How late should one be to be fashionably late?
I am a stickler for time. It's painful, mostly for me. If I say, "see you in 5", it means I would be at the designated spot precisely in 5 minutes. If I am not, I would apologize for being late even if it's by a few seconds!
Why am I stressed about it?
Because I now suspect that others speculate the motive behind my promptness. Especially men.
Now If I run, trip, hop, skip and jump to keep an appointment with a man (I am not even talking about a date here)just because I like to be on time and hate to keep people waiting, he might think I am eager or worse enormously keen to meet him because I might just arrive at the scene out of breath which may be misinterpreted as being 'breathless' in an infinitely feminine way.
That's what happened when I met Mr.G this morning for breakfast.
Texting-
Mr.G : Good Morning. I'll reach your place at 8. Meet me outside your colony gate.
Moi : Hi. Sure thing. Call me when you are 5 minutes away.
Mr. G : Will do. Wear something bright. There is a lot of fog outside. It would make you and your colony gate easier to spot.
Moi : Strange request. But OK. There is a slight drizzle my side of town. I'll be wearing a fluorescent yellow raincoat. Hope that helps. *wide grin*.
No response to 'that' from Mr.G.
*************************************************************
The Dreaded Call-
Moi : Hey. Are you 5 minutes away?
Mr.G : Actually, I think I am just 2 minutes away from where you live. I am about to take the left from the metro station.
Moi : OK. I'll be down in 2. Bye.
I hung up.
I am a woman. I deserve more notice than that!
-Hadn't brushed my hair. It was still in a wild disarray after the blow dry.
-Hadn't decided which shoes to wear.
I had just enough time to put on my sneakers and dash out of the house.
I walked briskly to reach the main gate before his car pulled up. Needless to say, I was panting when he arrived.
Holy F***in Cow! Absolute zero visibility due to dense fog. His car appeared out of nowhere and screeched to a halt just half an inch from me. He would have surely run me over had I not been wearing my blindingly yellow raincoat!
I was already out of breath and whatever little air I had in my lungs was knocked out because of the close shave.
As soon as I got into the car, I gave him a look...the one that said "you jerk, You almost killed me! I hope I am not making a BIG mistake by going out with you...lets see if you can still redeem yourself."
What I think he must have thought when he met my gaze squarely-
Breathlessness = Anticipation
Fiery Eyes = Desire
Tousled hair = Out of bed and ready to jump right back in
He must have misread the signals I was trying to transmit because he gave me a warm-mush look. His hooded eyes were like diluted honey and the half smile was making a promise of sorts.
I got confused and looked away.
He threw me a curve ball when he said, "You look devastatingly cheerful in fluorescent yellow. I am fully awake now."
I decided it would be foolhardy to dignify that remark with a comment. So I let it slide and feigned interest in the view outside the window.
That didn't last long because of 2 reasons-
1. The fog was still very thick and there was no view!
2. We were driving at the speed of 30 kms per hour and I was at tenterhooks, worrying sick about running over or into another car or worse, a cow.
******************************************
(To Be Continued...)
Showing posts with label Mini Series. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mini Series. Show all posts
March 15, 2011
November 18, 2008
Asking Out
There is a technology called Instant Messaging. It's a non-committal medium of interaction. It's less embarrassing too, especially when one gets a cold shoulder.The best part is, you can't hear the spine chilling coldness in the voice when someone is being nasty. Though I am vary of the emoticons. But I think I'll take my chances. She can always 'not' respond in case I am encroaching.
GulatiM: “Care for some coffee?”
KapadiaD: “Hmmm…just around the corner?”
GulatiM: “Would you like to go a little farther than that?”
KapadiaD: “How far?”
GulatiM: “South Delhi. Ever been to Café Turtle?”
KapadiaD: “Yes.”
GulatiM: “I’ll pick you up then?”
KapadiaD: “I haven’t said yes yet!”
GulatiM: “You just did.”
KapadiaD: That was in response to “Ever been to Café Turtle.”
GulatiM: “Oh Ok. Well…how is Saturday for you?”
KapadiaD: “What time?”
GulatiM: “Nine?”
KapadiaD: “It shuts at 6.”
GulatiM: “No. It opens at 9.”
KapadiaD: “Ah! Breakfast with coffee…I like I like…”
GulatiM: “Hmmm. My # is 9811******. Text me your address.”
KapadiaD: “K.”
My back deserves a pat. I think I managed it just fine. I may have come across as a little pushy, but it’s a man's prerogative to be pushy. He is taken more seriously then, I think.
I am quite pleased with myself… :)
___________________________________________
(To be continued...)
GulatiM: “Care for some coffee?”
KapadiaD: “Hmmm…just around the corner?”
GulatiM: “Would you like to go a little farther than that?”
KapadiaD: “How far?”
GulatiM: “South Delhi. Ever been to Café Turtle?”
KapadiaD: “Yes.”
GulatiM: “I’ll pick you up then?”
KapadiaD: “I haven’t said yes yet!”
GulatiM: “You just did.”
KapadiaD: That was in response to “Ever been to Café Turtle.”
GulatiM: “Oh Ok. Well…how is Saturday for you?”
KapadiaD: “What time?”
GulatiM: “Nine?”
KapadiaD: “It shuts at 6.”
GulatiM: “No. It opens at 9.”
KapadiaD: “Ah! Breakfast with coffee…I like I like…”
GulatiM: “Hmmm. My # is 9811******. Text me your address.”
KapadiaD: “K.”
My back deserves a pat. I think I managed it just fine. I may have come across as a little pushy, but it’s a man's prerogative to be pushy. He is taken more seriously then, I think.
I am quite pleased with myself… :)
___________________________________________
(To be continued...)
October 2, 2008
Dreamz
It must be very late at night. I wander in the school corridors looking for someone or something. There is not a soul in sight. A solitary bulb illuminates the long, narrowing corridor. I walk on. Mrs. Kaul, the biology teacher calls out to me from far away. I turn to look at “the terror” approaching fast with fisted hands swinging furiously by her side. To my trepidation, Mrs. Kaul's voice is a high pitched screech attracting the attention of the fast appearing faces, “Your skirt is too short! Your shoes are all wrong! What were you thinking you little creep? I swear I’ll have you barred from school for this!”
The faces start to close in. They laugh at me. I collapse on the hard cold marble floor trying to evade the faces that keep appearing and then fading. I sit huddled on the ground for a long time humming “Daffodils” under my breath.
“I Wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.”
I am alone in the dark dreary corridor again. I sniff hard and wipe my tear-streaked face with the back of my shirtsleeve. I get up with difficulty, still feeling weak in the knees. I shuffle along the corridor to turn into the hallway.
The sun shines through the big glass doors that have been secured with a lock. I am trapped. I sit on the beige leather couch nearby in the waiting lounge. I tuck my knees under my chin and wrap my arms around my legs to keep myself from shuddering. I drift into oblivion.
--------------------------------------------------
My body hurts allover. I try to sit up but there is a shooting pain in my ankle. I must have twisted it when I fell on the hard mattress that broke my fall.
I fall back on the mattress and cry out in pain. The P.T teacher was right, being a gymnast isn’t my calling. I have failed myself yet again.
I shield my eyes to block the stadium lights, which surely are putting me in a spot of shame. I take a peek at the deserted stands and the bare field. I am relieved by my solitariness.
-----------------------------------------------
I’ve got the sneezing fit again. I feel heady and my vision is blurred.
“Hi! You all right?” inquires someone from across the corridor.
I can barely see and I have trouble recognizing his voice. Another sneeze. Loud one, it shakes the ground I stand on.
He is standing very close to me now. I bury my face in the pink hand towel. He taps me on my shoulder and inquires, “You’ll blow your brain out if you continue to sneeze like that.”
I turn around to find TNM. I have had a crush on him for the longest time. Even before I can muster a smile, another sneeze carries a jet of spray and wets his face a bit. Eeeeeks!
He glares at me and stomps off.
----------------------------------------------
I chew the end of my pencil while waiting for the invigilator to give the question paper.
Mr.Jha, the tall scrawny-wrinkled mathematics teacher walks over to my desk and gives me the question paper along with the blank answer sheet. I take them both with a nervous grin.
To my horror, right at the top of the paper it reads, “Social Studies – SET C”. I look around to find everyone writing on his or her answer sheet at a furious pace. No one looks hassled, as if they expected to appear for the ‘social studies’ exam. I clearly remember the date sheet and it said ‘English’.
Holy f***in’ cow!
-----------------------------------------------
I sit right at the back of the class with some of my classmates waiting for my parents turn to speak to Mrs. Chitnus, my class teacher. My parents look like they anticipate good news.
Mrs. Chitnus looks animated. She signals my folks to take the front desk, which is directly opposite hers. She smiles warmly at them and starts talking. It can’t be all that bad!
Dad looks back and waves at me. I walk up to where my folks are seated and stand behind them.
It is terrible! My class teacher complains incessantly about me to my parents. She is suddenly withdrawn and aloof too. She tells my parents I need to work on my inter-personal skills. She praises the fact that I write and speak well, but is upset about the fact that I frequently get into fistfights with the boys in my class. Most of the girls in my class find me snobbish and they don’t want to sit next to me.
My parents are told categorically to take me out of this school and are advised to start home education instead. Mrs. Chitnus is convinced that’s the best option for someone as anti-social as me.
-------------------------------------------------
I wake up with a start. It is freezing cold and the quilt has fallen off the bed. I look at the bedside clock to check the time. The bold blinking digits show ‘5:45’. I can’t help but snort in disgust. I feel like I haven’t slept a wink and its already morning. I gather the quilt up and snuggle under it to laze for another 15 minutes before I switch on the geezer. A quick snooze never hurt anyone!
Considering the day began even before last night could end properly, I am in a dark, cloudy and thunderous mood. I am definitely in the mood to have all things rich, starting with coffee, progressing to chocolates and ending with a man. If only…
Once at work, I hop over to ‘Coffee in a Corner’ and get a steaming hot Latte in a takeaway glass. I carry that over to my little ‘C&C’ corner… (Coffee and Cigarettes). The cold wind is freezing the living daylights out of me! The scalding liquid mercifully warms my throat and definitely thaws my mood and makes it faintly sunny. The whole inhalation process is extremely therapeutic. I still stand by the fact that the best thing in the world is smoking. Sex comes a close second.
The object of my interest and the obvious conclusion to my current chain of thoughts appears out of thick misty morning air. I am even better now.
Mr. Gulati: “Sorry about disappearing without a trace the other day.”
I can’t resist a jibe; “Ah! You mean from the work luncheon almost ten days ago? You are forgiven. There were a lot of other people you know, so you didn’t really leave me standing.”
Mr. Gulati: “Hmmm.”
Now that was a little gruff.
I am surprised I am even thinking coldly when it comes to my femininity being hurt. From Manav Gulati to simply Mr. Gulati. Is his position elevated or am I turned off? I can’t be sure.
Another peace pipe of sorts, on another cold winter morning and I am still none the wiser.
F*** it!
*****************************
(to be continued...)
The faces start to close in. They laugh at me. I collapse on the hard cold marble floor trying to evade the faces that keep appearing and then fading. I sit huddled on the ground for a long time humming “Daffodils” under my breath.
“I Wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.”
I am alone in the dark dreary corridor again. I sniff hard and wipe my tear-streaked face with the back of my shirtsleeve. I get up with difficulty, still feeling weak in the knees. I shuffle along the corridor to turn into the hallway.
The sun shines through the big glass doors that have been secured with a lock. I am trapped. I sit on the beige leather couch nearby in the waiting lounge. I tuck my knees under my chin and wrap my arms around my legs to keep myself from shuddering. I drift into oblivion.
--------------------------------------------------
My body hurts allover. I try to sit up but there is a shooting pain in my ankle. I must have twisted it when I fell on the hard mattress that broke my fall.
I fall back on the mattress and cry out in pain. The P.T teacher was right, being a gymnast isn’t my calling. I have failed myself yet again.
I shield my eyes to block the stadium lights, which surely are putting me in a spot of shame. I take a peek at the deserted stands and the bare field. I am relieved by my solitariness.
-----------------------------------------------
I’ve got the sneezing fit again. I feel heady and my vision is blurred.
“Hi! You all right?” inquires someone from across the corridor.
I can barely see and I have trouble recognizing his voice. Another sneeze. Loud one, it shakes the ground I stand on.
He is standing very close to me now. I bury my face in the pink hand towel. He taps me on my shoulder and inquires, “You’ll blow your brain out if you continue to sneeze like that.”
I turn around to find TNM. I have had a crush on him for the longest time. Even before I can muster a smile, another sneeze carries a jet of spray and wets his face a bit. Eeeeeks!
He glares at me and stomps off.
----------------------------------------------
I chew the end of my pencil while waiting for the invigilator to give the question paper.
Mr.Jha, the tall scrawny-wrinkled mathematics teacher walks over to my desk and gives me the question paper along with the blank answer sheet. I take them both with a nervous grin.
To my horror, right at the top of the paper it reads, “Social Studies – SET C”. I look around to find everyone writing on his or her answer sheet at a furious pace. No one looks hassled, as if they expected to appear for the ‘social studies’ exam. I clearly remember the date sheet and it said ‘English’.
Holy f***in’ cow!
-----------------------------------------------
I sit right at the back of the class with some of my classmates waiting for my parents turn to speak to Mrs. Chitnus, my class teacher. My parents look like they anticipate good news.
Mrs. Chitnus looks animated. She signals my folks to take the front desk, which is directly opposite hers. She smiles warmly at them and starts talking. It can’t be all that bad!
Dad looks back and waves at me. I walk up to where my folks are seated and stand behind them.
It is terrible! My class teacher complains incessantly about me to my parents. She is suddenly withdrawn and aloof too. She tells my parents I need to work on my inter-personal skills. She praises the fact that I write and speak well, but is upset about the fact that I frequently get into fistfights with the boys in my class. Most of the girls in my class find me snobbish and they don’t want to sit next to me.
My parents are told categorically to take me out of this school and are advised to start home education instead. Mrs. Chitnus is convinced that’s the best option for someone as anti-social as me.
-------------------------------------------------
I wake up with a start. It is freezing cold and the quilt has fallen off the bed. I look at the bedside clock to check the time. The bold blinking digits show ‘5:45’. I can’t help but snort in disgust. I feel like I haven’t slept a wink and its already morning. I gather the quilt up and snuggle under it to laze for another 15 minutes before I switch on the geezer. A quick snooze never hurt anyone!
Considering the day began even before last night could end properly, I am in a dark, cloudy and thunderous mood. I am definitely in the mood to have all things rich, starting with coffee, progressing to chocolates and ending with a man. If only…
Once at work, I hop over to ‘Coffee in a Corner’ and get a steaming hot Latte in a takeaway glass. I carry that over to my little ‘C&C’ corner… (Coffee and Cigarettes). The cold wind is freezing the living daylights out of me! The scalding liquid mercifully warms my throat and definitely thaws my mood and makes it faintly sunny. The whole inhalation process is extremely therapeutic. I still stand by the fact that the best thing in the world is smoking. Sex comes a close second.
The object of my interest and the obvious conclusion to my current chain of thoughts appears out of thick misty morning air. I am even better now.
Mr. Gulati: “Sorry about disappearing without a trace the other day.”
I can’t resist a jibe; “Ah! You mean from the work luncheon almost ten days ago? You are forgiven. There were a lot of other people you know, so you didn’t really leave me standing.”
Mr. Gulati: “Hmmm.”
Now that was a little gruff.
I am surprised I am even thinking coldly when it comes to my femininity being hurt. From Manav Gulati to simply Mr. Gulati. Is his position elevated or am I turned off? I can’t be sure.
Another peace pipe of sorts, on another cold winter morning and I am still none the wiser.
F*** it!
*****************************
(to be continued...)
September 17, 2008
Being Disha
I am Disha Kapadia, a 29-year-old single woman. I have a large frame and a chubby face. The overall package is appealing for my chubby cheeks are dimpled and my large frame is generously endowed (I am full in all the right places!). I hail from Amritsar, live in Delhi and work with ‘Xellence’ BPO. I have my own 2-bedroom apartment in a decent residential colony in Dwarka (curtsey papa Kapadia). My father is an Income Tax Commissioner in Amritsar. He got the flat that I live in as a ‘gift’ from someone he extended a favour to (you get the drift?). I am doing pretty well for myself. I am one of the managers in an Austrailian process. I spend almost as much as I earn. Buying shoes, handbags and designer wear is quintessential for a single woman. My single status is a cause of constant worry for papa and mama Kapadia. Being the only child of the Kapadias isn’t helping my case. I have 3 dearest friends in this whole wide world: Alvira, Yuveer and Sakshim. We meet every Wednesday and Friday for ‘drinks and dinner’ at some of the finest pubs in and around Delhi. We thoroughly enjoy the ‘regulars’ status at these dimly lit lounge bars. Saturdays are for ‘me’, my alone time. It has taken papa and mama Kapadia ages to accept the fact that I don’t like intrusion of any form, shape or size on Saturdays. My mobile phone, doorbell, mailbox and inbox go unanswered on this particular day of the week. My friends too have resigned to ‘my’ time and now respect my privacy and let me be. No, I don’t have a secret lover who sneaks in and spends sinfully hot afternoons, evenings or nights at my apartment. That doesn’t mean I am not looking for one. In fact both Alvira and I are totally on the lookout for eligible bachelors to fill our respective lives with Orchids, diamond jewels, well behaved kids, red brick houses with white picket fences in a nice suburb. Alvira and I would love to be neighbors (Remember the lives of the housewives on Wisteria lane?) though we are quite positive our lives wont be desperate. This pretty much sums me, my life and my dreams up.
The latest update:
I have found a rather interesting specimen at work. I have discussed him at length with my friends and they are all of the opinion that I must take matters into my own hands and literally dangle myself in front of his blinkered eyes.
His name is Manav Gulati. He looks like a well bred South Delhi Punju. He must be in his early thirties. He doesn't wear a wedding band, drives a Scoda and works as a Service Delivery Leader at 'Xcellence'.
The gang advises me to move in fast and gather as much information about him as possible. One of the most important rules of man hunting states that a single woman in desperate need of a husband must be vary of married men who are frustrated, bored out of their wits and looking for a brush with excitement. Women don’t get wiser with age; they just get desperate, hence more susceptible to the charm of married men.
Mission Manav:
1. Visit the nail bar, spa and beauty salon more frequently
2. Cut down on carb, fat and sugar intake
3. Go back to the Gym (Its paid for anyway!)and lose 5 pounds at least
4. Spruce up the wardrobe
5. Take more smoke breaks to increase the frequency of 'chance meetings'with Mr.G
6. Have a lot of water and orange juice to detoxify the body
7. Quit coffee (cigarettes are bad enough for the system and skin)
8. Switch to white wine from scotch (less calories and great for the skin)
I am all geared up to follow the 8 simple steps to a life full of happiness...
********************************
(To be continued...)
The latest update:
I have found a rather interesting specimen at work. I have discussed him at length with my friends and they are all of the opinion that I must take matters into my own hands and literally dangle myself in front of his blinkered eyes.
His name is Manav Gulati. He looks like a well bred South Delhi Punju. He must be in his early thirties. He doesn't wear a wedding band, drives a Scoda and works as a Service Delivery Leader at 'Xcellence'.
The gang advises me to move in fast and gather as much information about him as possible. One of the most important rules of man hunting states that a single woman in desperate need of a husband must be vary of married men who are frustrated, bored out of their wits and looking for a brush with excitement. Women don’t get wiser with age; they just get desperate, hence more susceptible to the charm of married men.
Mission Manav:
1. Visit the nail bar, spa and beauty salon more frequently
2. Cut down on carb, fat and sugar intake
3. Go back to the Gym (Its paid for anyway!)and lose 5 pounds at least
4. Spruce up the wardrobe
5. Take more smoke breaks to increase the frequency of 'chance meetings'with Mr.G
6. Have a lot of water and orange juice to detoxify the body
7. Quit coffee (cigarettes are bad enough for the system and skin)
8. Switch to white wine from scotch (less calories and great for the skin)
I am all geared up to follow the 8 simple steps to a life full of happiness...
********************************
(To be continued...)
September 12, 2008
Manav meets Disha
I sit in my car a while longer wishing I didn't have to go through this social obligation. Blissfully warm sun rays filter through the glass. I pull the window down and am hit by the nip in the air. I light a cigarette and take deep puffs to relax myself. Inhale Exhale Inhale Exhale Inhale Exhale...I am reminded of the bill board advertisement of 'smoking kills'.
I crush the last of my cigarette in the ash tray on the dashboard and get out of the car. I enter the smoke filled room and look for the table with familiar faces. I spot a few managers from another LOB waving at me. I approach the table with a smile plastered on my face. I can feel my mouth muscles strain with the effort. A place towards the farthest end of the table is found for me to park myself. I am back slapped a little, someone decides to order a chilled beer for me, someone pushes a plate laden with savory delights under my nose...the strong smell of spices leaves me nauseated.
After several minutes of undivided attention from all quarters I am left in peace to nurse my drink and just observe all the stiff arses from work loosen up a bit. The people around me talk, laugh and drink with such gusto that I am dumbfounded at this outright display of camaraderie between the same people who cant stand each other at work. I feel disgusted and start looking for something or someone more genuine and heartwarming.
I don't have to wait long for I see her exit the ladies room and saunter towards our table. She looks straight at me, forcing me to meet and hold her gaze. She walks up to where I sit and gives me a ghost of a smile. Its hard to tell whether she remembers me or not. I push my chair back and stand up. I am a foot taller, which makes her look up at me with defiance. Before I can get the words out and help her recollect our incidental meeting over a smoke break a few weeks ago, she says, "Hello stranger."
So she remembers me after all.
She offers me her hand while she introduces herself,"Disha...and you are?"
"Manav...fancy meeting you here Disha." I remark pleasantly.
She leans into me and brings her face closer to mine. I feel her breath tingle my ear when she says, "I am sleeping with your boss."
A chill runs down my spine. Her perfume is wild and tangy. I haven't been close to a woman since Reia walked out on our marriage. A year is a long time.
I try to keep the spirit of the conversation alive by feigning disappointment, "Pity you are gay." I smile while I say it.
She doesn't find anything amiss and laughs sheepishly while she says, "Oops! Pays me right for typecasting the org structure."
We both laugh and I offer her the seat I was in and signal a passing waitress to get me another one.
I am conscious of several things at the same time:
1. I haven't had sex in over a year
2. Disha is an attractive woman
3. Correction. She is a very attractive woman
5. Her perfume is doing wonderful things to my senses
6. Her face is flushed and her skin is gleaming
7. She has a perfect set of pearl white teeth. She maintains dental hygiene
8. Her eyes look bigger and even better with Kohl
9. She looks super sexy when she moves her hands while talking
10. Thank God she is not wearing trinkets on her wrists today
11. She is wearing a gold bracelet instead
12. Red is definitely her color. She can't look hotter in any other color
13. She talks a lot and I think I have lost track of what she is saying
"So what do you think? Should we?" She asks earnestly.
"Sure. So when do you want to do it?" I have not the faintest idea of what I've just got myself into.
She promptly gets up and says, "Now. Lets step out. I can't stand the heat."
I follow her out into broad daylight. Its hard to keep my eyes open. I bask in the sun for a few seconds before opening my eyes and looking for/at her. I find her right next to me, squinting at the sun.
"So what are we doing?" I ask nonchalantly.
"Smoking a peace pipe." She generously offers me a cigarette off her pack.
"Lets make love, not war..." I remark for no reason at all. I am just reminded of the statement and blurt it.
She doesn't even consider it worth acknowledging and carries on smoking.
We finish smoking our cigarettes in companionable silence and gear up to go back inside.
Just then my phone rings.
I nudge her elbow a bit and say, "Why don't you go on inside. I'll take this call and come."
She smiles congenially, nods in agreement and steps into the foyer of the crowded bar.
I see the call is from an unidentified number. "Manav."
No one speaks, I just hear traffic in the background.
I try again, "Hello? Who is this?"
"Manav? Can I see you just once?" It's Reia.
I disconnect the call without responding to her query. I walk briskly to the car park, get into my car and drive...
**************************************
(To be continued...)
July 12, 2008
Manav Speaks
I stand alone in the shadows behind the office building. A lit cigarette between my lips, I fiddle with my phone. I delete all the messages sent by Reia. She has been sending pathetically desperate texts, begging me to at least speak to her on the phone even if I don’t see her. I haven’t responded to any of her messages. I can’t go through the emotionally draining session that conversation promises to be. I don't have a death wish. I think I should change my number and give it a clean break. If I am reachable, she will always give in to the temptation to call or message.
The solitary steel trashcan I stand next to has an ashtray top. I hear footsteps approaching on the graveled path. I turn around, curious to see who could be invading my private space. I have always considered this specific spot as my own. People hardly come down here to smoke. It’s not very well lit, hence is mostly deserted.
I can’t see clearly, just a silhouette. It has to be of a woman. She seems tall, has long hair and is wearing a salwaar kameez. She is just a few steps away, so i take a good look at her face. She is probably in her mid twenties. Her long tresses dance around her face in the sultry breeze.
“Hey. You have a light?” She inquires. Her left eyebrow shoots up questioningly.
“Yes.” I respond grudgingly and offer her my treasured Zippo.
She takes it, lights her cigarette and takes a long deep puff. She returns the lighter with a polite nod.
We stand there in companionable silence and smoke. Every time she dabs the cigarette in the ashtray, her bracelet makes a tinkling sound.
I am involuntarily reminded of Reia. She loves wearing bracelets. She has plenty of them, with different trinkets that hang and make a tinkling sound.
I finish my smoke and stub the cigarette in the ashtray. I stand there a while, waiting for her to finish hers. She nods appreciatively, acknowledging my politeness I guess.
She finishes her cigarette, stubs it and looks at me squarely for the first time. I give her a non-committal smile. She responds with a polite smile of her own and a nod.
We walk back together towards the entrance of the building. I wait for the lift in the foyer. She takes the stairs up.
(To be continued...)
The solitary steel trashcan I stand next to has an ashtray top. I hear footsteps approaching on the graveled path. I turn around, curious to see who could be invading my private space. I have always considered this specific spot as my own. People hardly come down here to smoke. It’s not very well lit, hence is mostly deserted.
I can’t see clearly, just a silhouette. It has to be of a woman. She seems tall, has long hair and is wearing a salwaar kameez. She is just a few steps away, so i take a good look at her face. She is probably in her mid twenties. Her long tresses dance around her face in the sultry breeze.
“Hey. You have a light?” She inquires. Her left eyebrow shoots up questioningly.
“Yes.” I respond grudgingly and offer her my treasured Zippo.
She takes it, lights her cigarette and takes a long deep puff. She returns the lighter with a polite nod.
We stand there in companionable silence and smoke. Every time she dabs the cigarette in the ashtray, her bracelet makes a tinkling sound.
I am involuntarily reminded of Reia. She loves wearing bracelets. She has plenty of them, with different trinkets that hang and make a tinkling sound.
I finish my smoke and stub the cigarette in the ashtray. I stand there a while, waiting for her to finish hers. She nods appreciatively, acknowledging my politeness I guess.
She finishes her cigarette, stubs it and looks at me squarely for the first time. I give her a non-committal smile. She responds with a polite smile of her own and a nod.
We walk back together towards the entrance of the building. I wait for the lift in the foyer. She takes the stairs up.
(To be continued...)
March 27, 2007
Holy Matrimony: The Final Chapter
The air is nippy. Simran pulls her shawl more snugly around her. A shiver runs down her spine. They are sitting by the pool at 2:30 in the night with only a couple of lanterns illuminating the pool side. The water is still as a glass sheet. The stars are shining bright in the coal black sky, away from city pollution. They sit on wrought iron chairs placed across from each other with her feet on his lap. He gently massages the soles of her feet. Simran clearly avoids looking at Parth. She keeps her eyes fixed at the sheet of melted glass gleaming in the lambent light.
"It's been a while."he observes.
"Yes... Seems like forever."she agrees solemnly.
"I miss you...I miss us...I wish for us to come back together...be the way we were..."his voice trembling with emotion and the desperation all too visible.
She sits motionless for a while. Not saying anything. As if she hasn't heard a word of what he just said.
"Can you still read my mind?...do you still feel me?" she sounds as if she is in a daze.
"I want to..." he shuts his eyes. His hands rest on her feet. The cool December breeze carries her tangy perfume and his nostrils expand to inhale it...he can smell her...he can feel her presence again.
She feels as if hours have passed when he finally opens his eyes slowly.
"Yes we can. First thing tomorrow morning. Do you want to have breakfast before we leave?" he inquires gently.
"hmmm." she affirms.
*************************************************
The Return: Parth speaks
"I'll get the stuff. You go ahead and meet the kids."
I look at her as I say it. She nods, already gathering up her long flowing skirt in her hands and walks off.
I can hear the children screaming with delight. I can't help but smile imagining their eyes going wide and small pink lips stretching in a wide grin at meeting Simran after just a day. I unload the car and carry our bags inside. Just as I keep them at the foot of the sofa in the sitting room, Bruno comes wagging his tail in excitement and starts to wobble around me. I marvel at this 25 day old pup who has taken to the family so quickly. The kids follow. I gather them in my arms and hold them tight till they protest at being squashed.
I see my mum and dad come out to of the guest bedroom, smiling at me. Simran, Mimi and Nan come down the stairs, they must have been in our bedroom upstairs. Simran looks relaxed and Mimi is laughing at something Nan has just said. I smile too, a genuinely happy smile after a long time...
We all sit in the drawing room, we elders on the sofa and arm chairs, Nan and the kids on the floor mats. Simran and I talk about the 'Glasshouse by the Ganges' and the river, the mountains surrounding the resort and the food. I catch Mimi and Nan looking at me curiously every now and then. I know they are somewhat relieved because they tease me a bit.
I look at them all. I release a deep sigh of satisfaction. I think...I am finally home....
"It's been a while."he observes.
"Yes... Seems like forever."she agrees solemnly.
"I miss you...I miss us...I wish for us to come back together...be the way we were..."his voice trembling with emotion and the desperation all too visible.
She sits motionless for a while. Not saying anything. As if she hasn't heard a word of what he just said.
"Can you still read my mind?...do you still feel me?" she sounds as if she is in a daze.
"I want to..." he shuts his eyes. His hands rest on her feet. The cool December breeze carries her tangy perfume and his nostrils expand to inhale it...he can smell her...he can feel her presence again.
She feels as if hours have passed when he finally opens his eyes slowly.
"Yes we can. First thing tomorrow morning. Do you want to have breakfast before we leave?" he inquires gently.
"hmmm." she affirms.
*************************************************
The Return: Parth speaks
"I'll get the stuff. You go ahead and meet the kids."
I look at her as I say it. She nods, already gathering up her long flowing skirt in her hands and walks off.
I can hear the children screaming with delight. I can't help but smile imagining their eyes going wide and small pink lips stretching in a wide grin at meeting Simran after just a day. I unload the car and carry our bags inside. Just as I keep them at the foot of the sofa in the sitting room, Bruno comes wagging his tail in excitement and starts to wobble around me. I marvel at this 25 day old pup who has taken to the family so quickly. The kids follow. I gather them in my arms and hold them tight till they protest at being squashed.
I see my mum and dad come out to of the guest bedroom, smiling at me. Simran, Mimi and Nan come down the stairs, they must have been in our bedroom upstairs. Simran looks relaxed and Mimi is laughing at something Nan has just said. I smile too, a genuinely happy smile after a long time...
We all sit in the drawing room, we elders on the sofa and arm chairs, Nan and the kids on the floor mats. Simran and I talk about the 'Glasshouse by the Ganges' and the river, the mountains surrounding the resort and the food. I catch Mimi and Nan looking at me curiously every now and then. I know they are somewhat relieved because they tease me a bit.
I look at them all. I release a deep sigh of satisfaction. I think...I am finally home....
March 11, 2007
Holy Matrimony: Chapter Two
Parth decided to wait for her in the lounge. The flight was 25 minutes late. He ordered a cappuccino and lit himself a cigarette while he waited. He took a long drag and heaved a sigh while exhaling. He was contemplating the effect her visit would have on his life. He brought the coffee mug close to his parched lips and took a swig. Twenty minutes later he was feeling refreshed and found his way to the waiting area. He saw her tugging her large pink baggage behind her on rollers. She was wearing a bright pink knee length A- Line skirt with a white sleeveless top. She had not seen him yet it seemed. Her eyes were frantically skimming the crowd waiting beyond the barricade. Her face seemed to have fallen and she looked unsure and hesitant. She carried on walking with the bag in tow still unaware of his presence. He smiled to himself and started following her out of the airport and onto the path that led to the parking area. The swing of her butt was rather cute. He was amazed at how tall she had grown in the last 3 years. She was all of nineteen now. She stopped at the end of the gravelled path. Her fairly long hair now cascading in the cool breeze. He decided to make his presence known finally. He went and stood beside her and softly murmured into her ear; "Hi Nan. Looking for me?" She jumped and pulled away to take a long look at him. When she recovered from the initial shock she screamed with joy and threw her long arms around him, pulling him close. Her bag made a loud thud on the ground where it fell. He gulped and caught himself in time before a tear rolled down his cheek. He realised he had missed her immensely.
"Uncle Parth! You are such a Meany! I looked everywhere for you. I got a scare thinking I'll have to take a cab home. Where is aunt Sim? And my little cousins?" He smiled fondly at her and told her they were all waiting for her at home. She giggled and pointed at her bag signalling him to carry it for her. He complied gladly.
***************************************************
What joy to have your niece visit after years. Nancy was a splitting image of her American mother. Her lilting voice and pretty smile kept everyone at home in high spirits. Gaurav would call up everyday and speak to Parth to get an update on Nancy.
Gaurav had moved to US two decades ago and married Sara. They had an addition into the family a year later. Nancy was always a chirpy and an extremely sensitive kid. Parth's work had taken him to San Jose at least twice every year. Nancy and Parth had formed the kinship right away. Gaurav was very pleased by it for he wanted Nancy to get to know his side of the family and find her roots. Simran and the kids had also visited Gaurav and Sara in the US once during the Christmas break. Nancy had developed a fondness for the whole family from then on.
Parth was watching the world cup on the TV in his room one night when Nancy crept in and sat next to him. They followed the game for a while in companionable silence. Finally she heaved a loud and dramatic sigh and turned to look at him. He put the TV on mute and asked her tiredly; "What?"
She asked in return; "yeah. What?"
He knew what was coming. She was very observant and perceptive. It was uncanny how she could read people's moods and mind too. It unnerved him a bit.
She spoke softly; "what's wrong Uncle P?" She had cut Parth to 'P', she thought that suited him better with his perpetually 'evil, mean and grumpy' look.
He looked her squarely in the eye and feigned confusion; "What are you talking about love?"
"Jesus Christ! Do you take me for a fool? I know there is something bothering you. I can see it clearly that Aunt Sim and you are not...hmmm... like...you know...mum and dad. I think you can do something to revive your relationship there. Why don't you guys go out on a date or something. I could baby sit Sakshi and Mani!" Her voice reflected excitement.
Mac laughed out loud. He couldn't help but admire this 19 yr old bundle of energy for her efforts at fixing all and sundry around her. He put his hand on her head and gave it a good shake.
"Go! Run along now. Dinner must be served by now
(To be continued...)
"Uncle Parth! You are such a Meany! I looked everywhere for you. I got a scare thinking I'll have to take a cab home. Where is aunt Sim? And my little cousins?" He smiled fondly at her and told her they were all waiting for her at home. She giggled and pointed at her bag signalling him to carry it for her. He complied gladly.
***************************************************
What joy to have your niece visit after years. Nancy was a splitting image of her American mother. Her lilting voice and pretty smile kept everyone at home in high spirits. Gaurav would call up everyday and speak to Parth to get an update on Nancy.
Gaurav had moved to US two decades ago and married Sara. They had an addition into the family a year later. Nancy was always a chirpy and an extremely sensitive kid. Parth's work had taken him to San Jose at least twice every year. Nancy and Parth had formed the kinship right away. Gaurav was very pleased by it for he wanted Nancy to get to know his side of the family and find her roots. Simran and the kids had also visited Gaurav and Sara in the US once during the Christmas break. Nancy had developed a fondness for the whole family from then on.
Parth was watching the world cup on the TV in his room one night when Nancy crept in and sat next to him. They followed the game for a while in companionable silence. Finally she heaved a loud and dramatic sigh and turned to look at him. He put the TV on mute and asked her tiredly; "What?"
She asked in return; "yeah. What?"
He knew what was coming. She was very observant and perceptive. It was uncanny how she could read people's moods and mind too. It unnerved him a bit.
She spoke softly; "what's wrong Uncle P?" She had cut Parth to 'P', she thought that suited him better with his perpetually 'evil, mean and grumpy' look.
He looked her squarely in the eye and feigned confusion; "What are you talking about love?"
"Jesus Christ! Do you take me for a fool? I know there is something bothering you. I can see it clearly that Aunt Sim and you are not...hmmm... like...you know...mum and dad. I think you can do something to revive your relationship there. Why don't you guys go out on a date or something. I could baby sit Sakshi and Mani!" Her voice reflected excitement.
Mac laughed out loud. He couldn't help but admire this 19 yr old bundle of energy for her efforts at fixing all and sundry around her. He put his hand on her head and gave it a good shake.
"Go! Run along now. Dinner must be served by now
(To be continued...)
March 10, 2007
Holy Matrimony: Chapter One
Simran sat staring at the black and white picture hanging on the wall across from her. Parth had his arms around her and they were both looking straight at the camera lens. Their hair was wind blown and she could distinctly see the dash of white in his. He had always had grey hair. For as long as she had known him. They looked happy... so content in just being together. Their eyes sparkling with joy.
They now had two extremely bright and talented children. He was a proud father and an attentive one too. Sakshi, the 12 yr old was a whiz at math. She also played the synthesizer like a dream. She had already given more than a dozen solo performances at school. She had taken after Parth. He was creative too. Mani was 8 now. He had Simi's eyes. He was good at language and sports. Parth took so much pride in everything Sakshi and Mani did that it seemed as if they were the fruit of his efforts alone. She didn't mind it one bit. It gave her a chance to take a back seat and just look at him and the kids fondly.
He hated travelling and leaving the kids behind even for a day. But his Advertising and Marketing firm expected him to travel all over the globe to generate more business. He enjoyed his work, it was challenging. However, he did struggle to keep a balance between his work and family. Simran had gladly given up her career to be a full time mom. She was happy rearing their kids and looking after Parth. Time would fly just making sure the house chores were done, food served, kids forcefully fed (they were bad eaters!) and packing or unpacking Parth's suitcase. He was practically living out of them anyway...
"I miss you and the kids. I can't bear to travel anymore. I think I'll quit. Get something here in Delhi. What do you think?"...Parth said one day.
Simran replied casually; "Hmmm...I think it's a good idea. I could work too then. We'll get a full time maid. It would be nice to have you around for a change" . He had a hurt look in his eyes. Just grumbled and went back to his laptop. He always seemed to be working.
Even at Home...
****************************************************
"Congratulations!" Mimi's deep and booming voice was oddly comforting.
"Thanks. I am so excited about the whole thing. Although I am worried how Parth would take it..." Simran's voice trailed off.
M: "Don't worry. I am sure he'll be as happy for you as we are. Mum especially. She is thrilled you have decided to go back to work. Now she'll have an excuse to spend more time spoiling Sakshi and Mani. So, when are you planning to break the big news to Parth? You could always leave the kids with us and go out for a quiet dinner."
S: "Hmmm... I could. Let me check with him and see how he is placed tonight. Even though he has stopped travelling, we still don't see much of him. He leaves early in the morning and doesn't get back before midnight".
M: "How is your marriage?"
S: "Aren't you direct!...well...its OK. We live under the same roof, share the same bed, bathroom and soap. Have sex on Sunday's...if that's what you mean?"
M: "Get out of the city, just you and him. You need to spice up your life. "
Simran reflected on her conversation with Mimi long after she had put the phone down.
(To be continued...)
They now had two extremely bright and talented children. He was a proud father and an attentive one too. Sakshi, the 12 yr old was a whiz at math. She also played the synthesizer like a dream. She had already given more than a dozen solo performances at school. She had taken after Parth. He was creative too. Mani was 8 now. He had Simi's eyes. He was good at language and sports. Parth took so much pride in everything Sakshi and Mani did that it seemed as if they were the fruit of his efforts alone. She didn't mind it one bit. It gave her a chance to take a back seat and just look at him and the kids fondly.
He hated travelling and leaving the kids behind even for a day. But his Advertising and Marketing firm expected him to travel all over the globe to generate more business. He enjoyed his work, it was challenging. However, he did struggle to keep a balance between his work and family. Simran had gladly given up her career to be a full time mom. She was happy rearing their kids and looking after Parth. Time would fly just making sure the house chores were done, food served, kids forcefully fed (they were bad eaters!) and packing or unpacking Parth's suitcase. He was practically living out of them anyway...
"I miss you and the kids. I can't bear to travel anymore. I think I'll quit. Get something here in Delhi. What do you think?"...Parth said one day.
Simran replied casually; "Hmmm...I think it's a good idea. I could work too then. We'll get a full time maid. It would be nice to have you around for a change" . He had a hurt look in his eyes. Just grumbled and went back to his laptop. He always seemed to be working.
Even at Home...
****************************************************
"Congratulations!" Mimi's deep and booming voice was oddly comforting.
"Thanks. I am so excited about the whole thing. Although I am worried how Parth would take it..." Simran's voice trailed off.
M: "Don't worry. I am sure he'll be as happy for you as we are. Mum especially. She is thrilled you have decided to go back to work. Now she'll have an excuse to spend more time spoiling Sakshi and Mani. So, when are you planning to break the big news to Parth? You could always leave the kids with us and go out for a quiet dinner."
S: "Hmmm... I could. Let me check with him and see how he is placed tonight. Even though he has stopped travelling, we still don't see much of him. He leaves early in the morning and doesn't get back before midnight".
M: "How is your marriage?"
S: "Aren't you direct!...well...its OK. We live under the same roof, share the same bed, bathroom and soap. Have sex on Sunday's...if that's what you mean?"
M: "Get out of the city, just you and him. You need to spice up your life. "
Simran reflected on her conversation with Mimi long after she had put the phone down.
(To be continued...)
January 18, 2007
Memories
Manav woke up in cold sweat. A few minutes passed before he could focus and come back to reality. He was home and in his bed. The same bed he had shared with Reia for what seemed like a lifetime. The memories came flooding back. Her pleading eyes and trembling lips. The moaning sounds that had escaped her parched throat. Her soft skin smelling of the Spanish lavender oil she religiously applied all over her body. Her long limbs curled like a baby's while she slept. He shut his eyes to evade her sweet memory. He twisted and turned, crumpling the white cotton sheet further.
His eyes fell on the bed side table. It seemed bare. She had carelessly flung her favourite wrist watch onto the table one night, cracking the glass. They had gone to 'Landmark' to shop first thing in the morning. He had bought her a classy black Omega with leather straps. The same night, she had carefully taken off and placed the new watch on the table before snuggling into bed with him. He had even caught her admiring it in the middle of the night. She wasn't aware that he had woken up and was looking at her caressing the watch with a smile of contentment playing on her lips. She was so innocent and childlike. There was something about her eyes, especially when she looked at something or someone very intently. Whenever her eyes rested on him, they had made his pulse race and his stomach churn. That brought back another memory from the past...
They were sitting in a secluded corner of an open air restaurant which was on the thirteenth floor and they were looking down at the brightly lit city. Her eyes were dreamy and a little unfocused. She had taken 4 tequila shots already. He couldn't take his eyes off her face. She was beautiful. She felt his eyes boring into her and looked up. They stared at each other for a while. He wasn't sure if it were seconds or minutes that passed them by. She gave him a lazy smile and leaned towards him. He could smell her intoxicating perfume which was driving him wild. He was itching to take her into his arms and bury his face in her long neck and hold her smell forever. She whispered, "Take me home." He did. They were the only ones in the elevator going down to the basement car park. They stood frozen for the longest time staring hard into each other's eyes. He was incapable of intelligent thought and even less capable of making conversation to break the pregnant silence which he was sure could be sliced with a knife. They got off the elevator and into the car quickly. Neither spoke until they reached home. Night sped past so swiftly after that. He let her leave his side, that too regretfully, only when the sun came up.
He groaned and cursed under his breath. He forced himself to get out of bed and take a shower. He stood on the cold wet marble floor for a long time, letting the water wash over his feverishly hot body and then pool around his feet. He felt the drumming in his temples and his neck muscles stiffen as he soaped himself. He missed Reia. All the time. Every corner of the apartment, every little thing in the house, every sound reminded him of her. He associated everything with her. He was losing it. Losing the grip on reality. Reia's memories were with him always. He wanted to run away and hide. He didn't want to face the fact that she was gone. He wanted to go on fooling himself and believe she was at work and that she would come back. He wanted her to come into the kitchen now while he made an egg for himself and rub his tensed shoulders. He wished she would come and sit at the dining table with him again and have cereal and fruits. He wished for everything to go back to normal and for life to start from where he left living it. He wanted her back. It was unfair. God was unfair. There was no God. He didn't believe in God. It was all hogwash to make people feel mildly better about their miserable lives.
The phone rang.
"Manav..." , he spoke into the receiver.
"Take me home", the voice was faint but audible.
A familiar and sharp pain shot up his chest. He could feel his gut twist again. Just as it had done the last time he had heard her speak. He gulped.
"No, not this time", he said.
He replaced the receiver slowly. He was numb. He carefully put the plate in the kitchen sink, cleaned the dining table with a cloth to remove the crumbs of bread, picked up his car keys and shut the door behind him as he walked out of the house.
The loud music playing in the car prevented his mind from drifting into distant memories again. He breathed in the fresh morning air and let his body relax. He congratulated himself on maintaining his composure with Reia when she had called. He resolved to try harder and forget her. Forget the sweet memories and remember the pain she had put him through. Reia had gone through morning sickness while she was carrying. He went through morning sickness too now, just of a different kind. He woke up every morning thinking of her and the good times they had shared. He fretted every night before he slept out of sheer exhaustion. He felt sick to his stomach thinking about Reia aborting their baby in the fourth month. The thought of her committing such a gory act left him nauseated. She had begged him to forgive her. He had been furious with her. Mostly because it was dangerous to get an abortion done post the 3rd month into the pregnancy. To make matters worse, she had lost a lot of weight and had started vomiting a lot. Her eyes had sunk into the sockets and her face had become pale. Everyone had observed how sick she had started to look. He had taken her to a gynecologist who had prescribed loads of vitamin tablets for her. She took several tests and the result wasn't good. They discovered Reia would never conceive again. He had taken a couple of months to recover from the rude shock and for the realization and acceptance of the fact that he would never become a father. As if this wasn't enough to deal with soon after Reia recovered from her illness and regained her strength, she started going out and drinking heavily. He was bothered and he didn't hide his displeasure. There were heated arguments everyday, over the phone and at home. Finally, she sprung the on him her decision to move out. After much probing and prodding she admitted she had been seeing a co-worker and that she wanted to move in with him. "Let me go Maan", she had pleaded. He had. Just like that. His world had crumbled around him while he stood there looking at her folding her clothes neatly and placing them in the red suitcase she had carried her clothes in for their honeymoon. She had carefully placed the apartment key on the kitchen counter before walking out the door.
She had called now to ask him to take her back. Let her come back. Go over and bring her back. Home, where she belonged. No, she had belonged, once. She didn't anymore. The circle of life had pulled them apart. They had to stay that way. There was too much bitterness between them. Too much had been said already. No more.
"Nah. No More now." He drove on...
***************************
(Manav's story to be continued...)
His eyes fell on the bed side table. It seemed bare. She had carelessly flung her favourite wrist watch onto the table one night, cracking the glass. They had gone to 'Landmark' to shop first thing in the morning. He had bought her a classy black Omega with leather straps. The same night, she had carefully taken off and placed the new watch on the table before snuggling into bed with him. He had even caught her admiring it in the middle of the night. She wasn't aware that he had woken up and was looking at her caressing the watch with a smile of contentment playing on her lips. She was so innocent and childlike. There was something about her eyes, especially when she looked at something or someone very intently. Whenever her eyes rested on him, they had made his pulse race and his stomach churn. That brought back another memory from the past...
They were sitting in a secluded corner of an open air restaurant which was on the thirteenth floor and they were looking down at the brightly lit city. Her eyes were dreamy and a little unfocused. She had taken 4 tequila shots already. He couldn't take his eyes off her face. She was beautiful. She felt his eyes boring into her and looked up. They stared at each other for a while. He wasn't sure if it were seconds or minutes that passed them by. She gave him a lazy smile and leaned towards him. He could smell her intoxicating perfume which was driving him wild. He was itching to take her into his arms and bury his face in her long neck and hold her smell forever. She whispered, "Take me home." He did. They were the only ones in the elevator going down to the basement car park. They stood frozen for the longest time staring hard into each other's eyes. He was incapable of intelligent thought and even less capable of making conversation to break the pregnant silence which he was sure could be sliced with a knife. They got off the elevator and into the car quickly. Neither spoke until they reached home. Night sped past so swiftly after that. He let her leave his side, that too regretfully, only when the sun came up.
He groaned and cursed under his breath. He forced himself to get out of bed and take a shower. He stood on the cold wet marble floor for a long time, letting the water wash over his feverishly hot body and then pool around his feet. He felt the drumming in his temples and his neck muscles stiffen as he soaped himself. He missed Reia. All the time. Every corner of the apartment, every little thing in the house, every sound reminded him of her. He associated everything with her. He was losing it. Losing the grip on reality. Reia's memories were with him always. He wanted to run away and hide. He didn't want to face the fact that she was gone. He wanted to go on fooling himself and believe she was at work and that she would come back. He wanted her to come into the kitchen now while he made an egg for himself and rub his tensed shoulders. He wished she would come and sit at the dining table with him again and have cereal and fruits. He wished for everything to go back to normal and for life to start from where he left living it. He wanted her back. It was unfair. God was unfair. There was no God. He didn't believe in God. It was all hogwash to make people feel mildly better about their miserable lives.
The phone rang.
"Manav..." , he spoke into the receiver.
"Take me home", the voice was faint but audible.
A familiar and sharp pain shot up his chest. He could feel his gut twist again. Just as it had done the last time he had heard her speak. He gulped.
"No, not this time", he said.
He replaced the receiver slowly. He was numb. He carefully put the plate in the kitchen sink, cleaned the dining table with a cloth to remove the crumbs of bread, picked up his car keys and shut the door behind him as he walked out of the house.
The loud music playing in the car prevented his mind from drifting into distant memories again. He breathed in the fresh morning air and let his body relax. He congratulated himself on maintaining his composure with Reia when she had called. He resolved to try harder and forget her. Forget the sweet memories and remember the pain she had put him through. Reia had gone through morning sickness while she was carrying. He went through morning sickness too now, just of a different kind. He woke up every morning thinking of her and the good times they had shared. He fretted every night before he slept out of sheer exhaustion. He felt sick to his stomach thinking about Reia aborting their baby in the fourth month. The thought of her committing such a gory act left him nauseated. She had begged him to forgive her. He had been furious with her. Mostly because it was dangerous to get an abortion done post the 3rd month into the pregnancy. To make matters worse, she had lost a lot of weight and had started vomiting a lot. Her eyes had sunk into the sockets and her face had become pale. Everyone had observed how sick she had started to look. He had taken her to a gynecologist who had prescribed loads of vitamin tablets for her. She took several tests and the result wasn't good. They discovered Reia would never conceive again. He had taken a couple of months to recover from the rude shock and for the realization and acceptance of the fact that he would never become a father. As if this wasn't enough to deal with soon after Reia recovered from her illness and regained her strength, she started going out and drinking heavily. He was bothered and he didn't hide his displeasure. There were heated arguments everyday, over the phone and at home. Finally, she sprung the on him her decision to move out. After much probing and prodding she admitted she had been seeing a co-worker and that she wanted to move in with him. "Let me go Maan", she had pleaded. He had. Just like that. His world had crumbled around him while he stood there looking at her folding her clothes neatly and placing them in the red suitcase she had carried her clothes in for their honeymoon. She had carefully placed the apartment key on the kitchen counter before walking out the door.
She had called now to ask him to take her back. Let her come back. Go over and bring her back. Home, where she belonged. No, she had belonged, once. She didn't anymore. The circle of life had pulled them apart. They had to stay that way. There was too much bitterness between them. Too much had been said already. No more.
"Nah. No More now." He drove on...
***************************
(Manav's story to be continued...)
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