Though I hated him at that moment, I still said, ‘Yes, just a second. We are coming down. See you there.’
We were about to leave that room, when she screamed one more time. ‘Shit! I forgot this,’ she said, looking at the big plastic bags which Neeru had left at the entrance to the room.
She quickly picked them up and said, ‘Shona, this is for you.’
‘What is this?’
‘Open it.’
I did what she asked. A blue-striped shirt with a Park Avenue tag and two ties: one, black with white stripes in the middle; the other, steel-coloured. I was so pleased. A girl bought something for me … My Khushi bought something for me. And I suddenly recalled a couple of managers from my office whom I used to see, at times, in shops along with their wives, who were selecting shirts for them. I felt good, realizing all those things were happening to me now. New things, different things, beautiful things.
‘For me?’ I asked her. ‘No. For that fat cab driver,’ she tried to tease me. ‘Really? You had an affair with him too?’ I teased her back. ‘Shut up,’ she responded with a smile but her eyes wanted me to fear her. Then she reminded me, ‘I have to rush now. It has started raining.’
‘Oh yes. Let’s go,’ I said, dropping the box on the bed behind me and stepping out of the room. This time I made sure to walk beside her, and she acknowledged that with her mischievous smile.
We were about to reach the reception when I couldn’t control myself any more and asked her, ‘Why are you leaving Khushi? Don’t go … Please.’ And my speech paused there, along with my feet.
She stopped there as well and held my hand in hers and said, ‘Just a couple of months and I won’t have to leave you this way. I will be all yours.’ There was so much love in those words as if, from now on, she was going to take care of me forever.
‘I know,’ I said.
‘Now shall we go before Girish gives another call?’
‘Yes.’
Back at the reception, we met Neeru and Girish again. They were trying to tease Khushi with their faces and expressions but she was, somehow, managing everything with her simple smiles, digressing from what they wanted to hear. We all stood there for a few minutes before they went to their cab which was parked outside the hotel.
It was drizzling. They got seated and the cab reversed. They were leaving and my eyes were following the left window from which she was waving to me. I almost ran into the middle of the road to catch a last glimpse of her for the day. Then the cab took a right turn at the end of the street and she disappeared.
But Oh! I loved the light rain shower and looked up at the sky, thanking the heavenly firmament.
That day did not end there, though.
A few minutes later, I was in my room, busy performing my victory dance and singing the lines ‘pehla nasha, pehla khumaar.’ Just like in the movie, I placed my left foot on the bed and jumped back on the ground to my right, in slow motion. The only difference being, my landing was not successful and I broke the glass of water placed beside the TV.
Shattered glass on the floor. And silence …
Standing alone, in front of the mirror I scolded my reflection, ‘See what you have done?’
The very next moment, my reflection smiled and murmured, ‘naya pyaar hai, naya imtihaan.’
I was out of control, wondering how I could tell the world that I was the happiest man on the planet at that moment. The feelings within me were straining to come out. And I don’t know whether I was failing to handle them, or celebrating them in the best possible way.
Finally, I grabbed my cell again to give her a call and tell her, ‘You are damn beautiful. You are so perfect … I am so lucky …’ I went on and on, and she heard all that with a smile.
She was still in that cab and I could hear giggling voices around her. All she said was, ‘And vice versa. I have so much to say, but just can’t. You know na.’
We talked for a very short while and then I ordered my dinner which arrived in another ten minutes. By 10.30, I had eaten and the bellboy came to my room to collect the dinner plates and bowls.
‘How was the food, sir?’ he asked.
Did I really notice the taste? Forget the taste, did I even know what dishes I had eaten? All I could think of was her face, the way it appeared when I pulled her in my arms, her eyes and her fragrance which still persisted in my breath.
But I answered, ‘Oh yes, it was good.’
He gathered the plates and left my room.
By 11.30, I still couldn’t sleep, though I was tired. I was hung over on something so different, for the first time. I was celebrating the spirit of being in love. Everything around me appeared beautiful because the only thing running through my mind was beautiful.
She too was going through something similar, I learnt when she called me at last. And we talked for a long time, candidly: confessing our fears; describing the thoughts flowing in our mind when we saw each other at the airport, when I sat on the front seat, leaving her behind, when I locked the door of my room from inside once Neeru and Girish had left, when I pulled her in my arms; our happiness, the euphoria in which we still were. I don’t remember when, exactly, we slept …
The next morning, I was waiting for Girish. Khushi had called me up to tell me that Girish would be coming to Delhi for some work and would pick me up on his way back to Faridabad. There, for the first time, I’d meet Khushi’s family—except for her dad who was in Punjab, taking part in some religious event at a gurudwara there.
While I waited for him, I spent my time doing some peculiar things. Standing in front of the mirror, I practiced lines which I might have to say in front of her family in different situations. I wanted my facial expressions and body language to make a good impression on her family. So, I rehearsed some common lines:
‘No, no, my parents won’t have any issues if she carries on with her career after marriage. In fact, I am marrying her because she is a career-oriented girl.’ (With a brilliant use of the hands.)
‘I’m not sure if we’ll move north so soon but, yes, the plans are there.’ (With confidence.)
‘Oh yes, I can cook. In my work-related trips abroad I learnt that, you know. It might not be as delicious as what she can prepare, but it serves its purpose.’ (With a smile.)
And so on.
It was 10 a.m. To kill some more time, I moved out to the lounge. I was nervous again as I left my room. The nervousness of facing so many new people at once. In the lounge, I glanced through the newspaper and had a cup of tea, which was my only breakfast. I wasn’t feeling hungry at all, but excited and thrilled.
A few minutes later, my cellphone beeped. It was an SMS from her.
Girish wl b dere by 10.15.
B ready and Gud Luk. A few
hrs from now u’ll b among
ur would be in laws. :-)
As soon as I read her message, a new number flashed on my cell’s screen. This time, it was Girish calling me outside. I quickly finished my tea, put the newspaper back in the rack and left the hotel.
Soon, I was in his Qualis. Obviously, his dad was a big man. On our way to Faridabad, he kept telling me about his dad, who had been an MLA some years back. He kept talking about his investments in real estate and in shares. And I kept replying with ‘ok,’ ‘yeah’ and ‘oh really’—not really listening to his big talk. All that was going through my mind at that point was how things would pan out in the next couple of hours. I had never been to any in-laws till then! With the rest of our relatives, it was always the boy’s family who went to the girl’s. But here, things were so different. I was all alone. So many thoughts going through my mind …
I am all alone. Damn! I don’t even believe I am doing this, going to visit my in-laws.
Do I need to tell her mother one more time that I love Khushi?
Thank God her dad is not home.
I should sound mature. A responsible citizen. Shit! Not citizen. A responsible person who will keep their Khushi very happy for
the rest of her life.
What will her home be like? Bigger than mine?
Is anybody going to ask me my salary? Should I add a few more thousands to the figure?
They have a big car too and I have just a bike—not even a Pulsar, at that.
Damn! What all I am thinking? Shit!
‘What happened?’ asked Girish. ‘No, no, nothing,’ I said, wondering if he heard my thoughts. ‘Hey! Hey! Aisa hi hota hai,’ he mocked my condition. ‘What do you mean, aisa hi hota hai?’ I asked to hide my restlessness. ‘Kuch nahin,’ he said with a smile and put on some music. After almost an hour, we reached our destination. On the way, I bought a pineapple cake for them from a confectionary in Faridabad, which Girish said was one of the best in their city. ‘Here we are. Lo aa gaya aapka sasuraal,’ said Girish. ‘Boy! This is it,’ I said to myself.
I took a deep breath and got down from the vehicle and looked at the white-coloured house in front of me. Then I opened the black gate and walked in. There were a few plants, with flowers blossoming in them. A tiled veranda, half of which was covered with a shed. I knocked on the door in front of me, while Girish came after locking his car.
Somebody opened the door and I was excited to see who it was going to be.
Her mom. In a very simple and decent suit. No makeup at all, simply a kada in her right hand. She appeared as simple as my mom. She smiled when she opened the door to welcome me in.
‘Sat Sri Akal,’ I said and bent down to touch her feet.
‘Sat Sri Akal beta ji,’ she said kissing my forehead.
Her mom was delighted to see me. Finally, I was in front of her eyes. She was seeing, for the first time, the person who was going to take her beloved daughter away from her. And in those eyes were so many expectations, so many concerns and so much hope for her daughter.
She welcomed me into the drawing room. Girish followed me, touching her feet.
‘Baitho beta,’ she said to both of us.
While we made ourselves comfortable, she asked me if I was well and if my journey had been comfortable. Then she went out of the room, saying ‘Main bas abhi aayi.’ Probably, she went to the kitchen.
Back in the drawing room, I was adapting to my would-be sasuraal. I liked the ambience of the room: the sofa and the chairs surrounding the center-table at one end of the room; the TV set at the opposite end, in a movable cabinet that had a lot of other stuff on its shelves decorative pieces, including small, flowery miniatures on the upper left, a toy-train on the right (possibly Daan’s); the money-plant in one corner, between the sofas and chairs; a couple of beautiful paintings on the wall with the signatures of their makers at the bottom-right. The one in front of me was big, almost a meter long, and depicted the baaraat of a Prince, who was on his horse, with his bride being carried in a doli and a few people playing the shehnai.
‘How are you feeling?’ Girish whispered from the other end of the sofa, having his share of fun in all that was happening.
‘I am doing fine,’ I whispered back.
‘Good,’ he smiled.
A little later, somebody came into the room. A beautiful girl in alight green top and black denim, with a tray in her hand, carrying soft-drinks in beautifully carved glasses. It was Neeru. The day before, I had not noticed how beautiful she was. But how could I, when her still more beautiful sister was in front of me. Anyway, I was happy with one more thought, ‘Beautiful Saali too.’
So, this is how it started. With cold drinks and a whole lot of snacks, dry fruits and sweets. Neeru and her mom joining us with their chitchat. Questions from her mom: How was my family doing back in Orissa? For how long was I going abroad? And many more … At times, she talked about their family, which means that I got to know once more, the things I already knew.
Deepu was in Assam, working with an MNC. Pushkar and Amrit (a.k.a. Ami di) would be here in half an hour or so.
Already, there were so many similarities between Khushi and me. And, now, I saw so many similarities between our families too. Both were religious-minded and believed in simple living. Her mother, in each and every aspect, appeared just like my mother.
As we talked, I occasionally kept raising my eyebrows looking at Neeru, silently asking her about her elder sister’s whereabouts.
‘Have patience. She is getting ready. Sirf aapke liye hi,’ she replied and laughed at me. Then she brought me a plate, ‘Take one samosa.’
‘Haanji beta, lo na,’ her mom insisted.
And this continued
‘Oh! Have some cashews.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Try this aaloo bhujia.’
‘No, please. I’m stuffed.’
‘No, no … Take some. All right, try this dhokla then. You will love it.’
‘A … a … all right. But this is the last one.’
‘Arey, aap to kuch le hi nahi rahe ho … Yehlona.’
‘Nahin, please. Thanks. Bas, bas, bas! This is too much …’
With so much, I feared constipation and, if not that, definitely loose motions.
Almost twenty minutes passed and there was still no sign of the girl I had come there for. Back in that room, the four of us were talking to each other. At times, Neeru and Girish were smiling at each other.
Then all of a sudden, a voice traveled from inside, ‘Neeeeeruuuuuu!’
‘Lo, ho gai taiyaar maharani,’ Neeru said, getting up from her chair and going to Khushi.
Moments later, I heard two different footsteps approaching us.
There she was. My angel in a ravishing suit: pink kameez, sky blue pyjaami and a blended chunni with many shiny stones making uneven lines on it. Her hair, long and silky. Glossy lips and those glittering ear rings.
She looked at me and said, ‘Hi!’
‘Hi!’ I responded with a smile, amazed at how beautiful she looked.
There was a different kind of hesitation between us now, to talk to each other in front of everybody. Still, we went ahead.
With her eyes she asked how she looked.
And I said, ‘You look amazing.’
‘Thank you,’ she said and joined us.
She sat right in front of me. She really looked so beautiful in Indian-wear. I wished everybody in that house would vanish for a couple of hours, so that I could keep staring at her that way.
We all started talking. Every now and then, she was adjusting her chunni which kept sliding down her right shoulder. On her mom’s insistence, she picked up a few cashews from the dry-fruits bowl, leaving the dhokla and rasgullas because they would mess her lipstick. At times, she looked at me and noticed how I was looking at her with everyone around and she silently begged me to take my eyes off her. But men will always be men.
To break her spell on me, she started talking to me.
‘What time is your flight tomorrow?’
‘7:30 in the morning.’
‘So you’ll have to leave the hotel at around 4:30, then?’
‘Yeah, I have to wake up early tomorrow.’
And we all kept talking for a while. I was much more comfortable by then, apart from the fear of being offered more food. Girish wanted to leave. He had just risen from the couch when we heard a car arriving at the gate.
‘Hey! Ami di aa gayi,’ Neeru almost sang that, rushing to the door and peeping out.
‘And Pushkar?’ I wanted to confirm the arrival of another male too.
‘Unke saath hi to aayi hongi,’ Girish said.
And few seconds later, both Pushkar and Ami di came in, wiping their shoes on the door-mat. Everyone stood up to welcome them, as if they were the ones for whom we all had assembled. Seeing them, I got up too.
‘Wow! Such a warm welcome for the second son-in-law of the house. Hmm … I’m the next. Tough competition, dude!’ I thought to myself.
In her black top and blue denim, Ami di looked like a professional, 21st century lady. Her denim was in the latest, weird fashion—the one in which girls would fold up their jeans’ legs a few inches above the
ir ankles, showing the light, inner colour of the denim. I don’t know what’s so exciting about it. We guys used to do that while playing soccer in mud, in our school days. Her glasses had a stylish frame, and she had a different style of tying her hair at the back—of course, a modern one.
Altogether, Ami di appeared a ‘Yo! Yo!’ girl.
A ‘Yo! Yo!’ girl, in our term means … a … a … Yo! Yo! kind of gal.
The thing which I liked most in her was the red and white bangles covering both her hands. Of course, they revealed that she got married that very year. According to custom, these bangles stayed on the hands of a newly-married girl for almost a year.
Pushkar appeared very simple to me.
After shaking hands and saying ‘hi’ and ‘hello,’ everybody settled down on the sofas and chairs. Conversation started again.
‘So how are you, Ravin?’ Pushkar asked.
‘I am fine, thanks. How are you guys doing?’ I asked, looking at both of them. ‘Pretty good. And how are your parents and brother back there?’
Ami di asked this time.
‘They are doing well,’ I replied with a smile.
And so we continued our chitchat on various topics: my office, their office, Khushi’s office; the different places we visited, which was a chance for me to boast about my trips abroad; Delhi traffic, CAT, the next Indian Idol and what not …
And, yes, there was a second round of snacks and, of course, I had to keep the new arrivals company. I felt like I was going to explode.
Meanwhile, Girish got another call on his cell and, the way he rushed out to his Qualis, we were sure it was his dad. All I could say to him was ‘thanks’—for helping me reach this place and, more importantly, for being the only other man with me, among those ladies till Pushkar arrived. He left.
The conversation really warmed up in a while, and it didn’t take me even half an hour to realize that Pushkar was a cool dude. He appeared to be very practical. And the entire female union kept boasting about his greatest asset—
‘Pata hai, Jiju bahut achcha khaana banaate hain. He has learnt the art of cooking,’ said Neeru proudly, as if her jiju was going to present another cookery show on Star Plus. But, well, a guy who cooks lovely food, knows how to garnish various dishes and how to place the forks and spoons on the dining table is a dream guy for 99.99% of the girls on this planet. (In fact, I’m sure it’s the same on other planets too … if there are girls on them.)
I Too Had a Love Story Page 7
