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]

A Story - Part 8

'A story' started here - [part 1]

I recalled my friend's fact#21 in my mind, “You’ll have a very good future together if the last two characters of your name are same as the first two of your partner.”

Do I need to say this to her? I thought. How stupid of me to bring this topic now, I beefed myself. With these thoughts running inside, I started to think of a way to get rid of this ‘facts’ topic even though I knew I can’t kid a girl without any reasons. You know how good they are at these things, at getting an info from the other person, that too when the other person had created a trap voluntarily.

“Hello, there?” she patted me on the shoulder.

“Yep,” I nodded in approval, coming out of my thoughts.

“What are the facts?”

“Just forget it. They’re lame, you see.”

“No matter how lame they are. You brought it, now please tell me those,” she was adamant.

“It’s only one, actually.”

“But you told facts, not a fact,” she said giving an added effect to the word ‘facts’.

“Okay, here I’m, dealing with a grammatical genius, huh?” I tried my best wit.

“Are you going to say or not?” she asked firmly, with her hand sliding towards her bag. Oh my God! Is she about to get that pamphlet out? I thought.

“My friend, he is actually drafting ‘love facts’ for his girlfriend. He just told me one of his facts drafted so far,” I said in a hurry.

“Is it? It sounds interesting. Come on, go ahead,” she was keen.

“You’re lucky if you marry someone whom you happen to first meet at a place, um, meant for studying.”

I don’t know why I didn’t say the actual fact that I was told by my friend. I don’t know why I decided to come up with something different instead. Moreover, I don’t know how I came up with a fact on my own that would eventually strike a chord on her.

“Wait a second, are you serious? I mean… is he serious?” she was eager with her response.

I just shrugged my shoulders.

“I, uh, okay, do you, um…” she tried to say something.

“Look, don’t read too much into this. He is just stupid to draft such things. Well, maybe to impress his girlfriend, who knows?” I tried to bring her back to her comfort zone.

“Place meant for studying? Does he refer the library?” She was still showering on the fact. That was evident.

I’m not sure what my friend would have meant by it, if he had come up with that fact (furthermore, I’m not sure if he had met his girlfriend somewhere in a place meant for studying). What I meant was the library, only the library. But I wasn’t bold enough to accept that, and eventually my mind was left to get hit by the questions - Do I need to play it safe? Or Do I have to go on with it and see where it takes us? Or Should I be smart as a whip to change the topic? I was confused, failing to figure how she might react to whatever I say. If only I was a good mind-reader.

“Yeah, a library,” I was afraid of her response, and continued, “Or a college, or even a school.”

“Hmm, whatever, but why did you call it lame?”

Ah man, what is she expecting from me? That I should say he meant the library, and by quoting that, I was referring us. Should I say that? What if she was really feeble by asking me further details forgetting the fact that we had met at a place meant for studying?

“I called it lame because it was drafted by my friend, after all, and only for the sake of impressing his girlfriend so that he could get a…” I stopped.

“Get a what?” a question again. My bad, I cued.

“Probably a GIFT,” I said, wondering what the relation between a GIFT and a KISS is. Well, a kiss can possibly be a gift, right?

“Whatever. Get me his other facts as well. It’s funny and interesting too.”

I don’t want her to listen to the reply that my friend had given me a day before when I asked for his other facts drafted yet. Hence, I simply nodded.

“So, what have you decided about the course?” she started again.

“Yeah, I’m okay with it,” I said merely not to disappoint her. I wasn’t in a mood to catch her frowning face.

She was more than happy. I was able see that from her face, her body, and her everything. Or I should say I felt it around. Meanwhile, she fumbled into her bag and took few sheets of paper out.

“Do you read stories?” she asked holding the bunch of papers in her hand.

“Yes, I do. Don’t you know I visit the library often?”

“Yes, yes. But do you read short stories penned by someone, like your friend?”

“I don’t have any friends who write short stories, but I do read the ones that circulate through the emails.”

“Okay, fine then. Here is a story dedicated to my friend that was penned by her friend. Read it, if you’re interested.”

“Sure, why not?” I said and plunked the papers from her hand and asked, “Was it her boyfriend who dedicated it to her?”

“Nope, just a friend who is a boy,” she replied quickly.

Why would a guy, literally, dedicate a story to a girl? That guy must be crazy or the girl must be crazy not to understand the hidden reason behind it, I thought. Actually, I was crazy to think like that. Later I found that he dedicated it to her merely as a friend, just because she was nagging him to write one for long.

“Huh-uh” I nodded sarcastically.

“So, if at all you write one, whom would you dedicate it to?”

“Neha.”

“What?”

“I mean, Sneha,” I said and stressed again, “Sneha.”

She stared me through the corner of her eyes.

“Okay, it’s time for me to leave. Have to hang out with my friends. Will call you sometime tomorrow to fix the date and time to go to the center to register us for the course,” she said happily, and left the library in minutes.

I sat there still looking at her walking away.

... To be continued [A Story - Part 9].

A story - Part 7

‘A story’ began here – [Part 1]

The rest of the day went by with the thought of me messaging her. Message, not to let her know the time alone, but to have a casual chat with her, like any friends would do. Yeah, given our conversation back in the library that day, I was a friend of her already. Or at least, I thought so.

I was just roaming in and around my home, then was lying on my bed, then was standing at the terrace looking for the moon when it played hide and seek with me, and then was staring at the television with no idea of what was playing. All these activities, I did holding my mobile in my hand with a message composed to her that was left unsent – only the message changed from a mere “Hi” to “What’s up?” to “Are you busy?” to “Had your dinner?” to “I’ll be going to the library at 9”.

Amidst these crap activities of me, there entered my friend, screaming, “Hey man, have you ever tasted a lipstick?”

“What? Did you say ‘A Lipstick’?” I was baffled.

“Yes, a lipstick,” he gestured as he sat next to me patting my shoulder.

“Sorry, dude. I had several eatables all through my life, but a lipstick wasn’t one of them,” I laughed, wondering what had gotten into his otherwise savvy head.

“I think she should change the flavor,” he said with his head traveling east and west.

“Man, what are you talking about?” I was shocked.

“Nothing, just forget it.” He stood to walk to his room.

“Hey, wait,” I said trying to pull him down. But he was too strong to be pulled, and I was left with no other option than to follow him nagging.

~~~~~~~~

“What happened?” I asked him as he was making his bed. I repeated the question ample number of times, in different tones, until he responded.

“Man, why are you nagging me? It’s just that I kissed my girlfriend. Okay?”

I remained silent thinking of me being in his shoes. No, don’t call me names. I thought of me in his and Neha in his girlfriend’s shoes.

“I guess she got a new lipstick, and that tastes horrible, you know,” he said rubbing his lips with his fingers. He might’ve imagined the lipstick stains being stuck in his lips still.

“So… you do it often?” I knew it was lame to ask, but I couldn’t help it.

“Hmm… yes, only if you refer ‘at least once a day’ as ‘often’.” He said winking, “Thanks to my love facts that I’ve been showering on her lately.”

“Love facts?”

“Yeah, it’s just the facts that I draft when I’m into her, I mean, mentally. Like when she is away from me, yet with me in my mind, you see.”

“Is it some kind of a trick? Just to taste her lipstick, uh, I mean, her lips.”

“Do I look like Barney Stinson of ‘How I met your mother’ series? No way. I’m rather serious buddy. Look, do you want to hear today’s fact?” His then-recent addiction of that sitcom was evident in his words.

“Of course, yes,” I was excited.

“Here’s fact number twenty-one…” He started.

“Hold on, did you draft twenty-one facts already?” I cut him off, thinking about him tasting the lipstick twenty-one times (at least) already.

“Come on man, it’s no big deal. Now, listen to the fact for the day, ‘you’ll have a very good future together if the last two characters of your name are same as the first two of your partner’.”

I had already started to run the respective characters of his and his girlfriend’s name in my mind, and said, “But your last two and her first two didn’t match?”

“Are you a male chauvinist or what? Give her the first preference,” he replied in a cool manner.

“Poojitha and Harish. ‘H.A.’, it is,” I shouted.

“Do you think I’d come up with a fact that is not in favor of us? Idiot,” he said. (Yeah, he was right. Idiot, I was, for I’d never come across such things on my own.) I should come up with my own facts, I thought.

“But why only two?”

“My name isn’t Tharish to have three,” he said.

I replaced Poojitha with Neha. His fact drew them to be a good partner as well. Hell, no. I shouldn’t give him any clue about Neha, my inner mind voiced. I then scanned mine with Neha. Crap, his fact was not in favor of me, not in favor of us actually.

“It sounds lame dude,” I said and turned back.

“Uh-huh,” he smiled.

“Okay. Give me your other twenty facts now,” I asked him just to check if any of them works for me. Desperate, I was.

“No way,” he said, “I’d give you only after I reach my target of hundred.”

“Hundred?”

“Yes,” he nodded, proudly.

“You are something man, really,” I said, “And don’t ask her to change the flavor next time, instead ask her not to apply it when you want to, you know…” and left his room.

~~~~~~~~~~

I was only thinking about ‘The Love Facts’ for the next few hours. When he could draft the facts for his love, why can’t I? I thought. The funny fact was I wasn’t even sure of the relation between me and Neha then, and of what was cooking on her mind, but I began to think about ‘the love facts’ already. Maybe, it was because I pictured that she was the one for me, no matter how early it was to decide.

I messaged her to come to the library around 10:00 A.M. the next day. I didn’t get a reply. Ironically, I was happy for that because, back then, I was clueless of what to talk about if her reply builds up into a late night chat. You know what, for that exact reason, I messaged her late night with a hope that she might have slept already and I didn’t have to bother about the chat.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hi,” I greeted her. She looked ravishing, as usual, in her blue Shalwar. I wondered how many hours had she spent before the mirror preening her ready. Call me whatever, but I wanted to be her mirror.

“Hi,” she waved back. She entered in and took the chair next to me.

“So, what have you decided?” she was concerned only about what she wanted. Or maybe I assumed so.

“You know what, my friend has been drafting some facts lately. I heard his latest one yesterday. It was interesting.”

“Facts, what’re they about?” She might have guessed them to be related to her stupid course. Her curiosity showed that all.

Love facts, I wanted to say, but ended up saying, “Facts, as in, facts. Do you want to hear that?”

She nodded. Just.

… To be continued [A story – Part 8].