The wait for the end... Part 7

To see a Gulmohar tree is a very rare thing in Mumbai. And then, to see it bloom, despite the pollution, is rarer. But unfortunately, Mumbaikars are so immersed in their daily bedlam, that even a magical speaking tree won't elicit any response. On the contrary, the bullish or bearish share market has the potential to wake the dead from the graves and spellbind them to follow the market trend. Nobody can blame the Mumbaikars for the type of attitude they have. They are just a different breed, although very attractive, one must admit. And their I-don't-care orientation is the biggest plus point they have, which on rare occasions works against them.

Neeti was yet to get the hang of the typical Mumbaikar attitude. She was very professional at work. Ignorant of emotions, feelings. But when at home, in solitude, she turned very vulnerable. It was like living dual personalities in one day. The point noteworthy is that she played both roles really well.

Speaking to Kashif, once a day at least, had become a ritual now. Neeti mostly spoke about Aman, while Kashif only listened and gave his opinion only when asked for. He knew that when she spoke to him, in reality she was talking to herself. She was fighting a lost battle. Sometimes, Neeti went on for hours in English and Kashif understood nothing but got the gist. He noticed the gradual change in the conversations. Neeti had begun blaming herself for all that went wrong. For more than 2 months she went on like that. Then she was slowly opening up. She had started telling him about particular incidents. Some good and some bad. Now, she had slowly started blaming Aman. She pointed out to the small mistakes he made and she noticed but never told him.

On one such occasion, when Neeti and Kashif were in a deep conversation around late night, Neeti's phone suddenly beeped. She looked into the screen of her handset. What she saw made her stop her breathing. "Kashif, woh call kar raha hain.""Kaun?" Kashif didn't have clue.Neeti couldn’t even take Aman's name. Something within her made her nervous. "Wahi! Aur kaun!""Baat kar lo. Baad mein baat karte hain."

Before she could say anything further, Kashif's line went dead. The other line had become active. Her smart phone, which she adored the most, among all the gizmos she owned, had become a piece of abhorrence. It kept flashing "Aman calling...”. She took in a deep breath; to get rid of the empty feeling coupled with an icy sensation, and received the call.
"Aman!" She only whispered.
"Neeti".

Gosh, she had heard that voice after 3 months. She didn't know what to feel and what not to. She was too dumbstruck to respond. The kind of feeling one gets after having a huge blob of ice-cream in the mouth, like a greedy child. The same numbness. The brain-freeze. The dilemma of choosing between spitting out the ice-cream or gulping it down in one shot.

"I didn't call to bother you. Just wanted to talk to you and see if everything is okay. We didn't speak for a long time."
"Aman. How are you?"
"I'm good. Are you really bothered about how I am?" Sarcasm, she made a mental note.
"Yes, Aman. I'm not into formalities and you know that well." The tone wasn't firm but Neeti tried.
"Then what happened for three months? Why didn't you ask me then?"
"Aman you know why." Neeti realised she was still making herself believe she was talking to Aman, by saying his name before every response.
"No, I dont. Please tell me why."
"Aman you broke up with me. You didn't want to be with me anymore. The last time you came you gave me all the reasons as to why we're not meant to be together. And here you are asking me why I haven't called you." Neeti broke down.
"Oh baby! Please don't cry. I was a jerk. I'm sorry. But I can't just commit. I still love you. I really do."

Neeti's mind was spinning by now. She heard the words and was gasping for air.
"Aman..." She cried. Only her sobs could be heard. Her mouth went dry and she couldn't stop the tears. Her breath was deep. That 1BHK where she lived suddenly seemed too small making her claustrophobic. She ran to the refrigerator, pulled out a water bottle and drank huge sips of water.Aman was surprisingly patient; he heard her cry and said not a word.

"Aman I have died everyday without you. I have craved for these words. Aman! What do I say!"
"Well there is only one way you could reply to these words."
"Of course, you idiot. I love you more than anything. More than anyone."

They spoke till 6 a.m. She was still not sleepy and could go on for another couple of hours without a blink. But Aman had started dragging words and yawning loudly.
"You're sleepy. Should we sleep off now?"
"Thank God you asked. Yes, my bachu. We should sleep off. And I'll call you in the morning."
"Okay." Said Neeti, half-heartedly.
"Yeah. Goodnight."

The line went dead. Neeti kept looking at her cellphone. Suddenly that piece of embedded-technology seemed the world to her. She jumped on her bed and gave out a small scream in her pillow. Her happiness couldn't be contained. For a moment she thought she would call the Nokia guys and tell them their masterpiece, which she owned, had given her the biggest happiness of her life.

People say its' tough when you don't have people around to share sadness and sorrow. But the truth is deeper. Its' tougher when you have happiness and don't have anyone to talk to. Sorrow can come out as tears; or as a write-up in your diary; or a blog or sometimes even a poetry. But happiness gives you such a high that only talking can help dilute. May be because happiness brings along with it some kind of loneliness too with it.

Neeti tried to get some sleep. She dreamt of Aman and smiled in her sleep.

It was 10 a.m. The Gulmohar in the neighbouring compound looked brighter. The birds had become chirpy. Neeti felt even the soap she used every day, smelled better, lemony and tangy. She felt fresh as a peppermint. The lack of sleep didn't affect her in anyway. In fact, her face glowed. She quickly got dressed. For a change, to commemorate the special event, she wore her new Prussian blue satin top and paired it with a pair of fine blue Levi's jeans. She picked her bag and hopped down the stairs and then to the street. The dainty dressed woman caught attention where ever she went. She looked not beautiful but attractive.

"Wow! Pretty haan!" Sushant, the frosty boss managed to say to her. He peered her and noticed the change.
"You look so..." Ramaswamy was still thinking. He thought he’d just leave it at that; no word, however beautiful, could express what he felt.

Neeti had a certain bounce about her today. She jumped about the office like a small girl would, when gifted a complete Barbie set. She called Kashif sometime after noon and told him everything about the conversation. This time also, like all the previous times, Kashif only listened.
"Yeh bohot bohot achi baat hain. Chalo abh mujhe thoda kaam hain. Main thodi der mein call karta hun aap ko."
"Okay KA-FISH! Babyeeee!"

It was 3 p.m. No call yet from Aman. Neeti grew restless. She was wondering about his well-being. She decided she would call him around 6 p.m. He could have been caught up with some work after all.

It was 7 p.m. and still no call. Kashif had called her a while ago and asked her to meet him at a bistro near Linking road. She could wait no longer and dialled Aman’s number. She waited for Aman to receive but the call went unanswered. In another 15 minutes, she re-dialled his number. And still no response. She turned panicky and again dialled after 2 minutes.
"Yes!" Rude tone.
"Aman darling! Are you all right?"
"Yes yaar. Why on earth are you calling continuously?" Irritate.
"Aman I was worried. I thought..."
"I don't care about what you thought. Just tell me why you've called."
"Aman, why are you yelling like this? I was worried and that is why I called. And you could have..."
"Listen! I am not interested in your speech. Please get to the point. And quick!"
Neeti took a deep breath; her fears were rising. "Aman you said last night you would call and then you ..."
"Neeti I didn't remember."
"But Aman we spoke till 6 a.m! And you said..."
"Yes! 6 a.m and you still have things to talk about?"
"Aman, how are you talking to me? Look at your tone. Do you remember what you said last night?"
"Last night... Neeti... I was drunk... Some shots of tequila, I forgot the count after some time and ..."
Neeti felt like she heard a bat screech in her ear. Her heart pounded within her chest, like seeking an opportunity to tear and come out. Her eyes were too shocked to break into tears.
"Aman do you remember you said you loved me? Do you remember your commitment?"
"Neeti all I can say is that I was drunk. What do you expect? I won't say anything more."
"You don't have to Aman. You just don't have to."

Kashif was waiting in the bistro. The 3 ear-to-ear smiling waiters stood up; one with flowers, another with a cake and the third with a gift. Neeti walked in like zombie and stood next to Kashif. He noticed she looked good in her attire but walked strangely, as if she had just seen a ghost. Her face was drained out of colour. Work stress?

Kashif signalled the waiters and the young chaps placed the things one by one, very cordially on the table specially decorated.

"Neeti! Hello ji. Dekho maine pura cafe book kiya. Aaj ka din jashn ka hain. Meri party aap ki khushi ke liye. Aajo ji and cake cut karo."
No response.
"Neeti... Neeti... Kya hua?"
Neeti looked at the cake and read "Mubarak ho Neeti aur Aman. Khush raho."
"Woh piya hua tha Kashif." She looked into his eyes, stone-cold.

Her breathing was heavy and slowly her eyes watered. Kashif was too stunned and only kept staring at the familiar woman in front of him.

Birth and death are extreme situations when a person falls short of words. But this is one situation, which is neither of the two, and yet feels the same. Nothing said can make you feel good. Nothing done can lighten your shoulders. They are just burdensome. Sometimes loaded with happiness and sometimes with sadness. They have to be borne with. Whether alone or in company, the outcome and the emotions are the same.

Kashif felt she was going to faint that moment and hugged her. She hugged back and bore her mouth into his shoulder not to let her cries be heard.

"Usse kuch yaad nahin hain Kashif... usse kuch bhi yaad nahin." She cried and repeated the words over and over again.

Something was dying and nobody could help.

The wait for the end... Part 6

They were the late summer days, sometime in June. The spicy humidity made way for the heavy monsoon showers that would pour down, not until July. The initial budding showers, popularly known as the ‘mango showers’, were a divine respite from the blistering heat. Their sudden and slight teeming made the Earth smell so beautifully that even les parfums de Davidoff couldn’t incite.

Neeti and her very close cousin, Nitya had decided to shop till they dropped. Well to be precise, it was Nitya’s plan and Neeti could never win an argument with this girl. Nitya had a certain charm about her which only some women could carry off well. She was a complete woman with not even a 0.5 percent of Tom-boy characteristic. She liked big, dangling ear-rings, perfectly matching necklaces, floral prints, heeled-sandals with the flawless click-clack sound. She was a woman so womanly and was so proud about it that even the most handsome/manly men found it daunting sometimes in her presence. But her absence made a bigger dent and she was the heart of all the parties her friends threw.

Neeti and Nitya began the shopping spree in Camp, Pune, only because Nitya knew Neeti was quite low and it was only the class and sophistication of Camp that could ameliorate things, since nothing else had worked. Nitya shopped and shopped. They didn’t spare a single showroom, small or big, without paying their due respects.

By evening, Nitya was tired and her sandals hurt her feet. She needed a good pedicure, she thought to herself. She noticed that Neeti, after all this while when it was time to go home, was turning out to be a zealot, the real her. Nitya tried to persuade her so they could go home but Neeti was ready for a party.

“Nee we have to be home by 9pm else you know what happens” proclaimed Nitya.
“Nutty come on! We have to go on a ride. Zooming speed! I’ll ride the Activa. Lets’ do something... something like... Got it! Lets’ cover our faces with the scarves and do some Adam-teasing... On the ride!”
“Nee u nuts! Hahahaha... Girl! What if they follow us and you know... trouble us etc etc.”
“Come on Grandma!” Neeti had that mischievous look and a smirk and Nitya knew exactly what it meant
“Nee you are... hahahahaha... Lets’ do it baby!”

“Yuhuuuuu!!!” And they both screamed in unison, unaware about the fact that at least a dozen people were gaping at them already.

Just then Nitya’s cell phone buzzed.

All Neeti could hear was “Oh Hi” then “Oh No!” and “How come” followed by “Where are you right now?” and lastly “We’ll be there in 30 minutes”.

“Meeth has met with an accident and we have to go and visit him.”
“No comments!” Neeti scowled.

In 20 minutes, the girls reached Kowhai, a lounge in a chic part of the city. The bouncer outside asked them for their passes, which they obviously didn’t have. So he instead coaxed them to pay cover charges. Nitya, smart that she was, said to him very curtly,
“Sir my friend is inside and he met with an accident right here, in YOUR lounge. He called me only so I could quickly help him with some bandages and money. So now if you don’t let me go, I may have to seek legal help.” Nitya then turned to Neeti and said “Neeti you are doing your third year in law and I think you may want to intervene.”

Neeti was too flabbergasted to understand what was going on. After a small tap on her hand from Nitya, she realised she had to respond. She made a faint attempt at giving a professional smile. She then heard herself say “Sir, we’ll be out in 15 minutes flat. Else you can sue us.”

The bouncer, a very tall and hefty guy, saw the truth in Neeti’s eyes and said “Okay ladies, here you go. But 15 minutes only. Else my job will be at stake.”

“That won’t happen. I won’t let it.” Neeti said with poise as if she owned the lounge.

The bouncer liked that confident remark and opened the door for the ladies. Nitya called Meeth and asked him where his table was. Meeth raised his hand and asked her to walk down 10 steps and look up.

The girls finally managed to find the table. There were three young men at a small low lying table and two vacant seats, one was next to Meeth, the other was alongside another guy who wasn’t acquainted, at least not to Neeti. It was by protocol, that Nitya sat next to her friend Meeth and it was by default that Neeti sat next to that unknown guy. Meeth and Nitya exchanged their Hellos and ‘Long time no see’. Meeth introduced his other to friends to the girls.

“Nitya you know Tejas. And Tejas, this is my Nitya. Her sister Neeti” Tejas and Nitya had seen each other before and knew very vaguely about the other. Neeti gave a plastic smile, but looked good with that too.“And this is Aman. Aman we’ve met Nitya before, so many times, right? This is her sister Neeti.”
“Neeti, you look great. I wonder how a girl can look so good in a simple Adidas white tee and smart blue jeans.” said Meeth.
“Just like a guy can look good enough in a plastered leg and a beer mug in his hand.” Aman immediately shot Neeti a look. He liked the presence of mind the girl flaunted. Neeti looked at him and smiled, not a genuine one though.

Nitya and Meeth were gradually absorbed in their conversation which was a good and enjoyable mix of gossip and old memories.

“So, Neeti, right?”
“The music here is loud but I guess we’re sitting close enough to hear each other.” This time Neeti smiled. A big one. Probably, even a few tones mocking.
Aman enjoyed that stint.
“So what do you do?”
“I’m a photographer, well an aspiring one.”
She didn’t ask Aman what he did and so Aman offered it himself.
“I’m into Insurance. I am a manager in an MNC. I have normally, a lot of targets to achieve and many places to travel.”

“Travelling. Wow! I like that. I have travelled to very few places though but have enjoyed every bit of it. Last time...” Neeti was unstoppable. She went on and on. Aman gave a few inputs here and there but preferred listening to her. Then after a while, Aman made a small joke, on which Neeti burst out laughing. Her laughter was a thundering. She laughed her heart out. Aman was so surprised at the reaction that his laughter was stopped even before it started.

It was right there that Aman gave a meticulous look to the girl next to him. He saw she had a clear complexion with a nose little crooked, big mesmerising eyes that could swallow a whale. He noticed that the compliment Meeth gave her was a complete understatement of what she really looked like. She was gorgeous in that simple white tee and blue jeans. The dull lights of the lounge couldn’t hide her small ears that looked innocent, as if they heard nothing bad. Her eye-brows were thick and the lashes beneath them, hid her eye lids just enough.

Neeti was still jabbering with Aman. After a few moments, they both looked around and realised three pairs of eyes staring. Nitya’s, Meeth’s and Tejas’s. To them it looked like, Neeti and Aman met each other way before, in the history of time. Neeti looked at Nitya and felt a bit embarrassed.

“Nutty we should be leaving now. Else the bouncer will have us for dinner!”
“Nee I think you are right. We have a lot to talk.” Nitya had a naughty look.
Just then Aman interjected.
“Hey you can sit for some more time. I’ll go and talk to the bouncer. No problems then. Don’t go... I mean no need to go.”

Tejas noticed the desperation and exchanged a quick look with Meeth.

“Aman, I’m sorry but I have to leave. I had a nice time. See you guys. Bye. Nutty come on.”

Nitya bid her byes to all and the girls got out from there. They went to the two-wheeler in the parking lot just when Neeti realised there was something she had forgoten. She walked back near the lounge and to the bouncer.
“Sir you are a kind man. Thank you so much.”

The bouncer was speechless; he just managed to smile and saw the girls zoom off on their blue two-wheeler.

On the way Nitya pestered Neeti with all sorts of questions about Aman. Nitya said that she found Aman cute. Neeti didn’t think so but she kept mum. After they reached home Nitya made a last attempt to tease Neeti and get something out of it.

“You dumbo! Aman was drooling over you. I could see it. Me and Meeth stopped talking and looked at you guys for more than 10 minutes and you didn’t even realise. Aman had ‘that’ look, honey! He has your number too.” Nitya winked.

“What? I didn’t give him my number.”

“Well, I did. A long time back when you were finding a job, Meeth asked me to contact Aman . That is when I gave him your number. If you remember you have even spoken to this guy. Just two lines because he said that he was in a meeting and would get back to you, which he didn’t. But now I guess, he must be repenting and I’m sure will want to get back to you under any pretext. Hahahaha”

“Nutty its’ not like the way you think. I was all upbeat and wanted to have fun. Just when Meeth calls and you quickly chuck our plan and zoom me off to meet him. I still had that bubbling energy stored in me and given the first opportunity I used it in talking to Aman and that’s about it.”
“Nee you are boring. Lets’ get into the house now, else you know what music will play.”

The next day Nitya received a call from Meeth around brunch time. He wanted all the five of them to meet, again. Nitya sensed what it meant and told Neeti about the call.

Neeti decided this was a good opportunity to rectify the wrong signals she unintentionally sent out to Aman. The girls after a lot of discussion agreed to meet them. Same place.

“Hi, Neeti.” Aman gave her a heart warming smile.
“Hi.” Neeti didn’t return his smile. She made sure she didn’t sit next to him. For a long time she spoke to Tejas. They sounded like some huge business deal would be signed and ultimately a conglomeration of two huge business empires would be on cards.
Aman found it a little funny. So he quietly asked Neeti “Are you okay? You don’t sound enthu. Today.”
“I’m good, never felt better!” Neeti didn’t even look at him.

The evening passed quite awkwardly, for all. But at the end of it, Neeti was happy that she had put in efforts to clean the mess and though not completely, had succeeded.

Suddenly a huge wave hit the platform and Neeti jolted. She realised she was still sitting next to Kashif on Marines Lines, with his hand on her head. She looked around just to make sure the second time. All the memories she had so far seemed so of-this-moment even with her eyes wide open. It seemed like yesterday.

Kashif looked at her as if he had read all her thoughts all the while and had hoped he’d feature in somewhere. But that meant too much to ask for. It was hoping against hope.

Neeti looked at her watch and saw that the watch had struck 11pm. The night had prevailed. She moved and very slowly stood up. Her eyes hurt but her lips managed to smile. Kashif got the hint and stood up. They walked to his car, sat inside and turned on the radio. It was the Ghazal show being played and every song suited the circumstance. Kashif keyed the sedan to start and drove, while Neeti opened the window and let the wind blow on her face and mess her long untied hair.

The wait for the end... Part 5

After a controllable flood, damage worth a few million rupees and despoliation of a few suburbs, the monsoon showers of Mumbai seemed gratified. The city’s commotion was upbeat. The schools and colleges were buoyant. The taxi drivers, rickshaw riders, fruit vendors, pedlars floated about the city. Not a chance of making a few bucks was missed. The “Spirit of Mumbai” was restored. The rains did manage to do considerable damage but even after determined efforts, it could not subordinate the Mumbaikars.

Neeti had taken an off from office for more than a fortnight now. Her boss was vexed. Her colleagues were worried and Ramu was perturbed. She had switched off her cell phone for long durations for most days. When the cell was switched on, the calls went unattended. Reaching Neeti had become a major concern in the office and a catastrophe for the handful of friends Neeti had. Sushant, her suspicious boss, even offered her an unbelievable hike and a tempting promotion in the near future. But Neeti, instead of jumping up with joy, turned down the offers and reassured Sushant that she had no intention of switching companies. Ramu made a short trip to her flat, while on an errand and returned disturbed himself.

On a certain Wednesday, Ramu noticed that Neeti’s cubicle phone had been ringing incessantly. He decided to receive the call the next time the phone rang. In a matter of few minutes, the phone did ring and Ramu, without wasting any time, picked the receiver and pulled the cradle nearer.

“Hello! Neeti’s desk.”
“Ji hume Neeti se baat karni hain.” There came a polite reply.
“Aiyo Sir Neeti nahin aaya office. Woh nahin aayega kuch dino ke liye”
“Acha? Aisa kyun?”
“Sir details nahin malum. Aap kaun bolta ji?”
“Ji main... Main unka ek dost hun. Kashif. Woh mobile bandh rakhtin hain tho maine yahan call karna munasib samjha.”
“Kya samjha Sir?”
“Huh?? Woh... tik samjha”
“Oh wokay wokay. Sir woh cell phone bandh karta hain. Disturb nahin hone ka thoda time.”
“Ji acha. Shukriya! Khuda-hafiz.”

The conversation left Kashif in a tizzy. Ramaswamy’s words played over and over again. What could have gone wrong with Neeti, after all? He imagined the worst. Every second seemed more and more difficult to pass. He looked up at the ceiling, stopped his breath for a few seconds and shut his eyes. The sound of his silent breath also seemed disturbing. He took off the Rolex watch from his left wrist and placed it on the table. He felt the urgent need for silence. Vanilla-plain silence. In a few minutes he opened his eyes, replayed the recent telephonic conversation for the umpteenth time and gauged the options he had. He could choose to sit and wait, till Neeti took her time and then approached him. Or he could go to her place, uninvited and even feeling unwanted. He knew himself too well.

The drive from his Worli apartment to Bandra seemed never ending. The minute Kashif reached Neeti’s society premises; he shoved the car in some corner on the road, without even glancing if it was a ‘No Parking’. He took huge steps and reached the floor where Neeti lived. He was about to knock the door when suddenly he felt a receding force within. Thoughts of what Neeti would think came gushing down. She could think he was prying. Or maybe even acting like an opportunist. He sat on the first step and looked down at his slippers. It now occurred to him that he had rushed in his ordinary slippers, he had carried no wallet and to top it all, he had worn lemon yellow pyjamas. Here he was just a knock away, from the love of his life, dressed perfectly for a slumber party.

Some self-reprimanding and gritting of teeth gave Kashif the courage to knock the door. He knocked it lightly the first time, as if to make sure he had the courage to do it again. Then the second time he hit the door a bit harder. There was no response. He knocked even harder. This time, a petit voice called out “Who’s there?”

Kashif realised he had to act cheeky now. If he mentioned his name, the door wouldn’t open, obviously because none of his calls were answered or returned. “Bill madam”

Neeti didn’t bother to look through the peep hole. The reply convinced her to open the door. When she did open the door wide enough, she saw Kashif stand in front of her. She looked him in the eye, turned back and went into the kitchen. Kashif came in, closed the door behind him and sat in the corner of a sofa, scared and alarmed.

Neeti had grown pale. She looked different. Her complexion had grown a few tones lighter but didn’t glow. Her nose was red and the skin was worn out. She had developed a cognisable amount of dark circles and looked ill. Kashif heard a few harsh coughs from the kitchen. Neeti walked out with a tray of two steaming mugs and placed it on the side table. She handed Kashif, tea and had prepared coffee for her herself.

“Mujhe pata hain aap chai peete ho, coffee nahin.”

Kashif looked at the small girl sitting in front of him, who had grown even smaller in size now. He didn’t know what to reply to the meticulous observatory remark Neeti just made.

A long pause of silence prevailed. Neeti sipped endlessly till she finished her cuppa.

“Yuhu! I finished first... Main race jeet gayi.” The feeble attempt to make merry was dismissed by both. Yet Neeti smiled. Kashif opened his mouth to say something just when the door bell rang; a furious ring this time. Neeti hurriedly opened the door and saw her neighbour standing.

“Oh! Hello Uncle!”
“Neeti your guest has parked his car on my lot. Please ask him to move it.” The reply was curt.
“Sorry Uncle. He may not have realised.”
“Where should a man in his late seventies find new place to park his old Bug? I have been parking there since 30 years now.”
“Sorry Uncle.” Neeti didn’t need all that talk at this time.

Neeti quickly informed Kashif about the problem. He, without wasting a minute, picked his keys and went to the door. Suddenly he turned back and said to her “Neeti chalo!”. There was no asking or pleading or requesting. It was an order. Neeti didn’t attempt to disobey. She instead obliged him.

A few quick steps and they reached his brand new Chevrolet sedan. Neeti didn’t notice the change in vehicle and stood next to the car. Kashif unlocked the car remotely and sat behind the wheel; then told Neeti to get in. Neeti numbly sat next to him and uttered no word of reluctance. Kashif drove smoothly and seemed disinterested in the new car or its features. This car, for now, seemed nothing more than a utility.

After a whole hour of driving and utter silence, with the exception of a few horns of other vehicles, Neeti spoke.
“Woh aaya tha. Kuch din pehle. Mere ghar pe.” Neeti kept looking ahead, into a huge zero.
Kashif gave her a quick look, just to make sure she was comfortable talking about this.
“Hamari kaafi behes hui. Woh ek hafte pehlese hi Mumbai mein tha par usne call karna jaayaz nahin samjha. Aane se pehle bhi usne call nahin kiya.”

Again a hurtful silence prevailed. But this time, not for long.

“Maine usse pucha hamare future ke baare mein. Pehele tho usne kaha woh tayar nahin hain.”
Neeti choked. There was nothing that could hold her tears back. She wept.
“Maine fir zor diya. Aur usne saaf mana kar diya. Woh apna career banana chahta hain. Main uske aade aa rahi hun.”
The words she uttered killed her from within. She grasped how difficult it was for her to say this; whereas for Aman, the same words spurted like a casual ‘Hi’ or a ‘Hello’.

Kashif stopped the car near the Marine Lines. He knew this was the only place she would want to be. For that matter, any person who lives in Mumbai knows that Marine Lines is the place where you can be yourself without any glitch. Happiness, sorrow, joy, anxiousness, remorse; you could share all of it with the Arabian Sea. The sea takes in all that you give it. It listens like a loving and patient grandmother. Occasionally, it does reply with a gush of water.

Neeti sat on the famous Marine Lines platform. She didn’t face the wide ocean today. She rather faced her back to it and sat looking at a tall building housing a plush seven star hotel. Kashif stood with hands folded-crossed in front of him.

“I love him. I want to be with him.”
Kashif needed no translation. He knew what it meant and that hurt.
“Neeti usse firse ek baar baat karlo.”
“Kashif woh nahin chahta mujhe abh. Woh mujhse duur jana chahta hain.”
“Neeti kya main usse baat...”
Neeti looked up at him immediately and promptly replied “Nahin. Kabhi nahin.”

Neeti began wallowing. The situation seemed to grow worse with her cries. Kashif sat next to her and kept a hand on her head. He let her cry. He placed her head on his shoulder, took out a white, neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her face. Neeti wept harder. Kashif’s T-shirt was partly soaked at the right arm corner. He didn’t flinch for a second. He sat still, still keeping his hand on her forehead. He felt helpless. He knew this period was there to stay for a while. And it was painful and would grow even more in a few days; not only for Neeti but for him as well. After all, love is like a crescendo. For the fortunate ones, its’ like the periwinkles which never cease to bloom; but for the unfortunate or unlucky ones, its’ like an incurable cancer growing within, quietly and secretly, deceiving and making illusory promises.

Neeti’s soft weeping continued and Kashif knew the wait for the end had begun.

The wait for the end... Part 4

The monsoons in Mumbai seemed eternal. There was no stopping. The government officials had already sent out a flood alert and advised people not to go out of home for a few days unless inevitable. But the seasoned Mumbaikars have a unique way of tackling rains. Their policy is simple, “When you can’t beat it, join it.” That is exactly what they do. This rubs on the new-comers as well and within no time are they ready to tackle the next rains.

But as the saying goes, “There are exceptions to every rule”, this one has one too. Neeti! She tried every possible thing on earth, even Yoga, but nothing could calm her when it rained. One day it dawned on her and she gave up trying. But it was too late and she had caught the flu already. Cold, cough, stuffy nose and red eyes, Neeti was full of it. She grew paler by the day and her voice had cracked. She sounded funny. Some of her colleagues called her “Local SRK”.

It was a dull afternoon and the Sun had conveniently hid behind the clouds. Neeti was loading the pictures from her camera onto her desktop machine. She was browsing through the pictures she had clicked. Just then a voice said “This one is very good”. Neeti turned to the familiar voice and smiled at Ramu. He was always in awe of Neeti’s sense of originality, creativity and excellence. “But Ramu they aren’t enough. Our boss thinks otherwise.” Neeti looked at her boss’s cabin and frowned.

“Don’t consider his opinion... He’s a sadist.”
“Unfortunately for me, that sadist decides my promotion and hikes.”
“Hmmm. Why are you loading them on the desktop? You never do that. ”

Neeti giggled. “Ramu my camera is becoming heavier, every passing day and I can’t bear to carry its weight”. There was a laugh in the adjoining cube, which meant an acknowledgement of her small joke.

Ramu grinned. “Neeti I got to go. See you later.”

“Yup! Bye Ramu.”

After four consecutive sneezes, her colleagues requested her to call it a day. Neeti agreed and packed her bag. She slipped in her camera, a pen drive, two books and her cell phone. Within 10 minutes, she was downstairs looking for a rickshaw.

“Auto!!!” she yelled in her cracked voice.

The rickshaw took a turn and came to where she was. She asked him if he would drop her to Bandra. The rider signalled her to sit. She quickly got in and told him exactly where she wanted to go. The rickshaw rider rode like he was on a horseback in a battle. Neeti shut her eyes, sneezing every five minutes.

In thirty minutes Neeti was home. She took in a deep breath and placed her keys on the table and flung her bag on the chair. She threw herself on the bed, bouncing once. She had a lot of time in hand and didn’t know what to do with it. She made a few calls and asked for some medicines and food to be delivered. Within no time she was asleep.

The door bell rang miserably. Neeti jolted and realised she had to get the door. She dragged her feet and opened the door. The delivery boy handed her the parcel, tendered the change and left.
Neeti quickly had the food and drank a lot of hot water to give her sore throat some solace. She looked at the medicine bottles and tablet strips and frowned. After a lot of convincing she tore open the strip to reveal a white tablet. She was all set to have it just when someone banged on the door.

Neeti’s eyes opened wide. She wasn’t expecting anyone. And it wasn’t a bell ring; instead it was a bang on the door. This was reason enough to be suspicious. In Mumbai life is so planned that there is not a minute to let in an unexpected guest. Every minute has a task to be done. Time flies off here like an eye blink.

“Who is it?”

“Open up Neeti.”

Neeti went cold. The blood was drained out of her face. She recognised the voice and opened the door like a robot.

“Aman!” she exclaimed.
“Who else were you expecting?”
“Well, you could have called up before coming.”
“Its’ ok Neeti. I just came to see you. I felt like SEEING you, its’ been long.”
“When did you come to Mumbai?”

“A week back.” The reply was very casual. And it cut through Neeti’s heart in a way that she felt a lump grow in her throat.

Aman pushed his way inside. He sat on the sofa and sighed relief.

“The rains are horrible. I don’t know how people manage all this.”

“Well it depends on person to person. For me, after such a long time, I still haven’t learnt to.” Neeti sounded acrimonious. The words had a pun. And Aman didn’t miss on the hidden meaning. He pursed his lips.

“Neeti I have been missing you crazily. But I have been so tied up with work lately. I don’t have time for anything.”

“But somehow you do have time to spend with your friends.”

“Neeti that is the only thing I do other than work. Come on yaar. Can’t you see me happy for some time?”

“Why have you come here Aman?”
“I thought I told you already Neeti. Let me repeat it for you. I came here to see you.”
“Well, in that case you should leave. You’ve seen me enough now.”
“I fail to understand you.” Aman almost shouted. “When I call you, you are rude. When I don’t call you are hurt. I’ve come here to see you and you are asking me to leave. What do you want me to do?”
“Aman, you know what I want.”
“God! You are impossible. I told you I need time Neeti. I am not sure about anything now.”
“Aman its’ been 2 years now. How much more time do you need?”
“Neeti I need a glass of water now. Nothing else would do. Please fetch me one if you can.”

Neeti paced her steps towards her small kitchen and fetched a glass of water. She was all worked up. There are some situations where God helps you. And there are some where God tests you. But this situation seemed none of the two types. There had to be a new category for this one.

These are like one of those times, where you have been forced to play tennis and you haven’t even held a racket in your hand ever before. The one at other end by default is an ace player and smashes the ball towards you with full vengeance. The ball passes by you leaving you gaping with agony and shame, rocket zooming and questioning your very existence.

Aman called out to Neeti loudly. Her chain of thoughts was suddenly broken and she quickened her steps outside and handed him the glass of water. She knew what she should say and what she would say. The difference in both made her stomach twist and turn.

“Aman we need to talk.” Neeti looked Aman in the eye and said it firmly.

Aman understood the seriousness of her tone and realised that it was no time to beat around the bush. He had to answer her.