Her Warrior Poet (Pune Diaries Book 1)

by Candy Laine

  “Anything.” This time his voice made it out louder. His black eyes had light brown flecks in them.

  “Do you like Thukpa? It is the cook’s speciality.” Shweta tried to do a quick look over to see if there was something wrong with him. Other than the obvious fact that he had a bullet wound and was obviously in need of some rest.

  “I love Thukpa.” Arun couldn’t figure out why he felt so breathless. Perhaps it was the altitude, but he had been in high altitude for nearly six months now. Surely he was acclimatized by now? “Can he make it with some egg?”

  Shweta ordered the dish and within minutes it was placed before Arun. He saw she was eating the same thing. He dug into his own Thukpa, relishing the warmth the soup sent down his system. It was comfort food. It was just as comforting sharing the table with the pretty young doctor sitting opposite him. He saw the spoon enter her open mouth and his hand paused on the way to his own. She had such perfect lips. How would they feel when he kissed her?

  “Are you feeling alright?” She reached out a hand and touched his wrist. The jolt of lightening that the physical contact sent up his spine snapped him out of his trance. Kiss her? What on earth was he thinking? He barely knew her.

  Arun looked down at her dainty but competent fingers resting on his pulsing vein in the wrist. She was checking his heart rate. He looked at the volume of poetry lying next to her plate. A pretty bookmark tucked into it. She liked poetry. Could she be any more perfect? Focus on the now.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I’ll be leaving now.” He said as he emptied his bowl.

  “Yes, you should go back to the ward and rest. You are obviously exhausted and I have rounds to make.”

  “No, I wasn’t talking about resting in the ward. I will be leaving the hospital now.”

  Shweta sighed. He would have to be the tough guy when both of them knew he was in no condition to leave.“I’m afraid that would be difficult as you are in a terrible state. I can’t allow you to travel.”

  “I know,” Arun smiled and she was surprised that he agreed with her, “but I’ll survive the trip back to the unit.”

  “You are just being irresponsible about your own health. I won’t let you do it.”

  “You can’t force me to stay.” Arun’s eyes seemed to tell her he wished she could. “Thank you for all your help, but I have to go now. My Commanding Officer expects me back before sundown.”

  Arun got up from the table, feeling much better for the rest and the food. He shot her a smart salute and walked out of the cafeteria. Shweta was frozen in her seat for a moment before she realized he was walking out on her. Her stomach felt hollow despite the delicious Thukpa she had just eaten.

  As he sat in the jeep waiting for Ramphal to get into the vehicle, Shweta walked out of the hospital. He lowered the glass and she held out a strip of medicine. “You may need these if it gets too bad.” Arun took the painkillers from her hand. Before she could withdraw her hand he caught it in his and brought the back of her hand to his lips.

  “Thank you.” He said as he kissed her hand, while he looked right into her eyes. His lips lingered a second more before he released her hand. His eyes seemed to scan her as though he was trying to imprint her image on his brain. His intensity cast a spell which cut out the rest of the world creating an intimate zone where just the two of them existed.

  Ramphal slammed his door shut and started the engine. The spell broke. Shweta withdrew her hand back to her chest and he waved at her with a smile. What a face transforming smile it was! She stood there watching him wave with his head out of the window as the jeep disappeared out of sight.

  The spot where he had kissed her hand tingled. She shoved her hand inside a pocket. Then she hunched her shoulders and marched back into the hospital. It was just as well, she told herself. No good ever came out of becoming involved with a man in uniform. Still she couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss as she wrapped her arms around herself.

  Shweta struggled with her desire to run after the jeep and stop him. She turned back to the hospital building. Remember your promise to yourself. Focus on what’s to be done next. Get through this shift and get back to her reading. Captain Arun Rastogi was a nice diversion, but a temporary diversion was all he could ever be.

  That night Arun wrote a sonnet in his diary.

  Meeting My Muse

  The first time we met,

  The world stood still.

  There was no way to forget,

  Such beauty wounded to kill.

  Those dark eyes were hard to miss,

  They inspired my love.

  Those lips invited a kiss,

  Was all I could think of.

  I had no coherent thought,

  There was just her.

  Her approval was all I sought,

  That beautiful saboteur.

  In her arms there was fire

  There was love and desire.

  For the first time he knew what it meant to write to a muse. There she was, unattainable and inspiring. Just beyond his reach. He wondered if their paths would ever cross again. He closed his diary and tucked it safely away. Then he pulled his blanket up and stroked the Bukhari so that the room would stay warm. The chill in the room was nothing compared to the chill in his heart at the thought of never seeing her again.

  o0o

  5

  Of Best Friends and Weddings

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  I'm nobody! Who are you?

  Are you nobody, too?

  Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!

  They'd banish us; you know!

  Emily Dickinson

  It had been two years since Shweta had returned to Pune. She missed her research work in the mountains of Sikkim, but enjoyed the routine at the hospital. The glorious view and natural beauty aside, she was glad to not be cold and shivering all the time. It was nice to be home and have friends and family close by.

  She enjoyed being back, but sometimes couldn’t help but feel she was missing something. Shweta parked her car on MG Road, thankful that she didn’t have to hunt too hard for a parking spot as she walked the short distance to Wonderland. The boutique’s owner had called her to say that the lehenga was ready.

  She was going to meet her best friend from school at the boutique. Rahat was getting married and had insisted that Shweta get her lehenga at the same place she was shopping for her bridal trousseau. Since it got her a discount, Shweta had been happy to oblige. She would be meeting their school friend circle after nearly a decade and she wanted to look her best.

  Shweta thought about the mini reunion they would have because of the wedding. It would be nice to catch up with old friends. She strolled up the stairs into the Wonderland complex and headed for the boutique. Her friend Rahat was already there, waiting for her.

  “Finally,” she got up to give Shweta a hug, “I’ve already tried out all my blouses.”

  “How many of them?” Shweta asked.

  “About a dozen,” Rahat smiled sheepishly as she pointed to the pile on the counter. She was looking forward to her big fat Punjabi wedding. It included a week full of activities and ceremonies as part of the festivities. Family would be arriving from all over the country and abroad for the occasion. Since Rahat was the only child of her parents, all their relatives were making it a point to be present for what was surely going to be an extremely extravagant affair.

  “So I thought I should wear this one on the first day with my own family,” Rahat shook out the blouse and showed Shweta. “I’m sorry you can’t be there because Ma insisted that it should be only family for the first dinner, but the next day we will have my Haldi ceremony. That means all friends get to come as well, and you simply have to be there…”

  Shweta listened with distracted thoughts as the boutique owner shoved her own blouse into her hand and pointed to the changing stall. When Shweta continued to stand and nod at Rahat the lady practically herded her to the trial area. Shweta realized that Rahat’s enthusiastic comments were going to c
arry on irrespective of an audience.

  Rahat was detailing the aspects of the Haldi ceremony, Mehendi ceremony, Ladies Sangeet, the formal engagement called Rokka, the actual Wedding Ceremony and finally the Wedding Reception. Shweta loved her friend dearly but was happy to hide in the changing room as Rahat shared details of each individual ceremony and what she could expect in the seven days.

  About half an hour later, with her freshly altered blouse and lehenga in her shopping bag, Shweta helped Rahat carry all her dresses out of the boutique. She led the way to her car where they dumped all the bags and locked it up. Then they headed to the Chinese Room for dinner. It was their favourite place to get Chinese food, and Shweta’s favourite restaurant in all of Pune.

  As Rahat continued to speak of her wedding, her fiancé and a number of other seemingly unrelated things, Shweta pasted a polite smile on her face and mentally drifted off. All through dinner she tried to make the appropriate responses when expected, but by the end of the hour she was very close to screaming out her frustration.

  She promptly excused herself and headed for the wash-room behind the cashier’s table. She loved coming to this place. It held a lot of good memories. The cashier at his little table gave her a smile as she climbed the couple of stairs down towards the wash-room and realized that it was occupied.

  She leaned against the wall, head back and eyes closed. She tried to concentrate on her breathing and calm herself down before she decided to go back and yell at her friend. The door to the wash-room opened. She straightened up from the wall as she opened her eyes and saw a man trip over the wrinkled lump in the carpet and fall to the floor right at her feet.

  An odd sense of déjà vu hit her as she quickly bent to check if he was hurt. He raised his head and her breath caught in her throat. It was him. Those black eyes with brown flecks looked right into hers. The warrior she had met in Sikkim. What was his name? For a few moments the world seemed to stand still as she looked into his eyes, then he stood up. She recovered her senses and he mumbled a quick sorry as he walked away.

  Shweta’s breath whooshed out of her. She didn’t even know she had been holding it. She looked at his back as he disappeared from view. He hadn’t even recognized her. She should have been relieved but instead, foolishly, she felt disappointed. She may not be the prettiest young thing around, but her sentiments were hurt that she could be forgotten so easily.

  She would have been happier to make a more lasting impression. For a moment she had been sure recognition had flickered in his eyes, but then he had simply walked away. It stung her feminine pride that he had not recognized her. Was she so forgettable?

  She thought she looked fairly attractive in the mirror of the wash-room as she washed her hands. Still, none of the men she knew ever seemed interested in her romantically. They all thought of her as one of the boys. A good pal to hang out with. Someone who enjoyed sports and could be included in all team activities. It was a good thing, she reminded herself. She was not looking to get involved with anyone.

  She could not afford to fall in love. She knew just how badly that hurt. She had seen her mother go through hell when they lost her father. Even today Urmila was just a shell of her former self. There was no way Shweta was going to open her heart up to that kind of hurt, ever. It was perfectly alright that she never attracted any romantically inclined men. But damn it! She was a woman. And she wished that Captain Arun Rastogi had at least remembered her. After all she obviously remembered him and his name well enough.

  When Shweta got back to their table Rahat was on the cell phone muttering, “I love you…no I love you more… no I do.”

  Shweta hid her smile as she slipped into her chair while Rahat flushed pink and finally said, “I have to go now, Shweta is here. Bye.” Rahat blew a kiss into the phone and hung up. Shweta tried looking at the patrons seated at the other tables discretely.

  “That was Gagan.” Rahat smiled at Shweta.

  “Really” Shweta laughed, “I would have never guessed”. She leaned out of the way as Rahat playfully swatted at her arm.

  As they paid the bill she realized that the person she was looking for was no longer in the restaurant. Perhaps he had left while she was in the wash-room. For some reason she was feeling very disappointed. Then Rahat’s chatter cut through her thoughts and they walked out of the building. She was immensely relieved when she finally reached home that evening after dropping off Rahat.

  o0o

  6

  When Two Worlds Collide

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  We never know how high we are

  Till we are asked to rise

  And then if we are true to plan

  Our statures touch the skies

  Emily Dickinson

  Shweta had promised not be late for the Haldi ceremony. It was the first major celebration in Rahat’s week long marriage plans. She wanted to melt into the shadows, while making sure that she was there to support her friend. She was not looking forward to the rest of their friends asking after her love life. Especially when it was as non-existent as she knew it to be.

  With her duties at the hospital, her continuing research reports and her mother, there was barely any time for her to attend this wedding. However she had promised Rahat that she would be there for all the ceremonies and had managed to wrangle her schedule at the hospital accordingly. Now if only she did not have to go there as Rahat’s “Single” friend. Wish she could have borrowed a boyfriend to keep the matchmaking aunts at bay.

  Briefly her mind thought of Captain Arun Rastogi. A handsome man in uniform would have been just the thing, unfortunately it was not to be. Almost as if her thoughts had conjured him up she saw him walking into the venue of Rahat’s Haldi ceremony. Shweta almost banged her car into the one before her. Had she seen him? Or was it just a trick her eyes played on her? Before she could make up her mind either way the valet was asking for her keys.

  She relinquished them and grabbed the golden potli bag that Rahat had insisted went with the simple yellow with zari work salwar kameez that she had chosen to wear for the Haldi ceremony. Shweta walked into the reception hall and saw the placard with directions. Apparently the Groom’s party was in the Seasons Hall and the Bride’s party was congregating in the Cornucopia Hall.

  The Haldi ritual comprised of the smearing of an auspicious paste of turmeric, flour and mustard oil on the Groom in a purification ritual to prepare for the wedding ceremony. The same paste was then symbolically carried to the Bride and smeared on her. Having both parties present in the same hotel made life easier. A decade earlier, the platter containing the paste would have been ceremonially carried by the Groom’s family members to the house of the Bride.

  Modern life left little time to follow the quirks of tradition. Shweta was just thinking how much simpler it would be for the Bride and Groom to simply head to the courthouse and get a registered marriage done. One magistrate of the law, two witnesses, five signatures and it was all over. No need to make a song and dance about the whole affair. However Rahat had decided that she wanted the whole elaborate affair.

  Shweta held her breath as she opened the door to the Cornucopia Hall. As expected it was teeming with Rahat’s female relatives. The menfolk, she learnt, were relegated to the hotel bar. The chattering, the music and the general hustle bustle made her wish she was anywhere but there. She caught sight of Rahat and decided to register her presence.

  “You’re here.” Rahat squealed with excitement.

  “Yes I am.” She couldn’t help but smile at Rahat’s excitement.

  “I was so worried that there had been an emergency at the hospital and you would miss the ceremony.” Rahat quoted Shweta’s last excuse to skip a meal with her. Shweta felt her face flush when she thought about the lie.

  A screech behind her brought her hands to her ears. Then she was surrounded by three girls in rich silk ghagras. They were hugging her and air kissing her cheeks and she was looking totally nonplussed till Rahat got up and smiled.


  “You remember our dear friends Teena, Ashima and Ananya from school?” Rahat had a twinkle in her eye and Shweta knew she was deliberately making her uncomfortable. The trio had been friends with Rahat all through but just barely tolerated her company. Dear friends they were not, and Rahat was well aware of that fact.

  Shweta groaned inside her head and pasted a smile on her face. It was Rahat’s wedding, naturally the three of them would be invited. She could play nice for Rahat’s sake.

  “Of course.” She smiled in their general direction, “How are you doing?”

  “Oh I’m fabulous,” Teena stuck her hand under Shweta’s nose. “I’m engaged. The next wedding you attend will probably be mine. He’s so handsome.”

  “Oh, congratulations.” Shweta asked hesitantly, “So what does he do?”

  “He doesn’t need to do anything.” Ashima chimed in dryly, “He’s handsome and he’s rich.”

  “His family runs a business.” Teena rolled her eyes at Ashima. “He does need to work in the office, at times.”

  Great thought Shweta. She looked at Ananya, out of the three she was always the quiet one. She was about to ask her what she was doing these days when there was a sudden commotion outside the hall door.

  “It’s come.” Rahat squeezed Shweta’s hand. The platter was brought in by four ladies from the Groom’s family and now the ceremony would formally begin for the Bride. As Rahat took her seat on the mat on the floor between the four oil lamps that were symbolically lit, all the married women present at the venue smeared the ubtan paste on her along with the oil.

  They wished Rahat a happy married life. Then the single friends took over and pretty much covered her from head to toe with the yellow paste. Rahat was swimming in it when she finally got up and laughed. She was now officially not allowed to meet her groom alone till the wedding. The game was on!