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.