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 her an 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, he was 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?)