11 HOURS
11 HOURS
Daniel Paul Singh
WRITE INDIA PUBLISHERS www.writeindia.in First published by
Write India Publishers in 2017 WRITE INDIA PUBLISHERS Ahmedabad 380022
[email protected] www.writeindia.in
Contact: +91-8866248175
First Edition: October, 2017
Copyright © Daniel Paul Singh 2017
Daniel Paul Singh asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
ISBN: 978-81-933791-5-8
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Printed and bound in India. All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, and recording otherwise, without the prior written permission of the Publishers.
For my mom, dad and wife
Part 1
The Couple
Chapter 1 Diana Date: Oct 20, 2016
Time: 10.00 PM
I barely had 11 days to plan a surprise for Diana, for our second
anniversary, which fell on the 1st of November. I couldn’t believe that it had been two years since I first held her hands in mine. Time indeed flies. Wish the earth revolved a little slower around the sun.
Marriages are made in heaven and mine was fixed with an angel, Diana. I am Robin, 28 year old, Tamil, the boy next door of medium build, who hated his glasses, wore lenses, was careless and at times absolutely hopeless! Nonetheless, I aspired to be a famous writer someday and doubtlessly believed in everything that my wife said. She was my encyclopedia romantica.
Diana was not my better half, but the best half. She was everything a guy could ever wish for: short, cute, an amazing smile and big expressive eyes that spoke a thousand stories with every second.
“You know why short girls are cute? Because it’s easy for men to kiss our forehead” she said once.
“Nah, it’s easy for us to give a knuckle punch if you keep talking like this.” I pretended to give a knuckle punch, she pinched me and ran away.
She was my stress buster, entertainer and a perfect partner in crime. Life after marriage was a roller coaster ride, with two years feeling like two minutes and every minute with her feeling like an eternity.
Diana’s parents called her Dorcas.
“Dorcas? It rhymes with dark ass!” I uttered when I heard it for the first time. She raised her right eyebrow, which was a subtle indication of her mood – a fake anger which would soon erupt into a fist fight.
So quickly I followed that up with “But you do have an amazing ass.”
She chuckled with embarrassment. But it was true; she had the best derriere in town.
Diana was working with Galarena India, which was in Ascendas on OMR, a notorious road famous for IT companies, late night rides, couples in love, call girls and rapists alike. Her office was about 15 minutes away from Thoraipakkam, where we stayed.
She worked in the late afternoon shift from 2 PM to 10 PM. She would start from her office at 10.30 PM in her office cab and would reach home at 10.45 PM sharp, daily. Every day she would give me a call before she boarded the cab and then would keep on texting me till she arrived home. I insisted that she do that. It was hard to trust anyone including our own shadows, especially after the Swati murder case.
The clock in my room showed 10.00 PM. I had 45 more minutes to plan for the anniversary gift. Right next to the clock was a framed photo which read “Best Husband Award”, something that Diana had presented to me on my 27th birthday (the first one I celebrated with her). That birthday, I had left for office early and around 11 AM, I was summoned to the cafeteria by Prabhu, where I found my wife waiting for me with a cake and that gift. I was genuinely surprised.
It was only later that I came to know that she had contacted Prabhu, got all necessary permissions and took tumultuous efforts to reach my office to gift me that award in front of all my team mates. I was on cloud nine - a day I could never forget in my life.
Ever since our wedding, birthdays and anniversaries had an all new, different meaning to both of us. What mattered during these special occasions was how the two of us could outdo each other in coming up with our insanely unique and innovative gifts. We would spend months on deciding the gifts, and make sure that each of us had the most memorable celebration, by the sheer amount of surprises we planned for the other. It all started when I gave her 24 gifts for her 24th birthday – which saw her reactions change from surprise, wonder, excitement, joy, love and eventually tears.
“Of all the gifts I gave you, which one did you like the most?” I asked.
“You” she replied instantly.
Since that birthday, Diana had turned into a gifting monster herself and started to anoint me with innumerable gifts for every possible occasion. She even gifted me last year on “International Men’s Day” and as I was happily opening my gift she uttered, “Do you know? Today is also World Toilet Day!” I paused for a moment, looked at her as she laughed uncontrollably but then I continued to open the gift like nothing happened. Men are the real victims. She once presented 30 gifts to my best friend Prabhu on his 30th birthday and from then on, he also joined our ‘gang of gifting goondas’.
I couldn’t help but smile thinking of all of this as I further scanned my laptop for ideas, while in parallel keeping a tab on the Brazzers site. One of the ideas suggested was for a photo collage. It was nothing new, but the other ideas I had were very few, so I decided to give that a view. I opened up the folders in my laptop and browsed through all the photos we had taken over the last two years, in ascending order.
Photos had their own unique way of bringing back sweet memories, add to it that Diana’s were poetry on canvas. It started with the bouquet I had gifted her during our first date. Then there were the photos of our first memorable dinner, the first saree I had gifted her, our engagement pictures, and there were also the honeymoon photos which were way too personal to describe.
Diana had long silky hair, like those shampoo models, in all those photos. Once we returned from our honeymoon, I took her to Green Trends for her first haircut. After the usual enquiries, she was taken in by a stylist and came back after 40 minutes in a completely new avatar. I was stunned to see her fresh, stylish look and stood frozen with my mouth agape. She snapped her fingers in front of my face and brought me back to reality. I couldn’t stop myself from admiring her, even the staff working there kept praising her new look. She looked stunningly beautiful in her shortened, fluffy, free-flowing hair. I wanted to kiss her right then, but just held her hand tight and took her home with the adrenaline rush still intact. Should I even tell what we did when we reached home?
A week post the hair cut, her mom came to our house and was shocked to see her daughter in that stylish hair style (was she jealous? I would never know). We then had a huge argument with her mom, who wasn’t merciful on me for westernizing her daughter and cursed that I would go to hell, along with Diana. Little did she know, I’d love each and every minute of hell as well, if Diana was around.
‘Love you’ was the word that we exchanged the most on any given day, only next to ‘Bubbly’. Well, that was how she addressed me! I liked the way it sounded when she uttered it. To rhyme with her, I called her ‘Gubbly’ and we became the “Bubbly-Gubbly” couple. Could we be any cheesier?
Every night before we slept, I had to give her a good night kiss and tell her how much I loved her. Even after two years of marriage she wouldn’t sleep without clutching the tip of my T shirt. It was a practice that became a habit and eventually turned out to be the way of life for us.
“What makes you think you are any different?” she shot back.
“Duh... Come on baby. Be serious.” I knew she was pulling my leg.
“Do you really want to know?” She asked.
“Yes, tell me.” I insisted.
“I don’t know Bubbly. Maybe, I would have lived an unfulfilled life but nevertheless he would have got the best wife in the world.” she quipped with pride and I agreed without a second thought.
“But I am lucky that God gave me you and you gave me the freedom I had always longed for.” she added.
“Who am I to give you, your freedom? It’s your life, you have to live it the way you want, Gubbly.” I said with a smile. She hugged me. See, we could be cheesier.
Though I was liberal in many ways, both our parents were orthodox and strict, and it was difficult for Diana to listen to all their advice patiently. She had let go of her comfort zone, her home, the place where she had lived all her life and had become a part of another household of someone she barely knew of - different culture, cooking styles, clothing, washing, snoring and what not, but she still managed to get accustomed to it all and lead a happy life.
Despite fitting into the nitty-gritty demands of my house, she kept her identity intact all along. She never compromised her ambitions and relentlessly focused on pursuing her goals - that of becoming a successful graphic designer. She was a rare combination of a child, a mentor and a consoler, and seamlessly transitioned between these roles as the situation demanded. I loved every version of hers dearly, while the child remained close to my heart.
I always kept pulling her leg saying, “You know Gubbly, I think I did not pray well and that is why God gave me a kid like you as my wife. Maybe, you prayed so well that he gave you such an understanding husband like me.”
“I think I didn’t pray well enough Bubbly; else, I would have got a good mother-in-law as well!” she said and pretended to be dejected. I gave her a playful rap on her head.
A couple of weeks ago I had met with a minor accident while returning home from office. A speeding vehicle had hit my bike from behind as I was trying to take a turn towards my street. The driver didn’t stop, but looked at me and sped away like a coward. Thankfully I was driving pretty slowly and the impact of the fall was minimal. I was able to get up on my feet and go to a nearby hospital, all by myself. Diana was worried on hearing the news and rushed to the hospital immediately from her office.
The doctors told that I had suffered a concussion and that it warranted a minor operation in the back of my head. I was hospitalized for four days and Diana was by my side taking care of me every single minute. She kept praying fervently, kneeling on the hospital floor for long hours. Whenever I woke up in the middle of the night, I could find her praying by my bedside, pleading to the Lord for my speedy recovery. I did recover fast and she believed it was because of her prayers. I never doubted it.
Not everyone can make you smile as soon as their name flashes in your mind except your loved ones. I smiled again like a lunatic, thinking of Diana and looking at the honey moon pictures with her long hair and then looking at her first picture after haircut.
Hoping to resume the task at hand, I looked at the clock. It showed 10.35 PM. Diana hadn’t called me yet, where was she?
In a way, it was good. Else, she would be pestering me with a myriad of questions to know what I was doing at that exact moment. I sighed and turned towards the monitor. There was a pop up message from a horny girl who was staying in the next street, calling me for sex – stupid Brazzers! I wondered how a computer server located somewhere in the US knew about who was horny in the street next to me. Sometimes I feel machine learning has reached its apotheosis only when it comes to matters of sexual nature. I laughed it off.
I closed the pop up window and started to focus on the photos. As a few unworried seconds passed by, a baffling discomfort overwhelmed me. I felt a sudden surge of pain at the back of my head where I had been operated. I tried to concentrate, but couldn’t. To divert my thoughts I took my phone to look at the WhatsApp messages. There were quite a lot of unread messages but none of it was from Diana. She hadn’t called, nor had she texted. Her WhatsApp last seen status glared at me from the screen ‘last seen at 8 PM’.
There are times when you have a hunch that something is wrong with your loved ones. They could be miles apart, but deep down in your heart you would know that they aren’t alright. I felt so at that moment. Perturbed by an inexplicable uneasiness along with a rein of doubt, I dialed her number. It took two seconds for the automated voice to reply that her number was switched off. She would never turn off her phone; I knew that for sure.
I looked at the clock, it was 10.38 PM. A wave of anxiety engulfed me. I tried hard to keep all the negative thoughts away but they rapidly swirled in my mind. I became restless. A deluge of uncertainty embraced me as I dialed her number once again, in panic.
₪ ₪ ₪
Chapter 2 The First Meet
10.38 PM: A deluge of uncertainty engulfed me as I dialed her number once again, in panic. The number was still switched off. I had a bad feeling about it.
I wasn’t sure if I should be alarmed or wait for a few more minutes for her to arrive, but my heart was pounding hard already. The clock was ticking. I couldn’t browse any further and kept trying her number again and again. Her mobile remained switched off. For a minute I just wanted to throw the phone and break it, but thinking of the salary I was receiving, decided against it.
I closed the laptop and pulled my phone off the charger. I was moving around aimlessly in my room. My parents had gone to our hometown and I was home alone. After a few minutes of desperation, I decided to go downstairs and wait for her at the gate of our apartment. I was in my cargo shorts. Deciding against changing my clothes, I locked the door and went down stairs. I took my mobile as well. I desperately hoped my gut feeling would be wrong. I prayed that nothing should have happened to Diana and it should be a one off case where her mobile ran out of charge.
“Why didn’t she charge her phone?” I was frustrated. “My mobile battery never dies down the entire day.” she had once told me when we were having a casual discussion on how long our mobile batteries last. Hers outdid mine hands down.
“May be you should use your phone for that, browse something, or at least look at it once in a while.” I said. Diana never used her phone while at office. If I called her, she would never pick my call and even if she picked, she would talk in whispers and even if she talked it would be ‘I am busy now, talk to you later’. At times the automated voice conversed more than her.
“Using my phone at office is neither necessary nor needed. Moreover, I can’t use my mobile at office hours, it’s against our policy.” she had replied casually.
“Baby, am I not more important than your policy?” I asked, putting up a baby face.
“Not when I am inside Galarena.” she said without any remorse.
“Savage! You know, I bet you will use it one day so much that your battery will die and that very day you will get lost somewhere.” I almost cursed her.
“Even if I get lost, it’s you who has to come and rescue me.” she teasingly hit me with her purse.
I fervently prayed that nothing like that should have happened to her. She must have overused her phone owing to the free Wi-Fi at her office and must have forgotten to charge it. A million harrowing thoughts fired my mind and I relentlessly kept negating them. There was no stopping my anxious mind from listing out the daunting conclusions at times of uncertainty.
‘10.40 Pm’
My mobile display screen flashed the time disconcertingly as the minutes ticked by. My heartbeat increased profusely. The watchman of our apartment gazed at my anxious face and came to have an unsolicited conversation.
“Enna thambi, wife ah? {What brother, your wife?).” He asked with a stupid smile. He
was dressed in his usual navy blue uniform.
“Aama na! [Yes brother]” I sighed visibly disturbed.
“She will come this late ah?” he probed further.
“Yes na... she has a cab... it will drop her in five minutes.”
“Oh Okay... those days no, we never let our women stay out after 6 Pm... times have changed, wonder what gains you have!” his words of wisdom were totally uncalled for.
I glared at him thoroughly exasperated. I did not want to explain to him about the house rent I was paying and the exorbitant school fees I will have to pay in a few years. I just turned a cold shoulder and simply fixed my eyes on the road. The vast road was nearly empty with just one or two vehicles moving in their own sluggish pace. There was an emptiness surrounding me, I could hear my own heartbeat. I let out a sigh.
10:43 PM: Just two more minutes were left of the usual time for her cab to arrive. I looked at my phone – no notifications. I regretted neither taking down her cab driver’s number, nor storing any contacts of her cab mates.
I had once asked her for the contact number of Ankurita, her cab mate.
“That girl is still single. She is lean, very fair and just the type you would like. But, don’t even think of getting her number from me.” Diana had warned.
“I just want to note it down to contact her in case of any emergency baby.” I had replied calmly.
“In case of any emergency, dial 100!” Diana had fumed.
“Come on, darling!”
“Here then! Take this number.” she had continued reluctantly, “This guy comes in my cab too!”
“A guy’s number, duh!” I didn’t bother to take his number after that kind of a conversation.
Honestly, I wasn’t particularly a flirt (ok, I am), but she was definitely possessive.
I haven’t seen wives who are that possessive. She wouldn’t even allow me to sit next to a girl in a share auto and would give a cold stare, warning me by waving her forefinger up and down. I am not sure whether she would have been this possessive had ours been a love marriage. Yes, ours was an arranged marriage.
11 Hours Page 1
