Day 16 :: Reassurance

She : Will you hold my hand forever?

He : Yes darling, forever!

She : Promise that you won't leave me!

He : No honey, I will not leave you.

She : Ever?

He : Never ever!

She : Gimme a biiiiig hug!

He : Come here, sweetheart! A good night kissie?

She : You are the best! I love you so much, Daddy!

Day 5 :: Breathless

She rushed into the waiting elevator, hurriedly pressing the button for 13th floor. She was out of breath. 13 floors - she had approximately 15 seconds to catch her breath.

The ting signaled that she had reached her destination. The elevator door separated promptly. As soon as she walked out, people waiting at the floor let out piercing shrieks! She was alarmed. She turned to take a look.

She saw her body slumped down against the railing in the elevator.

Day 11 :: Unearthing Love

It was their 11th wedding anniversary. Yet none of them was in a mood to celebrate. Nikhil and Shilpa had been fighting for over a month now. They had bought a new apartment and their squabble was over the shifting day. Shilpa wanted to celebrate their anniversary in their new home, while Nikhil wanted to stay in their old house clinging to the last bits of memories in the house. It had been their home for 8 years.

Adamant as she was, Shilpa’d won the round. She decided she’ll take up the whole responsibility, whether Nikhil lends a hand or not.

They’d been like this; fighting on and off, back slapping, pulling each other’s leg. At first glance, they looked like cousins and not a couple. Their camaraderie was adored by every one. This was probably because they were friends since college times. They got married a few months after their convocation ceremony. Fortunately for them they had no parental issues. Their wedding was a smooth affair.

It was the life after that taught them some important lessons. Both were ambitious and both had the will to study further. With immense moral and financial support from Nikhil’s father, they had been able to achieve what they’d aimed for. Nikhil was a successful Chartered Accountant, working in one of the prestigious firms. Shilpa got a Masters degree in Mass communication, and was drawing a six figure salary.

They were happy with their DINK status. Lately, life was stressful. There were days when they didn’t even see each other despite living under the same roof. And when they did, there was constant bickering and frustration to unload. Arguments were a daily affair. ‘You don’t understand me!’ was a common statement. Cold wars and silent stares started to seem more appealing than making an effort to exchange words. Worse was when they accepted and settled into this life. None seemed to discuss the rift, none wanted to complain.

They were battling one such situation now - shifting the house. Shilpa tried to make Nikhil understand her reason. However, they had grown beyond the point where compromise was acceptable. They were at logger heads at each other since a month now.

‘Phew! Finally!!’ Shilpa sighed. Nikhil grunted his approval.

‘What?’ Shilpa asked.

‘You very well know what. Now don’t start all that again.’

‘It isn’t me, Nikhil. Try and be more practical... and a bit sensitive to my needs, if possible’ she gave back tearfully.

‘Don’t you even try that on me. It’s disgusting enough to fight on our anniversary, please don’t bring in your messy tears.’

‘Why are you so hurtful, Nikhil? I don’t want all this any more than you do!’

To avoid any more confrontation, Nikhil moved out of the room and started sorting the labelled boxes. Shilpa shed a few more tears; decided it wasn’t worth it and then headed towards the kitchen.

A few moments later Nikhil bellowed, ‘Shilpa, come here.’

‘Why?... Is there something more hurtful that you thought of?’ she uttered through clenched teeth.

‘Just come here, will you?’

She went into the sitting room reluctantly..

‘What’s in this box?’

‘Why? Can’t you read? I have labelled every box.’

'No, this one is not. Take a look.’ he said trying very hard to control his anger at her reproach. ‘It must be one of the boxes from the store room, in which you kept your ratty old clothes and other knick-knacks. I say, throw it out. If you unpack this, you’ll start feeling sappy and keep them in the house. We have no use for any of it.’

‘Nothing I keep is useless. And I am not going to throw anything away without even glancing at it. If you do not want to help, I am quite capable myself. Find yourself some friends and get entertained. I will set up my house.’

‘It’s my house too.’ he shouted.

‘I thought so too, until you showed no inclination to come here.’

‘It is worthless to talk to you.’

‘You should have realised that 11 years back.’ she said, while driving the pen knife into the tape that closed the box in argument. While she busied herself into prodding over the contents of the box, Nikhil grabbed some old newspaper and sat in the same room. Although he would have liked to stay away from her, there was no option as the other rooms laid strewn of painting material and shifted furniture.

Shilpa tore off the remainder tape. A familiar whiff of sogginess hit her as she opened the box. There was an old bed sheet covering the contents. She was puzzled. Slowly she pulled the cover away, careful not to break anything fragile. There was a stack of her college books. It looked like a huge pile.

‘Nikhil was right. I have no need for these books any more.’ she thought and pulled out one book after another. The books were only half way through the box. She found another box inside it. It was a big wooden box with intricate carved designs on it. It was gifted by her mother on her 16th birthday. She took it out lovingly, still wondering what lay inside.

She flipped the metallic latch and the contents took her breath away. They were memories. Memories of good times. Her heart beat fast. The first thing she took out of it was a small Mickey Mouse pocket watch. Nikhil had gifted it to her. He’d pleaded his uncle who lived in States to bring one for her.

As other things came out, memories flooded through her.

‘Nikhil!’ she called out timidly. ‘Look.’

He came close to inspect. His voice cracked as he said ‘You still have all this? It’s been years since I saw them... I’d forgotten about them!’

Together they sat sifting through their old life. Their first pink rose, a ruby pendant, a piece of paper on which Shilpa had smeared some of their Valentine cake, a vial of sand as honeymoon nostalgia, his first SIM card, a photograph clicked during the college annual fest with their common friends, Shilpa’s torn scarf and so many other things that they had tears in their eyes and a smile on their lips each time they said ‘Remember this one?’

The last thing that Nikhil pulled out was a ruled notebook page, folded neatly. It was a written conversation made by them during Financial Management lecture. It read -

N : I have to ask you something.

S : The answer is NO.

N: You haven’t even heard what I want to say.

S : I know you are going to ask me for the notes of Costing lecture, which you bunked yesterday.

N : No re baba! I got them photocopied in the morning.

S : It is still a NO-NO. I know you are going to ask me for a treat. I am all washed out. And now stop this nonsense. Don’t disturb, the prof is saying something!!

N : Marry me no please? I love you.

S : Shut up, idiot! Can’t you see... the prof is looking here. You and your stupid jokes!

N : I am not jok

With this the professor had caught them red handed with the letter and asked the parents to come and meet him.

As soon as Shilpa finished reading the conversation aloud, Nikhil pulled her close to him. He saw the girl with whom he had fallen in love with... just older. He pulled her tear-streaked face close to him and kissed her lips tenderly. All the love that was bottled up somewhere came oozing out. The passion was igniting, the love was glowing, the intimacy was returning.

'I have missed you, Shilpa.’ he whispered between the kiss.

Day 3 :: The Memsaab

A golden Honda City halts at the red signal. The rear window on the right side lowers just a bit. A hand peeps out and disposes off a chocolate wrapper. Even before anyone notices it, the hand withdraws itself and the window runs up to shut the world out…

He sees this every day. The whole affair doesn’t take more than a few seconds;  yet this boy, all of eleven, noticed every small detail about the car and the mysterious hand. It fascinates him to no end. He waits in anticipation every day for the shiny golden Honda City to wait at the signal. To his young eyes, it looks like a huge goldfish, shining in the morning sun. There was not a scratch or speck of dust on the car. Ever perfect, spotless, pure. It so did not belong to the ugly weekday traffic - full of rickshaws, Municipal buses and push carts! It belongs to some Rajmarg, where it would be the only car to parade in a grand manner, he often thought.  

The hand that sent chocolate wrappers flying on the road, no less, impressed him. The hand belonged to a lady. Who else could a dainty little hand with long artistic fingers painted in hues of colours belong to? There was a sparkle on one of the fingers. He guessed it was an expensive diamond ring. Imaginative that he was, he was adept at guessing a lot about the Memsaab, based only on the features and characteristics of her hand.

He was amazed at how Memsaab changed the colour of her nails every day! One day it was bright orange, the next it would be olive green! Yellow, soft pink, blue, red, brown, silver, black, purple and sometimes even golden, just like the car! Shades of pink were his favourite, black turned him off! Ohh! So many colours! He had never seen so many colours in his drab, lackluster life!  He would sympathetically look down at himself. With a filthy shirt torn in half a dozen places, held together by tepid sewing attempts by chachi- ji; he never knew what the original colour ever was. In fact he didn’t even remember when he started wearing it! His shorts were no less a joke. Uneven zip and broken button forced him to tie a rope around his waist for it to stay in place. Clothes were unwashed for weeks, or maybe months; he abhorred his pitiful image.

These few minutes of guessing kept his spirits high. Although, he never liked it when the signal was green and the car sped away even before he had the chance to take a good look at it! He longed for the week days as much as he disliked the weekends. Perhaps the Memsaab doesn’t have to go to work on weekends, he thought. But if she is so rich; why does she have to work even? He mentally patted himself for his logical thinking and concluded that she must be a student. Yes, working hands are never so delicate. He had seen chachi-ji’s hands; rough as the tar road he was standing barefoot on.

So mesmerized was he by Memsaab, that one day he decided to collect those unwanted chocolate wrappers. He ran to grab them before they were sent soaring into the sky by other vehicles. He could almost sense the touch of Memsaab’s delicate fingers. He kept them carefully in a “Pan Parag” container. The stench of pan masala was so strong , that the intoxicating, sweet aroma of chocolate eventually faded. How he wished he had another dabba to store his treasure! But he had to make do with what he had. It was after a great deal of boisterous begging that chachi-ji had finally relented and parted with something that had belonged to her.

By and by, he had come close to collecting seventy wrappers. Alas, he would never know. He could only count  ek se dus (one to ten). That too, he had learnt from chachi-ji when, at the end of the day, she distributed biscuits bought out of begging money to four others like him. He longed to study. His horizons never faded with the end of the day. It just about began then, when he yet again fantasized about going to school and making it big! Who knew? Maybe one day he would own a golden Honda City! His thoughts always reached a full stop at the golden Honda City and its Memsaab!

‘How odd!’, he thought. ‘I have never made an attempt to even take a look at Memsaab! I never even went close to the gold car!’ With that thought fermenting in his mind, he started devising ways to encounter the car. He started approaching it with odd jobs. One day he maneuvered his way through other haphazardly strewn vehicles. He felt delirious to be so close something that he thought was unattainable! For almost three seconds he forgot he was supposed to clean the wind shield and windows of the car, allowing him to take a good look at the person whose hand was such a beautiful piece of art! He stood stupefied facing the car with a big grin on his face. He only came to, when the signal turned green and the chauffer rudely shooed him away.

He was not disappointed though. So what if he couldn’t get a glimpse of the Memsaab today; he would try again tomorrow and again the day after and again, till he found the satisfaction of seeing her.

The next day, armed with cloth and Colin(which was bought a few months ago with the children's hard earned money; diluted umpteen number of times to make it last longer), he wasted no time in rushing towards the car. He wouldn’t make the same mistake as the previous day. He would not gape like a fool. He would start his mission immediately.  

This time, the moment he sprayed a little liquid onto the windshield, the ever irritated chauffer pulled down his window and gave him a earful, ‘Gaadi saaf hai. Haath mat lagao!’ (The car is clean. Don’t touch it!’) The words seemed to be painted blood red, just like the driver’s spit. Taken aback by such a sharp retort, he ran to safety. Day 2 was indeed a flop. And what more, he had been told off; never to touch the clean beauty. What could he do now?

After days of anticipation and brainstorming, he decided he would sell magazines. People buy those. They sell like hot cakes! He would carry the filmy magazines. Surely, Memsaab would be interested in those! With these happy thoughts, he started counting the stars… he melted into peaceful sleep just before he counted dus.

Pumped with new enthusiasm, he gathered the glossy, glamorous books in his small hands and waited for what seemed like hours. The moment he noticed the car in his peripheral vision, he made a dash for it. He had also learnt some broken English words from his friends. He thought he would use them to impress Memsaab. Maybe he should call her Memsaab-ji for that added respect.

He was careful not to bang on the window, for he knew the red spit driver too well for his curt manners. He softly knocked on the right window, knowing only too well that Memsaab was on that side.  He peered through the tinted glass. All he could see was his own reflection of foul clothes and sweaty, dust-streaked face. He knocked again, this time firmer, but gently. No response. He squinted and tried to see inside. With a lot of concentration, he managed to see beyond his own image.Memsaab was busy reading newspaper. He could only see her same right hand holding the newspaper in air, covering her face entirely! Dejected and cursing his luck, he turned back.

Next few days too were a stroke of bad luck for him! Some days the signal would jump to green even before the car halted. The other day the driver admonished him yet again for touching the car with his sloppy fingers. It was when the car did not turn up for three days in a row that he was genuinely scared and worried.

On the fourth day, he saw that unmistakable shimmer of gold that seemed to float in the mid-week rush. The royal beauty gently braked and he was promptly by its side. Success was almost licking his feet, when he saw Memsaab was already digging into her purse. Certainly she was looking for exact change. He was smiling ear to ear. His dream would come true today, he thought gleefully. Meanwhile, he was busy being enthralled by her below the shoulder length hair. He could see the softness of her hair, curls at the end dangling beautifully below the right shoulder. He was instantly reminded of the shampoo ad hoarding that was put up just three days before at the junction. She must look like Bipaasa Basu. Within minutes, horns blared and he had to get out of the way. In his reverie, he forgot that Memsaab did not once look up at him. He had missed the opportunity for what seemed like the thousandth time.  

He tried several times; every time a new problem was posed to him. Probably sensing his presence,Memsaab started sitting on the other side, facing to her left!  It was next to impossible to be on the left side of the road, since it was dug up pretty deep. ‘Why do they keep digging every now and then?’ he thought bitterly. He almost gave up on his dream.

Today however, he woke up with an unusual reassurance in his mind. You will see the much awaitedMemsaab today, said a voice somewhere deep within him. He smiled at his confident thought and wondered if it would come true. Looking back at the turn of events in the past few days, he was hardly feeling optimistic! Well, what did he have to lose? He would try again today like the rest of the days.

It was almost time for the goldfish to come gliding down the road. He thought it would be best to stay on the left side of the road. Miscalculating the time today, he started running down the street without even once looking at the signal which was nowhere near red. Within seconds, he heard his bones crunching. His pretty goldfish had hit him. The pain that shot through his entire body was coming in waves. He was feeling drained, as if someone was methodically sucking life from him.

He was in and out of consciousness. In one of the fading moments, he saw the Memsaab, holding his profusely bleeding head, screaming hysterically at people who had gathered all about them, ‘It’s the signal boy! It’s the signal boy! Oh my god! Please don’t die, don’t die! Please help!’

In those morbid moments he thanked his inner voice. How it told him that he would see his Memsaab today! Oh, how beautiful she is! And her hands, ever so soft! Her voice, though loud was silken! And she called me the ‘signal boy’, she recognized me.

With these parting thoughts, he smiled, for the last time. His dream was fulfilled. At last, he slept. Peacefully!

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If you liked this, then the credit also goes to my good friend, Nishanth, who saw to it that the article came out better than how I had originally written it. Many Thanks to you, Nishanth! :)

Uncle 1 meets Uncle 2

It is Sunday today and, both Uncle 1 and Uncle 2, are at the Sunday Bazaar to "do" some household shopping. Uncle 2 has two big bags full of vegetables and is trying to fit all that on his 15 yr old loyal Bajaj scooter. This is when Uncle 1, holding newspaper and milk in one hand and eggs and bread in another, meets Uncle 2.

Uncle 1 (U1) : Arre, arre... Good Morning, good morning ji! How are you?

Uncle 2 (U2) : *surprised and smiling wide* Hello, good morning! I am in good health. You tell, how are you? Where have you been? Didn't see you for a long long time!

U1 : No, no. I am here only. Where will I go? You are a big man. I hardly see you. Busy a what? Sunday shoppingaa? *gesturing at U2's big bags*

U2 : Haaaaan, now what to tell? Children are sleeping and wife said if I did not bring vegetables, there will be no food! What can a poor man like me do? You also come for shopping?

U1 : Ha ha ha haha.... Yes. Yes ji. It is the same. Come come, my house is here... we'll have nice hot tea with bisckits.

U2 : Nahi, aaj nahi. I have no time to stand. I have to go.

U1 : It is the same. No one has time now. Life is so busy. What are your kids doing?

U2 : Badi is in First yr engineering and Choti is in 12th. Both very busy with classes! Your son is also in engineering no? Computer? Which college?

U1: Haan. His 4th semester is going. He also so busy, I tell you. Does not have time to raise his head from books!!! Very good college but. Nice teachers. Even if I gave a huge donation, it is not a waste.

U2 : Very good. Very good! It is nice to know children learning. Nahi toh, children nowadays! *slaps forehead*

U1 : What to say! So many rave parties, drugs, daaroo. It was soo different in our times, no. We did what our babuji told us. Always respecting parents.

U2 : Really! But our children are gems, I am telling you. They will shine our names.

U1 : Yes, yes. I am sure. *does namaskar and touches forehead* Your two daughters will shine your name in their sasuraal. They are pretty and talented also, no? I wanted to ask you? Are you seeing a boy for your badi? There is a nice boy, I know. Looks like Salman Khan. Very rich also.

U2 : *makes a face* Now what to tell you bhaii saab?! My wife tried to talk to her about her marriage. She gets angry. Badi wants to complete studies and she wants to do MBA also. And that also in foreign. Now tell me, how will I afford all this? I am middle class. And I have two daughters. How to manage? Tell me.

U1 : God will help you, see. Good things happen with good people only. You should not worry. Have you seen the latest??? Anna Hazare and Jan Lokpal Bill? My son wants to go to Delhi to fast! Who will study now, tell me?

U2 : That one?!! I was seeing. On paper, on tv. Everywhere there is Anna. What a man! What a man! Really, I think. He will do big aandolan.

U2 : He will. I am also sure. Who else can save our country? All politicians are chors, saale. They want money and money. Govaarment is useless.

U1 : No bhaii saab. People also voting same same people. What to do now? Very sad it is. See, how this road is also not repaired for so many days.

U2 : Arre haan. When you said road, I remembered. What happened to the fight between you and your neighbour? Did you build that private road or not between your houses?

U1 : *shakes head violently* nahiii... Where now I will run after small small fights? Tell me. He knows big people. He has contacts. I did not do anything. I heard he is leaving house in a year. I will build road when he goes away.

U2 : Yes, you should do that. Tell me if you need any help. I have a civil contractor friend. I can tell him to see. He is very close. He is my wife's jijaji's nephew. He will do your work for less.

U1 : Haan, will tell you surely. How is bhabhiji? My wife was complaining... nowadays, you both don't come only! Come sometimes for evening chaii and bhajiya.

U2 : Yes yes. That day they went for sale shopping together and all they did was complain about us! My wife was telling.

U1 : Accha? When did they go shopping? *irritated* Arree, everyone knows! I only don't know!

U2 : That new shopping mall is there, no? What is its name...... ummm... something Paradise. There they went. Bhabhiji must have forgotten to tell you.

U1 : Arrree reee, I remember. Remember now. Court Paradise no? She told me, I forgot.

U2 : My girls go there often. Never buy anything, but they go with friends.

Uncle 1's cell phone starts ringing.

U1 : Hello. I am here only... where means? market, where else? I am coming baba.... coming coming. I met bhaiisaab. What? What? Cannot hear... hello... what??? Ok ok. will tell. will tell. Haan haan coming.

*click*

U1 :See your bhabhi called. She is calling you home. She is not listening to any excuse. you have to come for chaii.

U2 : Bhaiisaab, it is getting late for me. Next time will pakka come with wife.

U1 : No, no, no, no.... no listening to you this time. Come, it hardly takes 5 minutes from here. Chaii will be ready when we reach home. She is making also for you.

U2 : That way then you should promise to come to our house in the evening with bhabhiji and your beta. Only then I will come now.

U1 : Haan haan pehle you come.

Saying this, U1 rides pillion with U2. A lot more is exchanged between the two during the five minute ride to U1's house.

Day 15 : That night...

She woke up in the dead of the night. She'd had too much of wine during the party previous evening, which was making her thirsty. It was 2:45 AM. She was still feeling drowsy, when she noticed faint blue light streaming from below the door.

'Shucks! I forgot to switch off the laptop.' she thought. Grudgingly, she threw her long legs out of the bed. She did not switch the lights on; she knew the way around her one bedroom apartment without bumping into any furniture. She opened the laptop and started at the screen for several minutes. Although she was tired, she was no longer feeling sleepy. She decided to complete some pending office work while she was at it. She pulled out a cigarette of a pack that was lying by the table and lit it. She breathed long, heavy puffs. Instantly she felt relaxed and calm.

By the time it was 4 AM, she'd smoked 5 cigarettes and her work was almost done. She smiled at her efficiency; she'd have a pretty laid back day at the office. Her thoughts were stirred by a soft rap on her door. She stopped her work and listened intently, waiting for another rap. There was none. She continued with her business when she heard another rap, a bit louder this time. She literally jumped out of her skin. Who could it be at this hour? She did not move from her place. Whoever it was, will probably go away. Or maybe not... should she shout out loud waiting for someone to come and see what was wrong?

'Hey, you in there? You awake? Its me! Open the door, quick!'

She recognized the voice instantly. It was her boyfriend. Perhaps he was out till late night, partying, she thought and she was not wrong. When she opened the door for him, she saw he was heavily drunk.

'Sorry, babe... was nearby, so instead of driving home, thought I'd spend the night with you.'

'It is almost morning, honey.' she reminded him. 'Anyway, you are so drunk I am amazed how you even reached here... do you know you scared me?' But he had not heard a single word from her. He was out cold on her futon. She let him lie there. She placed some anti hangover pills for him at the table like many times before and went to the bedroom to catch some sleep. Next day, while she went about her busy schedule, he'd loaf around her house till she came back. This wasn't so unusual of him to come to her place unannounced after a heavy drinking party.

She was jarred awake by some heavy banging on the main door. With bleary eyes and heavy head she sauntered to the main door. It was 7:30 AM.

'Who is this?' she asked.

'Ma'am, this is the police. We need to talk to you, it is important.'

What could be important so early? she wondered. Carefully, she opened the door to three uniformed, burly officers.

'Ma'am, early morning today we got a tip off that a murder suspect was seen coming into your house. We'd like to take a look around.'

'WHAT?? But no one came here.' She said that and instantly realized that her boyfriend was over. 'Sorry, I forgot. My boyfriend had come over... he was attending a party nearby and he just stopped over. They must have seen him. They were mistaken about the identity, of course'

'May we see him? May we talk to him?' said one of the three of them.

As far as they could see, he was no where in sight. She said maybe he was using the restroom. But when she checked that was empty too. He wasn't anywhere in the house.

'Ma'am, we hate to break the news to you. Your boyfriend is suspected to have been in a brawl that broke out at the nearby bar, and as the sources go, he was the one, who under the  influence of alcohol, beat the bartender to death. We are sorry, but if you have any information about him, we suggest you contact us at your earliest.'

'And ma'am, may I suggest, you may be in danger too. Do take care and let you know anything you hear about him.'

She looked at the futon, where just a few hours before, her murderer boyfriend lay. She looked at the untouched pills. She imagined his face in drunken stupor. He was brazen and wild, but could he have been inhuman enough to beat someone to death?

The roller coaster in her life was just about to begin...

Day 12 : Is this what I think it is?

She : Hello! Who is this?

He : He who cannot be named!

She : Ha ha ha ha... Shut up! Wassup? No work today?

He : Naah, just taking a break. Was a winding week. And hell lot of work. Waddup with you? Hope didn't disturb you, did I?

She : No. I was taking a coffee break. Gotta attend a meeting, another ummm.. 30 minutes or so. 

He : Hmmm... that's cool.

She : So, why did you call?

He : JLT. Been a long time, didn't catch up with you. So I thought I'd say a hi. 

She : Yeah, seriously... it's been a while. 

He : Can you meet me today evening?

She : Today? uhhh... wait a minute.. I think... no, yes, I can. Yes. We can meet actually.

He : No, if you have other plans then alright... nothing urgent... just wanted to say "I Love You!"

She : WHAT???!

He : And wanted to ask you if you'll marry me.

She : Hey....

He : And will you bear me and my idiosyncrasies for the rest of your life.

She : WHAT are you saying?

He : All this, I will ask in person. Be ready to say a yes. Will meet at our usual place at 7 PM. See ya then. Bye.

She had made up her mind. She knew what the answer was. She couldn't wait for the clock to strike 7. 

Day 6 : Stranger Duties

'Excuse me?! Are you done? I need to make an urgent call.' I said to the woman standing in front of me. She was still holding the telephone receiver in her hand; although what seemed to be a conversation, had ended minutes ago. I looked at my watch and the time was running. 'I have to make the call', I screamed in my head. I thought of tapping her, but decided against it. I was almost ready to blow my top for I was getting impatient. I couldn't see the point of romancing the phone long after all the talking was done.

What he could not see, was my agony, my pain. What he could not see, were my eyes clouded with tears. What he could not see, was the storm that was surging through me. He just couldn't see. How could I blame him? The news that had fallen on my ears had shattered me. I was beyond thinking. I was numb. I was scared. And, at that moment, I was all alone. I must have fainted; for I remember seeing stars before my eyes and blacking out.

Before I knew it, this woman in front of me collapsed suddenly. I was confused. I didn't know how to help her. Should I even touch her? There were not too many people in sight. Those who were, didn't seem to care much for a lady swooning at a phone booth. She needs medical help I guessed. Thankfully, I always carry a bottle of water. I realized the lady had been crying and suffering too. Tears streaked her cheeks and her lips were colorless.

I was feeling cold and hot at the same time. It was like sitting in a tub of cold water while burning with fever. As I revived, this gentleman was holding me, trying to get me drink some water. 'Are you ok? Are you ok?' he was asking continually. I managed to utter that I was fine. But the state in which I was, couldn't even fool a blind man! I started crying at my misery. I was crying at my helplessness. Tears could hardly justify the angst in me.

She was hardly making any sense to me. She babbled like a child. I wonder if she was saying she is fine or otherwise. I waited for someone else to come by and extend a helping hand. People must have thought we were just lovers making up after a tiff. I was holding her close to me - more out of humanity than pity. I asked her what was so wrong. She finally decided to control her convulsions and talk. 'Its my younger brother... he.. he tried to kill himself. He had gulped down almost a bottle of sleeping pills. Neighbour had called to inform... my phone had no balance.... he is dying. He is dying!!!!' She let out another wail.

I don't know why I needed to burden him with my worries. After all, it was my brother who'd taken the extreme step. My brother was dying. Why should he bother? I found myself in new set of questions. I was supposed to reach the hospital. How was I going to do that? I was feeling nauseated. I was wiped out of my strength.

'Which hospital is it? I have a car... I can drop you there.' I couldn't believe my own ears! I said that? I was to make a really urgent call and here I was, offering a free ride to some unknown female!! I wanted to slap myself. What if she was a thug and this was her routine. Besides, it was not a busy hour. Victims like me were easy. However, I saw raw genuineness in her which moved me enough to help her.

Today, after 17 years, I still remember that man who helped me when I was helpless. Hadn't it been for him, I would have never been able to hold my little brother's hand while he was dying. I never got around to asking his name. I don't even remember thanking him during such tormenting situation. God bless the stranger who was kind enough to do all this for me.

Today, after 17 years, I still remember that woman who I thought was romancing the phone receiver. I never got around to making that important phone call. I lost some lifetime opportunities. But I still do not regret my decision of helping her out.

Love at Five

Her eyes fluttered open when she felt his arm on her. Still sleepy, she checked the time on her cell phone. It was 5 AM. She yawned, stretched and said “Why are you up so early today? I told you I wanted to sleep, right?” He said nothing; he was stark awake; he just smiled at her.

Even in their dimly lit room, his lopsided smile melted her like butter. He shook her; she tried to pretend that she was asleep. However, now he had learned to catch her bluff. He tapped her on her belly. She opened her eyes and met his. There he was... again smiling that mischievous smile of his. Slowly, he slid his hand under her orange T-shirt. She knew what he was up to. She threw a stern look at him. He wasn’t even looking at her. He was busy concentrating on the job at hand.

His soft hands on her bare belly always made her giggle. She was vulnerable to tickling. “Stop it! I told you not to do that! Stop!!!” she managed to throw up these words among her fitful giggles. “You are in a mood to play, eh honey?”

Meanwhile, he had successfully pushed her T shirt up. His capers were well known to her. And moreover, she loved him when he did those silly things to her. He sat up languidly and set his brown eyes on his prey. Suddenly, without any intimation, he put his head on her curved waist and started nibbling it gently. She felt his teeth on her flesh, tickling and tingling her. She tried to stop him... but she couldn’t... rather she wouldn’t, because she wanted it as much as he. At first he bit her softly, then hungrily.

“Hey!!!” She complained. But he was beyond hearing her voice anymore. He was enjoying the feast. In a wink, he stopped his activity. He sat up alarmed. He waited exactly two seconds before jumping on top of her. “Hey!!!” she complained yet again. “Slow down, baby. It hurts.” Still he wasn’t bothered. He smiled so deep, it formed a dimple on his right cheek.

He lay his head on her chest. He loved hearing the rhythmic thump of heartbeat. Eventually, his right hand found a new territory to fondle with. Her ear. He was well aware that it gave her goosebumps when you did that thing to her - roll his pinkie along the circumference of her ear. She gripped him to keep him from falling off her.

Against her grip, he rolled off on to the bed. Again he diverted his attention to her stretch marks lined tummy. This time he went for the kill. He dived straight for her belly button. His tongue lapped over the crater as if it held liquid chocolate in it. She squealed, held his jet black curly haired head and tried to back him off. He was a leech when it came to this. He was gurgling and cooing. Her complaints, mixed with heavy laughter and breathlessness, excited him further.

She could no longer take it. She sat up causing him to fall backwards on the bed. Too stunned by her sudden action, his expression turned bitter and hurt. He stared at her with frightful, big eyes. She couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden change in his demeanor. She grabbed his hands and pulled him close to her. She kissed his forehead and collected him in her arms. He nuzzled in the crook of her neck. Her hair smelt awesome. She squeezed him as tightly as she could manage without causing him any pain.

They swung together for a while and she sang his favorite song. Within seconds, he was in dreamland. Slowly she set her 10 month old baby beside her.

Fire Freeze Contest - Melting emotions

One of the worst things to happen to you during childhood is having to see your parents go through a bitter divorce. And that's precisely what comprised mine. I guess they have been at loggerheads since the day they were married. Perhaps no; else I wouldn't be here to narrate my story.

Since the day I remember, there was not a single day when they did not see it customary to argue with one another. In fact, my wake up alarm used to be one of them hurtling accusations at another followed by hot tears. There were days when I returned from school to a house full of sinister silence. At such times I wondered if mom had killed dad or the other way round. Thankfully, I was spared from that scene. 

My parents loved me dearly. In spite of repulsion between them, they made sure I was not deprived of worldly things. They tried to make everything perfect for me. Only they never realised that more than material things in life and their individual love, I wanted to see them love each other. I wanted a home and not just plain walls and windows and negative vibes. Alas, I was never able to make them recognize my yearning for one. 

You would wonder what I did when they fought. I was a silent spectator, praying for arguments to end. After all, my parents never forgot to teach me the right things in between their hatred. I was not supposed to speak when two adults were "in communication". Likewise, mom told me not to spill our household news to others. As a result, I had no one to talk to. My feelings ebbed and surged but remained bottled up, howsoever. 

No issue was too small to arouse conflicts between them. They battled incessantly on the colour of walls to arranging finances. By the age of nine, I knew the intensity of each of their confrontations. While I hoped for the day when they would make peace with themselves and start mending their shattered relationship, their mutual loathing was turning passionate by the day. 

For a very long time, I was the zip that kept them attached. But soon things started getting out of control - accusations were wild, words stung poison and disgusted glances at each other became so common that they pierced my soul. Even I could no longer be the clasp that hoped to bring them together.

Two months before I turned eleven, my mom shook me awake. Her eyes were red like I had seen them before. 

"Wake up! We are going to grandma's place." she said. She did not think it was necessary to give me any details. Without asking any more questions I followed her out of the house. Dad was in the bedroom and did not even come to see us off. I sensed a familiar feeling, however this time there was a finality to it. 

Dad did not come for my birthday. Mom had told him not to. She did not want to see him. I was never asked my opinion anyway.

A few months later, I found my mom sitting at the table brooding over a document. I guessed it right, it was the divorce notice. They were going to be separated for good. 

I was torn between relief and tension, hatred and love, happiness and deep sorrow. It was difficult to say if I celebrated the moment or mourned it. My parents' missteps lead me to suffer. I had asked for freedom from daily domestic haggles, parents bargained it at the cost of our family. 

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I am entering this post for contest that's up on Indiblogger. Vote for me if you like this post. And guess what, readers can win too... just write your story at Close-up Facebook Page and also as a comment to this post.

I think this is the link to follow where you can vote for me. 

Final Surrender

'And I say, you never understood me!' he bellowed in response to her equally adequate accusation. He could have given in to his rage and raised a hand at his wife but he didn't. As always, he stormed out of the house leaving her to lament and curse her own luck through hot tears.

They were married for 4 years now. With each passing year, the decibels were rising whenever they had an argument, which was almost everyday. The heated discussion was always the same, according to her they had no money and according to him, it was just enough to lead a decent, happy life.

When he came home from work in the evening, he found her in the kitchen by the stove, mumbling inaudibly to herself. He knew she was still blowing steam from the morning's episode. Quietly, he moved into the bedroom. Peace and quiet was least expected. He knew this was the lull before the storm.

'Do you want some coffee?' she surprisingly asked .

'Yes. I'm tired.' There was no reason why he should have included the last sentence; however, it was a sort of warning for her.

She set the cup of coffee along with some biscuits on the dining table, and pulled a chair for her to sit in. She waited until he had had his first sip of coffee and then kick started the topic again, 'What is the problem in quitting your 9-6 office job? Start a business.'

He squeezed his eyes between his fingers - that's what he usually did when he was in a tight situation as this. Not again, he thought. But at least she had a calm demeanor.

Perhaps I should try and talk to her nicely, maybe she will understand, he surmised. 'It is not easy, my dear. I think we should...'

'It is never easy. What is easy? Living this life is also not easy for me!', she complained yet again like she had for all the 4 years.

In reality, they were self sufficient. He had a stable job, a salary that was credited into his account on the fifth day of every month, adequately furnished one bedroom house and also a two wheeler to provide humble transportation. Even with household expenses and once in a while vacation, he was able to save. He did not find anything to complain except his wife's wishes for extravagant spending.

She was no more born and brought up in a middle class family than his. Other than the 36 point horoscope match, this was a reason why their alliance seemed to be good enough to get a green signal.

Sadly though, the horoscopes and the family conditions were mere illusions. These two people were as different as chalk and cheese. He knew where to show maturity. He knew where and how to be content. On the other hand, she was immature as a child and always craved for more. And her 'more' was often materialistic. Prior to the days of her marriage, she daydreamed of honeymooning in Paris and Switzerland wearing a chiffon sari like one of those many actresses on screen. Although she was aware of his financial status being no more than that of her father, she secretly hoped he would be her prince in disguise. Maybe on our first night he will reveal that he is in fact very very rich and not a typical middle class, thought she, frequently.

These were her shattered childish dreams that led more bitterness into their marriage. She just would not understand why he could not start a business.

'First of all, I do not come from any business family. I hardly know how to run things that way. And secondly, even if I thought about it, I need to have some capital. I need to have a lump sum of cash before I begin with anything.', he tried to reason with her.

'We have savings. Saving from past 4 years that we have never touched... why can't you use that?', she said, well aware of his saving habit.

His temples started throbbing, and he shouted back, 'Have you never heard of emergencies? We are yet to have a kid, for god's sake! Once we have a kid, we will not be able to save as much as we do now. And I am not going to blow up all that on some whimsical, kiddish wants of yours.'

Fortunately, they had no issues to witness these arguments. She said she did not want any "hindrances" before she completed her bucket list. And as of now, her bucket list was growing by the day, since he had supposedly been incapable of providing her the means to complete them.

'Then why can't you borrow a loan from my uncle? He is rich enough. If you want, I will talk to him. If I talk, I'm sure he won't even take back the money.' She always seemed to have a back up answer to his questions. Smartly, she had avoided the whole 'kids' section. She was in no hurry to hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet.

Her parents hardly interfered in their matters, but his folks were keen to see their grand child at their earliest. They had also recognized the fine lines of stress on their son's face. He had always dismissed their worries by saying it was the office work. But he knew they suspected marital fissures. He would not admit it to them. Not yet at least.

'I am not borrowing anything from anyone. I will never stoop to borrowing money out of relatives, yours or mine. You get that? Why don't you resume your old job at the post office? That might bring in some more money.'

'How much does that pay me? 8000 a month? No, thanks. I will not slog for mere 8000.'

Before marriage, for the lack of a proper educational degree, she worked as a clerk in the post office. But her attitude was no less than that of a Harvard graduate. She was too proud to settle for a job that paid her a measly amount.

'What if it is 8000? It is all your money, spend it the way you like it. I will never interfere. And maybe, if we save some of that too, we could afford a holiday.'

'Since you cannot arrange for extra income, you are asking me to work, eh? You are a lousy husband.'

'You have always failed to keep me happy!', she continued bawling and accusing. 'You are lazy and narrow minded and selfish too. All you think about is your good. You married me... you ruined my life.', she vehemently hurtled accusations at him. She was shaking and her anger seemed to ooze out of her pores.

He looked at his unfinished coffee going cold, oblivious to the storm around it. He did not know he was crying until a teardrop rippled his coffee. She had said these words a thousand times before. Each time they stung as newly as they had been uttered for the very first time.

He wanted to put a stop to this daily ruckus. He had loved her and truly wanted to see her happy. Even if it meant keeping her happy by giving her all that she wanted, material or not. He knew he had to give in, he has to surrender. Finally he said, 'I will see what I can do. But I will make sure you are happy. If you are happy, I will be happy too. I just want to see you happy...I want to see you smiling' he rattled deliriously and at that moment he had made a firm decision - 'You will have everything you want - Everything!'

That night, tired and listless, both of them retired early. Tomorrow is going to be a new day, a happy day, thought both of them.

The next day was a life changing day indeed, for she found a note beside his dead, bleeding body in the kitchen - "Contact this number. He is my lawyer. He will help you get my insurance money. I hope the amount you receive will make you happy"

What do I do?

At 28, I have a life that not many can even dream of. My parents have always given a lot of importance to education. And thus, when I expressed my wish to go abroad for higher studies to them; they left no stone unturned to fulfill my dream. Now, the life that I boast of consists a fulfilling career with a supporting, heavy paycheck that takes care of all the bills and also a few luxuries, doting parents and a long distance relationship that seems to be working just fine. 

Everything was routinely fine until half a year ago. I walked into the house after a long day of work; only to see my parents rummaging through haphazardly strewn papers and photographs. Only during the dinner time did I come to know that they were a set of horoscopes along with their respective photographs. My parents thought it was time for me to get married. Within no time, they started reading out the bio data of "prospective partners" one after the other. Over and again, they recited terms like "Investment banker", "Chartered Accountant", "Business Analyst at so and so". No doubt, education and career were important to them; so was physical appearance! There were about 30 faces smiling up at me from their glossy and matte finish. In my honest opinion, all of them were certified candies. But they weren't for me. 

Looking at my bored and forlorn expression, my parents dutifully chanted the names of my school and college friends, who had tied a knot one after another like they were roll numbered. Some of them were also tasting parenthood. I remember seeing their happy faces smiling at the lenses; many with their newly born and some with their recently possessed fiancé(e) on Facebook. I was genuinely happy for them. Though I never thought I might need to fit in that shoe one day. 

I met him at a bar, when I was abroad completing my Masters. We met a couple of times before we decided to throw our inhibitions away and accept that we were meant for each other. Our relationship grew from friendship; and that is what kept us together for the 3 years that I was there and even today. I was skeptical at first. I was scared of being betrayed. After all, I was still an Indian when it came to relationships. I'm not forget-and move-on type. But this man was here to stay. He proved that by giving me a surprise visit last month. I had yet not figured out how to make this relation work. For the moment, I was enjoying being marinated in his love.

I moved in with him within 3 weeks of meeting him for the first time. We spent a magical time together. Though we had a tight schedule, we made it a point to spend quality time with each other. I lied to my parents about having Indian roommates. When they accidentally saw him when we were on Skype, I said he was my roommate's friend. The lecture that ensued then, was interminable. They never trusted Westerners. 

Time is running out for me. Parents grill me each day after work, to agree to meet my prospective partner's family and finalize. Dead photographs are still smiling under my nose every day. Calls from punditji haunt me. And parents are relentlessly pursuing this issue. Stress has started making an appearance on my physical self. 

How do I tell my orthodox parents about my life abroad? How do I confess to the delightful sin that I committed there? How do I convince them that "marriage with photographs" is not what I want? Being their only child, they have loaded their expectations on me. How do I say that I'm not their perfect child?

Just for a moment, I wish. I wish I could freeze the time when I was the happiest. The time when I was abroad. The time when I first met him at the bar and thought gay relationships do work.

A Mistake

Her hands were shaking as she stared at the red - coloured strip in her hand. She was unable to comprehend what had gone wrong.

All of 15, she was a brilliant girl, who'd make her parents proud one day. She was synonymous with intelligence, perfection and excellence. No mathematical problem was ever too difficult for her; science was a piece of cake. She showed keen interest in social sciences too.Even though English bored her, she never let that show up on her score card. She had every signs of making it big; given her hunger to keep learning more. 

Everyone knew she was brainy. She knew she was brainy. She knew she was the right mix of common sense and intelligence. That actually made up for the lack of physical beauty. She thought she was O.K. looking - not too good, neither too bad. No one ever noticed her skinny figure, or her unshaped eyebrows or even an occasional pimple on the nose. This girl exuded great confidence. Confidence to excel, confidence never to go wrong. 

Then what went wrong today, she wondered. None of it was going as planned. How could the strip have changed its colour? She couldn't help but panic as she turned her attention once again to the damned thing in her hand. She had a burning sensation in her throat. She thought about what she had done. She had made sure nothing would go wrong. In fact she was careful... very careful knowing well in advance of the repercussions if anything failed. 

Rewinding her mind, she wondered if she could do anything to make amends. Truth was, she did not have any time to undo the error. She stood trembling and sweating while realisation hit her that there was nothing she could do now. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him nearby. What would he say to her when he comes to know about this? Worse, how would she face her parents? This was certainly not expected of a girl who was so "her". Her confidence level that usually rid the sky, came crumbling down with these thoughts. 

He was within a hand's distance now and would soon be face to face with her. She almost swooned with fear and anxiety as he moved towards her with a smile. 

"What's wrong?... You look as white as a ghost... or did you see one?" he attempted weak humour at that tensed moment. Her predicament became evident to him when he saw what she was holding between her shaky fingers. 

He crinkled his nose and made some clucking noise, stamping disapproval. Disappointment was writ large on his face... or so she thought. 

"You never once made mistakes in your science experiments!!! Then how come during this crucial exam time your blue litmus paper has turned red?"

Truth or Dare?

At 11 AM, while in midst of household chores, the door bell rang. She expected a delivery boy standing with a smile on his face and a bouquet of red roses in one hand and probably a gift in another. This is what happened every year during the Valentine's day. She opened the door; and it certainly was a delivery boy with a smile on his face, a bouquet of red roses in one hand and a small gift wrapped packet in another. She couldn't help but smile at her own timed guess.


After 6 years of marriage and a 3 and half yr old son, her husband still sent her roses. Each year, without forgetting. Valentine's day, her birthday and their wedding anniversary... there were flowers and gift for each of these occasions. Often the celebrations wouldn't just stop there. This was always followed by a dinner and movie date too. For the 'nth time she blessed her stars to have such a wonderful, loving husband for life.


As she trimmed the stems of the flowers to arrange them in a porcelain vase(which was again a gift from him), her mind went back to the time when she was newly married. It was an arranged marriage. The horoscopes were matched, there were initial background checks, photographs were exchanged and finally a date was set for them to meet and "see" each other. When she saw him for the first time, there were no dramatic violins playing, nor were there any electric currents. He was good to talk to and seemed fairly decent. Assent from both the parties had set the ball rolling. Within no time they were engaged to be married.


The marriage ceremony that followed shortly, sailed smoothly with practically zero hitches. Before she knew it, she was trying to adjust herself to the new environment, new life and a new person she was to call her husband. It was an uphill task at first, but given the calm and adjusting nature of her husband, she was set into a comfortable routine.


All her relatives vouched for their "fairy tale" marriage. Some would say "A match made in heaven"... some would say "Your parents arranged a perfect love marriage for you." and still others would exclaim "You couldn't have asked for anything better!!!"


Her marriage was not that picture perfect, as others saw it. They had their own little ups and downs. She fought with him when he forgot to water their plants; he raised a hell when she misplaced his office I-card. She found it irritating when he invited a host of his friends at the 11th hour; he plugged in ear plugs when she started practicing her carnatic music. Though when last year their kid suffered from Measles; teary-eyed, both of them were up whole night to tend to their little life. Such was their household - Perfect with mini imperfections.


She sighed, realising the fact that she was leading a fulfilling life. However this realisation, always brought in a feeling of guilt with it. Did she actually deserve such happiness? Was this all an illusion created by her? Was she living under the pretext that she was happy, and that she is building a happy life for herself, her husband and her kid?


Her mind reeled back to the time when she was learning carnatic music during her college years. Her Guru was none other than her neighbour who was around the same age as she. He insisted she thought of him as a friend and not call him "Guruji". Chemical engineer by profession; pursuing carnatic music was more of a hobby to him. She respected him. She worshipped him. His hunger for knowledge and her thirst for music found a perfect rhythm. Feelings towards him started blossoming in her young heart. Soon she nurtured a special place in her life for him. She never thought it was necessary to express her feelings to him. Why should she? She knew he could see her devotion towards him. She convinced herself that he too felt the same. She saw her enriched life before her... her boundless dreams were getting closer to fulfillment.


One such day when they met, he broke the news to her. He was going abroad. That was only what she heard. "My college friend is planning to set up a venture there. We had talked about this long ago... things have started shaping up now... ... He wants me to join him there now... .... .... This is a life time opportunity for me.... " - all this fell on her deaf ears. All she heard was "I am going abroad." He hadn't said what she yearned to hear. As if to underline her cringing feelings he said "Be sure you get married next year and not before that. How will I come? I cannot travel back within a year, right? By the way, your husband is going to be one lucky guy!"


And, the door bell rang again, announcing the arrival of her son from kindergarten. Her reverie continued in spite of the noisy chatter of the kid. She never mentioned having feelings for her music teacher to her husband. She never thought it was necessary. What would she say? After all, she had never confessed her feelings to her teacher. He had never acknowledged them either. It wasn't obsessive love. Then what was it?


Emotions surged within her. Was she doing the right thing by not letting her husband know about this phase of her life? Would this compound truth rip out their love, trust and respect? Would he shrug it off? Laugh it off? or will it haunt him for the rest of his life? Was that phase really "love" or was it infatuation? Her music teacher, her friend, was he just like a supportive elder brother? Had she misread his intentions? Was she betraying her husband? Was she masking herself... or at least a part of herself? What would happen to her 6 year old marriage? Should she tell him the truth? Or should she dare conceal it?


No, not this time, she thought, today is just too perfect.


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Placing yourself in her shoes, what would you do?

LDR Phone call

He : Hi!! wassup?

She : Hi sweetie. nuthin. thinkin about you, what else?

He : *tunes up* riyally?

She : ummm..hhmm.. what you doing?

He : me? talking to you.

She : *doesn't find it funny but* hee hee hee...how cute. so wassup?

He : nuthing new. I think about you... everytime. babes, when do we meet again?

She : My flirt! and when do you work? *puppy expression and tone* I know baybee, i'm dying to see you.

He : hmm...so?

She : so what?

He : Wassup with ur Hitler?

She : *fakes anger* My daddu's not Hitler. He's strict that's it. I haven't talked to him after that day. why?

He : Just. He's never gonna say yes to our relationship.

She : Baby, now don't spoil your mood now. tell me what did u eat? hey whats the time there?

He : No. I want to talk about it.... him, sorry. why can't that $#%^& understand? he's sucha....

She : *now really angry* Stop it! You can't talk about my dad that way. He's my dad!!! he's..

He : *Raises voice* Yea right! he's ur darling dad. and I'm no one for u. I know it. I dunno why I even...

She : If u were no one, I wouldn't make this international call to you at 1 in the morning. do you get me? U cannot insult my dad. let me tell you for the 1000th time now.

He : *silence* ...

She : *silence* ...

He : sorry. I'm sorry. I shudn't have lost my cool.

She : *silence*

He : Babes, I sed i'm sorry. say something to me.

She : what do I say? each time i say something, you connect it to my dad and all hell breaks loose. i love you both. *starts crying*

He : baby, baybeee, please. please. dont cry now. what can i say now.

She : *sheepishly*. say you love me.

He : I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you to pieces. happy?

She : *giggles* i love you too. ok hold on... just a min....

He : why what happened?... hey? dont disconnect.

She : *silence*

He : whaaaat? wassup?

She : No nuthing. i thought dad got up. He'd hear me no?

He : Here we go again. U know. I think we shud elope. get married. and not show our faces ever again to your family. anyway, your dad and bully brother hate me. Aunty hates me too. Everyone in your family hates me ya! we shud run away.

She : does your mother like me?

He : She likes you.

She : *angry* Yeah right. That's why last time she taunted me at least a hundred times in 5 minutes. I have taken away her only kid' it seems. Now, I don't bring up ur mom everytime, do i? and you dad just doesn't care if his D-I-L is me or some other female, as far as she is not a gori mem! and guess what, you can avoid my parents for the rest of ur blissful life. But me? I have to bear yours all through mine.

He : *very angry* If u think u have to bear my parents, we can really call off this relationship, you know. Anyway, this long distance relationship isn't working. It'll save us a lot of headache, you know?

She : *Calmly* Are you serious about this? I have to know. But let me tell you, I have done a lot for this relationship to work.

He : *Calming down* I have too, you know. It's not simple. Listening to ur firang boss breathe down orders on you the whole day and get into personal mess after getting back home. Know what, even Captain Morgan doesn't help me forget all this.

She : Who's he?

He : The Boss? Firang hai yaa. leave him naa. I don wanna talk abt him now.

She : Noooo, Captain Morgan. Who's he?

He : *Irritated* arree yaar, Rum hai.

She : *shocked* You drink everyday?

He : No ya. not everyday!! don't be a typical girlfriend now. what else new? How's your job? Did ur friend get married?

She : Dude! She's 7 months pregnant now! what world are you in?

He : Ohhh? since when?

She : Since 7 months!!

He : DUH! i meant when did she get married?

She : Is it important? hey btw! I think I'm next in line for promotion.

He : oh? ok? cool.

She : That's it? I mean, u don't sound too excited. whats wrong.

He : naah nuthing. Just tired. so wassup with ur promotion thingy? Boss happy with you.

She : Change the tone, I dint like it!

He : Alright, alright! Is your work keeping your Boss happy... so much so that he thought of pushing you up your career ladder? Happy?

She : Now stop being sarcastic! If u don't wanna listen. don't. I won't tell u about it.

He : Baby. C'mon. tell me abt it.

She : hey no. some other time. its late now. almost an hour. Got office tomorrow.

He : hey 5 more minutes please. please.

She : No. Have to sleep ya. I wud love to talk the entire night.

He : Ok. you won't listen. will you dream about me?

She : Of cors sweetie. I dream every night about getting married to you.

He : and...?

She : and what? useless! nothing. then i wake up coz I have to go to the office and please my Boss, as you put it.

He : he he he he... I dream something more you know.

She : I've a censor board for my dreams. Now let me go.

He : I'm not holding you. Though I wish I were.

She : bye.

He : hey wait. what about our ritual?

She : nothing. get lost bye.

He : arrree...not fair. say naa..kaho naa pyaar hai..

She : sheeesh, how corny!! now you go to your firang boss.

He : Look, I'm straight.

She : YUCK! sheeeeeesh....go now. bye.

He : ritual?

She : BYE! Say bye!

He : *sighs* ok bye. when will i call you again?

She : you don't call me. I'll call you. Now bye.

He : I love you babes.

She : I love you too, baybee. byee.

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Concept of LDR - Long Distance Relationship was an inspiration from an incident narrated by a friend, KK.

Dialogue - Pure Imagination.

In case of any resemblance to any conversation between any LDR couple anywhere - I eavesdrop too well. :P

How do I say?

He was scared. How would he face her? How was he going to say those three words to her? It is going to be difficult, he concluded, kicking the stones while heading back home.

He couldn't think straight. All his concentration was gulped down by the realisation that he would have to look into her eyes and speak the ultimate truth. He was sure she loved him, but how would she react once she heard him out? Will she scream? shout? call him names? or just say...

Siiigh! he was going crazy with questions zooming in and out of his brain. He tried to think of something else... someone else... Yet again, he was haunted by her face. Her beautiful, luminous face that would contort with anger and resentment. 'No!, he thought forcefully, things won't be that bad.'

Then again, he considered hiding it from her for a few more days. A few more days to gather courage. A few more days to prevent the outbursts from her, if any. Why not see her smiling for just a few more days? Why not?

'NO!' his brain screamed... 'No, delaying this will not help... and what if she comes to know from someone else? that would be worse' he chided himself for having thought of this option. Now he had reached his frustration point. 'Shit! shit! shit!' he kicked the gravel off his path. There was nothing he could do now... his insides felt like he'd swallowed shards of glass.

He remembered his mom's words "You have to face fear to get over it" Now was the time to try it out. He would tell her... no matter what... he was as determined as a dutiful soldier. He'd now made the resolution. By now, he'd almost reached home. He saw her, standing by the rose bed in the garden. He marched up to her, forcing all the thoughts out of his mind. She looked at him and smiled... that soul stirring smile. He couldn't. He just stretched his hands and thrust the papers in her hand.

He took a deep breath and said 'Mom, I flunked!'

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P.S. Plz no chappals!

The wait

She subconsciously peered at the mirror that hung all over the plush, suave, white-dominated office. The A/C rhythmically hummed in the background. She tugged at her chignon deciding that it gave her too much of a corporate woman look. Her shiny copper coloured mane swiftly tumbled down her back. She once again consulted the mirror- her crisp off-white shirt and her knee-length maroon coloured skirt; complimented her skin as well as her hair colour.She was finally content.

She clutched at her leather portfolio while her lustrous eyes sought the digital clock silently gulping each minute. She'd been waiting for over two hours now. Biting nails is a dead give-away that you are nervous - she scolded herself grimly. She closed her eyes and lived her dream once again... of being on the top of the world... of reaching dizzying heights... of fame, fortune and goodwill.

'Miss, you are next' came a pleasant music-like instruction. After all it marked the end of her unending wait.

Once in, within 15 minutes, she was convinced that her step had faltered somewhere... that she wasn't going to make it where she wanted to reach... that her dream was but another dream... when the voice in front of her boomed "But, of course... each one makes many compromises during their course of life- whether they like it or not"

And she knew - her wait had just begun!

Betrayal

... he's gonna leave me for someone younger than me, someone who's "much more cuter" in his sister's opinion, someone who's more fun.

I don't know if I want to blame him. After all, he'd said the same things to me when I'd come in his life. I was his center of attraction, I meant the world for him, I was an apple of his eye. Then what is amiss so suddenly? Why does he do this to me? I can hardly fathom the reason for the distances between us. How did we grow apart... so easily? Is our relation so feeble that someone comes and and our love just drips dry? I have so many questions and he doesn't know the answers! Or does he... and he doesn't tell me? I'm a stranger now? So much so that we let the awkward silence do the talking between us?

There was a time when he shared his life with me. Every bit of it. Now, it is more of a ritual for him to spend the daily 2 minutes talk. And then we are back to being 2 stranger who hardly acknowledge the others' presence. I look deep into his eyes and they say nothing. I see no love, not even pity for me. I know he has outgrown me... he just wishes I wasn't with him. He wants to erase every memory, every moment that I've spent with him.He wants to write me off like a bad dream.

He's forgotten that it was me who stayed up till dawn waiting for him to get back home. He's forgotten that it was me who gave all his rants a silent hearing, not his mother, his father or his sister. Is he so heartless that he disregards all the good times we've had together? The long walks on the beach, the ephemeral hugs, the smiles that set me beaming?? All that gone.... just like that?

He hasn't told me her name. Infact he hasn't said anything at all... but I know it. One of these days, he's gonna leave me... let me go. I have to accept it however hard it'll be for me. Afterall, who cares for an old bitch like me?
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* Bitch = Female dog.

Disclaimer :: I'd like to believe that this originated in my head while watching some gibberish, hindi movie...which of course, had no relation whatsoever to this piece. If you think you have read it somewhere, some blog/ book, then in no way I intended to plagiarize it. Mera khud ka material hai.