It Wasn't Love at First Shalini and I (8 page)

Third prize goes to Raj Malhotra. I was a little relieved. I did not
want Shalini to come third. She would be devastated. I looked at her
when the prize was announced, she still had the same serene look on
her face. Second prize goes to Rajvir Singh. Again a little relief for
me, Shalini only deserved

the first prize, nothing less than that would do. But now the relief
was mixed with a little fear. What if she did not win?

And the first prize goes to Saumya Sharma. That was it, I was
heartbroken. I could not lift my eyes up to meet Shalini’s, but when
I did, not a hint of remorse in them. She still had the same serene
look. The director gave a little speech and that time helped me get
over the fact that Shalini had not won. As the speech got over and
people started to move away, I walked over to her.

“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“You were the best but still you did not win, for that.”

She smiled. “I came here to sing, not to win. And I did that. I
came here for myself, not to get a trophy to be showcased. I am
perfectly fine.”

She said this with such conviction that either she was a very good
liar, or she actually meant it.

“So no regrets?”
“Well, there is one regret.”
“What?”

“That I did not throw you out of the train that day.” We both
smiled and then all of a sudden she said. “It was really nice meeting
you but one of my relatives is coming to pick me up and drop me at
the station. My train is in 45 minutes. I have to go home.”

She said it just like that, with no emotion, with finality. I tried to
oppose.

“So when do we meet next?”
She smiled and said “I don’t know, but I really hope we do meet.”
“You still live in the same town?”

“I do and I would really appreciate if you do not come down to
where I live. Middle class parents, you know the rules.”

Know the rules, I could write the rule book.
She took my hand and said again “I really do hope we meet again.”
“Can I have your number?”
“We don’t have a phone.”

That was the end of the conversation. I took out the flute and
gave it to her. She took it and left, just like that. No looking back to
see if I was still standing waiting for her. No tears, no promises, no
melody on my gift. Just a hope, that she wanted to meet me again. I
followed her for a distance, always trying to hide myself but I knew
that she knew I was following her.

One of her uncle’s was already at the ladies hostel gate in his car
and she got on with her bag. The railway station was a thirty minute
ride by car. But I had no vehicle. I ran out to the bus stop and waited
for the next bus. The bus would take me 45 minutes to get there.
Nevertheless, I got on, praying to Indian Railways to have a delay on
her route. I remembered in which town she lived from last time and
when I reached the railway station I heard the announcement that
the train to her town was ready to depart from platform 13. I was on
platform 1.

I ran. I ran like I had never run before, pushing some passengers
and going around the others. By the time I reached, the train had
already started moving and slowly, it passed me, coach by coach. I
went down on my knees looking at it going past.

I did not see her for 7 years after that.
7 YEARS LATER
2005
I

t was a lazy Saturday morning. I was on my couch, where I had
dozed off after coming back from a party where I had too much
to drink and did not remember much after. What the heck, I did not
even remember how I got home and on my couch. Wait, was this
even my couch?

I somehow managed to raise my head and saw the familiar looking
wall with photos of me and my parents on it. Yes, it was my house.
I again lay dead on the couch.

It was a regular Saturday morning. Regular for the last 4 years
atleast after I had passed out from college. The sun got the better of
me around noon time. I had given the curtains for dry cleaning after
Hari, in one of his days of stupor, had gone on and on about how he
could have been Sachin Tendulkar but how the engineering degree
had pulled him down. His frustration, along with all the alcohol he
had consumed, along with all the food he had eaten along with a lot
of unidentifiable things had come out on the curtain while he was
trying to run to the toilet. Well, that is what he said because in reality
he was running in the opposite direction of the toilet. Not a pretty
sight, I guess you can imagine. In fact it had been a month since I had
given them for dry cleaning. I think I should have got them back by
now. I made a mental note to check.

I remembered that last night’s party had a reason to it. I
remembered because I had foot the bill. I tried to remember what it
was and slowly got up from the bed to put some water into my
system. Yes, vague memories came back. I was being sent to the United
States of America by my software company for a six month project.
A lifetime dream was finally being fulfilled. Life was good.

I ambled through to the refrigerator and gulped down around half
a litre of water. It tasted weird, it was tasteless and not the sweet
bitter like beer, but I guess it was ok. Life started to make sense again.
The weird twitchy feeling in my throat gave way to hunger. I looked
around the fridge, saw some bread, stuffed it in my mouth, stuffed a
cheese slice and again got back to the couch which would be my
companion for the next hour atleast.

So this is how my life was then. I was 24, going to be 25 in some
time. I looked my age, was still five feet something. People say you
add a couple of inches during college but honestly you don’t. I still
had the natural and typical Indian skin color, still the same hair, the
style obviously was different- lots of gel, but, I was way cooler than
what I was seven years ago. Or this is what I would like to believe. I
still had the same friend Hari, but unlike earlier, had some people
who bordered on acquaintance and friends. Okay they were my friends
but Hari was the only one I was close to. The others were like ok ok
friends. People I used to hang out with, watch movies with, get drunk
with. Basically chill out with. Life on the whole was pretty different
from what it was in college, and was pretty awesome. I had started to
live my dream of having decent amount of money in the bank. And
girls were no longer something to be afraid of. In fact I had gotten
over their fear quite early. I was no longer the small town boy who
could not figure out his way in the big city.

I was now a city dude. I know it sounds lame, but that was the
way I was back then.

In the first year, I was close to a girl Roshini but completely blew
it away when I saw Shalini. After Shalini disappeared from the face
of earth, I was a little lost for a few months but then, I was 17, how
long can a 17 year old be in love? By the time the first year ended, I
had managed to have a steady girlfriend, and had completely ignored
what my mother had told me about young girls and young boys.

Surprisingly, her presence had a very soothing affect on me. I started
to do better in college, got involved in some extra curriculars, and
even stood for vice president when in the third year. I lost the elections
but that is a completely different story. The result was much closer
than what Hari would tell you.

The years at college past and I got a job within the first week of
entering the last year. My grades were good, I was decently presentable,
and I got one of the best jobs offered on campus. I think that is what
led to my break up. My then girlfriend, Rakhi, had better grades
than me and was certainly more presentable than me, but she got a
job a notch lower than mine and then there were the fights of me
using her for my own good etc etc which got a way bit too much for
me and I dumped her. We did not talk for a good 2 years after that
but now it was fine.

So yes basically, I had transformed from a small town boy who
listened to everything his mother said to a city boy who still cared
about his parents, but did so as he pleased. My job placed me in the
capital itself and the last four years had been a roller coaster ride.
There were the drinks, there were the girls, there were the friends and
there was me. Office just happened to be a part of my existence. A
big part in fact considering that I used to spend 10 hours a day, five
times a week in office. I was working in one of the biggest
international software companies and was getting paid decently
enough. But it was the weekends I craved for. The two days filled life
with hope, with meaning.

Life had been devoid of any steady girlfriend for the good part of
the last four years. There were a few brief affairs bit nothing serious.
In fact I had recently started flirting with one of my clients from
work. Oh shit, I had to meet her for lunch today. Damn. I quickly
brushed my teeth and showered. My company had been kind enough
to give me a mobile phone and I saw only one missed call on it. That
was a relief. It was already 1 pm. I checked the call, it was from
office. I ignored it. Who works on a Saturday? But then like a good
employee I called back. It was nothing urgent and could be handled
on Monday.

I was always honest to my work, work was what made the
weekends possible. I pulled out a blue jeans and a cotton tee and
teamed it with semi formal shoes. As an afterthought, I put on a
jacket. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked charming if not
handsome. And I had been selected to goto USA for six months
atleast.

I quickly applied the daily dose of gel and was ready to go.

I called her, her name was Pooja by the way, and we decided to
meet at one of the new coffee shops which had opened in South
Delhi. I then had planned to take her to the Partha Sarthi rocks at
JNU. That still remained the place where I took girls for a first date
and it never failed me. We decided to meet in thirty minutes and I
happened to reach there a little early.

I was browsing through the menu and was wondering how many
people would want to buy a coffee for 60 bucks in India. This chain
had started following the American model of cafes in India but India
was so not ready for it. Who would pay that much money for a
coffee? I by the way, could afford a coffee so I ordered for an iced
coffee and settled down with the newspaper. It was the month of
November and the weather had been pretty pleasant when I had left
home but now all of a sudden it had started raining. Pooja called me
and told me that she would be running a little late as she was stuck in
the traffic due to the rain.

Delhi roads, Delhi rains, and Delhi girls.

The more you want to understand them, the more confused you
get. I made peace with the fact that she would be a little late and
ordered another iced coffee to get rid of the lingering hangover. I
browsed through the newspaper and then through the cartoon section.
It had been thirty minutes since she had called. I looked out of the
glass facade and that is when I fell for her.

This was the first time we were meeting outside office. She worked
in a company that had given us a small contract and we had met each
other quite often in the office settings. The project was a small one
and was nearing its end. It was I who suggested that we meet on a
Saturday so that we could close it on time. I basically just wanted to
have lunch with her outside the formal confines of an office space
and outside the formal confines of a weekday. And there she was.
Her hand with a newspaper covering her head from the sudden burst
of water, the other hand frantically moving as to make way.

She was wearing a white salwaar with a yellow kurta on top. It was
early November and Delhi was just entering the winter stage. She
had a shawl wrapped around her in place of the chunni and her short
wet hair stuck all around her face as she moved. We had had coffee
before, we had had lunch before, in fact we had even had dinner
before but it was never the way it was today. Maybe it was because at
all earlier points in time we had a laptop in front of us and were
discussing how to speed up the project. Or maybe because she was
looking so pretty today. She made the final dash to the coffee shop
from under a bus stop and had a big smile as she saw me and entered
the cafe. She pulled the door but somehow the six inch pencil heels
could not support the slippery floor and she slipped and fell with a
thud. To add to it, she sneezed. All eyes were on her.

The other young girls giving her a ‘why do you wear heels when
you can’t walk in them’ look. The young guys giving her a ’Oh I
want to help you but my girlfriend would kill me if I do’ look. The
older aunties a ‘I don’t understand why girls are so hooked onto
fashion’ look. The older uncles a ‘what is wrong with the young men
of today, had a girl fallen when I was young I would have picked her
in my arms’ look. And in between all these looks, there was me with
a ‘I should do something, she is here to meet me and it has not
started well’ look.

She was pink with embarrassment. It had been ten seconds since
she had fallen and so far she had not even tried to getup. She had a
scared look on her face analysing the reactions of everyone sitting in
the cafe. Everyone was staring at her and she was staring at everyone.
The kajal from her eyes had slipped onto her cheeks in the rain and
the water had made her eyes go red. Her hair were pressed against her
forehead covering parts of her face, her dress was dripping wet when
she had entered and falling due to a puddle near the entrance had not
helped her cause. I could see water trickling down her cheeks and I
was pretty sure it was not the rain. Something had to be done.
Someone had to play a hero and who else but me to do it.

It had now been twenty seconds and no one had moved. Time
seemed to have gone still. Then, I got up. I walked up to her, gave
her my hand and pulled her up. I then lifted her in my arms, my eyes
staring down hers, and took her to our table and placed her on the
chair amidst a thunderous applause of the people present there.