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.

The wait for the end... Part 2

"What on earth were you thinking Neeti?"

"Boss, but these pics capture..."

"They capture NONSENSE! What! You want me to teach you to click pics now??? 2 more minutes in this office and I'll turn mad"

"Will turn? You have already!", Neeti said to herself softly.

"Neeti! I heard that!"

"Boss I should get back to work", Neeti couldn't hide her smirk.

"Yeah!" came the reply in a gruff tone.


Neeti's boss, Sushant, was a short tempered chap, exactly the opposite of his name. He cared for none and spoke his mind at times even when his opionion wasn't asked or didn't count. He was a hard-working fellow but not a good team player. Besides, he had had two divorces already and had now stopped believing in the institution of marriage. Although, deep down, he knew it was the otherwise.

Neeti was very jittery and fidgety today. She kept looking at her mobile. It did ring a couple of times, but not for the reasons she wanted.

It was lunch time. Her mobile rang suddenly breaking the lull in the office. A colleague, named Ramaswamy, who sits next to her cubicle woke up with a jerk from his sleep. Neeti saw his shocked face and declared "Subah ho gayi Ramu! Re Ramu!". Ramaswamy gave a sly smile.

"Hmmm Hey!"

"Where the hell are you? Do you realise you have called me after 48 hours?" Neeti couldn't control her decibles by now.

"Chill yaar! I am not jobless nor do I have time to go to parties and click snaps away to glory!"

"Gosh! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you..."

"Enough yaar! Listen! I got to go now... Important meeting yeah! Catch you later! See ya!"

"But you said we were supposed to ... Hello! Hello!" The line was already disconnected, even before Neeti realised. She jumped from her seat and ran into the ladies room. This was just another of those numerous times that she had wallowed in the office washroom. She took a complete 30 mins in there and came out, not until she washed her face and dried her eyes.

She reached her desk and sat looking at her computer screen like it was a television showing her the transcripts of the last mobile conversation. Just as she unlocked the screen, Ramaswamy said to her "Aiyo Neeti Amma, there was a call for you...Some Kafish I say"

Neeti burst out laughing and the whole cubicle was vibrating. "Aiyo Ramu Anna, its Kashif not Kafish I say" .

Ramaswamy laughed along. He always liked Neeti but realised long back that there could be nothing possible between them.

Neeti picked her mobile and redialled the number from the "Received list".

"Namaste Sirji" .

"Neeti ji! Kaise ho aap?"

"Badiyan... Waise aap ko mera number kahan se mila? Mere piche koi spy tho nahin lagaya na? Hahahaha" .

"Spy?"

"Detective?"

"Haan..." Kashif gave a quizzical reply.

"Oye Ramu, what is a spy called in Hindi?"

"Aiyo spy... wait Neeti, I'll search it on the internet" Ramaswamy swung into action.

"Jasoos!!!" Neeti almost screeched.

"Oh nahin nahin... jasoos nahin hain... maine thoda dundha and mil gaya aap ka number" .

"Acha... chalo chodo. Farmaiye... aap ne aise hi call kiya?"

"Woh main keh raha tha ki, main Worli mein hi tha tho kyun na lunch karen... Matlab hum dono... ek saath... alag alag nahin" Kashif sounded really nervous.

Neeti was caught off-guard. She didn't know what to say and she blurted out "OK"

"Main aap ko lene aata hun... White Honda city" Kashif was completely overwhelmed. He cut the line and told his driver that he would drive the car.

Neeti realised that she had said "Yes" for lunch. She wondered whether to call Kashif again and cancel the plan and apologize. After a lot of thought, she convinced herself to go for the luncheon.

As committed, Kashif was waiting in his white Honda City right in front of the entrance.

"Hi KAFISH"

"Neeti!" Kashif's throat went dry. He just kept looking a her as she walked near, sat next to him and again said "Hi". She had again worn a pair of simple straight fit demins with a well fitted V-neck black top. She looked very pretty. Kashif opened his mouth to say something and she cunningly said "Yes I know, main bohot achi lag rahi hun and kala rang meko suit karta hain."

Kashif blushed. He didn't protest. Quitely started driving the car. Neeti kept jabbering about work. Her boss. Her camera. On and off, she did ask him a few questions, but they seemed merely a formality. She didn't even spare him a second to answer any of them. Kashif couldn't help blushing and smiling, both at the same time. She spoke of the new fly-over from Bandra to Worli, about Linking road, her neighbour's dog, clothes. And out-of-the-blue, she said "Aap ka blazer acha hain! Waise aaj aap kaafi ache lag rahe ho KAFISH!"

Kashif suddenly seemed conscious and moved a bit in his seat. He smiled again. He didn't even realise that she had called him KAFISH.

"Abh main bilkul nahin bolungi KAFISH... Aap bolo KAFISHHHH" .

He laughed. "Mera naam Kashif hain".

"Nahin aaj se aap ka naam KAFISH... hahahahahaha". She laughed so loudly.

"Aree check tho kijiye Neeti ji ki peeche ka type kahin puncture tho nahin hua". His face was suddenly serious.

Neeti immediately looked from her window. The tyre was fine.

"Tik hain tyre".

"Hahahahaha meko laga shayad puncture hua ho"

"Kyun?"

"Aree aap aise hansi... ek tho tyre puncture hona jayaz hain" .

"Very mean". Neeti laughed again.

"Chaliye... hotel aa gaya."

... TO BE CONTINUED