I Too Had a Love Story (5 page)

‘And then …?’ she insisted I go on.

‘And then, all of a sudden, it has started raining,’ I brought the rain from outside my window into our sweet dream.

‘Mmm … And then …?’

Very slowly, I whispered, ‘And then, I have turned you towards me. We are wet from the rain. I am watching you in your wet sari which is sticking to your body. I am seeing the raindrops falling on your forehead, running down your nose and
hanging on your lips for a while before running further down your body. Strands of your wet hair are glued to your cheek.’

‘And then …?’ She started whispering again.

‘You are looking down, somewhere on my shirt, too shy to look into my eyes. I am raising your chin, to help you look into and read my eyes which are staring at you.’

‘A … n … d … t … h … e … n …?’ she was hardly able to speak any more and was losing her words.

‘With our heads tilted slightly, my lips feel the raindrops sticking to your lips, swallowing them, further discovering the softness of your lips …’ And that passionate kiss which I described to her lasted for quite a while. That was the first time, I felt, she allowed me to cross a few boundaries. Miles apart from each other, we felt each and every shiver of that moment.

We were lost in each other when, suddenly, she turned mischievous. ‘Hey! People down there will be looking for us. I have to rush before my parents come upstairs, searching for me,’ she shouted.

I wonder how she collected her energy and, more than that, how she remembered the fake people in the fake rain, on that fake engagement night (though it was to come true, in a few months).

‘Aah! The people down there will be happy with their food,’ I tried to convince her.

‘Nah … please. Come on dear, now open your arms. We have to go and change our clothes before they see us,’ she urged, laughing at the virtual reality we were in.

‘Ok. But on one condition.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘I want to see you while you change.’

‘
Oh … ho … ho … tumhe ungli kya pakdaai, tum to pura haath pakdna chahte ho. Zyaada galat fehmiyaan mat paalo,’
she warned me with a little laugh.

‘
Haath pakdna?
Not just the hand, I want to hold
all
of you!’ I responded. I tried hard to convince her, but she didn’t allow me, even though it was only make believe.

That night, we slept quite late. No, it wasn’t night. I guess it was close to sunrise when we finally hung up.

I stared at my cellphone and, rising from my bed, I walked to the window. I noticed that the rain had stopped by then. I was tired and hungry, so I picked up an apple from the kitchen and, munching on it, I lay down on my bed. Then I went over our conversation again, over all that had happened, every detail … I don’t know when I fell asleep and started dreaming …

The next morning was beautiful, with the sunrays bouncing into my room through the window. The mornings after a rainy night are really pleasant. With my eyes partially open, I smiled to myself, recalling the previous night. I managed to pull myself up, sat on the bed and turned to see myself in the mirror, still smiling. Then I asked my reflection, ‘Still in her hangover,
haan
?’

And what a night it was. If a hypothetical kiss could give so much a pleasure, what would a practical one be like, I wondered. Then I decided to call her up—to tease her for all she ended up doing the night before.

She picked up the phone in her sleep and asked, ‘
Mera baby uth gaya
?’

‘Aah … You kill me when you talk so sweet.’

‘Really?’

‘Hmm …’

‘But I am still sleepy and want to return to my dreams again,’ she said.

Mischievously, I shouted at her, ‘Sleep? I am here to wake you up! Do you even remember what all you said to a guy last night? I mean, I wonder how you could be so open and bold,
forcing me to say all that. You know, I was struggling to get over the embarrassment. I never thought you would cross all the boundaries of shyness, ethical values …’

I had not yet finished my speech when she woke up completely and shouted back at me, ‘
Aaye-haye … haye
… You guys! How cunning you are, my God! All you boys are alike. The lines you said just now should be mine actually. You stole my lines just because I was sleepy. You crossed all your boundaries and pulled me to the other side as well. How could you do that? You guys play so smart with innocent girls like me …’

‘Hey,’ I said, interrupting, trying to calm her down. But she kept going like an opposition party’s representative on NDTV’s Big Fight.

‘… All you guys are like chameleons, changing your colour when required … You …’

And I was trying to recall where I had heard about chameleons.

Probably in Biology. Was it some kind of flower which changed colour at night and returned to its original colour in the morning? I think it was something else. I wasn’t that good with Bio.

Keeping the chameleon at bay, I tried to interrupt again, ‘
Achcha baba
, listen to me.’

‘… And only you boys want to talk like this, we girls never …’ She was not through yet.

‘Hey, Khushi …’I said, but she was completely ignoring me. ‘… And you know what? All you boys …’

‘OK ENOUGH!’ I shouted, ‘YOU KNOW WHAT? THAT HALF AN HOUR LAST NIGHT IS SO PRECIOUS TO ME, THAT I AM READY TO DIE A HUNDRED DEATHS TO ENJOY THAT AGAIN WITH YOU … AND JUST YOU.’ This time, she heard every word loud and clear. I continued, ‘Because it was so sweet, so loving, and so beautiful. And I am
so happy that you trust me enough to allow me to get so close toy ou. And I want to say that … I love you so much.’

And she melted like an ice-cream in summer.

‘
Sachhi
?’ Her innocent, sweet voice was calm now.

‘
Muchhi
. I will wait for our engagement evening to come true this way. Just make sure that you don’t put on a lot of lipstick.’

‘Shut up,’ she said shyly.

All day I waited for the confirmation of news which would have been good, if it had been at another time. Unfortunately, I got the confirmation and I had to tell her and my family too. I wondered if she would be happy when she found out, or sad.

Still, without thinking any further, I called her up to tell her. When she did not pick her phone, I got back to my studies. Five minutes later, I heard my cellphone ringing. I could see her name flashing on the screen.

I picked up the phone and said, ‘Hi,
Jaaaaaaaaaan
,’ very romantically, with a small kiss.

‘Uh … Hi.’

Damn! It was Neeru, her younger sister. What a blunder. What should I say now? Should I talk or should I just disconnect? I was panicking. With the kind of image I had projected to her family, that first line would have been a shock for sure.

‘How are you?’ Neeru asked me, breaking the silence.

‘Uh … I am fine. How are you? And how come you called up from her cell,’ I asked, scratching my head and wondering whether she hadn’t heard my previous line because of some
chamatkaar
or due to some fault in the phone or the network.

‘I am fine. Actually, Khushi was in the washroom and I was about to take your call when the ring stopped. So I dialed the missed-call number. Well, here she is, back in this room. And
now she is struggling with me to snatch her cellphone …’ and her voice faded into the background.

Finally, Khushi said, ‘
Haan
… Hello,’ defending herself from her sister’s punches. Neeru wanted to talk to me, and it was probably the only time when I felt uncomfortable talking to her, just because of the way the call started.

‘Hey, thank God you came,’ I said to her.

‘Shona,
ek minute
,’ she paused with that sentence to hear something which Neeru was trying to tell her at the other end. That ‘
ek minute
’ lasted for five minutes and I realized how wrong I was to think of any
chamatkaar
.

‘What?’ Khushi shouted, amused, and laughed crazily.

‘Hi,
meri jaan
!’ Neeru shouted from behind and joined her sister’s laughter.

‘OH MY GOD!’ I thought, feeling very embarrassed.

But Khushi didn’t come to my defence. Rather, she joined her sister in celebrating that moment.

‘Damn!’ I thought. ‘Her little sister talked to me as if she didn’t hear anything and look at her now. Girls!’ I now remembered what a chameleon was, and thought the analogy suited girls even better—they change colours so fast.

So that was how I became a joke for the two sisters.

I almost forgot the reason I had called her, when Khushi came back at last, taking a break from her laughter.

‘Yeah … Tell me now. She’s gone to another room.’

‘Your sister is so cunning. She behaved as if she did not hear anything.’

‘After all, she’s my sister!’

‘Now I won’t be able to face her for the next few days.’

‘Oh come on! After all you are her jiju, and such things keep happening between jiju and saali.’

‘But, the next time, I won’t begin with romantic lines, unless I make sure it’s you on phone.’

‘Ok
baba
, now tell me. What were you going to say?’

After a small pause, I said in a single go, ‘I need to go to the US for four weeks, for my project.’

‘What?’ Actually it was more like, ‘W-H-A-T?????’ A single word with a thousand thoughts running through it, all in different directions.

‘Yes.’

‘Why so suddenly?’ she asked impatiently.

‘I knew that this thing was in the pipeline. But I was trying to avert it for the CAT in November. There isn’t any escape from this now.’

‘But … you can make any high priority excuse, right?’

‘Hmm … But it’s going to matter for my career too, dear. Listen. Please don’t get angry. At this point, I am a little confused about how I will do this. I mean, leaving the IMS classes, the mock-tests. I need your support.’

‘IMS, mock-tests, career … You remember everything, but what about me? Busy in our office, career and IMS classes, we have not even seen each other yet. Ours is such a different story … And now you’re saying you are going to the States …’ She was about to cry.

‘Hey … But I have something to cheer you up.’

‘What is it?’

‘I will be boarding my plane from New Delhi. I’ll take a day’s leave so that I can spend an entire day with you. We’ll finally be seeing each other! Isn’t that something to cheer up about?’

Even I knew that it wasn’t the perfect way to cheer her up—spending an entire day with her and then leaving the country for more than a month. But the fact that we would get to spend an entire day with each other gave some comfort to our hearts. It was not as if we had any option other than eagerly waiting for that day to arrive and then trying to make it last as long as a year.

What was surprising, though, was that an official, on-site trip was giving us the opportunity to see each other for the very first time. At times, we wondered how busy our life was: running from office to IMS, from career to family, but with no time to see the person with whom we were going to spend the rest of our lives.

Every passing day was marked. And as time passed, our feelings got stronger. The excitement was increasing, both, in the mind and in the heart. And finally, the day arrived when we met each other for the very first time.

It is a hot, sticky Sunday afternoon. We are watching the same movie on our televisions: she, in Faridabad; I, in Bhubaneswar. And I am doing this because she sent me an SMS, telling me to watch it.

In the movie, the heroine is packing her bags after having a big fight with her hubby.

At this very moment, Khushi calls me up. And putting herself in that woman’s shoes, I don’t understand why, she says, ‘You know what? If someday I am so angry that I want to run away from you … just do a simple thing …’

I don’t say anything, but she continues.

‘Simply run to me and give me a tight hug, no matter how much I hit you then. But give me a warm, tight hug. Don’t say a word. Just hold me in your arms for sometime … And, a little later, help me in unpacking my bags. Bolo karoge na?’

It was 2.30 in the afternoon and I was on an airbus from Bhubaneswar to Delhi. First row, window seat. I just love getting window seats.

With my official laptop on my lap, I wasn’t working extra hours and making Infy proud of me. Rather, I was going through her pictures which I’d managed to download at the very last minute before leaving for the airport.

During the journey, I gave plenty of reasons to the air hostesses and my fellow passengers to think that there was something wrong with me. Or, to be precise, with my brain. When you see a guy talking to his laptop, at times looking outside at the clouds, smiling, then looking at the screen again and smiling one more time—you cannot be blamed for feeling that his top floor might be vacant.

I remember the discomfort of the air hostess when she caught me smiling at my laptop while she was delivering the safety demo. She probably hated me because the demo was supposed to be in sync with the announcement by her colleague, and she was lagging behind. But who asked her to focus on me? I didn’t.

On my computer screen
Gazing at her picture
I found myself falling with the rising heights
Falling in Love with her
Couldn’t resist saying—I love you
The madness added
When the picture said it too

If you ask me why I was blushing and smiling, I had plenty of answers for that. Enjoying the candies (served by the same air hostess), I was recalling how Khushi gave me a call last night as the minute hand just moved past 12 a.m. and we entered the first minute of a new day—today.

‘You are going to come to me todayyyyy,’ she shouted

‘Oh Boy! I am going crazzzyyyyyyyy,’ I also shouted, jumping in my balcony, stirring the calm midnight.

I guess I woke up some of my neighbors, and disturbed some who were about to orgasm. A couple of street dogs came out of the darkness and started barking at me. I rushed back into my room when I saw the lights turn on in a few flats in the building next to mine.

Laughing at last night’s events and still enjoying my candies, I recollected how confused I was that morning about what to wear. I pulled out everything from my closet that morning and tried it all in front of the mirror. I took almost an hour to decide and, then, changed again just before I left for the office. The funny thing is that I ended up wearing the only shirt which wasn’t ironed (along with dark denim).

Everything I did that day, I made a mess of. And while I recalled those moments, every now and then weird thoughts would pop into my head—

What if she isn’t as beautiful as she appears in her pictures?

What if she laughs in a very weird way?

What if she limps?

—and many other such thoughts played hide and seek in my mind, until I finally asked myself the big question.

Do you love her, Ravin?

Holy shit! Of course it was too late to be asking this.

‘Yes, I do. Of course I do,’ I said to myself.

Well, to be honest, I actually forced myself to say it. I don’t know why I was a little apprehensive. But, good or bad, the truth was that marrying her was my independent decision, one that I had arrived at without any kind of pressure from my family or from her.

So, to silence those weird thoughts, I pulled out a newspaper from the small rack in front of my seat. But I could not concentrate on the newspaper either. There was a different kind of excitement in me which was sending up a chill inside me, shaking me a bit at times. I don’t know what kind of fear it was.

The nervousness and anxiety meant I was going to the loo every twenty minutes. I became a peeing machine. It happens to everyone … Or doesn’t it? And I was sure that the kid on the last seat was counting the number of times I passed by him. I pretended to ignore him when he started whispering in his mom’s ear. Of course he was telling her about me. I noticed his hand pointing at me, which his mom pulled back, smiling.

Finally at 5 in the evening, the plane landed at Delhi and I switched on my mobile completely ignoring the captain’s command to not do so before instructed. While the plane was taking a U—turn on the runway, I looked out of the window to see if there was any girl waving towards my plane—it could be her! (Now, I wonder how I could have been so silly as to expect visitors on the runway.)

I was trying to call her up but, for some reason, my cellphone could not adapt itself to the roaming zone. I kept trying, cursing my phone and the network. I kept trying and kept failing.

A few minutes later, I was standing at the baggage claim section, waiting for my luggage to arrive. But my eyes were not on the conveyor belt. They were looking for something else, rather
someone
else. Here and there, I was looking at every girl, and peering at the crowd standing outside which was visible through the glass wall.

Then I saw my red bag gliding towards me on the belt. But before it could reach me, she reached me.

On my phone.

My cell was working now and I heard the ring. ‘Khushi calling,’ it said. I took her call.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’

Silence.

‘So.’ And I turned back, facing the exit.

‘So.’

‘What so?’

‘I mean, where are you?’

She had never seemed so shy and silent. I could almost hear her blushing. Obviously, her state of mind was no different from mine. And how could it be? Two people, who were madly in love with each other and had decided to marry each other, were going to see each other for the first time in their life!

‘I am at the baggage claim section,’ I said. And, with that, I noticed my bag going away from me. ‘Damn! I missed it.’

‘What did you miss?’

‘My luggage. I started talking to you and I missed it.’

‘Uh-oh.’ She paused while I kept my eyes on the conveyor belt. Then she spoke again, ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘What?’

‘Are you nervous?’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because … even I am,’ she confessed. Then she said, ‘Ok! Tell me, what are you wearing today?’

‘Olive-green shirt and dark-blue jeans. You?’

‘Oh my God!’

‘What happened?’ I thought she didn’t like the colour I was wearing.

‘It looks good on me.’

‘No, no. It’s not about good or bad.’

‘Then?’

‘I am also wearing olive-green and blue jeans.’

Coincidences seemed always to be following us. Our birthplace, the month, the year, our interest in music, our career, IMS. And now, the clothes we were wearing that day.

‘Amazing! We are definitely made for each other. Hey! My luggage is coming to me again. I’m going to pick it up and come outside in two minutes. See ya!’

I made my way through the broken queue to get my bag, and loading it on a trolley, I walked towards the exit. The laptop was still hanging on my shoulder.

Finally about to see her, I was anxious, shivering and my heart was beating fast. Every feminine voice from the crowd seemed to be hers. Of course, I was trying to behave as if I was relaxed and cool.

‘Relax … Relax … Relax. Take a deep breath,’ I told myself. And the next thing I know, I was already outside.

There were a lot of people in front of me, waiting for their dear ones. Some cab drivers, holding up nameplates for their bosses. There was a lot of shouting and noise from the traffic.

Then, for some reason, I stopped moving forward and turned left.

And there she was!

My angel, my beautiful one.

Her smile which tried to override my senses. That chilling hesitation in her, and in me. Her long, untied hair that fell upon
her eyes with a gust of wind. Her hand moving across her face, and moving her hair behind her left ear. Her left ear, and the glittering silver earring she was wearing. Her beautiful face, which mesmerized me. And in that green, off-shoulder top and jeans, her body appeared so perfect, so young, so poised. She was charismatic. I wasn’t able to take my eyes off her. Rather, I wanted to stare at her from top to bottom, very slowly—which I actually did.

‘This is her,’ I told myself. ‘She is mine.’

That was a wonderful moment which I have re-lived again and again, recalling that first sight.

I moved towards her with a smile, almost forgetting my trolley. And in a few seconds, there I was, right in front of her, a foot apart, still not able to take my gaze off her.

‘Hey,’ I said, offering my right hand for a shake.

‘Hi,’ she responded, politely and in such an elegant way, touching me for the first time with that hand shake. (Did you hear what I said? The first time we touched … It was magical!)

And her eyes … So beautiful! There was something special in them. Something which didn’t let me look away. I wanted to hear what they were telling me. The feeling, the truth of the moment, the … the … I don’t know what it was.

I looked, and my eyes were stuck on you
I tried to move the black in them, but they were stuck like glue

Looking at you for real, I noticed your eyes
That’s exactly where your entire beauty lies
So genuine, so honest, so beautiful, so deep
With a glint of light, some naughtiness did creep

Finding my dream coming true
I pleaded my shivering lips to bring out the words I had kept for you
There were so many things to say
I can remember none of them at all
But, I don’t lose with that, I do things my own way …

‘… And this is my sister Neeru and he is Girish—her best and only friend,’ she broke my gaze and thoughts to introduce me to two other people. I wondered how I didn’t notice them standing beside us. Was I so lost in her? Undoubtedly, I was.

I said hello to both of them, cracking some jokes to ease the sweet pressure which Khushi and I were feeling. Then we moved out of the exit channel towards the parking lot in search of the cab these guys had come to the airport in. Khushi was too shy to walk with me and she joined Neeru and Girish in looking for the cab. I followed at a distance, with my trolley. My condition was no different from her.

I wrote her a very short SMS, then, ‘You are damn hot!’

The next moment I saw her coming towards me from the other side of the exit, looking at something on her cellphone, probably reading my SMS.

When she reached me, she smiled.

‘Thanks,’ she said.

‘I love this. Whatever is happening. The excitement, the anxiety. And seeing you,’ I said.

And in her shyness, she turned away, her hair falling across her eyes again. Her complete attention was upon me, yet she was trying to escape my gaze.

‘Hey. Am I making sense? Or am I being stupid?’ I asked.

She laughed and turned back to me. She had a lot of teeth. ‘No you’re making sense, actually. It’s the same with me,’ she said, smiling.

Soon, Neeru and Girish appeared, pointing at the cab which was coming towards us. It became clear that I was expected to step into the cab first, and because of this I panicked.

Where should I sit? I asked myself. In the back, with her? But will it look good if I sit between the two sisters, pushing Girish to the front? Should I sit in front, then? Or should I sit in the back, but on the left, with Girish in middle and Khushi at the right. And her sister with the driver? No. No. What a mess! So many permutations and combinations to be solved in a second. It was beyond the abilities of my brain. Better sit up front, I thought. It was the easiest solution.

And in haste and alarm I got in beside the driver. ‘You fool. What is she going to think of you? Why didn’t you sit behind, beside her?’ my not-so-talented brain shouted at me the very next second. Damn! I was screwing up things with my stupidity. I was sitting apart from my own girlfriend.

Barely a minute later, I got a call on my cell. Mom calling.

‘Shit! She asked me to call her the moment I landed in Delhi. I forgot,’ I murmured as I took the call. ‘
Haanji
Mumma, I just came out of the airport,’ I said before she asked me anything.

‘I knew you will forget. Now tell me,’ she said

‘Tell me? What?’ I asked, though I knew she probably had a hundred questions for me, about Khushi, which I couldn’t answer because I was with them in the cab.

But she didn’t ask me all those questions. Just one, which summarized all of them, ‘So, are you happy?’

‘Oh Mom! I am … I am very happy,’ I replied quietly, looking outside the window.

‘Good. I just wanted to know that. I know you won’t want to talk to me at this moment. So you guys enjoy and we will talk later. All right?’

‘
Haanji
Mumma,
theek hai
. I will call you later. Bye.’

We were now on our way to the hotel, which I was to move into for slightly more than a day before I left for the US. I had no idea where this hotel was, nor did the cab driver. Khushi and Girish
said they did but both were pointing in opposite directions. In other words no one had a clue. But we moved ahead thinking we’d soon ask somebody about the precise location.

What an evening that was! I was sitting beside the driver and behind me was my sweetheart, with Neeru in the middle and Girish on her right. The song selection on the radio seemed to be exceptionally good that day—romantic songs that Khushi and I could relate to—and we sat listening to them without saying anything, but smiling within.

These moments of silence only added to the beauty of the songs. I tried to see her in the rearview mirror but, every time, I’d only find Girish’s funny face and he would raise his eyebrows, mocking me.

Soon, however, our formal demeanor gave way to a more casual one and we started talking about each other, at times pulling each other’s leg, recalling some stupid incidents out of the blue and spicing them up as we narrated them. Khushi became an easy target for both Neeru and Girish and they mimicked her embarrassment that day, before seeing me. We were shouting and partying in the cab with the patties and the pastries they had brought.