I Too Had a Love Story (14 page)

‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘For it to be really awesome, it needs to be on you. Wear it and show me.’ I pointed to the washroom, where she could go and change. Carrying a smile and that dress she walked away.

Back in that room, I crossed my fingers. I had never bought anything of that sort, ever, for any girl. I didn’t have a sister, nor
did I have any prior girlfriend with whom I could have learnt something about buying clothes for girls.

A few minutes later, I heard the washroom door getting unlocked. She popped her head out first and asked, ‘Shall I come out?’

‘Please! I am dying,’ I said.

‘1…2…3…’ She counted before coming out. And then, she was in front of me. Seeing her, I uncrossed my fingers with immense pleasure. She looked stunning in my gift.

‘B-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l!’

And, suddenly, I turned my gaze away from her, thinking that my looking at her that way should not bring her bad luck. But then, I looked at her again—I couldn’t resist.

That top and the skirt suited her body so well, as if they had been made just for her. I was surprised and, silently, I congratulated myself. Even she was surprised and, probably, that’s why she said, ‘I never knew you know me so well.’

That dress … or, should I say her beautiful body-line was complementing the dress. Looking at herself in the mirror of my room, she said ‘I look my best in this dress. This is the best one I will have in my wardrobe.’

‘Then promise me.’

‘What?’

‘That this one will only be worn by you and no one else … Not even your sisters. I want to see this only on you.’

‘I promise.’

And with that promise she realized that she was getting late. I helped her pack her gifts in a polythene bag after which she hugged me and said, ‘It’s beautiful being with you after so long.’

‘Same here.’

At the door she explained the way to reach her home. I was to visit her family again.

‘Don’t be late.’ She said and waved me good-bye and left.
I was walking down to her place in the evening. I think I was two blocks away from her house when I saw two people walking in my direction. One was about three years old, and holding his hand was a man of about sixty. I thought I knew who they were.

Seeing me, the old man halted.

The little kid tried to pull him along. ‘
Chalo!
Ice Cream!’ he screamed. The poor kid tried his best but failed.

I looked at the person in front of me and the old man raised his finger, a few lines appeared on his forehead. He was wondering if I was their guest for the evening.

But before he could speak, I said, ‘I think I am coming to your place. Am I right?’

‘Ravin?’

‘
Haanji.
’ I smiled and touched his feet.

He was Khushi’s dad and the kid was Daan who was pulling his grandfather to the nearest ice-cream parlor.

But now, the cute kid held my hand and shouted on the street asking me, ‘
Aap Khushi maasi ke dost ho … hain … aap ho na?
’

I bent down and kissed his small hands, saying, ‘
Haha … hmm.
’

Soon he forgot all about the ice-cream and started pulling me towards his house. All the while, he kept shouting, ‘
Aao na … Maasi aapke liye tayaar ho rahi hai … Aao … Aao.
’

He kept pulling me till I entered their house. In no time, I found myself surrounded by Mumma, Neeru and Misha di (Daan’s mother). Everybody was laughing at the way Daan was dragging me. I slipped my fingers out of Daan’s grip to greet everyone.

Later, we all settled down in the drawing room. Khushi’s dad was also back and had joined us.

The questions started—The kind of how-was-your-journey-and-ifeverything-is-fine types.

And answering them all I managed to make my space amid all of them.

Meanwhile, Khushi too appeared.

The rounds of snacks started, exactly like last time. Of all her family, it was her dad whom I talked to most. He was trying to understand what exactly I did, being a software engineer. In turn, he was also explaining what he used to do as an engineer in the Indian Air Force. (Impressive!)

Later on, he brought up the subject of marriage too, indirectly—how and when Misha di got married and then Ami di and now it was

Khushi’s turn. He also talked about his married daughters’ in-laws, their family and their professions (though I knew everything in detail).

I wondered what the purpose was. I recalled that ad in which a guy’s would-be father-in-law asks him, ‘You are going to marry my daughter. But will you be able to support a family?’ To which I answered, in my mind, ‘I think, in marriage, I will only take your daughter along with me. The rest of your family, you will have to manage on your own.’

But, jokes apart, I found her dad to be a real sensible and understanding person. I liked his personality as well.

We all were waiting for Deepu (Khushi’s brother) who was driving back home. Mumma was getting impatient and kept calling him up, checking how far he was from home.

Little Daan was adding to the flavor of our conversation every now and then, making everybody laugh with his childish pranks. He was on my lap when, suddenly, he reacted to a car’s horn and rushed to the door. It was Deepu. Minutes later, he pulled Deepu into the drawing room, just like he had brought me. I shook hands with Deepu and he joined us.

He seemed to be the most robust person in their entire family, with a wide chest, broad shoulders and a well-built physique.
He was working with some oil wells in Assam and had come back on holiday. So now, from my job the conversation shifted to his.

We sat in the drawing room for a long time and at around 8.30, we had our dinner.

After our meal, Khushi took me to the other side of their house to show me the garden, the money plant and the guava trees which she used to climb sometimes, picking guavas for her mom. Well, I could have got a little privacy with her but Neeru and Mumma didn’t leave us alone.

The evening at their home passed quite well. By then I had met the people whom I didn’t see the last time—her dad, Deepu, Misha di and cute Daan. I was happy that I was going to be part of a nice family. (And I assume they were happy too!)

By 9.30, I was all set to leave for my hotel.

‘I think I should make a move before I get too late,’ I said to the people around me, but especially her Dad.

‘Hmm … Yes, you are at a new place. It’s better if you reach your hotel well in time. Deepu will drop you,’ he said looking at Deepu, whom Daan was punching, the way he had seen his favorite WWF fighters doing.

After a short while, Deepu was starting his car and I was bidding everyone goodbye. Daan kept shouting, ‘
Mujhe bhi jaana hai … Mujhe bhi jaana hai!
’ And before he could make a scene, his mother allowed him to get in the car.

Amid all this, I looked at Khushi, silently asking her if she too could come. And I think Mumma noticed my look. Maybe that’s why she told Khushi, ‘
Tu bhi saath mein chali jaa …’

Her dad was probably going to interrupt her, but I changed the topic as soon as I heard her mother giving her a green signal. In a short while, we were in the back-seat of the car. Daan kept shuffling places between her and me. In those last minutes of being together, we held hands but didn’t talk much.
Soon we were going to be apart again, for an uncertain amount of time.

We reached Magpie a bit too quickly, and it was time to say goodbye.

Deepu came out of the car and he took Daan’s hand in his. I shook hands with him and gave a kiss to Daan, who asked me when I would come again, and told me that I should not forget to get chocolates for him.

Now was the turn of my sweetheart. She stood beside the car. I looked in her eyes. They were expressing the same feelings which mine were. She came and stood right in front of me. I couldn’t say anything but smiled sadly. That one moment, she didn’t care about Deepu’s presence but kept looking into my eyes. Taking Daan inside the car, Deepu started the vehicle to let his sister know they were supposed to get back.

She ignored that too and came closer to me and said, ‘I want to be yours, forever.’

‘You are mine. A little more than forever,’ I said.

And we hugged each other this time without caring about the world around us.

Then she sat in the car. I kept waving to her till the car turned out of the hotel’s gate.

Back in Bhubaneswar, life got back on the same track. Office, phone calls to her, gym, phone calls to her, CAT preparation, phone calls to her. But what was different this time was that I had started relating her voice to her appearance, her body language, her fragrance.

Days passed and our desire to be together kept increasing with each day.

It was Diwali and, in the evening, our entire veranda was shining with the sparkle of
diyas
and candles and crackers. With one hand, I was shooting everything happening at my
place with my camera; in the other hand, I was carrying my cell, talking to Khushi. We were telling each other about the atmosphere at our respective places. The phones on both sides were shuffling through different hands. First, it was me talking to her, then my mom and her, then her mom and me, then my mom and hers, then she and I again, then me and her sister … he, she, she, me … everybody. But each one of them mentioned this: She would be celebrating her next Diwali as part of our family.

A few more days of our life passed.

Life returned to its best after we were released from our vow of not talking to each other after 10 p.m. on weekdays. Yes, CAT was over. It went well for both of us. (Everyone has the right to say ‘It went well,’ till the results are out!) But yes, the completion of CAT marked the beginning of our best days. Well, actually it was nights. December, January. Winter. Cold nights, blankets and, wrapped in those warm blankets, our cellphones and us. (I tell you—winter is the most romantic time. And so are rainy days. And … and … and, wait a minute, summer too! Am I getting something wrong? Or, maybe, it’s that every season brings a different flavor if you are in love.)

One night, it was 12.10 a.m. and we had left the year 2006 behind, and 2007 was ten minutes young for us. Despite the overloaded telephone network, somehow we were among the lucky ones to get connected. Of course, we had to try a hundred times to call each other.

She was the first one to reach me and do you know what her first words were? No, she didn’t wish me a happy new year. Instead, she shouted with happiness, ‘Shona! We are getting married this year. 2007 has arrived. Wow!’

Time and again, all these little things (which, for me, were big things) she did would make me feel, more and more, that I would never be able to live without her.

‘Yes! We will marry this year and then we’ll live together. Happy new year, dear,’ I wished her.

‘A very happy new year to you too.’

Network congestion that night did not allow us to talk much. Still, we were satisfied enough. And we felt that, just like us, there must have been so many couples dying to talk to each other. Who knows, maybe some among them were going to get married the same year …

Apparently, my love story overrode my friendship. This should not have been the case. But, this was the case. After a long time, it was Amardeep who connected Happy, MP and me with an e-mail. In his e-mail, he had taken a screenshot of MP’s and my profile on
Shaadi.com
. His first intention was to mock at us for the exaggerated information we had provided about ourselves on this website. Secondly, he wanted to know if this website happened to work for us.

Later, that evening, all four of us got together on a chat conference.

Happy: Raam ji, so finally u caught these a***-holes haan!! Good job.

Amardeep: Ha ha ha … they were playing smart, without letting us know nything.

Amardeep: Now speak up u two. Wat hv u managed to gt till now?

Ravin: If u hv searched our profile, den surely u too wud be having one. Bataa saaley?

Amardeep: If I will have, I won’t hide it. Now don’t change the topic. MP you tell.

Happy: Yeah, MP tell us … how many till now J????????

MP: Arey yaar … it was long time back. Nothing serious. I hardly check it now a days.

Amardeep: Achha!! That’s why your activity percentage on this site (as it shows) is 98% J.

Ravin: Ha ha ha. Gaatch u!!

Amardeep: Y d hell are u laughing so much Ravin? U tell … wat hv u got?

Ravin: Well! I have got something.

MP: Got what????????

Ravin: Her.

Happy: Whom?

Ravin: Her name is Khushi.

Amardeep: R u serious?

Ravin: Damn serious.

Happy: Hu … Huuuuuuuuuuuuu. He gaat it!!!!!! … he gaat it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This gonna be f***in interesting. Everybody: Leave this text chat and turn your headphones ON. We gonna listen to his story right now.

And, for the next half hour, I had to narrate my so-far story to them. The conversation ended with a celebration of loud noises, best wishes and the promise to make them all talk to her soon.

8 January 2007

My not-so-good-looking house was looking better that morning. And why not? The first would-be in-laws of that house were to come that day—Khushi’s mom and dad.

Understanding the fact that my Mumma couldn’t travel in winters because of her asthma, they had agreed to come down to our place.

I was there at Sambalpur station to receive them. The train arrived on time and I could easily trace them in the crowd, getting down at the station. I touched their feet, welcomed them and picked up their bags. On our way back from
the station, I showed them certain landmarks in my small hometown. The longest dam—Hirakud—built on the river Mahanadi. Her Mumma was astonished when I told her that it was 4.8 kilometers long. To which she mischievously replied by boasting about the Bhakra Nangal dam (the highest one) which she had seen.

By 12.30 that afternoon we reached home. Her parents were welcomed by mine. Both the moms and both the dads were happy to finally see each other. Well, in our country, seeing the boy is one of the most important steps in the entire marriage process, but true happiness comes to the parents when they hug each other with those smiling faces. I think this bolsters their trust and confidence in each other’s family, allowing them to go ahead with this thing called marriage. I still doubt that they really trust us youngsters one hundred percent.