It Wasn't Love at First Shalini and I

2011
T

here was a huge line at the security check as I heard the
announcement for my name: “This is the last call for RN Kapoor,
I repeat, this is the last call for Mr. RN Kapoor on board Virgin Atlantic
flight VS301 to London. “

Damn, this was the opportunity I had waited for my whole life, a
job in London, not only a job, a very high paying job and somehow I
had managed to screw it up by partying all night and reaching late for
my flight. That flight, which would take me away from all the confusions
of this country and these relationships and the gym, the damn gym
which had absolutely no effect on my body but had made my life living
hell. Yes, this flight would take me away from the gym and into a
country where life would have a meaning.

I struggled my way up the line, begging, pleading, coercing but
somehow convincing everyone ahead of me that my time was more
important than theirs. There was a pretty girl in the line, I almost
stopped to say a ‘hi’ but controlled myself. She could wait, the way I
had waited in this country, there would be lots of pretty girls in line for
me when I landed in London.

I removed my shoes, took out my laptop and put it though the scanner.
The security guy checked me as if he would actually find something.
Bugger, they always let the terrorists go and held up the dreams of
helpless people like me.

He checked me and said a ‘thank you sir’. Rather polite for a Haryanvi
in the Delhi international airport but then, this was the international
terminal and I guess he had reserved his manners for the international
people. People like me.

I heard the announcement again. The last call again. I ran my guts
out and reached the terminal 1A. And in front of my eyes, was the
Virgin Atlantic VS301 to which I had an economy ticket H58.

I looked at the plane, a Boeing something and I admired her beauty.
Just then it began to move.

I panicked, I shouted but it seemed no one cared. No one cared that
the flight took along with it my dreams of a better car, a better job, a
better future, a hotter if not better girl. I looked at it, one arm stretched
and the other holding my laptop, and gradually falling on my knees in
slow motion.

The plane was now on its way to the runway and there I was watching
it in pain through the glass doors. Just then it hit me, I had to get on
that plane no matter what.

I got up, made my laptop bag a shield and ran. I ran into the glass
walls, tearing them apart with the sheer power of my will. I had broken
the windows and was now floating in the air, 30 metres above the
ground. I put out my hand and an umbrella miraculously appeared in
my hand, gliding me to safety. The plane was 500 metres ahead of me
and was gaining in speed and was approaching the runaway. I looked
behind, an entire battery of policemen was behind me but I could only
see the plane. I got up, again in slow motion, and I ran.

I ran and I ran with my wavy hair flowing and the my shirt clinging
on to my ripped muscles. I ran until the police cars behind me appeared
like a speck of dust and the plane appeared like, well it appeared like a
plane.

I had reached the rear tyres, the plane was on the runway and was
accelerating and so was I. I overtook the rear tyres, and was now running
parallel to the entrance when the girl who I bypassed in the security
check opened the door, looked at me and smiled. She gave out her hand
and I jumped. Miraculously, my umbrella turned into a flying disc and
helped me get the elevation. The girl held her hand out. I reached out,
held her hand.

But surprisingly, it was hairy. Just then I heard a chicken go
KukdooKuu and a slap came my way.
Hari: You jackass, leave my chest hair. My girlfriend really likes
them.

Two things about that. One, the whole airport thing was a dream,I
guess ou would have made that out by now, and the kukdookuu was
my alarm. And two, Hari had no girlfriend, he had a wife. And also
a kid.

I woke up, flustered. I ran a hand across my hair, which were not
wavy. But they were still there and at my age and with my lineage,
that really mattered. I had missed my plane, had missed the girl and
had in fact missed a whole career in London. All I had to show for
was an iPhone which I had purchased from Palika and a hairy friend
who was no longer my roommate after his marriage but had taken
permission from his wife to spend the night at my place. After all, I
was getting married and having such night outs would not be really
possible when both of us had nagging women at home.

I looked at my phone. It was 6:45 am. Time to get up and goto
the gym and get into shape for my marriage pics. I looked at Hari.
The jackass was already married. He could skip gym as much as he
wanted.

Jackass.

 

I kicked him in retaliation of the slap which he had awarded me.

He groaned. I switched on the light, he took my pillow and covered
his eyes. He was not getting up for atleast 2 more hours, and would
then leave for home. And I had to make the journey, the long journey
to the gym, even on a Saturday. I rubbed my eyes, yawned and tried
to look forward to the day but failed miserably. I felt my body to see
if the gym sessions had made any affect. Again, no ripped muscles,
just a little paunch which was growing by the day.

I then thought about my dream. In all my dreams, I addressed
myself as RN Kapoor. My name was not RN Kapoor, it was nowhere
close to RN Kapoor.

I groaned, picked up the magazine section of the newspaper, that
always made me smile, and went into the toilet to get ready for what
was going to be another battle. Battle as I had maggi last night and
that did not go well with my bowel movements.

I sat in there for half an hour, reading about all the gossip about
what one girl, atleast five years younger than me, had to say about
same sex marriages. Then I read about a boy, five years younger than
that girl, and how he had again managed to sell out Madisson Square
Garden within five minutes of tickets going on sale. This was news
which I really did not care about, but the newspaper magazine printed
it, put really hot girls photos along with it, and hence I read it. I
switched to the cartoon section, read what Archie and the gang were
upto and then browsed through the page three hoping that none of
my friends were there in it.

They never were, but still I checked.

But nothing happened on the toilet front so I got up. I would go
again in the gym, that would help me pass time. Kriti only took note
of how much time I spent there, not what I did. I smiled at the
thought and brushed my teeth and I then lay on my bed again.

I heard the same irritating tone of the alarm. I tried to ignore it
but I knew that the alarm would win the battle- as it had for the last
infinite years. I put it on snooze and slept for five more minutes.

The alarm tone went off again. It was 7:20 am. Even though it
was a Saturday and it was off at office, I still had to getup. I had
gained 10 kgs in the last one year and if things continued going the
way they were, a heart problem was just around the corner. That is
the problem with these managerial jobs, you just sit and stare into
the computer, and the size of the computer keeps on getting smaller,
but the size of your belly keeps on increasing. Maybe Kriti was right
in forcing me to the gym.

Unwittingly I got up and went into the shower. I looked at myself
in the mirror. I still looked young. I was 30 but could any day pass
for 29 and a half. I still had the typical Indian skin color, no matter
how many fairness cream tubes I had emptied on my face- my skin
was the same wheatish brown it had been since birth, my height was
the five feet something, I had for all reasons stopped growing after
16, but I was 80 kgs now instead of the 60 I had been some years ago
and the 50 kgs I had been when I was 16. It seemed as if all the fat
had gone into my belly. The rest of me was fine, it was only the belly
which was protruding. And I did not even drink a lot of beer. Still,
the belly looked swollen as if I were pregnant. I played around with
it a little, it was jiggly. Some would find it cute, I found it fun, but
not Kriti. She hated it.

The belly had ensured that I could not wear t shirts anymore so
even when I was going to the gym, I put on a shirt.

A loose shirt. Most of my hair were still there, they had started
receding but it was not time for alarm bells yet. Plus, the good thing
was that they were not everywhere. I had a pretty clean back so that
was good. The color of the hair was also fine. Some greys, but not
enough to warrant usage of hair color. I put on my spectacles, a rimless
frame with thin lens, another recent addition to my body and looked
at myself. I looked fairly presentable if not overtly handsome. This
thought, every day, made me want to skip gym but Kriti, my fiancé,
had told me that I had to get in shape before the marriage. Her logic
was that marriage photographs were clicked only once in life and I
had to look good in them for her sake.

So I made the effort. Not that I had any choice.

The phone rang. It was her, she called me every morning at 7:30
to ensure that I had got up and was on my way to lose weight. She
was always sleeping at that time but that was besides the point. We
said our good mornings, she in a groggy voice and me trying to be as
cheerful as a guy forsaking his sleep to give pain to his own body by
lifting weights can. I put on my shoes, plugged in my iPod, gave
Hari a disgusting look, he would be gone by the time I got back, got
into my car and took the road towards the gym which was around 5
kms.

On the way I wondered where life was taking me. The early days
of job seemed like only yesterday. There was no longer any getting
up and not remembering how I reached home, there was no sleeping
till noon on weekends, and there was definitely no running away
from commitment anymore. Life had come a full circle. I was 30
years old, had completed post graduation- MBA, from a tier one
business school, was at a good managerial level at work, was making
good money and was engaged to get married to a girl of my parent’s
choice. Not that I could complain. I was too scared to ask any girl I
had dated to marry me, and no matter how young I looked (twenty
nine and a half ), age was no longer on my side. If I did not get
married now, there could be problems finding me a bride later on in
life.

A nice Saturday evening now meant ordering in from a restaurant,
having a couple of beers with friends, and talking about the share
market movement along with the usual topic that all guys have- girls.
The same old conversations which we used to have even at 25, but
they seemed a lot more fun back then.

Work meanwhile was still in Delhi. After completing post grad,
my parents had finally agreed to leave the small town and come and
live with me. But they could not adjust to the life of the city. I used
to leave at 8 and come back at around the same time at night. My
parents knew nobody in the city and at that age, it is difficult to
make new friends, so they decided to move back. So I was again
alone in the city with some friends and colleagues for company.

Hari, my only real friend who I had known for 13 years now, had
decided that he had studied enough and did not try for post
graduation. He continued working and got married at 27. At 29 he
had a kid, a baby boy who luckily took to his wife and not him. Hari
became busy with the usual chores of life and we used to meet less
often, but the friendship was as good as ever. I remembered it was his
kid’s birthday soon and I had to buy him something. I noted it on
my notepad which always stayed in my car. The drive was 5 km but
even in the empty morning roads, I ensured that it took me atleast
25 minutes.

I reached the gym and went straight to the treadmill. The gym
had the usual crowd at this time. There would be old people who
would sweat it out for around an hour on the treadmill, then there
would be people in their early twenties who would be drinking protein
shakes and lifting weights which people with their body structure
should not be lifting. And there would be the ladies who all the gym
trainers would try and impress, and at times succeed. And there would
be people like me, who had still not given up hope of having a six
pack yet, but knew their limitations and hence divided their time
between all exercises.