Authors: Latika Sharma
R
iya sat motionless. Her mind was agitated, yet her face displayed no flicker of it. She knew her parents were in dialogue. It did not matter to her now. There was a time when Kabir had stood up for her, for them. It was her turn now. She was not frail or confused anymore. She was in love, and her man had come back to her after so many years. There was a breath of fresh life in her, and everything good beckoned her to have the courage and grab it now, as Kabir was not going to leave her.
Anjali had said this would happen. Just last week when they had spoken, she had said, “Riya, I must have reprimanded you every day of those three years in school when you two were a thing. But now, today . . . after crying outside your room in hospitals and hill stations, I will be the one person who, if need be, will quarrel with your folks to make them see what I see and realise now . . . you two are a rare blend of something. You can never be happy without that boy! And neither will he. So don’t let people decide again Riya. Family is important but they will be right always, that is not true. Make them see sense now, before it’s too late. I support you and if need be . . . I will talk to them too. Your dad will anneal.” Anjali had flown into the country within the next two days.
Riya’s dad stepped out of the study in haste with an angered look on his face with mom following him. Riya saw him head toward the lobby. She heard the opening of the chest of drawers that stored the keys. It was time . . . she thought. She got up from her sofa and walked out of her bedroom to finally speak to her dad. It was time she stopped him.
“NO! . . .” Brig. Sehgal was shouting back unconsciously at his wife, “I will speak to Vikram’s dad . . . there will be something I can say to solve this matter! It is not her fault if that idiot boy showed up on my door step like a dog! I swear I will kill him if I see him again . . . how could he even think . . . after all these years . . . after all the days we protected her from him!! What in this world made him think . . . he could do this stupidity?”
“I made him think that Dad.” Riya spoke calmly. “There is no need for you to go to Vikram’s house. I’m not marrying him.”
“Look!! Look at our girl! One minute that boy sees her and her head is filled with him again . . .” Brig Sehgal motioned towards Riya.
“He was always filling my head dad, it’s just that, only you never acknowledged it! You saw it, but never agreed. But today, when he needs my support, I will not back out. I have always, always loved just one man . . . Kabir. I will not be anyone else’s. It is futile even to contemplate anything else than the fact that we belong together.” Riya had spoken in full confidence.
“SHUT-Up you silly girl!! How dare YOU answer so impudently! You are arguing with your father? Over some crap boy like him? Where are your senses, you foolish girl!! He is an ill wind, which blew nobody any good! He was trouble, and has proven, that he still is . . . how can you lose your head for someone so baseless and useless?” Brig Sehgal was spiteful.
“You are wrong there, my dear!” Riya’s mom finally spoke in her serene voice.
Brig. Sehgal turned to face his wife, surprise written all over him.
“What? I’m wrong!! I’M WRONG!!!” he repeated.
“Yes . . . YOU are wrong here. He may have been a distracted boy in youth, but he is a very successful man today. He went to States after school and completed his graduation from New York and later did his further studies from UCLA and has worked in two different countries. He is well sought after by finance companies and was in the same hotel chain as Vikram in case you missed that. I know all this because I’ve been following him ever since, you know... well, on the internet. I am in touch with his mother, a wonderful woman.
His behaviour has been chivalrous and decent with our girl. Where do you see that in men these days? And above all . . . despite everything he suffered, he loves my child incalculably! If he is willing to fight for her pride and honour . . . then I’m satisfied and frankly, they both have my blessings!” Riya’s mother stood next to her daughter and looked lovingly into her astonished wet eyes.
“Don’t cry darling . . . I know all about him. I know what he means to you. Everyone can see it, even your dad. He too loves you, but he knows that Kabir loves you more . . . even more than us maybe. All these years . . . both of you have given the toughest test in life. Its time you were released of this ordeal. Go . . . go to him . . . I’m sure Anjali knows which hospital.” Riya’s mom gently took the keys from her husband’s hand and handed them to Riya.
As Riya looked at her dad, she saw a look of realisation dawned on his face. He was quiet, yet she knew there was a tempest in his soul which was pulled between his love for Riya, the realisation that Kabir was never out of the picture and the fact that his girl was going to be with ‘that boy’ . . . forever.
Riya sat next to her dad and held his hand.
“Daddy . . . please!” she said with a choked throat.
Brig. Sehgal nodded his head. Before his daughter left, he looked at her and blessed her. It was not difficult; after all he had known this would happen the day he saw in those determined eyes of Kabir. No one could look in the eyes of a girl’s father the way that eighteen year old had seen in Brig. Sehgal’s eyes.
He had just been hoping . . . being a dad. He knew she would be happiest with him. He was confident that ‘that boy’ would love, honour and cherish his daughter in a way that every father wants his angel to be looked after.
He knew there were a few calls he had to make now. He stood up after Riya drove away, took Ms Sehgal by hand and walked in their house.
A wedding had to be stopped. A wedding had to be planed too.
W
hen I alighted out of the cab outside my house, it was way past midnight. All, except my wife would be asleep in the house, she would be pacing the floor, I knew. I did not wish to awaken my son so I sent her a message on her cell. It had been a fortnight since I had seen her. I must say, I did not miss her so much initially but now, she was the sine-qua-non of my life. I stood outside my house in the drying pool of water. It must have rained in Delhi.
As she opened the door, I dropped my luggage and lifted her in my arms. I knew she was waiting for me. I stood there on the porch for a while, happy to hold my love in my arms.
“How are you doing . . . my flightless bird? I missed you.” Kabir spoke burying his face in Riya’s hair.
“We missed you too. Raibir slept late waiting for his daddy. You promised him something din’t you?” Riya said as they walked in their house and towards Raibir’s bedroom. Kabir took a deep breath after he saw his son sleeping peacefully.
“Yes, a few basketballs, bags, shirts . . . but all that later.” Kabir slipped his hand into Riya’s and entwined his fingers aroundthe diamond ring she constantly wore now. As promised he had bought her the ring she wanted ever since the dance at their farewell party.
The house was silent and Kabir was tired after the long journey. Nevertheless, the comfort of being home was rejuvenating and despite having spoken daily, he still wanted to know if all was well with Riya.
“Did you go to the doctor?” he asked, removing his shoes and shirt.
“Yes I did. I hope you’ve brought duplicate of all those shirts . . . we’ll be needing them in a few months.” Riya smiled as she sat down on her side of the bed.
Kabir realised what she had said and leaped to his feat pulling her up as well and engulfing her in his arms. He had suspected it, but to get the conformation was like a thousand bubbles bursting within.
“You know Madam Curie . . . what it is that I wish to do right now . . .” Kabir said.
“Oh I think I know. . . Kabir and Riya sitting under a tree; K-I-S-S . . .”
“I love you . . .” Kabir whispered and kissed his wife.
Up-coming Book:
The Weekend
Anamika did not know Siddharth at all. They had not been to the same schools, colleges or had any common social network. Siddharth worked in London while Anamika had never set foot out of India. Then one fine day, so suddenly, they bumped into each other at the most unconventional venue. What started as a mere help from Siddharth ended with him losing his heart for this unknown girl who enclosed herself in a cocoon of solitude and work. Now what remains is for Anamika to realise that Sid is not a reflection from her past but the path to her future.
Theirs is a unique love story, one that must be told.
3.
S
ATURDAY:EVENING
‘How dare he . . . that Chaitanya idiot . . . How dare he do it? That heinous fiend . . . how dare he . . .’ Anamika kept thinking as she wheeled her trolley in the grocery store putting things sub-consciously into her cart.
‘That pervert! He is getting bold and more harassing with each passing day . . . how dare he touch me like that! And me of all people . . . Anamika Sharma who works her nights off . . . I’ve never have been party to a stupid office rumour even and he thinks . . . like that of me . . .” “Hey, excuse me! Would you please move a little?” A soft voice brought her back to the shopping mall. A lady had called out to her and as Anamika turned she saw a mother of two, with her trolley already full, managing one nagging little munchkin at her feet, screaming Pepsi at the top of his voice and another tied to her chest looking amused at the big world through his wide baby eyes.
Anamika smiled politely murmuring sorry and moving aside her cart. She watched the lady handle her children with perfect serenity and poise.
‘
Enough of that goon! I have other things to do besides loiter in a grocery shop . . .Plus, I’m supposed to be enjoying this, yes ? . . . shopping thing, we women are supposed to enjoy,’
she mused over the thought. Briskly and swiftly, she waded through the numerous alleys picking up toiletries, cereals, beverages, pulses and other such stuff, all in one’s and two’s packaging. Living alone did have its advantages, most certainly . . . lighter grocery bags.
Even with Anamika’s limited quantity shopping and the free items, her bags were anywhere but light. Two huge polybags dangling precariously on her arms, she was trying hard to manage to locate her car keys in her purse, almost spilling the contents of the bag when a male voice caught her from the back.
“Ma’am, may I help you?”
Anamika turned back and faced a shabbily dressed man with one tiny bag in his hand, wearing a cap and sipping something from a can. His shirt was half tucked in and his hair was dishevelled. With a day old stubble and crushed trouser, he appeared rather intoxicated and Anamika wondered at her luck with men.
The man apparently was waiting for an answer. “Ma’am do you need help? I can hold these bags for you till you find what you’re looking for . . . the keys I am presuming?”
“No. No . . . I’m fine.” Anamika replied curtly lowering her gaze.
“It’s not a botheration Ma’am,” he insisted. He looked rather like a hoodlum, but something in his voice startled her, it was . . . well, gentle. There was a steadiness and control in it. He was definitely educated, that much Anamika could gather, but still, the apprehension a woman has towards strangers, kept her from looking directly at him.
“No. No thank you but I can manage well on my own,” said Anamika turning a defiant back towards him.
“Ok then . . . good luck,” he said casually and walked on sipping his can.
‘Yeah! My good luck’
thought Anamika as her fingers finally clasped the keys. Pulling open the car door she dumped the polybags on the backseat and hit the ignition. Thinking about her next stop she put the car in gear and pressed the accelerator, but as if slumped on its own weight, her car moved only an inch. She tried again but still it barely rolled. Getting out she knew what awaited her . . . a flat tyre! The thought of changing tyres made her peevish. It became a torment when she realised her spare was missing, she had planned to get it repaired a long time ago but had somehow never found the time. Living alone had its disadvantages as well. You can’t attend to everything.
Distressed and tired she thought what a fantastic beginning the weekend had taken. Getting her things out, she tried to look for an alternative mode of transportation, a cab. ‘Things just can’t get worse than this,’ she thought to herself and almost instantly she heard the thundering of clouds.
‘Oh Crap! I better find a cab soon now !’
she thought swiftly moving towards the exit gates of the store locking her car again.
Now, the thing about living in a metropolitan city like Delhi-Gurgaon is that when you don’t need something, even a cab, it is available in plenty, blocking everything, every route and present at every traffic light. But, in all honesty, when you really need one, they are either not going your way or full of other lucky blokes or sometimes . . . on strike. Adding to this situation, the sudden start of the rain drops, which clearly were eager to pick pace, none would bother to stop and enquire if you needed a ride.
So it had been about 20 minutes now that Anamika was trying to hail a cab, without success. Her hands were aching from holding the shopping bags and her feet were tired. She looked desperate to even board a cab with hiked fare!
She had almost given up hope and was contemplating calling Priya when a shining car came and stood in front of her, making her forget Priya completely. Being a lonely girl in a big city but a confident one, she tried to hide her nervousness by fumbling with her cell phone and balancing her bags, all too hastily, when the car window towards her side rolled down and she saw the same hoodlum peeping out, looking eagerly at her. His cap was lying on the dash board along with his can.
“Ma’am may I help you?” he asked in the same placid calm voice, giving it a smile this time. It was obvious that he gauged her difficult situation. She did pose a clear picture though, dressed in an office suit with bags and keys in hand, standing in the almost rain, waving her hands furiously trying to hail a cab !