Her.

He dialed the number he found on the ad. His fingers were too shaky, just as his mind was, to hold the mobile properly.

"Hello," said the old lady in her seductive voice.

"Hi. I want to fix an appointment."

"Okay. Name and time, please." I didn't know until then that if anyone could ask for the details that seductively.

"Gautham. 8 P.M." Of course, I used a false name.

"See you at 8 then. I will text you the address."

"Hold on. I'm looking for a specific girl."

"Specific, who?"

I told her name. After a few seconds, she said, "Well, but she isn't available until after 9."

Fuck, I thought. "Make it 9 then. Listen, I want this girl specifically. No one else." I said firmly.

"Sure, sir."

The call was disconnected. The 'Sir' had a sugar-coated-respect all over it. I couldn't help but smile at the fake-respect people throw at others just to please them, to show them their fake-care.

Her face flashed in my mind. The face I saw almost eleven years back on the last day of the school. We both didn't know where we would end up, but wished each other well for the future. I saw my love, my first (and the last), walk away. Certain things are better left unsaid, some say. I followed, assuming fate would get us together some day, foolishly.

Amidst the thoughts about her, I dozed off. It was almost 7:30 P.M. when I woke up. I rushed to get ready. My whole body was shaking as I locked the door. Man, it's been more than a decade and I still haven't gotten over the nervousness of meeting her.

I reached the hotel by 8:40 P.M. I dialed the number. I was directed to head to a room in the second floor. The number struck a chord with me. I was also told that she was with someone and that she would meet me at 9 in the room. My heart broke. I knew I can't fix it back. Helplessly, I walked to the room with a broken heart.

In a few minutes, I was in front of the room. The number plate read 2106. What a coincidence, it was. It's her birthday, June 21. Ever since I knew of it, it became my passcode, for everything. Love, you see. The door was unlocked. I entered in and sat on the bed. Yes, I was still shaking.

It was the longest 20 minutes of my life. I heard a knock at the door. I stood up. She entered in and locked the door behind. She looked tired. She was, literally. It wasn't surprising given what she was up to in the past hour or more. I didn't realize I was crying.

She looked at me as she adjusted her dress. Her face showed that she recognized me instantly. We both stood speechless. She walked towards me and tried to say something. Only the words didn't come out. I hushed.

I knelt down in front of her and asked, "Will you marry me, please?" with a purposeful stress on the 'please.'

A Story - Part 9

It all started here - [A Story - Part 1]

By the time I got home, I had received quite a few messages and a couple of missed calls from her. It was weird considering that she hadn’t texted me except for once in the morning since we had exchanged our mobile numbers; and that was only to acknowledge that she would be at the library at around 10 A.M. I was anxious.

When I entered the hall, I saw my friend completely engrossed in his thinking. I chose to ignore him and rushed to the terrace. I knocked the trashcan on my way upstairs.

“Hey,” shouted my friend.

“How many times have I told not to place the trashcan on the stairs, you morons?” I shouted back picking the trashcan. He didn’t seem to care.

“What are you thinking so deeply about without even noticing me entering the house? Another love-fact of yours?” I questioned him.

He smiled. I got my answer. As I reached the terrace, I found my other friend washing his clothes.

“Dude, what is with you guys? It’s scorching hot out here. Can’t you wash your clothes in the evening?” I still haven’t gotten over my questioning phase.

“Uh-huh, what are you doing here in the scorching heat, sir?”

“Just came to check on you. You carry on, please,” I replied with an intention of ending the conversation with him. He was so nice that he went back to his work without asking any further questions.

I moved to the other corner of the terrace where there was a big shade. It was much cooler there. Thanks to the large banyan tree that stood at the back of our house.

I opened the Messages folder and read all her messages one by one.

Message 1 @ 11:14 A.M: “Hi… Who is Sneha?”

Message 2 @ 11:15 A.M: “Sorry, I just asked u casually. u can choose not to reply.”

Message 3 @ 11:16 A.M: “Or u can reply!!!! J”

Message 4 @ 11:19 A.M: “Are u ther?”

Message 5 @ 11:24 A.M: “Oye!”

Message 6 @ 11:28 A.M: “I’m sorry. u don’t have to reply who she is, but at least u can text me back.”

Message 7 @ 11:34 A.M: “Oye! This is going to be my last message. I am not going to text you again until u reply. Bye.”

I then checked the call history. The calls were made @ 11:18 A.M and @ 11:33 A.M. respectively.

I reread all the messages thrice picturing the exact happenings based on the timing of the messages and the missed calls. I felt her nervousness.

I typed “Oye!” That’s how I start a conversation with someone I am very close to. Of course, practically, she wasn’t one yet, no matter I had already begun to feel that way. You know, I can’t explain how happy I was when I saw the same word in two of her messages. Same wavelength, we have, I felt.

Before I could send it, my brain acted better. I decided to call her. It took a few rings before she took my call.

“Hey!” I started.

“Hello! So you are alive only. Great to know.”

“Listen, it is not what you think it is.”

“Wait. What do you mean?” She cut me off.

“Come on. You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” She tried to control her laughter. I sensed it.

“Oye! This is too much.” There I was, throwing ‘oye’ at her whenever I pleased.

“What is too much?” She wasn’t ready to give up. I was sure.

“You behaving as if I purposefully didn’t return your texts and calls.”

“Oh, no. No. Not at all. I even forgot that I texted you. And called too.”

“See, you are still doing it. That’s fine. Ring me up when you remember them. Or better still, text me. Bye.”

“Oye! Hold on.”

I remained silent. She too was.

After a few seconds, she started, “Are you there?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Why did you call me?”

“I was just returning your calls. Why did you call me before?”

“Didn’t you read my texts?”

“I did, of course. And I…” I dragged.

“And you?”

“And I also sensed your uneasiness when you didn’t get my reply.” I said and laughed. I didn’t know why I did then.

“What’s so funny about it?” She sounded angry. Or tried to be, I would rather say.

“Nothing. I just couldn’t believe that you thought I was ignoring your texts.”

“You would have thought the same. Wouldn’t you?”

“Probably.”

“What probably? I am sure you would have too.” She was right. In fact, I would have been worse. I would have more likely followed up with a big apology message. I was glad she thought of me better.

“Alright. I agree.” That was the safest I could respond.

“Hmmm…” She seemed relieved.

“I was riding my bike back home from the library. Moreover, my mobile was in silent mode.”

“Silent again? You didn’t stop by any temple on the way, did you?” She asked and laughed uncontrollably. Her words and tone were dressed in sarcasm. Oh, the memory these girls have. I instantly decided not to turn my mobile silent ever again.

I waited until she stopped. I didn’t want her to stop though. She did, finally, after almost a minute. I didn’t know since when, but I kind of liked to hear her laugh. Such a bliss, you know.

Eventually, she caught my silence and said, “I’m sorry. You continue, please.”

“Nothing much. I saw your texts and calls only a few minutes back and wanted to check on you. Seven messages and two missed calls in such a short span. It must be important. Very important, no?” Sarcasm was obvious in my words. It was time to switch positions, after all.

“Hey… Don’t sound too sarcastic. It doesn’t suit your voice. Know what, I don’t bother. I shouldn’t have asked you about Sneha. I felt bad and awkward, to be honest. I didn’t want you to think that I was being, like, intrusive. I wanted to clear things up.”

“It’s okay, really. In fact, I didn’t mind you asking.”

“Alright then. Who is she, I mean, Sneha?” Needless to say, her smartness took the front seat at the right time.

... To be continued. [A Story - Part 10]

Surprise

"Surprise me," I said.

And she did. With a lot of passion and a few long breaths.

I looked at the watch. She took 12.14 secs. That was rather quick, I amazed.

"You're going to be a champion one day," I said, "by breaking records."

Unpredictable Life

He wrote a wonderful piece about Dad-Daughter relationship and shared it with her. She couldn't appreciate enough. He was on cloud nine. Little did he know then that it would have such an influence in their lives.

She decided to ignore his proposal only to marry a stranger her dad had arranged for her.

He decided to adopt a baby girl only to spend the rest of his life in her memory.

Such is the life, unpredictable, they say.

You, I, and The Office

First day at office, I didn't have any idea of what it would be like. It was only fear that blanketed my mind, to be honest. It's true that there was also an excitement in me; a tad more than my friends I'd say as I was there at the office two hours earlier than the expected time.

Of all that I thought would happen on the first day, you weren't one. But, without any second thought, you seemed to be the best of all. A spark, as some would call, was what I felt. I still couldn't figure out why you chose the desk next to me. Was it the same spark that made you do it? No, you would say. I can only guess. I will never know.

Well, the days we spent together, of course, working (or not), the hours we consumed for our chat, the minutes we spoke in silence, the seconds we looked into each other's eyes. If only it was a two-seater cubicle instead of four. Know what, most of the days, the other two didn't exist for me. Seriously. I mean, did they? Not, at least, in the world of conversations we had.

The stories you told, the disappointments you shared, the happiness you made me to be a part of. It didn't seem I met you after twenty years of being in this world. It rather seemed I was with you since your childhood. I'd had lied if I said I didn't feel I met you late in my life. Yep, twenty years too late. 

Your first love was the funniest story I had ever heard. I was secretly glad that it didn't materialize, you know. And whenever you bumped into a guy, a friend of yours, at the cafeteria, or at a shopping mall, or at the theatre, a shiver ran down my spine. It only vanished when you yourself assured me that he was just a friend. I was happy you always had this urge to mention that to me. What were you thinking of me then? More than a friend, no? Looking back, you spent more minutes talking to a guy than to a girl with me waiting nearby. And what were those giggles for? Did you do it purposefully? To make me feel jealous or something? If so, you won. I was.

Your desk was the temple I visited before I started my work. You were the Goddess I went to for my peace. You probably didn't know, but you made me function appropriately. Yes, you did. You were the reason I excelled in what I did. Not to impress you, but simply to be in par with you. You were smart, and made me smart (or more so.)

It was amazing that there was nothing common between us. You liked to go to office earlier, while I preferred to stay late. You preferred breakfast; lunch was for me. Music means ARR to you; YSR occupied my playlist. It was no wonder that Maniratnam vs. Selvaraghavan became our frequent leisure time talk. I had nothing against Maniratnam, but I loved to see the anger that sprayed on ur face every time I had a point against him. Ah, how I wished it would go on forever. You were North; needless to say, I was South. Opposite poles attract each other, my teacher had taught when I was a kid. I didn't believe it back then although I pretended to agree and wrote the same to get good marks. It was only when we had a common ground among these contradictions that I realized how right he was or rather the scientist, who proved it, was.

You were the missing piece of my unsolved puzzles. When you weren't, you had it somehow. Always. Without you, I didn't know how I would have survived. I didn't even know if I would have in the first place. There were days I wondered what the reason was for me to get to office every day. You or the work? The question flashed in me often. Every time, the answer was You. 

What is it that we have, I had questioned myself many a time. Acquaintance? No. Friendship? Not just. Crush? I was there. Infatuation? Certainly not. Love? Maybe. I was not sure yet. You weren't either, I thought.

'The office' fevicol affixed us more than it should had. You, I, and the office. What a story it had been? I hope you too get it one day.

Daddy Love

He was desperately in need of a kiss. 

He called out her. She ran down to him almost instantly with a charming smile and gave him a tight hug. 

She knew what he wanted. After few seconds, she pecked him on the cheek. And then one more on the other side too.

He felt elated. She was the best thing ever happened in his life, he thought.

"Love you, dad," she said and hugged him tight again.

"Love you too, dear," he said and kissed on her forehead.

It was time for their usual morning walk. "Shall we start?" he asked. She nodded. For her, it was the most amazing time of the day, and the one she always looked forward to as soon as she woke up every day.

And a leisurely, pleasant stroll began.

One Night With Her

It all started with a sad smiley. He wasn’t someone who spends much time chatting, and on the dot, he wasn’t comfortable chatting with mobile. He didn’t like the pain his fingers develop when he constantly texts, but things changed once he got into WhatsApp. Even if he doesn’t start, someone would message him – and the notification pops up – which he couldn’t ignore.

Worst part was being a part of a group – a group for school friends, a group for college friends, a group for colleagues, a group for cricket team, a group for roommates, and one for ex-roommates and then a group for whatnot. He didn’t want to become that guy among the group who would be a scapegoat for not being active in the group and often being accused of for not respecting others. From the little experience he had, he knew that it would unarguably become a talking point on the days when no one in the group has anything to chat about. It’s more prudent to reply than to ignore, he thought. So he replied to almost every message he got, be it in a group or direct.

Eventually, he sort of became an addict, and used to check WhatsApp even when there weren’t any notifications at all. What he did was to glance over the list of contacts and read their respective status messages. He knew he gained nothing out of it, but still, he did. Checking WhatsApp replaced reading and became his number one, or rather only, activity to beat the stretches of boredom. Anything that’s done beyond convention becomes an ineluctable addiction, he realized it later – only it was too late.

It was one night when he was scrolling down the contacts, it hit him. The status of his friend (to be precise, friend is too good a word to use considering the fact that they hardly spoke before) was a simple sad smiley. He stopped. He clicked her open in a chat window and typed, “Hey….” He was hesitant to send it. The message, it stayed there in the text box for a while just as he stayed in his bed – helpless and lost.

All this while, he wondered how he still had her contact saved in his mobile. It’s been three years since he had seen her. He didn’t even remember talking to her then. She was from his college, and not even from his department. She was the girl whom he met on the very first day of their college when she asked him the way for her department. Only then he knew that her department existed in their college. It was the time when he didn’t know the way for his department in the first place and was ruing his decision to go to his class all alone after getting tired of waiting for his roommate.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Thank You,” she replied and turned around to walk away.

He didn’t want her go. He called her instantly provoked by the fear of losing her from his sight.

“Hey, I can help you find it,” he said.

She looked perplexed.

“I mean I’m looking for my department anyway, and the other guy told me that it’s near yours,” he lied.

She nodded her approval. They both walked together. After few left and right turns, and with the help of a couple of passers-by, they reached her department only to find it was an idle building in one corner of the campus.

She looked at him. He got the words out of it.

“Oh my god, that guy must have misled me,” he said and pretended his disappointment.

“What’s yours, by the way?” she asked.

When he said his, she laughed and said, “Come, let me walk you to your department. I have seen it across the playground when I was searching mine.”

“No problem, I can find it myself. I don’t want you to be late to your first class,” he said reluctantly, hoping that she wouldn’t be obliged by his words. Sadly, she did.

“Alright then, you have a great day, and thanks,” she said and stormed into her department. It was the first time he grumbled about his stupidity in a long while.

For the next few weeks, he stalked her. She, or anyone for that matter, didn’t know about it. He kept it that way. Years passed. It almost took four years for him to cross her path again. It was in the final year, at their college cultural organizing committee meeting, he happened to meet her. They exchanged numbers, not because they knew each other before, but because they had to, for the sake of the committee activities. To be honest, it was heartbreaking for him that she didn’t recognize him. He, in order to maintain his dignity, didn’t bring it to her either.

The next few days, he refrained himself from calling or sending texts to her, no matter what. The night before the first day of their cultural, he received a text from her asking to come early to the stage the next day. He felt happy, but chose not to respond to it assuming she would send him another text to check on him. His wait wasn’t fruitful. No more texts came his way. He slept. Next day, he reached the stage as early as he could only to find a bunch of other people there. It was then he realized that she had sent that text the other night to everyone in the committee. He laughed at his stupidity.

Three years later…. You could imagine his hesitation in sending the message to her. A lot had happened in those three years. He had rejected the job in a leading IT company that he got selected to in the campus interview only to follow his passion. He had pursued journalism against his family’s wishes and was working as an intern in a leading regional daily. She, on the other hand, had taken the job she got selected to (for a different IT company) and was living in the United States for the past few months on a short term assignment. He came to know about her whereabouts when he bumped into an old college friend few weeks back.

After all these thoughts, he finally composed himself and sent the message. He didn’t get a reply, although her status showed online. He waited for few minutes. No reply yet. He thought maybe she would have lost his number and chose not to reply to an unknown number. She is nice, he thought. He wanted to send a message with his name next, maybe, after a few minutes. Meanwhile, the boredom made him to browse through the contacts to read their respective status again. It was by then he noticed her updated status – which was still reflecting the sadness in her.

He didn’t want to wait anymore. He started typing the usual pleasantry words with his name this time. Before he could send it, he got a message from her.

It read, “Hey…”

“Wow, is she messaging a stranger?” he wondered.

Before he could respond, the next message popped, “How are you? It’s been ages.”

Ha, this is good. This is so freaking good. She remembers you, buddy, his inner voice echoed.

“I’m doing well. How about you?” he replied.

“I’m good….,” her words were direct, but he knew she didn’t mean it.

“Good? Then what’s the sad smiley for?”

“It’s just the mood swings.”

“Oh… is it? It’s Friday. You should actually be happy,” he messaged as he was already rejoicing the fact that it was a Friday night. Given where she was, he knew it was only Friday morning for her, but Friday is Friday anyway.

“Well, yeah. I should be. :)”

“Hmmm...” He didn’t know what else to send.

“It’s changed now…. I mean the status,” she replied.

He browsed back to the contacts list to check her status. It read something in Hindi. He is kind of mein-thoda-thoda-maalum-hai kind. He almost read all the words, but couldn’t get the complete meaning of it. He felt bad for not learning Hindi when he had a chance. He thought he should have listened to his mom’s repeated requests to learn Hindi when he was a kid. His mom even tried the trick of insult by quoting his sister who had been a Hindi prodigy by then. Nothing worked. It was just the age that he seldom cared about the advantages of learning Hindi. Had he known that he would miss out on girls just because of this language, he would have mastered it.

“Hmm… I see it. That’s great, but I didn’t understand it,” he decided to lose his dignity this time.

“Oh, actually it means, weekend is here; so is the happiness,” she replied.

“See, so you have a reason to be happy :),” he tried to go on with the topic, as he couldn’t find any other at that moment to extend the conversation.

“Yeah, but I’m not at home anyway,” she sounded homesick.

“Oh, so you are feeling homesick, aren’t you?”

“Yes, very much.”

“Go watch a movie tomorrow. You will feel better. That’s my remedy when I’m down. It always works for me,” he texted back.

“I have the dance class on weekends. So I enjoy the weekends.”

He was excited on seeing the words, “dance class”, and wanted to enquire about it. He thought that he had got something to chat about, but it lasted only for a few seconds.

He got another message that read, “Bye for now. It’s my cooking time.”

“Sorry, you carry on. Have a nice day,” he responded.

“You don’t have to be sorry. I just said that it’s my cooking time,” she replied back, almost immediately.

“Alright.” He ended the conversation.

He couldn’t come out of the conversation. He felt bad for her. He did wish that he was with her to make her feel okay by doing whatever it took.

He couldn’t lie on his bed anymore. He went out for a walk. That’s what he normally did whenever he had to calm his mind. Immersed in his thoughts, he left his mobile at his home.

When he came back, the first thing he did was to check for any notifications. None other than a couple from NDTV app was there. He then opened her chat window. The last seen time showed that she was active in WhatsApp five minutes back. Why didn’t she message him then? Didn’t she want to chat with him anymore? he wondered.

He checked her status again. It was changed. The same Hindi words remained, but the text, “Missing you Mom and Papa,” was appended to it.

“Hey… still feeling home sick?” he messaged her. He knew it was lame to ask within few hours since their last conversation, but he felt he had to.

“Hmmm…. Nothing changed my mood,” she replied. Though the content made him feel sorry for her, the fact that she replied instantly made him happy.

He didn’t want to seem desperate. He replied, “Just saw your status… And, thought of checking on you. Not intruding or something.”

“Cool, no problem.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in office by now?”

“Yes, I am, but I took the option of working from home as I wasn’t in a good mood since morning,” she replied.

He had heard from his IT friends about the work-from-home option, and how people actually work when choosing work-from-home, if by chance they do in the first place.

“Don’t you hang out with your friends? I mean, that would keep you from being home sick, right?”

“Yes, I do, but both my roommates have gone to India for vacation,” she replied.

“That’s unfortunate for you. So being alone makes you feel homesick?”

“Hmmm…” she replied blatantly.

“Weren’t you in hostel when you did your college?” he asked though he knew the answer.

“Yes, I was. Don’t you know that, huh?”

“I do know, but was just wondering how come you are feeling homesick still? Being in hostel makes the difference, you see,” he replied.

“Yeah, but still I’m not used to it.”

“Hmmm…”

“Even I went to one of my colleagues’ home yesterday evening to spend some time with his wife and kids. It didn’t help either. I will meet them again today. Hope that changes my mood,” she elaborated.

He wanted to change the conversation for the fact that he didn’t want her to feel any sadder by digging into the same topic.

“Hey, I guess I’m holding you from your work. You carry on,” that’s the best he could come up with, hoping she would say that what it is like when anyone works from home.

“Okay, bye. Have a good night. Sleep well,” she replied.

That reply wasn’t what he had expected before he sent his message.

He remembered the words he told his friend sometime back – “Don’t complain about missing out on things. Enjoy them as long as they last.” It applied to his situation then.

He tried to sleep, but he couldn’t. Few hours later he messaged her again, “Hi… how are you feeling now, better?”

“Hmmm, somewhat normal,” came the reply.

“Feel better. Or just try to,” he replied.

“Hmmm… the thing is that there are other things going weird in my life.”

“Is it? What happened? Is it something that can be shared? Feel free to share it with me,” he asked even though he knew that she wouldn’t. They weren’t that close after all.

“Sorry, but I can’t share it right now. I’m not at all stable.” Her response wasn’t a surprise for him. Who would share something intense with someone who is more of a stranger, he thought.

A sad smiley followed her last message. It only made him feel bad for her again. He desperately wanted to make her feel better. He thought of the ways. All he could come up with was to make her share whatever that’s bothering her because there is nothing better than to talk your worries through with someone who would hear you patiently and comfort you in the best possible way.

Oh, okay. That’s fine, he wanted to send, but that wasn’t fine at all. So he deleted the text and sent, “Oh, I don’t want to compel you, but just so you know, you can message me if you want to, anytime, if that makes you feel better.”

“Hmmm, thanks,” she sent while he continued typing.

“Is it work-related or personal?” he asked wanting to figure things out himself.

“Personal,” she replied. Nothing more.

“I know that you don’t know me personally. I can understand that. And frankly, I don’t know if I’m right in messaging you to check on you, but I felt like I should. It’s up to you to share what you want to. I’m sorry again if I’m crossing my line,” he sent.

He sent it not only because she was someone whom he knew, even if it was for a short while and a long time ago, but also because he was a person who feels he should do something when someone is not feeling good.

“No, no. It’s okay. I know you are just asking me to make me feel normal. But I’m going through a phase which I can’t share,” she replied. It made him wonder what she was going through.

“Oh, okay then. I can’t ask you again.”

No response from her, for the next five minutes. Was she offended? He has to do something, he thought.

“You know what, whatever phase you are in, it will pass,” he messaged again.

Then came the reply, “yeah, that’s true, but it will take a long time.”

It was a reply to provoke his desperation, again. He felt that he had to know the reason, somehow, before she ended the conversation. He thought deep and decided to go ahead with what he thought was the best thing to do, what people call as give and take policy.

“I’m in a bad phase myself. In fact, that’s the reason I care about people whom I know…. When they aren’t alright,” he started, “I only wish there is nothing serious.”

“Not that serious and all,” she seemed to care less to answer.

“Okay, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I repeat, if you want to share something, feel free to share with me. You can trust me.”

He didn’t know why he used the word trust then, but he meant what he said.

“Sure, I will do if I feel like sharing. Thanks again for your care.”

For some reason, he felt she wanted to end the conversation. Maybe because he himself wanted to as he was disappointed that the so called give and take policy didn’t work out. In fact it wasn’t even played at all. He expected her to ask about his problems, but she didn’t.

He slept.

He woke up few hours later. The first thing he did was to check his mobile. There was one WhatsApp notification. It was from her. It was half an hour after he had slept. Will she be available now to respond if he messaged? he thought. She will; she is working from home anyway. he said to himself and smiled.

Her message read, “You are also having a personal problem?”

“Yeah, some issues. But I’m okay, I guess,” he replied to her message.

After few minutes, my mobile flashed. It was her, “Are you awake at this time?”

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep. So woke up few minutes back,” he replied and prayed to God that she shouldn’t end the conversation again by saying something like “Go to sleep” or “Sleep well. Good night”.

“Is it? Don’t worry about anything. Everything will be alright.”

“Hope so. Listen, do you have any siblings?” he wanted to extend the conversation. It was obvious.

“Yes, an elder brother.”

“Had bf?” he asked without realizing it was lunchtime for her already.

“No. You think so?” she replied.

What, he thought before realizing what she meant.

“Ha, I meant breakfast. But it’s good to know otherwise too.”

“Ah, you fooled me,” she replied. He could sense her disappointment.

“No, no. That wasn’t my intention. Sorry. However, to answer your question, I actually thought so. I was even thinking that the problem you are going through is related to it.”

“No… No… That’s not my problem. I’m a good girl of my Mom and Papa. So I never thought about these things. And don’t say sorry, again and again.”

“That’s so great of you. I appreciate that. No offense to others, but it’s hard to see this kind of a girl these days. I mean not many worry about their parents,” he replied with great enthusiasm because he really liked that about her.

“Thank You. I don’t like going against my parents’ decision and telling lies, you know.”

He just sent a thumbs-up smiley as a reply.

“Even I do have the permission to do love-marriage. I mean selecting the life partner of my choice, but the condition is he should be of my caste,” she replied.

He wasn’t expecting that from her. He hated the caste concept. The words, coming from her, hurt him. He didn’t reply for a couple of minutes until he got her next message.

“Everyone things about society and about what others think.”

“That’s not good. I hate this caste concept, totally. I’m just saying what I feel. Don’t mistake me,” he tried to play it safe.

“Yeah, I know. But there is a generation gap, you see.”

“I agree.” He didn’t actually.

“You can’t change anyone’s mentality,” she replied.

That’s bulls**t. You actually can. All we have to do is to make an attempt to change the people, at least. Otherwise how will anyone change, he thought.

“Hmmm… What to do? That’s how some people are. We can't blame them too. That's how they grew up,” he sent, as he tried not to show his disagreement to her.

“Exactly, that’s my point,” she replied. She didn’t know that he didn’t want that to be her point.

He wanted to put his thought in her. So he replied, “My mindset is that we should try to convince our parents if we really like someone whom we trust will be of a good life partner to us even if he or she is from other caste. That's true love. Isn't it?”

“Know what, if I want to marry someone from other caste, my parents will accept, but not without compromising their wishes,” she said.

“Of course, they will get compromised, but when they see you lead a happy life, they will feel happy and will be proud of you that you had made a better decision. That's how I feel,” he replied.

“Hmmm... I have never been in love, but yes, if that was the case, I mean if I had bf, I would have convinced my parents somehow.” Her reply made him happy. He grew much more respect for her. He was dealing with the right kind of a girl, he thought.

“Hmmm….”

“Arranged marriage is risky, I think,” she said.

“Maybe, yes. You never know. Considering the divorce rate these days, it’s kind of scary too.”

“Well, yes. I’m already scared.”

“Reading and hearing some unpleasant things about the divorce cases everyday made me a better person. I made myself clear and strong that I should never behave like those idiotic guys.”

“That’s great. :)”

“One of my close friends who knows me well once told me that I will a better husband. She knows how much I respect women,” he said on the flow. He later realized that it seemed self-praising.

“Sometimes, I feel that meeting a person once or twice and then deciding to get married to him or her is really not good. In fact, I’m advising my cousins to select a life partner of their choice because I know how it feels if you don't know much about a person whom you will spend rest of your whole life with.” Her words were unarguably appropriate. He almost saw her speak for him. He had never heard a girl say these things until then.

“Did your parents start looking for a guy for you?” he messaged her and got a message almost at the same second. It read, “Are your parents searching a girl for you?”

“Co-incidence,” he messaged.

“Yes, it is. And yes, they have started,” she replied.

“Know what, even I was thinking of marrying someone I fall in love with. I didn't want to marry any random girl. I wanted to meet someone, get to know her completely and then fall in love and marry her, but...” he decided to take a break. Unfortunately, before he deleted the text, he had hit send by mistake.

He became restless. He planted this part of the discussion as a part of the give and take policy, but that was when he knew it would make her trust him and share what’s bothering her. In the past few messages, it had become evident that no matter what, she wouldn’t bulge. At least he would have kept his secret safe with him.

“But what?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on. Tell me. Is this something related to your problem?” she asked promptly. No wonder, people say Girls are smart when need be.

He didn’t want to do to her what she did to him. So he gave up and sent, “… but it didn’t work out.”

“Didn’t work out in the sense, were you in love?” she asked.

“Yes,” he didn’t find any word to continue further.

“Is she from our college? What happened?” she sounded desperate now.

“Nothing happened actually. Two years back, when I joined the journalism course, I met a girl in my class. We were together for several months. We studied together, researched together, went out together. We almost did everything together. We had this connection between us. I was awestruck by her smartness. The way she carried herself, the way she composed herself during the tough times, it made me fall for her. Maybe I was selfish. I thought she would make me a better person. I wanted her in my life. When I felt I was in love with her, I didn’t think about anything. I just decided to propose to her without any delay. When I proposed, she became a different person altogether. She rejected me giving the caste difference as the reason. It was a shock for me to hear her say those words. It was devastating. We didn’t talk afterwards. We hardly saw each other.”

“I’m sorry to hear this.”

“Hmmm… It’s not the rejection that hurts me till date, but the reason she gave me. My God, it’s obnoxious.”

“You shouldn’t pay importance to this. You should probably hate her for that. It might help you get over her easily,” she tried to make him feel better.

“I can’t hate her. I simply can’t. In fact, I’m happy that she was honest and said what she felt rather than giving some lame excuses. I respect her for that.”

“Hmmm…. You are something,” she replied.

He didn’t understand when she meant by that. He seldom cared.

“Whatever, that’s the problem I have. The thing is I’m getting better these days. You know what, it’s good that it happened soon. Imagine me developing my love for her for many years only to get disappointed at the end. It would have killed me, like, literally.”

“That’s true. You are lucky that way.”

“Yes, I am. And I’m sure I will get over her sooner or later.”

‘It is good to hear that.”

“Sorry to bore you with my story. I don't know why, but I felt like sharing. Don't worry about it. Thanks for listening,” he messaged back.

“No, I’m glad you opened up to me. I’m always there to make my friends feel better,” she replied without realizing how glad he would be if she had opened up to him when he asked. He didn’t fail to notice the word “friends” in her message. Did she mean him as a friend or was it a generic statement, he wondered.

“Thanks. That's how I am too. Whenever I feel someone is not fine, I will try my maximum to make him or her feel better. That's the reason I messaged today when I saw your status, even though we had hardly spoken before.”

“Hmmm… I understand.”

“Okay, I don't want to hold you for more time. I will leave you to your work now.”

“He he… There is nothing much to do. I’m working from home, remember?”

“Hmmm,” he used the usual filler as he didn’t know what to say next.

“Okay, don’t worry about anything now. Sleep well.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Good Night.”

“Thanks. You have a good day.”

“Thanks, bye.”

The conversation ended. It was 3:42 am for him. He couldn’t sleep anyway. Their conversation lingered in his mind for long. He read their conversation again and again for many times until he fell asleep around 5:00 am or so.

The next day as soon as he woke up, he checked his mobile. There were 121 new messages in WhatsApp, but all were from different groups that he was a part of. Nothing was from her.

Few days passed. She changed her status several times, and he kept reading them. Every day he was hoping that she would message him at least to check on him. She didn’t. Meanwhile he read the conversation they had the other night whenever he thought of her, which was quite a few times a day. To be honest, he didn’t want her to message him to enquire about him; rather he wanted her to message him so that he could use it as a chance to enquire about her. Her words, “going through a phase” and “other things going weird in my life” made him worry about her.

The more he read their conversation, the more he liked her. He liked her for the person she was. He desperately wanted to get to know more about her. He decided to wait patiently for her to message him so that he could build the conversation to know her. Surprisingly, she didn’t.

Five-ten years back, if you had wanted to get to know about someone, you would have to be friends with him or her. Or you would either have to spend some quality time with him or her, or you would have to ask directly to him or her. It’s not the same anymore. You have Google. The smarter you are with the keywords, the more information you can get on your screen. Nothing much is required.

He was smart. He googled her with the necessary keywords. He came across a document that had some information about her life during the training period. Most of the information was in Hindi – not in Hindi-Hindi, but in English-Hindi (like kaam karte ho bhi yaa nahi…). It made him to rue his mistake, time and again, of not learning Hindi. Nevertheless, he got Google Translate. He navigated between English to Hindi and then from Hindi to English tabs, and somehow, got something out of it. From what he had got, he found her to be caring, sensitive, and smart. He liked her for that.

After knowing more about her, he didn’t want to rely on her message. He just wanted to message her. He started typing, “Hey, I happened to stumble upon your training scrapbook. It was interesting. I came to know how you were then. It made me to like you. I like you from what I know about you until now, but I want to know more about you. Shall we be friends? I mean real friends who share things and are constantly in touch with each other. Let’s see how it turns out. I’m just saying. If you aren’t interested, then it’s fine with me too. The thing is if I know you more, I might fall in love with you, and I’m also sure that if you know me, you might too. Well, when I say this, I also realize that it’s not only the caste, but also the language that would be a problem. But from what I know, I can confidently say that we could sort these things out. What do you say?”

But he didn’t send it. He was nervous. What if she reacts angrily and feels bad for what he had to say, he thought. The whole whatever they had would break into pieces. That moment he just felt content with the outcome of the conversation they had the other night. He felt happy that at least the conversation led him to know more about her as a person, even though if that’s only a little of what he wanted. He felt that the time he spent the other night with her was simply great and something to be cherished. He, deep down, had this gut feeling that if she had felt something, she would eventually message him one day or the other. He decided to wait with the hope that it wouldn’t merely end as a one-night-chat-with-her.

“Never give up on your guts. It’s what that takes you to the places you couldn’t even dream of reaching," he remembered the words he once read.