He is mine… all mine.

No, not all mine. A part of him belongs to her as well. He says he loves me, has always loved me, for as long as he can remember. But he lies, I can see it in his eyes, I can smell her on his collar, his skin.  

She is my best friend. Was my best friend, until she took him from me, took the light away from my life. She walks all around his house, our house, as if she belonged there.

 She arranges his table, but does she know he likes extra salt in everything? Does she know his favorite dish is paneer palak? Does she know he hates baingan ka bharta… her specialty? She can never know him like I do.

 He buys her roses for every occasion. She loves carnations. He has no idea how much she detests his belching in public or smoking. Does he know she really likes lavender over pink? He can never know her like I do.

 What a strange situation to be in. The two people I know the most, the two people I love the most, are the ones out to destroy my happiness.

 I introduced them. We were both nine and he was 10. He shifted next door and we became inseparable from that moment on. We went to the same school and college.

 He chose to become a surgeon … he always had nice long fingers and a gentle heart. He joined a prestigious hospital and she chose to become a dancer. She became a professional Kathak dancer with a famous troupe and travelled the world.

 I chose to become a photographer, was always passionate about it. I got myself a diploma and freelanced my way to a comfortable existence. We went three separate ways but the bond between us never weakened. We always met up whenever possible and then one day, friendship blossomed to love.

 It was bound to happen. I always knew he was the man for me. I had known that for the past 19 years… since the time he first came knocking at my door asking for a pitcher of water.

 Through the times I had punched him for teasing me and the times I had fought with him, I always knew that one day we would be together forever. So did he, he keeps saying it. She broke her leg one day, while dancing. We both took turns to visit her, cheer her up, and entertain her. He dropped by her house more often than I did. I felt good about it then, felt like we were such a tight group, when one of us was hurt, the other two rushed to the rescue.

 Her foot was set straight and she was back on stage in no time. Then she won the international dancing scholarship and went away to study in the US. That year was a difficult one. For him. My best friend was so far away, but my love was near by.  It was he who looked haggard and tired all through that year. It must have been all the extra effort he was putting in to bag that senior position… or so I thought. We met as usual though and he would cheer up considerably after that. She came back and it was a joyful reunion. She was more elegant and dignified now. I was so proud of her. So was he.

 Then came the wedding. It was a grand event. She married my man  but I am not the other woman.

I have loved him far longer than she has.

Uma Iyer is a writer, a mother and a freelance consultant for marketing communication to several organisations. She was raised in Mumbai and currently lives in Delhi. Her retirement plan includes two dogs, many books and a shack by the sea.