.

“You guys are adorable.” Rene says, Lara’s eldest daughter.

Ira quickly gets to work while I scurry out of there before the ladies can embarrass me more.

Harry introduces me to his sons-in-law. One of them is an architecture based in Ilford, and the other is a surgeon in the making. He’s also the one who’s Indian, and he recognizes me right off the bat. At first, the conversations among us are slightly rigid and formal, but two glasses of champagne down and we become comfortable around each other.

Sometime later, Lara invites us to the dining table. I pull myself a chair next to Ira after helping her and hold her hand that’s over the table. She smiles brightly at me.

“Let’s raise a toast to this beautiful night?” Varun—Kiera’s husband asks with a grin. In response, everyone lifts their glasses of the champagne. “To the new beginnings?”

“To the new beginnings!”