ILYICID

I Love You In Case I Die by Nivetha Sundar

To my one in a million, my soul-mate, my Parasite & to Themis who made it happen

I’ve made many many friends over the years. I’ve acquainted myself with even more. I guess you could say that I’m a very social person, yet deeply emotional.

I take a lot of pride in the words I slap onto a piece of paper. I don’t think I’ve ever showcased, much less written anything so raw; the type of ‘raw’ that resembles meat shredded from the bone, clean of its tendons. Yet, not so primal? More like, “this is all I have to offer and it may not be what you want to hear or care for”

Making friends comes at a cost. You’re gambling on whether to open yourself up to someone who may or may not like you for who you are. Friendships are complicated in the sense that this is not someone you know from the day you’re born. It’s optional yet necessary for survival. Friends are the family members you get to choose to spend your time with.

Let’s get this straight. I’m writing a whole-ass book about one person.

My Parasite means a lot to me (if you haven’t gotten the drift yet). I just hope that every one of you reading this book has the privilege to know and love someone so unconditionally, that every breath you take is because they didn’t let go of you.

Part 1 When We Were Young

I wish I could meet you for the first time again. I wouldn’t change anything about it though - not a single thing, but we can come back to that in a second.

One of the most defining moments in our relationship, in my opinion, was the evening we spent sipping coffee from CDX. It soon became “our spot”. We both didn’t live in the hostel. They called us “day scholars”, which meant we had to leave college at some point to go home. So, we tried to spend most of our time together after class talking about Harry Potter. We could have been two normal people and just vented to each other about how our classes went but I guess that’s why we found comfort in one another.

Dare I say, we meant to distract ourselves? Or maybe when I put it all together, we were way ahead of our time in seeing how unrealistic our experiences in college were. We were unperturbed by our professors treating us like sub-human particles; wasn’t it all just a way to morally break us? Our constant argument was that you couldn’t break something that was already broken. Yet we hadn’t explicitly talked about that, did we? We hadn’t talked about our lives on a personal level up until that point. We were just floating around and our friendship just happened. So, couldn’t that just be our “defining moment”? That evening we spent sipping coffee from CDX talking about Harry Potter.

You burnt your tongue that day because you couldn’t wait two seconds until the coffee cooled down. That’s when I knew that your crazy fit my crazy.

I sat next to Themis during orientation because she was the only person I knew, and the thought of sitting alone felt daunting. You sat on the other side. We exchanged pleasantries in a very forced yet formally acceptable way.

You believed you could quietly get away with forgetting my name, but I found it kind of comforting that you didn’t pretend to be perfect at that moment. You whispered to Themis, “What’s her name again?”, and I very eagerly turned around and shouted “Nivetha” with a fat grin on my face. I don’t know what triggered me to take advantage of that weird interaction, but I’m glad I did.

I remember exactly what I was wearing on the first day of college. It was this blue silk-cotton kurta with an embroidered neckline with cuffs to match. I figured since I was going to be studying textiles, I’d wear something that would fit the bill. I went with a “safe” color that morning and I was so nervous. I was worried if I’d make any friends, much less good ones.

I had seen you by one of the rooms by the sewing labs with a group of other freshmen and you were talking to Themis; very animated, I thought. And you were dressed in a plaid blouse and jeans. You turned around and flailed your arms around at someone in a very quirky fashion. I felt overdressed and contemplated going home to change before orientation.

Like I said before, I don’t think I’d want any part of that day to go any different than it did. If there is such a thing as fate, I’m sure that part of my life’s decisions led me to that moment we met. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

III

There’s not a single day that goes by without me thinking or even talking to/about you. Everything I do has a little of your essence in it. Sometimes the most random activities somehow find a way of reminding me of all the ridiculous but beautiful things we did or “still do”...

Cold coffee always reminds me of you. The little shop at the SRP Tools junction was the best place for cold coffee. It was 90 rupees with a sweet chocolate drizzle and was totally worth it. Literally shopping at any and every stationery store. The one good thing about shopping for art supplies now is that it’s not accompanied with that unshakeable feeling of academic panic. I can buy any kind of sketchbook I want now and not care if the pages get slightly worn down. I miss running away to Bessy whenever we got the chance. Beaches aren’t the same in the bay area and they’re not as gratifying. Remember how excited we were when One Direction released the music video for “Kiss You”? That was probably the last time I swooned over teenage boy bands. Unlike you. *smile* Our impromptu visits to Gandhi sir’s office and being served tea like the pretentious teacher’s pets we were. Can you believe we had lunch with each other almost every SINGLE day? I think being overdressed for our dinner date at Zaitoon across the street from my house was the peak of our friendship. And maybe someday we can be overdressed for breakfast at Tiffany’s, a la Kurt & Rachel. Of course, I’m Kurt.

Time moves faster without you around. Or maybe it’s just that I’m more aware of time when I’m not talking to you. Days were longer in college but now I just wonder where all that time went.

KeeKee, Nandu and Ass.

Our own little family. And oh, how we’ve grown together. I think this is the thing that 30 year olds tell people our age about how it’s like getting older. That it does get better and the nicest things to look forward to are friendships that age like fine wine.

It’s beautiful how we managed to find our makeshift family in the worst way possible. Whoever thought that being shunned by an entire class of people could create an amazing ground for friendships to thrive.

College was in an uproar because of the steep hike in tuition fees. Us being pretty non-confrontational decided that protesting wasn’t the safest way to bring about change, so we decided to stay out of classrooms in solidarity to those fighting, until all the chaos was over.

It was in the middle of February and it was sweltering hot. We found the girls and decided to take refuge from the heat in our

homeroom. We explained to our professors that we didn’t intend on attending any classes because of the strike, nor did we think that screaming at the top of our lungs was the best use of our time. But somehow, word got out that there were 5 girls that went against the crowd and sat in a classroom.

And hence, we were known as the “boycotted group”, bg’s for short. We were deemed ineligible to rub shoulders with the rest of our peers. I think being misunderstood was what I loved about the five of us. We all played a role in coping with the unfortunate situation. Nandu and I took on more of an armored approach with Keerthi being our collective “supportive” mother, whilst Ass and yourself kept reminding us of how ridiculous the strike was to begin with.

But look at us now. No really - Look at us. How far we’ve come from that moment. Emotionally and physically.

Look at us. Who would’ve thought?

Not me.

Part 2 Skinny Love

If I could have 3 wishes come true, I’d wish that we lived together till death do us part - married to other people or just as two spinsters with a collection of exotic pets working as art school teachers in the Upper East Side.

A girl can dream.

I’d also wish for enough money to buy a nice NYC apartment & just enough fame to get us free tickets to every celebrity event in Hollywood. Do you think if I had to wish for fame, I’d be allowed to choose how I get it? Then again, bad publicity is still good publicity, right? As long as we’re not shunned by Chris Evans or Harry Styles or for your benefit, Antoni Porowski.

I don’t know if we’ll ever get to live with each other, but I really do hope that I can make that a reality. Call it a goal, if you will.

It’s like in the Cursed Child when Scorpius & Albus are stuck in the past trying to get a message to Harry in the future. Albus says, “As pleasurable as it will be to hide in a hole with you for the next forty years . . . they’ll find us. And we’ll die and time will be stuck in the wrong position.”

To which Scorpius replies, “Still, if I had to choose a companion to be at the return of eternal darkness with, I’d choose you.”

So Parasite - you see - whether it’s the Big Apple or Godric’s Hollow in the year 1981, I’d give my left kidney to be stuck with you. You are my “eternal darkness” companion. Also, if we’re being really honest, you know we’d choose Godric’s Hollow in a heartbeat.

Part of why I’m obsessed with Harry Potter is because of you. And to be honest, I’m not even close to being as obsessive as you are about the fandom. I mean that as a compliment. Surely, you would know that.

It’s just that fandoms don’t have that much effect in India. I feel almost jealous for you - of me. It just doesn’t feel complete without you. Noone should ever have to go anywhere and constantly feel like a part of them is missing in an environment that’s meant to create a sense of community.

And in retrospect, I think that’s what kept us together. It was and still is something we constantly fall back on when we’re trying to find some sense in our odd lives. Given it’s one of many many things we rely on in order to survive being miles away from each other. Harry Potter has forever been our glue; heavy duty, concrete, long-lasting adhesive - our Always Glue.

III

If I had to describe our friendship in one word, it would have to be “effortless”. I’ve never felt the need to try hard to get your attention or commit a public act of love to prove my loyalty - AND AS IRONIC AS THAT SOUNDS in this particular scenario, I still feel like this was long overdue.

We never had a single fight. I never stormed out of a room or angrily hung up the phone on you. We’ve kind of just taken each other for our best and our worst.

The night before my 21st birthday. The most dramatic I’d been - up until that point at least. I was terrified, upset that turning 21 meant nothing special. My parents weren’t with me and I was determined to spend a sad night by myself wallowing in my own self-pity.

Being at home seemed like an easy target, so I left the house to stuff my face with chaat and lassi. Yet, that didn’t deter you from wanting to spend time with me. You were always so selfless. You had to hound me into figuring out where I was - you gathered the troops. Everyone made sure I had a wonderful birthday that night and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

But it goes beyond just that moment, doesn’t it?

Anytime I was sad, angry or erratic, I knew I could call you and everything would go away. You had a way of allowing me to be emotional and I didn’t have to feign happiness, when times were a little dark.

If I had to put a label on my negative emotions, I’d probably call her Preeti (because that name makes me want to claw my eyes out). And if Preeti was having an intense argument with me about how I should probably cut my own bangs, you would’ve interrupted her just to tell me about something that happened on a late-night talk show which may or may not have had any significance in our mundane & normal lives. Then Preeti would get mad and most likely scream “umm, hello? We were having a conversation..”

To which you’d curtly reply “Cool, bro” and continue talking to me about some hot new celebrity ‘goss’. And that’s what I love about our friendship. It’s effortless.

We never try to fix each other. We keep referring to this ideology of being beautifully broken and I think that’s because we internally accept that nothing can be perfect without having been through some sort of pain. Pain plays a very important part of our lives and ironically, we’re the last people to accept that we feel it.

Is it wrong that we delicately tip-toe around our emotions? Isn’t it unhealthy to constantly distract ourselves from the real problem? Why am I not concerned about us not having strong opinions about life? Is this what it’s like to be type B?

But it works, doesn’t it? We’ve been best friends for almost a decade and living in denial has somewhat kept us from completely disintegrating. Maybe it’ll change when we live together. All I know is that we don’t need to fix it right now.

We are beautifully broken.

I stopped writing because it wasn’t giving me joy. It did not spark joy. I worry too much about what people think instead of focussing on what I actually want to convey. But it just feels like a selfish habit - to write about one’s feelings for others to read.

But enough of that psychobabble. I digress.

I’m writing this for you and doing it gives me so much happiness. We don’t really talk about feelings that much, you know. We have a relationship that’s kind of like a bromance. And this book is just some form of that conversation we try to avoid. This is me sweeping our cheesy, corny feelings for each other under our proverbial rug of pop culture, celebrity drama, instagram trends and astrology posts.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think I might find joy in writing again. And I don’t care what people think.

Part 3 Classic

Imagine a big room that branches into many other smaller rooms, and behind each door is a movie that carries some significance to us in a specific way. Some rooms are so heartbreaking that you’d have to keep the door closed for a while, maybe keep it bolted shut. Other rooms feel like a warm blanket on a cold day that we occasionally like to open.

Unlike you, I have the tendency to keep opening some of those doors. I like nostalgia. While you’re off exploring other rooms you haven’t opened before, I’m striding on the other side to the rooms we’ve reserved for light hearted comedies and bad rom-coms.

Some rooms are crowded with people because it’s a really good movie. It takes me forever to enter those rooms because I prefer to be alone when I watch them. You have never understood that. La La Land is an example. Took me a year to watch it and I’ll never watch it again. For me, that’s the room I keep under lock. Me Before You is the door you hastily hung the “Keep Out” sign on.

Movies like Love, Rosie and Perks Of Being A Wallflower lie in the category of movies we return to with caution. Then again, there are also rooms we’re not very proud of keeping around like 21 and Over or all those old 90’s Hindi movies you love. Maybe you are proud of the latter. I don’t know.

This is the “home” we often like to escape to. In my head, it feels like a way we cope with living separately. It’s a big room away from reality that houses all these relatable story lines, where we can watch other fictional characters play out our inner fantasies.

As a Libran, indecisiveness runs through my veins. You, a Gemini, also are indecisive. So what better way to put that to the test other than by playing a celebrity version of “Would You Rather”?

I sat down and thought about these for quite some time. The intent is to torture - nothing less. Hasn’t it always been our motto to not suffer alone?

Imagine you grew up in a single mother household. Would you rather have Chris Evans as a step-dad and have a great relationship with him as his step-daughter OR would you rather be his assistant, who has secretly been in love with him for 15 years - only for him to realize, after multiple failed public relationships, that he loves you back. BUT IT’S TOO LATE.

Antoni Porowski is the head chef at a fabulous french restaurant where you wait tables. Would you rather stay late at the restaurant and accidentally lock yourself in the storage cabinet for a whole night with Antoni (and non funny business) OR would you leave work early to join me at an art show where you meet Harry Styles and end up having a steamy night with him in his luxury suite, with watermelon on the side?

Would you rather be Emilia Clarke in Me Before You and Sam Claflin still dies (spoiler alert) OR would you choose to be Lily Collins in a world where Alex and Rosie never get together?

You’re a pediatric cardiologist. David Corenswet walks into your clinic for the first time with his 8 year old son. He’s been married for 10 years. Would you rather have a complicated affair with him where he ends up leaving his wife & child to marry you OR would you hide the fact that you accidentally killed Corenswet’s wife by running her over with your car, try to comfort the oblivious man and still marry him because he falls in love with you as a vulnerable widower?

Part 4 Cough Syrup

Writing this has opened up the door to emotions I’d never thought I’d come to terms with. My therapist from 2015 told me I have a tendency to bottle up my feelings. I believed it; I also didn’t need a third person telling me about something I’d purposely been doing.

Every time I felt stressed in our final year at NIFT, I did one of two things. Drowned in cartons of vanilla flavored Cavin’s milk or run away to your house. Sometimes both.

I thought I’d been driving Keerthi up the wall with how sad I used to get. I thought I was bothering Ramya by calling her every time my anxiety was getting out of hand. I was scared of college and I was scared that my “less-than-bubbly” attitude was gonna ruin everything that I had carefully bottled up.

However, I rarely worry about you getting tired of me. It never once crossed my mind that there could be the slightest possibility that you’d find me mentally exhausting. I want to say that it’s because you were feeling the same way. I don’t know. Part of me doesn’t want to question it at all.

One less thing to worry about.

Here’s a list of things that are almost always running through my mind.

You pat people on the head as a sign of affection.

Living with you would mean that we can finally have really chic furniture and nice purple walls.

I refuse to explore New York City without you.

There are AT LEAST 3 things every day that make me momentarily stop and think, “I should tell Atu about this”

You’re possessed by a friendly poltergeist which is why electronics tend to die around you and it doesn’t matter how new they are. Then again, maybe I’m that poltergeist because I’ve died in another dimension and I’m essentially protecting you like a guardian angel.

You sweat like a maniac, regardless of the weather. I hate that I wasn’t there for Nandini or Keerthi’s wedding or for your arangetram.

I hate DoucheBae and sometimes I fantasize myself punching him in the nut sack.

How can I get Chris Evans & Sebastian Stan to have dinner with us?

If I ever see Tyler Posey in person, I’m only going to think about that video of his on Pornhub.

Are we ever going to start TuNi?

If I died, all my diaries would go to you. If I decided to fake my death and go into hiding, you’d be the only person who would know my whereabouts. (A few other people would probably know as well)

If either of us had a kid - he/she/they are gonna be so spoiled. I’d still be against that kid having a phone until they’re 20. MAYBE.

You need to go outdoors more.

Rose Quartz and Serenity is your most favorite Pantone Of The Year.

WGSN sounds so foreign.

We’re De-Jiners

“Do you ever feel like a plastic bag?”

III

It feels weird when I don’t talk to you for a couple days in a row. I feel unhinged when that happens. Oddly enough, I can keep my silence with other friends for months and still come back to an entertaining conversation that began right where we had left off.

Back in college, when I’d be on the phone with you and my mom would find me in my room yapping away - she’d scrunch her eyebrows and mouth silently, “what do you guys even talk about for so long?” To be honest, I question it too.

We have always had something to exchange opinions about.

And I hope we never run out of those things.

Part 5 Pompeii

We both have apocalyptic themed dreams. I’m sure that has to mean something, on some level. Is it that we internally seek the beauty in chaos, thereby articulating through an environment only we’ll be comfortable in?

Our brains are running constantly - overheating; and sometimes the noise overpowers the music playing in our heads. I look around, and I see that everyone else seems so calm. Driven yet confident of where they’re headed. Then it all makes sense as to why I would dream of these mushroom clouds scattered across blazing red skies.

I want to know that other people can feel as lost as I am.

Sometimes, I wanna do absurd things - like save an empty seat for you on every train ride, or make two cups of hot chocolate when I’m ready to go to bed. Anything that’ll make me feel a little less lonely.

Maybe it’s the fear of that loneliness that translates into dreams that are filled with such disarray. Wishful thinking of meteors hurtling towards living, breathing life; causing the world’s selfish miscreants frantically searching for companionship, finally understanding that our existence is merely just a ticking time bomb.

I wish we could dream of other things; nicer things.

I wish I won’t have to save that empty seat my whole life.

This extract isn’t for you this time, Parasite. It’s to your future significant other. If and when that happens.

Know that you’re signing up for a package deal. We tend to keep the most obnoxious part of ourselves private, so I promise that you won’t have to deal with the petty; the simply idiotic things we gab on about.

If either of us die, all our belongings go to the other. If you bear children, the position of the child’s godmother is already filled. And most importantly, nothing is a secret. So it’s highly likely that I know everything you know.

Harry Potter is important, but if you’re not a big fan - we get it. The gayer you are, the better. If you’re a celebrity chef, that’s a plus. And if you just happen to be a part of the Fab 5, then you’re definitely the one for her.

Jokes aside…

Promise me you won’t hurt her; that you won’t be a self-centered dick. Promise me you won’t get mad when she yells at you for not putting the books back on the shelf in the order it was in before. Promise you’ll share all of your emotions with her, the good & bad. Never say sorry for the mistakes you mean to make. Take care of the part of my soul that lives with her.

I Love You In Case I Die