It was almost midnight when I got off at Delhi airport. As soon as I was out of the immigration
channel, I switched on my Indian cellphone. And I called my mom before anybody else, like she
wanted, to let her know that her son was back and was absolutely fine. She too was expecting my call,
and that's why she couldn't sleep (mom's are like that). I spoke to her for a few minutes and bade her
goodnight. Then I moved to the conveyor belt to pick my luggage.
At the exit gate, I booked a cab to Faridabad.
No, I wasn't heading towards her but to a hotel she had booked for me. We learnt from our past
mistakes that commuting between Faridabad and Delhi could be more than a little problematic. So
why not book a hotel in Faridabad itself?
I was in the cab when a few SMSs made a sharp entry in my message box. All of them were from
Khushi. The topmost one read:
Ur hotel is booked. Gimme
a call wen you land.
I was very eager to talk to her now that I was, once again, in her country … I mean our country. It's
such a different feeling, returning to your beloved after a long time. Everything around you appears so
lovely. Every beautiful thing brings a smile to your face. Every hour, the level of your anxiety
increases as the time before you'll see each other decreases.
I called her up. Later, she told me what she did: Seeing her favorite name on the display of her
phone after so long, she held her hand to her heart, smiled, closed her eyes, thanked God, took a deep
breath, opened her eyes and picked up the phone.
'H-i-i-iiiiiiiiiiiii!' She jumped loudly on the ground.
'Haha … Helloooooooo!' I was happy to hear her crazy'hi', just like a kid.
'I am so so so happy you're back.'
'So am I.'
And we went crazy. Shouting. Laughing. Singing … That was how happy we were.
I heard her, going merrily around her house, letting everybody know that I was back. In a round-
robin fashion, each and every lady in the house talked to me.
'Mujhe bhi do … maine bhi baat karni hai.'
'Dad is sleeping, so maybe you will be talking to him tomorrow,' she said.
Well, we kept talking till I reached my hotel. Of course, there was no reason why we shouldn't be
doing that. Getting the directions from her, I explained them to the driver of my cab.
Magpie Hotel on Mathura Road was my destination for the night. It was not that good a hotel, but
she had booked it because most of the good hotels in the city were full as it was the marriage season
(October) and, more importantly, it was the nearest to her place.
On my way to Magpie, we were passing through the outskirts of the city and my cell was frequently
losing its network coverage, and I dialed her number again and again. Before giving out completely,
the network played hide and seek on my mobile's screen for a while. I somehow managed to send heran SMS:
Wll cal u once I
rch hotel.
To which she replied:
NO. CAL ME D MOMENT
U R GNG 2 OPEN UR ROOM.
DN'T FORGET
Well, I did what she wanted. Half an hour later, as I was unlocking the door of my room in the hotel, I
called her. We were back on the phone when I moved into the dark room.
'Ok, now on your right hand, there is a switchboard. The first one is the light,' she said. And I
wondered why she was instructing me.
The room was cold. The AC was on and there was a beautiful fragrance in the room.
In the light of my cellphone's screen, I switched on the lights of the room and what came next was a
sweet surprise.
'OH MY GOD!'
In front of me was a giant bed with two bouquets of roses, along with a note on each one of them.
And they read—'Welcome back' and 'I missed you so much.'
Apart from this, there was a tissue paper peeking out from under the cushions. From a distance I
could not read it, but I noticed the maroon impression of her lips on it—a lovely advance gift of love
which she left for me.
I read the note.
While you were gone, I realized how badly I need you for myself.
I love you so much.
'I love you so much dear,' was the sweet reaction of my melting heart. I inhaled the scent of her kiss
on that tissue and kissed it. She heard me doing that. I wanted her to hear.
The next moment, someone knocked at my door.
'Who is it?' I asked.
'Bellboy,' came the reply.
'Two minutes dear, there is some one at the door,' I told Khushi and opened the door.
'Sir, I have got water for you.'
'OK.'
He came in with a bottle of Bisleri and an upside-down glass. He kept it beside my bed and, from
the corner of his eyes, he noticed all that was lying on it. Those flowers, that note. Maybe he saw the
kiss too. He smiled to himself for a fraction of a second and then returned to his formal demeanor.
While going back, he noticed a half-filled glass covered with a lid, along with another bottle of water.
'Oh you have already got water.'
'That's not mine. You can take it away,' I said.
As I said that, I heard her voice from the cellphone. She was shouting 'Shona! STOP HIM … Don't
let him touch the glass ….'
'RUKO!' I shouted at the boy.
And hearing the intensity of that 'RUKO,' he froze, just like a statue. As if, the next moment, hewas about to trip a mine and I saved him. He looked at me curiously. Even I wasn't sure why she had
asked me to do that.
I told him, 'I'm all good. You can leave.'
Confused, he left the room.
Closing the door from inside, I asked her why she reacted that way.
'I want you to discover that yourself,' she said. She was calm again.
While I was wondering what she meant, she asked me, 'Aren't you thirsty?'
'Maybe,' I said, removing the lid covering the glass and lifting it.
Then I heard her saying, 'You can have the water which I left in your room.'
I was about to take a sip when I realized that her sweet surprises were still coming. My heart was
smiling with the delights it was receiving. There were patches of her lipstick on the circumference of
that glass. Having sipped some of this water, she had left the rest for me. What a sweetheart!
'You are such a darling,' I slowly sang, enjoying the water, drinking it exactly from the spot where
she had pressed her lips.
Our conversation turned romantic and we kept talking of beautiful things for quite a long time.
I think it was around 2 a.m. when we finally separated. I made her sleep, after which I went and
showered. The last shower I had taken was thirty hours back, in the US.
Later that night, on my bed, surrounded by those beautiful roses, I wrote her a message:
Smhow those 45 days hv passed
bt this hiatus of few hrs to see u again
is killing me. Good nite Angel.
Unfortunately, the next morning wasn't a pleasant one.
Jet lag, change of weather, the weariness after a long journey and my night shower—all brought me
down with a cold. I was sneezing, had a bad headache and an aching throat. In other words, I was
completely screwed up.
In that unpleasant condition, I was turning left and right, squeezing the bouquets which I had been
embracing in my sleep. It took me a long while to, finally, open my eyes completely.
Then I noticed her SMS—Will be dere at 11.
It was quarter to ten in my watch.
Damn! I wanted to reply asking her to come a little later. But I didn't. Rather, gathering all my
energy, I got ready. I took a warm shower this time. I was slow in everything I was doing. And all that
was running in my mind was: Will I get better by the time she comes here?
By eleven, I was through with my breakfast and she called me up to say that she was going to be
late. She would be at my place in the next half an hour.
'OK,' I said. I kept the call short because I didn't want her to notice my condition. I was still
sneezing and coughing. And someone seemed to be beating a giant drum inside my skull. The
headache was killing me. I rarely get headaches, but that was one rare day. Just my luck!
For the next half an hour, weird things were running through my brain.
'Damn! Did I have to come down with a cold today, of all days?' With my running nose and a
heavy, choked voice, my desire to kiss her again after forty-five days got crushed. I had been waiting
for such a long time and the next day I was to fly back to Bhubaneswar. Moreover, I was not sure
when I would see her next.'What if I still kiss her?' I was still talking to myself. That one wish was debating with the germs of
cold in me. But then, in the evening, I had to be at her place. What if her family noticed her sneezing
and coughing, just like me? Would they figure out how I transferred my virus to their daughter? (Yes,
I know, at times I think too much.)
But she reached the hotel and gave me a missed call, interrupting my weird thoughts. I rushed out of
my room to receive her. And, at last, after these long one and a half months of being apart, we were
standing in front of each other.
She was wearing a nice white top, blue denim (a perfect fit), a light shade of glossy lipstick and
small earrings. Her hair was untied, the breeze scattering it across her face.
My beautiful was in front of me—her sneezing handsome.
Her blushes and smiles revealed how delighted she was to see me. She smiled and her eyes revealed
her satisfaction of being with me again. And within me I was all happy, excited and nervous.
'Hi,' I said, giving her a small (or maybe the smallest) hug. I did that with the fear of others
noticing, though there was no one outside. There was a little hesitation in the initial moments. It
happens, you know … And with that'Hi,' she realized my condition immediately.
'Cold hua hai tumhe?' she asked, raising her eyebrows.
'Nah … It's just a little thing,' I answered as if I was fine.
'But …' And she kept looking at me, trying to help me. 'You want to take some medicine?'
'No … no. It's okay, dear. I will be all right … Just because of the climate change. But I will be fine
soon. Now shall we move in or are we going to stand here for the rest of the day?' I said.
The worry on her face turned into a little smile. (A fake one—she was still worried.)
We went to my room. She said I should have some tea in order to help my cold, so I ordered a cup
of it for myself and a soft drink for her. (Nobody in her family drinks tea, remember? Strange family.)
Her physical presence in front of me after such a long time was making me conscious. I don't know
why, at times, I get into that mode. And in these blank conditions I always need some time to get into
a comfort zone. But the feeling inside me was good. To see her, to sit beside her, touch her again ….
But, all this without inhaling her fragrance. (Blocked noses can't smell.) But that short tea-time (my
teatime and her soft-drink time) helped me feel better, physically, allowing me time to become
comfortable in her company.
A few minutes later, I was telling her the stories of my onsite trip, discussing official things,
laughing at stupid ones, watching the pictures I had taken in the US, on my laptop. In no time, on that
giant bed, we were lying on our stomachs, next to each other, our feet paddling in the air above us, our
hands underneath our chins and our eyes on the screen of the laptop. We were watching those short
movies I had shot on my trip. And beside us, were those flowers with which I slept the night before,
her notes and the tissue carrying her kiss's imprint which was now making her shy. She was acting as
if she never noticed that on my bed.
With my cold, I didn't feel like roaming around the malls of Faridabad, so we had to cancel her
plan. Rather, we stayed back in our room. We discussed some important things. Like, when should our
parents meet? What time will it be good for us to get married? Where should we settle down after
marriage, taking our careers into consideration?
And I remember well, on that last question she quickly responded, 'It should be Delhi.''But why not Bhubaneswar?' I calmly revolted back.
And like a five-year-old kid, she answered, full of innocence, 'It will be hard for me to live far away
from my Mumma.'
Stroking her forehead and hair, I said, 'We will bring your mom for you, in dowry.'
And we laughed.
During our conversation that day, we took a U-turn to discuss our respective pasts. Our college life,
our school friends and our family. The sweet memories and the hard times. And on one occasion, she
burst into tears. She happened to recall some things in her life which she could never share with
anyone else but me. Taking her in my arms, I wiped her tears. She said she felt relieved after sharing
that with me, and she made me promise that I would never tell it to anyone. And promises …
Promises are meant to be kept.
I held her head on my shoulder, rubbing her back gently, drying her moist eyes. She felt good and
rested in my arms for quite some time.
In order to change her mood I started telling her some jokes, just to comfort her. And when I saw
that smile returning to her face I said, 'Hmm … So let us see what I have got from the US for my
dearest …'
'Sachhi?'
'Muchhi,' I said and jumped out of my bed to unlock my bag. She also followed me and, while I
was opening it, she stood behind me, looking over my shoulder. I quickly recalled something and
turned back to say, 'Girls are not allowed to stare in guys' bags.'
She laughed, but fought back to stand there and check my bag along with me. Seeing the big
polythene bag I took out, her smile widened. But when she reached for it, I grabbed it back.
'A … a … aa! Not like this. Let me open it and show you.'
'Ok.'
And I pulled out a purple top with short sleeves, along with a matching pastel-coloured skirt.
'Wow!' she stared at the dress open-mouthed. 'This is awesome!' (Girls love surprises. No?)
'Not yet,' I said. 'For it to be really awesome, it needs to be on you. Wear it and show me.' I
pointed to the washroom, where she could go and change. Carrying a smile and that dress she walked
away.
Back in that room, I crossed my fingers. I had never bought anything of that sort, ever, for any girl.
I didn't have a sister, nor did I have any prior girlfriend with whom I could have learnt something
about buying clothes for girls.
A few minutes later, I heard the washroom door getting unlocked. She popped her head out first and
asked, 'Shall I come out?'
'Please! I am dying,' I said.
'1…2…3…' She counted before coming out. And then, she was in front of me. Seeing her, I
uncrossed my fingers with immense pleasure. She looked stunning in my gift.
'B-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l!'
And, suddenly, I turned my gaze away from her, thinking that my looking at her that way should not
bring her bad luck. But then, I looked at her again—I couldn't resist.
That top and the skirt suited her body so well, as if they had been made just for her. I was surprisedand, silently, I congratulated myself. Even she was surprised and, probably, that's why she said, 'I
never knew you know me so well.'
That dress … or, should I say her beautiful body-line was complementing the dress. Looking at
herself in the mirror of my room, she said 'I look my best in this dress. This is the best one I will have
in my wardrobe.'
'Then promise me.'
'What?'
'That this one will only be worn by you and no one else … Not even your sisters. I want to see this
only on you.'
'I promise.'
And with that promise she realized that she was getting late. I helped her pack her gifts in a
polythene bag after which she hugged me and said, 'It's beautiful being with you after so long.'
'Same here.'
At the door she explained the way to reach her home. I was to visit her family again.
'Don't be late.' She said and waved me good-bye and left. I was walking down to her place in the
evening. I think I was two blocks away from her house when I saw two people walking in my
direction. One was about three years old, and holding his hand was a man of about sixty. I thought I
knew who they were.
Seeing me, the old man halted.
The little kid tried to pull him along. 'Chalo! Ice Cream!' he screamed. The poor kid tried his best
but failed.
I looked at the person in front of me and the old man raised his finger, a few lines appeared on his
forehead. He was wondering if I was their guest for the evening.
But before he could speak, I said, 'I think I am coming to your place. Am I right?'
'Ravin?'
'Haanji.' I smiled and touched his feet.
He was Khushi's dad and the kid was Daan who was pulling his grandfather to the nearest ice-cream
parlor.
But now, the cute kid held my hand and shouted on the street asking me, 'Aap Khushi maasi ke dost
ho … hain … aap ho na?'
I bent down and kissed his small hands, saying, 'Haha … hmm.'
Soon he forgot all about the ice-cream and started pulling me towards his house. All the while, he
kept shouting, 'Aao na … Maasi aapke liye tayaar ho rahi hai … Aao … Aao.'
He kept pulling me till I entered their house. In no time, I found myself surrounded by Mumma,
Neeru and Misha di (Daan's mother). Everybody was laughing at the way Daan was dragging me. I
slipped my fingers out of Daan's grip to greet everyone.
Later, we all settled down in the drawing room. Khushi's dad was also back and had joined us.
The questions started—The kind of how-was-your-journey-and-ifeverything-is-fine types.
And answering them all I managed to make my space amid all of them.
Meanwhile, Khushi too appeared.
The rounds of snacks started, exactly like last time. Of all her family, it was her dad whom I talked
to most. He was trying to understand what exactly I did, being a software engineer. In turn, he wasalso explaining what he used to do as an engineer in the Indian Air Force. (Impressive!)
Later on, he brought up the subject of marriage too, indirectly—how and when Misha di got married
and then Ami di and now it was
Khushi's turn. He also talked about his married daughters' in-laws, their family and their
professions (though I knew everything in detail).
I wondered what the purpose was. I recalled that ad in which a guy's would-be father-in-law asks
him, 'You are going to marry my daughter. But will you be able to support a family?' To which I
answered, in my mind, 'I think, in marriage, I will only take your daughter along with me. The rest of
your family, you will have to manage on your own.'
But, jokes apart, I found her dad to be a real sensible and understanding person. I liked his
personality as well.
We all were waiting for Deepu (Khushi's brother) who was driving back home. Mumma was getting
impatient and kept calling him up, checking how far he was from home.
Little Daan was adding to the flavor of our conversation every now and then, making everybody
laugh with his childish pranks. He was on my lap when, suddenly, he reacted to a car's horn and
rushed to the door. It was Deepu. Minutes later, he pulled Deepu into the drawing room, just like he
had brought me. I shook hands with Deepu and he joined us.
He seemed to be the most robust person in their entire family, with a wide chest, broad shoulders
and a well-built physique. He was working with some oil wells in Assam and had come back on
holiday. So now, from my job the conversation shifted to his.
We sat in the drawing room for a long time and at around 8.30, we had our dinner.
After our meal, Khushi took me to the other side of their house to show me the garden, the money
plant and the guava trees which she used to climb sometimes, picking guavas for her mom. Well, I
could have got a little privacy with her but Neeru and Mumma didn't leave us alone.
The evening at their home passed quite well. By then I had met the people whom I didn't see the
last time—her dad, Deepu, Misha di and cute Daan. I was happy that I was going to be part of a nice
family. (And I assume they were happy too!)
By 9.30, I was all set to leave for my hotel.
'I think I should make a move before I get too late,' I said to the people around me, but especially
her Dad.
'Hmm … Yes, you are at a new place. It's better if you reach your hotel well in time. Deepu will
drop you,' he said looking at Deepu, whom Daan was punching, the way he had seen his favorite
WWF fighters doing.
After a short while, Deepu was starting his car and I was bidding everyone goodbye. Daan kept
shouting, 'Mujhe bhi jaana hai … Mujhe bhi jaana hai!' And before he could make a scene, his
mother allowed him to get in the car.
Amid all this, I looked at Khushi, silently asking her if she too could come. And I think Mumma
noticed my look. Maybe that's why she told Khushi, 'Tu bhi saath mein chali jaa …'
Her dad was probably going to interrupt her, but I changed the topic as soon as I heard her mother
giving her a green signal. In a short while, we were in the back-seat of the car. Daan kept shuffling
places between her and me. In those last minutes of being together, we held hands but didn't talkmuch. Soon we were going to be apart again, for an uncertain amount of time.
We reached Magpie a bit too quickly, and it was time to say goodbye.
Deepu came out of the car and he took Daan's hand in his. I shook hands with him and gave a kiss
to Daan, who asked me when I would come again, and told me that I should not forget to get
chocolates for him.
Now was the turn of my sweetheart. She stood beside the car. I looked in her eyes. They were
expressing the same feelings which mine were. She came and stood right in front of me. I couldn't say
anything but smiled sadly. That one moment, she didn't care about Deepu's presence but kept looking
into my eyes. Taking Daan inside the car, Deepu started the vehicle to let his sister know they were
supposed to get back.
She ignored that too and came closer to me and said, 'I want to be yours, forever.'
'You are mine. A little more than forever,' I said.
And we hugged each other this time without caring about the world around us.
Then she sat in the car. I kept waving to her till the car turned out of the hotel's gate.
Back in Bhubaneswar, life got back on the same track. Office, phone calls to her, gym, phone calls to
her, CAT preparation, phone calls to her. But what was different this time was that I had started
relating her voice to her appearance, her body language, her fragrance.
Days passed and our desire to be together kept increasing with each day.
It was Diwali and, in the evening, our entire veranda was shining with the sparkle of diyas and
candles and crackers. With one hand, I was shooting everything happening at my place with my
camera; in the other hand, I was carrying my cell, talking to Khushi. We were telling each other about
the atmosphere at our respective places. The phones on both sides were shuffling through different
hands. First, it was me talking to her, then my mom and her, then her mom and me, then my mom and
hers, then she and I again, then me and her sister … he, she, she, me … everybody. But each one of
them mentioned this: She would be celebrating her next Diwali as part of our family.
A few more days of our life passed.
Life returned to its best after we were released from our vow of not talking to each other after 10
p.m. on weekdays. Yes, CAT was over. It went well for both of us. (Everyone has the right to say 'It
went well,' till the results are out!) But yes, the completion of CAT marked the beginning of our best
days. Well, actually it was nights. December, January. Winter. Cold nights, blankets and, wrapped in
those warm blankets, our cellphones and us. (I tell you—winter is the most romantic time. And so are
rainy days. And … and … and, wait a minute, summer too! Am I getting something wrong? Or,
maybe, it's that every season brings a different flavor if you are in love.)
One night, it was 12.10 a.m. and we had left the year 2006 behind, and 2007 was ten minutes young
for us. Despite the overloaded telephone network, somehow we were among the lucky ones to get
connected. Of course, we had to try a hundred times to call each other.
She was the first one to reach me and do you know what her first words were? No, she didn't wish
me a happy new year. Instead, she shouted with happiness, 'Shona! We are getting married this year.
2007 has arrived. Wow!'
Time and again, all these little things (which, for me, were big things) she did would make me feel,
more and more, that I would never be able to live without her.'Yes! We will marry this year and then we'll live together. Happy new year, dear,' I wished her.
'A very happy new year to you too.'
Network congestion that night did not allow us to talk much. Still, we were satisfied enough. And
we felt that, just like us, there must have been so many couples dying to talk to each other. Who
knows, maybe some among them were going to get married the same year …
Apparently, my love story overrode my friendship. This should not have been the case. But, this was
the case. After a long time, it was Amardeep who connected Happy, MP and me with an e-mail. In his
e-mail, he had taken a screenshot of MP's and my profile on Shaadi.com. His first intention was to
mock at us for the exaggerated information we had provided about ourselves on this website.
Secondly, he wanted to know if this website happened to work for us.
Later, that evening, all four of us got together on a chat conference.
Happy: Raam ji, so finally u caught these a***-holes haan!! Good job.
Amardeep: Ha ha ha … they were playing smart, without letting us know nything.
Amardeep: Now speak up u two. Wat hv u managed to gt till now?
Ravin: If u hv searched our profile, den surely u too wud be having one. Bataa saaley?
Amardeep: If I will have, I won't hide it. Now don't change the topic. MP you tell.
Happy: Yeah, MP tell us … how many till now J????????
MP: Arey yaar … it was long time back. Nothing serious. I hardly check it now a days.
Amardeep: Achha!! That's why your activity percentage on this site (as it shows) is 98% J.
Ravin: Ha ha ha. Gaatch u!!
Amardeep: Y d hell are u laughing so much Ravin? U tell … wat hv u got?
Ravin: Well! I have got something.
MP: Got what????????
Ravin: Her.
Happy: Whom?
Ravin: Her name is Khushi.
Amardeep: R u serious?
Ravin: Damn serious.
Happy: Hu … Huuuuuuuuuuuuu. He gaat it!!!!!! … he gaat it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This gonna be
f***in interesting. Everybody: Leave this text chat and turn your headphones ON. We gonna listen to
his story right now.
And, for the next half hour, I had to narrate my so-far story to them. The conversation ended with a
celebration of loud noises, best wishes and the promise to make them all talk to her soon.
8 January 2007
My not-so-good-looking house was looking better that morning. And why not? The first would-be
in-laws of that house were to come that day—Khushi's mom and dad.
Understanding the fact that my Mumma couldn't travel in winters because of her asthma, they had
agreed to come down to our place.
I was there at Sambalpur station to receive them. The train arrived on time and I could easily trace
them in the crowd, getting down at the station. I touched their feet, welcomed them and picked uptheir bags. On our way back from the station, I showed them certain landmarks in my small
hometown. The longest dam—Hirakud—built on the river Mahanadi. Her Mumma was astonished
when I told her that it was 4.8 kilometers long. To which she mischievously replied by boasting about
the Bhakra Nangal dam (the highest one) which she had seen.
By 12.30 that afternoon we reached home. Her parents were welcomed by mine. Both the moms and
both the dads were happy to finally see each other. Well, in our country, seeing the boy is one of the
most important steps in the entire marriage process, but true happiness comes to the parents when they
hug each other with those smiling faces. I think this bolsters their trust and confidence in each other's
family, allowing them to go ahead with this thing called marriage. I still doubt that they really trust us
youngsters one hundred percent.
But anyway, the folks got introduced to each other. Except for Tinku, who was in Bhubaneswar for
his weekend support at his office, they had seen my entire family.
We all then moved to the guest room where her parent's would stay. They liked our place,
especially her mom, who noticed the guava and the jamun tree in our courtyard. And this time it was
me who boasted, 'See, our tree is bigger than yours.' And everybody laughed.
While they enjoyed their lemon squash, my mom returned to her kitchen. She was very busy. In a
short while they were given some privacy, to get comfortable in the new place, relax a bit and take a
shower. We all then met at lunch.
Of course it had to be good. And it was, actually, one of the best luncheon gatherings at my place—
a good menu, good people, good conversation and all that for a good purpose. Along with the meal, the
elderly people went down memory lane, recalling marriages in their period and comparing it with the
present system. And I wondered if, forty years later, I would be recalling the present marriage system.
Or maybe, who knows, marriage might not even exist by then …
Apart from that, there were a lot of things they discussed: the current society, mind-sets, the
generation-gap fundas and all that. And I had to agree with whatever they said, though there were a lot
of things I would have revolted against. But then, all I was bothered about was my marriage to their
daughter. So I nodded my head to whatever they said about our young generation's failings. But
thankfully they ended on a happy note, saying that we are the bright future of this country. (And I said
to myself, 'Oh, thank you so much, folks! I am honored.')
Being a good child, I gave the required privacy to the parents, so that they could discuss what they
had come to discuss. I went out to the veranda and lying on a cot underneath the jamun tree, I called
her up.
'Heyyyyyyyy!'
'Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!'
'What's up there?' she asked.
'The sky,' I answered.
'Shut up! Batao naa. How's my mom? Is she fine?'
'Kamaal hai. At least ask me how I am first!'
'Nothing's going to happen to you. You'll always be fine because I'm in your life,' she replied
sweetly, though I wondered—didn't the same apply to her mother as well?
'Your mom is doing very good aur haan your dad is also fine,' I added that taunt to make her
realize that she should have asked about her dad too. But she always said she is her mom's daughterfirst … Her dearest daughter.
Then I told her all that had happened, so far, at my place and the agenda for the rest of the evening.
Meanwhile, there was a burst of laughter from inside and I thought I should go back and check on the
things being discussed. We hung up and I went back in.
I'd left them alone to plan my marriage but, damn! the old folks were cracking jokes, recalling the
funny things I used to do when I was a kid. Why do parents have to reveal all those embarrassing
secrets to others? I was not the only kid in the world to suck his thumb in his sleep! What's the big
deal?
But anyway …
We made a plan for the evening—a visit to Hirakud dam. Mom wanted to stay back home, because
of her health and to take care of other household chores, most importantly, dinner. I wanted to stay
back with mom but she wanted me to be with them. It was just a matter of half an hour or so and we
would be back, she said.
So after an hour's nap and evening tea, we went ahead with the plan. As our destination was only
three kilometers from our house, it didn't take us much time and we reached there in ten minutes.
We parked our vehicles and then climbed the Jawahar Minaar tower (the tallest building there)
which was built to keep vigil. We were almost 150 feet above the ground and, from there, the
catchment area of the dam appeared at its best. On our right was the giant structure of the dam—those
hovering pulleys, the noise of the turbine coming from some place far below, the big water reservoir
behind the wall and the tributaries of water originating and passing by my town towards the east. On
our left was the scenic horizon, with half of the burning sun above it, creating a mesmerizing sunset,
giving us a hint to interpret the common line between the sky and the water.
Very soon, our shadows perched in the longer shadow of the tower were fading. The sun was
bidding goodbye for the day. And there stood those silent islands, big and small, far and near, in the
miles and miles of water, waiting for the night-creatures to come out and rule them. Birds were flying
back to their homes and, from that tower, we could see the lights in our town coming on. Everyone
there appreciated the beauty of the place.
I was happy I had brought Khushi's mom and dad there. And I remember very well what her
Mumma said. 'When Khushi comes here, bring her to this place. She'll love it.' And her dad said, 'It
was a similar, spellbinding, scenic view which made me write a poem when I passed through the
Khandala Hills on the Pune-Mumbai expressway. And I have the same urge now.'
That was so good to hear. I don't know if he wrote any poem on it or not. But they didn't know, till
then, that my small town, Burla, had such beauty in its lap. And, on that note, we were on our way
back home, the setting sun colouring us with its hues and thanking the 'guests' for their visit to this
natural heaven.
We were back at around 8 p.m., a little before dinner. And this is when people actually started
discussing the purpose for which Khushi's parents were here. And, being a good lover-boy, I was
updating my beloved about the proceedings at our premises. Moments later, when I joined the
discussion, we all arrived at a common decision.
The ring-ceremony was to be held in Faridabad, on 14 February 2007.
Khushi and I had chosen this date long ago. She had said she wanted to celebrate this Valentine'sDay with her fiancé (the future me), whereas my stand was that I wanted to celebrate this day with my
girlfriend (the current she). So we both agreed to exchange our rings on the evening of 14 February.
For the first half of the day she would be my girlfriend and for the later half, I would be her fiancé.
Such a simple solution, no?
So, the ring-ceremony would be on 14 February. And the marriage, some time in November.
After that, we had our dinner, and then her parents went to their room, quite happily. My parents
and I had a brief discussion, planning some of the things at a personal level, especially for the
engagement which was a month later.
She is differently happy today. It seems she wants to tell me something. And I am asking—What? But
she is taking her sweet time. I hear her turning the pages of newspaper. Then she speaks up.
'Shona!' And after a moment of silence she adds, 'Your promise to me about that boozing thing …'
'Hmm …'
'I want to set you free from that promise.'
'What?' For a moment, I cannot figure out the context. But, still, I am happy. I again hear the sound
of newspaper pages.
She says, 'You kept your promise for the past seven months. I'm sure alcohol won't turn you bad.'
I doubt that's the only reason and ask her again, 'Are you sure? Is this the only reason?'
Mischievously, she reveals the whole truth. She reads out an article from the newspaper which
describes the various positive aspects of limited alcohol intake. It also says that a couple can make
their romantic moments special with a glass of champagne.
I am smiling.
She says, 'I respect you for keeping your promise to me till the day I ask you to break it.'
I don't say anything, but I smile. I am feeling nice about this.
She says 'It's been a long time for you. Do you feel like enjoying a drink with your friends tonight?'
'No.'
'Why?'
'Haha … Well, not tonight.' I am laughing. 'I am glad that you are setting me free from this promise
and I am happier that I could keep it. I only booze in order to give company to my friends. Maybe the
next time they want me to, I will be able to drink with them. I am in no hurry, though.'
She says she feels so comfortable with my last line.
It was Friday afternoon and, as usual, I called her up before lunch. I had to tell her that we had made
our reservations and also when we'd be arriving at her place. And I wanted to know what all was
happening at their end. Actually, I already had an idea; still, all these things related to our engagement
were so beautiful that we loved to talk about them again and again. It happens with everyone, no?
'Hey.'
'Heyyy! Hi, my cute baby.'
'Listen, I have completed my next task too. We have got our …'
But she interrupted me to say, 'Arey, wait. I'll tell you about my task.' She seemed very excited
and, of course, completely ignored what I was saying. She was very happy. I mean she is usually
happy, but that afternoon she was differently happy.
I heard her jump off her bed onto the floor.'Give me a second,' she said and started singing to herself. Lala … Lalala … Lala.
'Weird,' I thought and waited for her one second to complete.
'Ok! Do you know what I have done?' she asked in her cutest voice.
'Hmm … No. Tell me.'
'I have just painted some flower vases. And some candle pots, you know the kind? Bowl-shaped
earthen pots which will be filled with water, and fresh rose petals and a few small, lighted candles will
be floating on the surface.'
'Wow! But what are you going to do with this?'
'Arey buddhu! We will place them on the podium where we will be exchanging our rings that
evening. To add an aesthetic touch and sweet fragrance to the surroundings.'
'Oh … Wow! Nice yaar, this will be awesome.'
Then she got busy again. Probably working again on those candle pots.
'Achcha, listen. I have made the reservations,' I tried again to tell her.
'Wow! You know what? I have made an awesome design on it. It's looking good … It's looking so
beautiful!'
I don't know what had happened to her. She was completely ignoring me and enjoying her
preparation for her engagement evening. She was singing, she was laughing more than I ever heard
her, she thought everything around her was so beautiful.
La … Lala … Lala … Laa …
'Heyyyyyyy you know what? The entire menu is selected. Yes! I've done that. And dad has given
the order accordingly. Everything is purchased apart from small accessories. I will buy them
tomorrow.' And she kept narrating her entire list, what she was going to buy and wear on the
engagement.
'Arey, dekthe reh jaaoge. In that first look, I'll take your breath away.' she started jumping and
singing again, this time at a higher pitch.
'What's happened to you?' I heard her mother ask.
'She's gone mad,' I heard Neeru say.
And Khushi? She kept laughing and dancing.
'Arey, Mumma, I am going crazy …. coz … coz … three days later,
IT'S MY ENGAGEMENT!'
La … Lala … Lala … Laa …
And then, I think, she made her mother dance with her. She was crazy. The madness of being in love
… Her dream coming true with every passing day … She was on cloud nine.
All of a sudden, her mother took the phone to talk to me.
'My daughter's gone completely mad today … She's been laughing all morning. She's so happy,
I've started worrying … kahin kuch …'
'When you were getting married you must have felt the same!' I heard Khushi shouting in the
background, her voice fading away as if she was going out of the room.
'Did you hear?' her innocent and worried mother asked.
'Haha. But Mumma, today I like your daughter even more. You don't worry. Just let her enjoy the
preparations.'From her mother I found out that, since morning, she had been trying on her dress for that evening
every now and then, her sandals, her bangles. She had not even eaten breakfast in her excitement. All
morning her hands were dipped in the paint she was applying to those vases and candle pots.
'Do you want to talk to Ravin?' her mother asked her.
And from outside came her faint, childish, arrogant voice, 'Mumma, tell him I am busy planning
my engagement, so don't disturb me.'
She was so lost in the euphoria of her engagement that she probably forgot the person whom she
was getting engaged to!
I left my cute princess to her work. But before I hung up, I let her mother know about our
reservations and the time when we'd be arriving at Faridabad. And I heard Khushi's, 'La … La …
Laaaaa …'
I was wondering how she was handling all this. On one hand, I was struggling to get everything
completed for the ceremony. My life was screwed up: booking tickets, calling and planning all my
friends' schedules, buying clothes and jewelry. And shopping for all the 'miscellaneous' things—
which was the biggest headache of all. I was tired. I was frustrated. On the other hand, Khushi was
handling all this so easily. Laughing, kidding, enjoying each and every second. Planning, shopping and
trying everything on, one more time. I envied her for being so relaxed amid all this. And I loved her
for this very reason.
Done with my lunch, alone in the food-court of my office that afternoon, I was laughing recalling
her euphoria. I felt happy for her and for myself for having her in my life.
Khushi's funda of life was so simple, yet fruitful—she wanted to live and enjoy every moment of
her life. She kept saying, 'Forget what others think when you wish to dance in the rain. Just do it. It's
your moment. It's your happiness.' She was correct when she said engagements, marriages, love (or,
to be precise, first love)—all these are one-time occasions. Therefore, they are precious. You have to
celebrate them. You have to make them memorable.
Thinking of all this even I wanted to act crazy. 'Yes! It's my engagement,' I said to myself in
excitement. And with a last sip of water I returned to my office to complete the leftover tasks, before I
went on leave.
I filled in my leave form, for the next two weeks, on my computer. In the 'reason' section of the
form, I wrote, 'It's my engagement! My cell won't be reachable for any code fixes or test reports, but
only for your good wishes.'
Later that night, I was feeling this excitement creating waves in me. Soon I would be engaged. I
would be called somebody's fiancé. The freedom of being with my friends and staring at other girls
may be gone. That one ring, which I would soon be wearing on my finger, would stop all incoming
traffic of other girls. My bachelorhood was going to expire soon …
Would I enjoy my life going forward, just the way I did till now? I didn't know. But I wanted that
ring on my finger. I couldn't wait any longer. I didn't know the future but, yes, I wanted to marry
Khushi. I was dying to. All of a sudden, I wanted to have her with me. I wanted to stare at her, kiss
her, love her. Ripples of romance were making troughs and crests in the ocean of my heart. I called
her up.
The moment she picked up the phone I said, 'I think I want to make love to you.''Hmm? Haha. You're nuts. I am in my office and have high-priority defects to be assigned for
closure,' she answered with a naughty laugh.
A few weeks back, she had moved to a US project and was working night-shifts. I knew that but I
was so lost in my thoughts, I kept talking. '… And I want to close my eyes and feel your face with my
fingers …'
'Hey! Shona … Listen,' she was still laughing, trying to halt my thought process.
'… And then my fingers …'
'Listen dear! Pleaseeeeeeeeeee. I understand your mood. But, I have some very urgent tasks,' she
said gently, so that I would not get hurt.
'Screw work, screw defects,' I said.
'I love you dear. But this is my last day at office, before I take leave. Don't you want me to
complete all my work here so that I can enjoy my own engagement?'
This is how she always made me think and brought me back to reality.
'Hmmm …'I said, to let her know I understood but, still, was disappointed.
'I promise, I will wake you up at around five in the morning, as soon as I reach home,' she quickly
said to comfort me.
'Wake me up at five. Why?'
'Mmm … Maybe I'll want to feel your fingers on my face …'
'Gotcha! Enjoy working.'
'Enjoy your sleep before an erotic morning. See you at five.'
She kissed me and returned to her 'high-priority defects'. Half asleep, I reached for my cell
underneath my pillow. From the faint light coming in through the curtains, I could make out it was
morning. I checked the time on the screen of my phone. It was 6.30 a.m.
I remembered Khushi was supposed to call me. Why didn't she call? Did she fall asleep? Still in the
mood to continue last night's interrupted conversation, I dialed her number. I was still under my
blanket on that chilly morning. For a long, romantic chat, I put on my hands-free and closed my eyes
before I entered a world of romance with her.
Her phone kept ringing but she didn't pick it up.
'I won't let you sleep dear,' I murmured to myself and redialed.
To my surprise I heard a male voice. 'Hello?' The voice was breathing heavily.
'Who is this?' I asked, suddenly awake.
'Girish.'
I could make out he was rushing somewhere. There were noises around him.
'Why do you have Khushi's cell?'
He didn't answer but handed the cell to someone else.
'Hello,' said another male voice.
'Pushkar?'
'Yes, Ravin.'
'What's up, yaar? All you people? Where is Khushi?' I asked anxiously, throwing off the blanket.
'Ravin, we are rushing to the ICU. Khushi met with an accident.'