me why I was blushing and smiling, I had plenty of answers for that. Enjoying the candies (served by the same air hostess), I was recalling how Khushi gave me a call last night as the minute hand just moved past 12 a.m. and we entered the first minute of a new day—today.
‘You are going to come to me todayyyyy,’ she shouted
‘Oh Boy! I am going crazzzyyyyyyyy,’ I also shouted, jumping in my balcony, stirring the calm midnight.
I guess I woke up some of my neighbors, and disturbed some who were about to orgasm. A couple of street dogs came out of the darkness and started barking at me. I rushed back into my room when I saw the lights turn on in a few flats in the building next to mine.
Laughing at last night’s events and still enjoying my candies, I recollected how confused I was that morning about what to wear. I pulled out everything from my closet that morning and tried it all in front of the mirror. I took almost an hour to decide and, then, changed again just before I left for the office. The funny thing is that I ended up wearing the only shirt which wasn’t ironed (along with dark denim).
Everything I did that day, I made a mess of. And while I recalled those moments, every now and then weird thoughts would pop into my head—
What if she isn’t as beautiful as she appears in her pictures?
What if she laughs in a very weird way?
What if she limps?
—and many other such thoughts played hide and seek in my mind, until I finally asked myself the big question.
Do you love her, Ravin?
Holy shit! Of course it was too late to be asking this.
‘Yes, I do. Of course I do,’ I said to myself.
Well, to be honest, I actually forced myself to say it. I don’t know why I was a little apprehensive. But, good or bad, the truth was that marrying her was my independent decision, one that I had arrived at without any kind of pressure from my family or from her.
So, to silence those weird thoughts, I pulled out a newspaper from the small rack in front of my seat. But I could not concentrate on the newspaper either. There was a different kind of excitement in me which was sending up a chill inside me, shaking me a bit at times. I don’t know what kind of fear it was.
The nervousness and anxiety meant I was going to the loo every twenty minutes. I became a peeing machine. It happens to everyone … Or doesn’t it? And I was sure that the kid on the last seat was counting the number of times I passed by him. I pretended to ignore him when he started whispering in his mom’s ear. Of course he was telling her about me. I noticed his hand pointing at me, which his mom pulled back, smiling.
Finally at 5 in the evening, the plane landed at Delhi and I switched on my mobile completely ignoring the captain’s command to not do so before instructed. While the plane was taking a U—turn on the runway, I looked out of the window to see if there was any girl waving towards my plane—it could be her! (Now, I wonder how I could have been so silly as to expect visitors on the runway.)
I was trying to call her up but, for some reason, my cellphone could not adapt itself to the roaming zone. I kept trying, cursing my phone and the network. I kept trying and kept failing.
A few minutes later, I was standing at the baggage claim section, waiting for my luggage to arrive. But my eyes were not on the conveyor belt. They were looking for something else, rather
someone
else. Here and there, I was looking at every girl, and peering at the crowd standing outside which was visible through the glass wall.
Then I saw my red bag gliding towards me on the belt. But before it could reach me, she reached me.
On my phone.
My cell was working now and I heard the ring. ‘Khushi calling,’ it said. I took her call.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey.’
Silence.
‘So.’ And I turned back, facing the exit.
‘So.’
‘What so?’
‘I mean, where are you?’
She had never seemed so shy and silent. I could almost hear her blushing.
‘You are going to come to me todayyyyy,’ she shouted
‘Oh Boy! I am going crazzzyyyyyyyy,’ I also shouted, jumping in my balcony, stirring the calm midnight.
I guess I woke up some of my neighbors, and disturbed some who were about to orgasm. A couple of street dogs came out of the darkness and started barking at me. I rushed back into my room when I saw the lights turn on in a few flats in the building next to mine.
Laughing at last night’s events and still enjoying my candies, I recollected how confused I was that morning about what to wear. I pulled out everything from my closet that morning and tried it all in front of the mirror. I took almost an hour to decide and, then, changed again just before I left for the office. The funny thing is that I ended up wearing the only shirt which wasn’t ironed (along with dark denim).
Everything I did that day, I made a mess of. And while I recalled those moments, every now and then weird thoughts would pop into my head—
What if she isn’t as beautiful as she appears in her pictures?
What if she laughs in a very weird way?
What if she limps?
—and many other such thoughts played hide and seek in my mind, until I finally asked myself the big question.
Do you love her, Ravin?
Holy shit! Of course it was too late to be asking this.
‘Yes, I do. Of course I do,’ I said to myself.
Well, to be honest, I actually forced myself to say it. I don’t know why I was a little apprehensive. But, good or bad, the truth was that marrying her was my independent decision, one that I had arrived at without any kind of pressure from my family or from her.
So, to silence those weird thoughts, I pulled out a newspaper from the small rack in front of my seat. But I could not concentrate on the newspaper either. There was a different kind of excitement in me which was sending up a chill inside me, shaking me a bit at times. I don’t know what kind of fear it was.
The nervousness and anxiety meant I was going to the loo every twenty minutes. I became a peeing machine. It happens to everyone … Or doesn’t it? And I was sure that the kid on the last seat was counting the number of times I passed by him. I pretended to ignore him when he started whispering in his mom’s ear. Of course he was telling her about me. I noticed his hand pointing at me, which his mom pulled back, smiling.
Finally at 5 in the evening, the plane landed at Delhi and I switched on my mobile completely ignoring the captain’s command to not do so before instructed. While the plane was taking a U—turn on the runway, I looked out of the window to see if there was any girl waving towards my plane—it could be her! (Now, I wonder how I could have been so silly as to expect visitors on the runway.)
I was trying to call her up but, for some reason, my cellphone could not adapt itself to the roaming zone. I kept trying, cursing my phone and the network. I kept trying and kept failing.
A few minutes later, I was standing at the baggage claim section, waiting for my luggage to arrive. But my eyes were not on the conveyor belt. They were looking for something else, rather
someone
else. Here and there, I was looking at every girl, and peering at the crowd standing outside which was visible through the glass wall.
Then I saw my red bag gliding towards me on the belt. But before it could reach me, she reached me.
On my phone.
My cell was working now and I heard the ring. ‘Khushi calling,’ it said. I took her call.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey.’
Silence.
‘So.’ And I turned back, facing the exit.
‘So.’
‘What so?’
‘I mean, where are you?’
She had never seemed so shy and silent. I could almost hear her blushing.
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