I had been fervently preparing and packing large orders of sweets, cookies and cupcakes with my staff for the past twenty-four hours for two of my important clients, who had been regulars since the early days of my catering business. And once, just once, I had asked Omi to deliver the packages. And what did he do? He switched them! This had never happened before. Both the customers, who used to write exceptionally good reviews on my website, dropped pretty harsh comments this time, pointing out how my business was becoming ‘INEFFICIENT’ and me ‘CARELESS’ with time.
And these blots were pretty difficult to erase from a customer’s memory.
In the seven years of our marriage, Omi had tested my patience, sometimes more than our two beautiful children. His casual approach towards all things in life had always driven me crazy. He ate without caring about the extra layer of fat depositing around his waistline, wore the most mismatched clothes, scattered his files and papers everywhere in the bedroom, watched television shows at three in the morning, slept all afternoon on Sundays, pampered the children with ice cream and chocolate, forgot to ask for bills at stores, paid the maid in advance . . . the list was endless. But today, because of him, my reputation had received a blow. A bout of anger overwhelmed me and as I saw him through the glass wall, I felt like snatching the plate of snacks from him and dumping all of it on his head and punching him on his fat belly!
‘Why do you look so angry?’
I turned around with a start and found Saahil Mehra staring at me. The same handsome features, the same robust physique and the same curly dark hair. He hadn’t changed a bit! Saahil ‘Charming’ Mehra was a name discussed with great enthusiasm in the girls’ dormitories even after we had started dating in the third year of our college. And although I didn’t want to admit it, his killer looks had just made my heart skip a beat, again.
‘Hi,’ I managed to say and tucked a tuft of hair behind my ear.
‘Good to see you after such a long time.’
‘Likewise.’
‘So do you work here?’ he enquired.
‘My husband does.’
‘Oh . . . where is he?’
I looked through the glass wall at Omi and turned back to look at Saahil.
‘He is around somewhere.’
I was a little embarrassed to introduce Omi to him. Saahil, after all, had been the rockstar of our college, the stylish hunk, whereas Omi was too plain, too simple. I was afraid that Saahil would mock me or judge me for marrying someone who was so average in appearance. They were complete opposites of each other. Saahil was fastidious about his lifestyle, his choices and his plans, whereas Omi had always been more of a carefree and spontaneous guy.
‘What brings you here?’ I enquired.
‘I am one of the investors in this company.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘Have you forgotten that grey makes you look fat?’ Saahil stared at my evening gown and smiled sarcastically.
And the black tuxedo makes you look hot!
‘No, it doesn’t. And why would you still be interested in deciding which colour suits me?’
‘Come on . . . After all, we were close a few years back.’
‘Yeah, those were difficult times . . .’
‘Really?’ Saahil winked, making me blush.
‘Yes,’ I said, looking away.
‘If you say so . . . but I am glad that my wife wears whatever I ask her to. Isn’t she gorgeous?’ Saahil pointed towards a stunning woman in a fiery-red gown, standing at a distance talking to a group of people.
‘Hmm . . . so she likes being controlled,’ I taunted.
‘Some people, unlike you, are happy to do what they are told, Go-Go . . .’
‘Don’t call me that.’
‘But you used to like it back then,’ Saahil said, running his fingers through his hair.
‘Now I don’t.’
‘Okay, I think I should leave now. My wife must be missing me. It was nice to see you after all this while, and I hope you are living on your own terms and making your own choices . . .’
‘Yes.’
‘Good for you. And good luck with your happy-happy life, Go-Go. Bye.’ Saahil waved and walked away.
Happy-happy life? Really? Was I living one?
I waved back and finished my juice, watching him keenly as he approached his wife. A tuft of light brown hair fell on her beautiful face. Saahil stroked her cheeks lovingly as their eyes locked. A strong wave of jealousy surged inside me as they held hands, and then a deep regret filled my heart . . .
Saahil had been the most sought-after guy in our college and girls had been crazy about him. He was like a prince of dreams for most of them . . . For me too. His good looks and charm were bewitching. I had started liking him from the very first day of our college—the day he had walked into class for the first time and taken a seat near me. He had smiled as he had introduced himself—a smile I would have died for! With time we became good friends, but he had already conquered my heart. I never told him how I felt because I was too shy to confess my feelings and afraid of rejection. Meanwhile, he was busy getting in and out of relationships. And then, one fine day, while we were enacting a play at our college festival, he realized he had feelings for me. It was the happiest day of my life when he confessed his love for me.
Our relationship was precious to me and we were having a great time together, but things changed in a few months. Saahil the friend was very different from Saahil the lover. He was bossy and dominating, always wanting to do things his way—my opinions and desires never mattered to him. From deciding what I should wear to when I should call my parents, he had started controlling my whole life. It felt like living with a dictator. He always talked about his career and ambitions but would laugh off mine when I tried to discuss my dream of starting my own catering business someday. It was as if nothing related to my life mattered to him; it was suffocating and intolerable. And when I could not take it any more, I broke up with him, hurting his ego badly. Our relationship ended. Our paths changed. And he never called. And I was glad about it.
But today, after seeing him, old feelings stirred inside me. I started doubting my decision to leave him. Had I done the right thing? What harm would it have caused if I had just listened to him and given in to his dominating nature? So what if he wanted things his way? So what if he decided things for me? Would it have been that bad? Wouldn’t my life have been better with him, instead of with this foolish Omi?
Saahil and I, we could have been the power couple of this evening. I would have been standing near him, holding his hand, certainly living a much more comfortable life, wearing fiery-red gowns and going to top-class parties. Things could have been different and wonderful . . .
‘Hey, Gauri!’ Richa hugged me from behind and said enthusiastically.
‘What took you so long?’ I asked.
She was Omi’s junior and my good friend.
‘Traffic. But I see you talked to Saahil Mehra. How do you two know each other?’
‘We were at college together. You know him too?’ I asked, a little surprised.
‘Of course, honey. He is one of our major investors and, believe me, since he started pouring in his money, our profits have doubled. This guy is a magician!’
It was a little too much for me to take in in one night. Once again, I experienced a bout of envy for Saahil’s wife. That woman had everything—not just the most handsome man of the party as her husband but also a share in the company!
‘He is so good-looking . . . I wish he had married me!’ Richa said dreamily.
I wish too . . .
‘By the way, did you forgive Omi for the goof-up of orders?’
‘Oh, please! He is the one at fault. He is the one who caused the ruckus and now he’s asking his colleagues to defend him. I am fed up of Omi!’
‘Come on, Gauri . . . It was because of the confusion in names . . .’
‘He just gives excuses and does nothing.’
‘We
ll, he did something phenomenal, actually . . . Although he asked me not to tell you, but I will.’
‘What did he do now?’
‘He did not come to office today and went to meet both your clients with flowers, and apologized to them. Also, he convinced them to delete their comments from your website and requested them to write good and honest reviews about the taste of your food.’
‘Really?’ I was taken aback.
‘Check your website if you don’t believe me. And if that was not enough, he asked all of us at the office to share your business page on our social media handles. The likes and hits on your site have spiked enormously!’ Richa explained.
‘That’s amazing!’ I smiled.
‘That’s love!’ Richa winked.
I walked to Omi with a strange sense of joy. Suddenly, Saahil and his wife didn’t matter . . . The life that I had imagined with him didn’t matter. All the jealousy had disappeared—so had the regret. The hunger of wanting to be called a ‘power couple’ no longer prevailed. Omi was my present. He not only knew my dreams but cherished and respected them; he knew what made me happy. I sat near him and his face lit up as he saw me smile.
‘What’s that?’ I asked, noticing a tag on the pocket of his shirt.
‘We were playing a game and the anchor asked us to choose a tag for our respective spouses. You had gone out so I pinned it on my pocket,’ he said, beaming from ear to ear.
My wife is my queen.
I tried to blink back the tears in my eyes. His smile, his innocence, his sincerity and even the tag said it all. He had always treated me like a precious gift. I mattered to him more than anything else. Yes, he acted weird; but sometimes even I did! He was not perfect, but neither was I. Our story had been a roller-coaster ride of joy and tears, love and fights, arguments and reconciliations—but as long as we were together, things would always be okay.
23
My Superhero Girlfriend
Writuraj Ghosh
People say that matches are made in heaven. And, in some cases, they are made somewhere close to heaven, around 32,000 feet above sea level. Imagine you are on a flight with the most beautiful girl you have ever met. You get to save that damsel in distress and become her hero. What if I tell you that it has happened with me? Sounds too good to be true, right? Well, this isn’t any superhero story, and neither am I your friendly-neighbourhood Spiderman. But this story is worth telling.
Last Sunday I was returning from my hometown after attending my cousin’s wedding. I had had so much fun in the past few days. Attending the wedding, catching up with school friends, enjoying the local street food and so much more! Thinking about the horrible traffic of Bengaluru, my blood-sucking boss and frequent power cuts waiting for me really made me upset. The only positive thing about returning to the city was that I was going to see Meera after two weeks. Meera and I have been dating for more than two years. After completing the security check, I grabbed a coffee for myself and took a seat in the waiting area.
I took out my phone and texted Meera. I am at the airport. See you in three hours.
Meera almost immediately replied: Waiting for you, baby. Which was followed by a couple of love emojis.
This lady always lifts up my mood. After texting for a while, I heard the boarding call. I boarded the flight and took my designated seat.
I am going on flight mode now. See you.
Have a safe journey. Don’t forget to call me as soon as you land.
I checked her message and put my phone on flight mode. Then I closed my eyes and tried to get some sleep. The dreadful thought that I’d have to deal with my boss and the work pressure from the next day made its way back to my mind. And to add some special effects to my thoughts, a baby started crying from the seat behind me. I wished I could’ve stayed back a few more days.
‘Excuse me.’ I heard a female voice. I opened my eyes. A very beautiful girl was standing next to my seat. And when I say ‘very beautiful’, I mean real, natural and pure beauty. She looked like an Instagram model. Just that, in this case, it was a real person rather than a photo that was taken with a 100-megapixel camera and then further beautified by applying filters.
‘Sorry to bother you, but may I take my seat, please?’ She was pointing to the seat beside mine.
‘Of course.’ I stood up. I was on the aisle seat. She had the middle one. She stepped across me and took her seat. Immediately I realized that she smelt beautiful too. The fragrance of her perfume refreshed my mind. I could feel a weird pain in my chest. The pain was weird because I liked it. And my heart was beating faster. I could feel it. I took my seat and, in the process, our shoulders touched. Both the pain and the heartbeat doubled. I thought of talking to her, maybe offer help with the seat belt. But on second thoughts, I realized it was best to stay quiet. She was way out of my league. I looked around. An old lady was sitting at the window seat beside her. She was busy looking out of the window. The plane started moving. We were ready for take-off.
‘Hi!’ She was looking at me with a smile. Now my heart was racing faster than the plane. ‘Sorry to bother you, but I am really scared of flying. Can we just talk for some time while the plane takes off?’
I didn’t know what to say. I was dumbstruck for a couple of seconds. Then I started stammering, ‘Ye . . . yes . . . yes . . . why not?’
‘Are you a frequent flier?’ she asked.
‘Not frequent, but yes, once in three months on average. What about you?’ Finally I was not stammering.
‘Very rarely. I am not much of a traveller. Maybe once or twice a year.’
The plane was moving very fast on the runway. Things were shaking, my heart was pounding and then the most unexpected thing happened. As soon as the plane took off, she tightly grabbed my hand, which was on the armrest between the two seats. I could feel a current flow through my body. My heart was going to burst. I looked at her. Her eyes were closed. Her lips were moving, probably whispering some prayer, and her other hand was holding the other armrest. I kept looking at her. There were clouds outside and we started experiencing mild turbulence. Now I could feel her nails piercing my skin. Her back was straight, her legs were stiff and her beautiful face looked scared. The turbulence finally stopped. But she was still scared. I don’t know what happened to me at that very moment. I put my other hand on top of hers, went really close to her and whispered into her ear, ‘Hey, don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.’
I was really close to her. Her hair was falling on my face. She turned her face slowly towards me. Her eyes were still closed. Her lips were still moving. I could smell her strawberry lip gloss. Then she opened her eyes slowly. We kept looking at each other’s eyes for a few seconds. I was getting lost in hers.
I suddenly came back to my senses and patted her hand. She realized that she was gripping my hand. She immediately removed her hand. ‘I am so sorry. I don’t know how this happened.’
‘Relax! It’s okay. How are you feeling now?’ I asked while checking my hand. There were marks from her nails.
‘Oh my God! I am so sorry!’ Now she was looking apologetically at the marks.
‘It’s fine. Is this the first time you are flying alone?’ I asked, smiling.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘I shouldn’t have. It was a stupid idea. I am afraid of heights and . . .’ She was still looking at the nail marks on my hand.
‘Hey! Look at me,’ I interrupted. She looked up. ‘Relax. Shit happens.’
She was smiling now. Finally! God, she was beautiful!
‘Hope I haven’t hurt you badly,’ she asked.
‘Hurt me? You almost killed me. When you held my hand, I almost had a heart attack.’
‘Why?’ she asked, laughing.
‘You are so beautiful. Not even in my wildest dreams could I have imagined you holding my hand.’ And we were both laughing.
We chatted throughout the flight. Her name was Anushka. She was returning from an official trip. She lived in Bengaluru and was worki
ng for a software company. She had a boyfriend but they had broken up two months back. She loved cats and was a huge fan of Virat Kohli. I told her a lot about me. Somehow I did not tell her about Meera. I was falling for her. I did not want to lose her. We were approaching Bengaluru. I didn’t want the journey to end.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts. We will be landing soon,’ the pilot announced.
‘If you are thinking of holding my hand again, please do it nicely. No more piercing,’ I told her jokingly. To my surprise, she smiled back, held my hand and interlocked her fingers with mine.
‘I am no longer scared. Thank you.’
Was she also falling for me? Some strange sense of confidence grew within me. I didn’t feel like the guy any more who would shy away from talking to a beautiful girl. I felt worthy. I felt I was good-looking. I felt this was a new me. Till date, Meera was the most beautiful girl I had ever dated but, believe me, she was no match for Anushka when it came to looks. I realized that I was dating well below my standards. I kept looking at her with a smile on my face and a lot of thoughts inside my head.
The plane landed. We collected our luggage and came out of the airport, chatting all the while. We reached the Uber pickup point to board our cabs.
‘Want to catch up again sometime?’ I asked when she was about to board her cab. I was now confident that she liked me.
‘I thought you were never going to ask,’ she replied, smiling.
I took out my phone, unlocked it and smiled at her without saying anything. She took the phone and entered her number and asked me to call her.
She was about to turn around and board her cab when I called her again.
‘Anushka!’
‘Yes?’ She turned around, smiling.
‘I think I like you.’ I didn’t want her to leave.
‘You think you like me?’ she replied, stressing on the word ‘think’.
‘I mean, I really like you. I am sure of that.’
‘I got to go now. My cab is waiting. By the way, I am free this Saturday,’ she replied with a smile.
You Are All I Need Page 16
