I Too Had a Love Story (10 page)

I was lying partly on the bed and partly on her. She was becoming mischievous and I was no different. Neither of us knew when the video in my laptop stopped. But the moment I realized this, without her noticing, I ran my favorite soundtrack’s playlist on my laptop at a low volume, adding to the romantic ambience of the room.

Everything was just perfect—a dimly lit room, light music running in the background, nice bed sheets, and she and I.

I blew upon her eyes, which made her lashes go down further, gently closing her eyes. That wisp of air moved on her forehead from left to right, back to her eyes, then her cute nose, making an irregular figure on her cheeks, scrolling between her lips and riding her chin from where it slid down to her neck and was lost in the air between us. She opened her eyes again. I touched her nose with mine after which I rubbed it against hers, just like mothers do to their beautiful babies to express their love. She, too, was a beautiful baby. My baby. She smiled with that mischievous shyness.

What a beautiful moment that was! And, of course, I had to make it a memorable one, and how could that be without a kiss? And that’s why, in no time, I thought of so many things to make it a perfect kiss … I’ll do this … I’ll do that … I will embrace her this way, hold her face that way … and then … So much planning for a kiss. And, then, I went for it.

Soon, our faces were close to each other, slightly tilted at opposite angles, our warm breaths falling on each other’s lips. My lips touched hers. I kissed her. And I kissed her again.

I don’t remember when I closed my eyes and I was lost in her. That moment was a heaven that I knew for the first time in my life. In that moment, I forgot everything, forgot everything that I had planned a few minutes back. Forgot even the fact that I had planned something. Forgot that the next day I was to leave this country. Forgot my job, the CAT exam, forgot my friends and my family. Forgetting everything, I lived that one moment … The best hour of my life.

I don’t remember whether I opened my eyes first, or she did. But we were looking into each other’s eyes.

I was still lying on her.

She smiled, I smiled.

She blinked her eyes, I blinked mine.

Kissing my forehead one more time, she said, ‘I love you soooooooooo much, Shona.’

And I rubbed my nose against hers one more time and repeated, ‘I love you so so so so much, sweetheart.’

We had been so busy with our romance that we forgot to look at the time. We had asked the cab driver to be there at the hotel entrance by

7.30. The wall clock in front of me said it was 8.30. ‘Uh-oh! Do you know what time it is?’ I asked, very casually, smiling. She immediately looked at the clock. And then she screamed, just like the way she did the day before.

‘EIGHT THIRTY????’

And with that, she got up from the bed, panicked, rushed here and there grabbing her belongings, her cell, her purse, her sandals … and a lot more. I switched on the lights to help her.

She then rushed to the washroom, splashed a little water on her face, used the spare towel hanging behind the door, pulled a comb out of her purse, got her hair done, pulled out a lipstick and daubed it on her lips.

Watching her, I wondered how much lipstick I had swallowed and I laughed at myself without saying anything. As she was getting ready, I picked up her purse. ‘Boy! Seems like a magical purse. So many things are coming out of it—comb, lipstick, hanky … Let me see what else is left in this,’ I said laughing.

And at that very moment, she slapped my hand which was trying to unzip the purse. ‘Bad manners! A boy should never check a girl’s purse.’ ‘But, why? Do you girls carry bombs in your purses?’ I said handing it over. ‘Even at my office, they have appointed a lady at the gate to check the purses of all the girls. I wonder what funny things those girls show her in their purses … they smile looking at her and then she smiles back at them.’ I laughed at my joke, but she didn’t.

She was worried about getting late. I noticed that and, parking my lavish laughter somewhere, tried to console her with a smile, ‘It’s ok, Khushi. Relax. We’ll reach your place before 10 p.m. Don’t worry, dear.’

Wearing her sandals, she said, ‘Shona, if we don’t reach on time and they find out at home,
na
, I’ll be in big trouble.’

Seeing her in this state I went close to her and put my hands on her shoulders. ‘Khushi. Everything is going to be fine. No matter what, you won’t be in any trouble. I promise. Will you trust me now?’ I gently asked her.

And very innocently she nodded her head.

‘Take a deep breath, have a sip of water and we will move out.’

A few minutes later we were in the back-seat of our cab.

‘
Bhaiyya
, back to Faridabad, from where we came,’ Khushi said to the driver, in haste.

But, as we found out when we came out of the hotel, it had rained heavily during the past hour. Water was flushing down from the corners of the roofs of nearby buildings, rattling down pipes from various floors to the common ground. Manholes
on the roads were open to let the accumulated water on the streets drain out.

Our cab started rolling.

‘
Bhaiyya,
how long will it take?’ she asked the driver.

‘
Kuch keh nahin sakte, madam. Bahut baarish hui hai. Bus aagey road pe kahin jam na laga ho.
’

The thought of a possible traffic jam worried her all the more. She looked at me. And I told her to relax. ‘I am there with you, right? So why are you worried? We’ll reach on time.’

Hearing my tone, the driver too realized that he should not scare her. In fact, he added, ‘
Madam, ghabraane waali to koi baat hi nahin hai. Hum pahunch jaayenge.
’

But soon we found ourselves in trouble. About fifteen minutes from my hotel we got stuck in a traffic jam—probably the biggest I have ever seen in my life. There were hundreds of cars in front of us, I’m sure. A horrible jam. Water rushed over the roads towards the drains. Everything out there was wet. The shops were closing; their wet shutters were rolling down. The cars, big and small, struggled to find their way. None of the vehicles on that road stayed in line. Everyone was on their own, finding a little space for themselves, competing with each other because of which no one was able to move ahead. What a mess!

‘A truck’s engine has failed to start, half a kilometer ahead,’ we heard, when our driver rolled his window down. Hearing this, almost everyone switched off their engines. Inside our cab, the mercury of panic and helplessness was rising.

Half an hour after the most wonderful time together in my hotel room, we were now entering a phase full of anxiety and despair. With me was a girl who had lied to her family and managed to escape with me. Apart from her office, she had never stayed out so late at any other place. But that day, she was in another state and the guy she had put all her trust in (of course, me) was not familiar with the city. And time … Time
was running fast in my wrist watch, but stood stagnant when I glanced at the traffic around us. Fifteen minutes passed and our cab did not move an inch. It would be wrong to say that I was not panicking. But I was aware of my responsibilities. I was responsible for Khushi’s safety.

Eventually, our cab driver also switched off the cab’s engine which raised the already high levels of anxiety within us still higher. Somehow, a running engine in a traffic jam still appears more hopeful than a switched-off one. Of course, it’s all psychological but, unfortunately, it made an impact on both of us.

And since it never just rains, but it pours—Khushi’s cellphone started ringing.

She looked at me in fear. I looked at my watch. It was close to 9 p.m.

‘What if it’s Mumma’s phone?’ she asked, worried and all I could say was, ‘First see who’s calling.’

She opened her purse and breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank God! It’s Neeru.’

She put the phone on speaker. Clearing her throat and recovering her strength (which she lost when she heard the ring), she said, ‘Neeru.’

‘Where are you,
yaar
?’ Neeru asked.

‘
Yaar
, we’re stuck in a traffic jam.’

‘But you’re in Faridabad only
na
?’

‘
Haan baba
… We went to see a movie. Meanwhile it rained heavily and all the water on the road has caused a traffic jam and we’re stuck.’

‘
Theek hai
, but come home quickly. I have reached home and have told Mumma that your doubt class got delayed and you’ll reach here in another twenty–thirty minutes.’

‘Thanks. We’re just waiting for this jam to clear. I’ll be home soon,’ Khushi said and hung up.

Twenty–thirty minutes!? Nobody could drive to Faridabad that fast, even if the roads were completely empty. Even Khushi knew that.

‘Shona, I’m feeling very tense,’ she said, her voice scared and soft.

But obviously we’d be tense. Still, I said, ‘I know dear. But we should not lose patience. In the worst case, we’ll reach your place a little late, right? Don’t worry. If that happens, I will explain everything to Mumma.
Theek hai
?’ I tried to console her, raising my hand to move her head close to me so that she could rest on my shoulder.

The next moment we noticed the traffic moving ahead from one corner of the road. Like everyone else, our driver started the engine and followed the herd of the vehicles. A ray of hope brightened our faces.

In a while our driver gave us a reason to bolster our smile. ‘
Sahib ab nikal jaayenge aaraam se, jam khul gaya hai. Bas ek baar border cross kar lein. Phir highway theek hai.
’

He was referring to the Delhi-Haryana border which we successfully crossed in another 20 minutes. But our destination was still miles away.

Her head was still on my shoulder and I kept talking to her, trying to divert her mind. She was moving her fingers on my palm, drawing imaginary lines, playing like a kid. When she reached my third finger, she started playing with the ring I was wearing. It was an unusual ring with three intersecting silver circles, just like the Olympic circles.

When she asked me about that ring, I took it as an opportunity to divert her from the panic of the moment and started telling her a little story about my ring which became as mysterious as
The Lord of the Rings
.

‘Aaah!’ I said, as if she had stepped on a broken limb.

‘What happened?’ she asked, raising her head from my shoulder.

‘Nothing,’ I replied very sadly, turning my head to the other side, looking outside the cab’s window.

Surprised by my reaction, she did not say anything but waited for me to speak. And I did, saying, ‘I knew, someday I would have to tell you about this …’

This statement raised her eyebrows and she insisted I tell her everything. I kept looking out of the window and she kept asking me to reveal the story behind it. ‘
Bataao na
Shona … Tell me please …’

I was killing time. The cab was speeding ahead. And thoughts were running through her mind about the mystery ring on my third finger. More so, because I appeared so reluctant to tell her.

‘Shona tell me
na … kya baat hai
,’ she again asked, turning my face towards her with her hand.

‘Khushi …’I said, looking at her.

‘Hmm …?’

‘Almost a year back, before I met you … Before I met you … I mean … It was like … One day a beautiful girl put this ring on my finger …’ and I turned away, avoiding her eyes and looking outside the cab again.

Silence …

She was still listening—all ears—forgetting completely that we were getting late.

Looking out of the cab I continued, ‘I always wanted to tell you this, but … but never got a chance, for I didn’t know how you will feel about all this.’

Her eyes were staring at me with so many questions.

The next second, her cellphone rang. It was Neeru again, saying how their mom was getting restless and the fact that, by now, she knew well enough that Khushi had not been to IMS but somewhere else with me. She also said that it was raining heavily in Faridabad. And all that Khushi told her was to manage the situation somehow, ‘Tell her that I am stuck in
the rain.’ Sweet Neeru was bouncing like a shuttle between her mother and her sister. This is the fate of being the youngest in the family—everyone tends to push you around.

The moment she hung up, she returned to the earlier topic.

‘A girl gave you this?’ she asked, looking at the ring and then at me. That wasn’t her only question, though. There was a fusillade, ready for me. And I kept beating around the bush. This went on for some 15 minutes, when she finally asked me, pulling my hand over her head, ‘Swear on me, did a girl slip this on your finger?’

So much expectation in her eyes. Expectation that I should speak the truth. And also the expectation that my answer should be a big ‘No’—which would have meant that my entire story was a lie meant only to scare her. But, breaking her second expectation, I nodded my head, acknowledging that all she heard was true.

Pin-drop silence …

The environment inside the cab now was much more tense. The traffic jams, reaching home late, standing before her mother to admit her lie, all of this appeared so minuscule in front of this giant truth. The girl, who was in my arms so passionately an hour ago, was now facing such a different truth. I expected her to shout at me, to yell at me, to do something before I told her. And I wanted this to continue for a few more miles.

And I was doing that for a reason. The more time I consumed, the lesser she would have worried about reaching home so late. It was already 10 p.m.

But when that sweet and innocent heart sobbed, when the first tear came out of those beautiful eyes, I had to break the mystery. How could I see her crying?

‘Hey Shonimoni … Listen to me.’ And I took her in my arms and said, ‘All that you heard was true, but in a totally different aspect. You have to know the complete story.’

‘Tell me then,’ she said, rubbing her eyelash like a kid, her eyes on me again.

‘The girl who slipped this on … I don’t even know her name. I hardly met her for ten minutes. Almost a year back, I was at Waterloo station in London along with my friend, waiting for my train to Belgium. Because my train was a little late, my friend and I visited a little stall on the platform near us. A girl in that stall was selling rings. From the display, I liked this one and picked it up. But I was wondering how to wear this ring with three circles. To help me, she held my hand and slipped it on. It looked good. I thanked her, paid her five pounds and walked away to catch my train.’