The Joker

“What do you wish to become when you grow up, son?” my father asked, caressing my hair.

“A Joker,” I replied instantly, sounding determined.

“Well, that’s an amusing answer, my boy,” my father said and left for his daily walk.

I was a five-year-old when I was asked what I aspired to be. I was not taken seriously then. Why would someone who wished to be a Joker be taken seriously anyways, I thought.

Now that I have grown older, do I still like the idea of being a Joker? Yes, and No.

12 years ago

It was love at first sight. I never actually believed it could happen to anyone, unless it did to me. I went crazy. She was definitely not the most beautiful girl I had ever met, or seen, or talked to, but I got instantly hooked to her.

Paridhi. She was with a friend of hers in one of those swanky shopping malls in South Delhi, carrying more shopping bags than she could actually handle. I saw her side face, sunglasses adjusted on her head. As she turned around, her sea green long skirt whirling with her movement, she caught my attention from a couple of floors above from where she stood. That’s when the cupid struck.

I had to talk to her. I didn’t wait for the elevator and took the escalator down to the ground floor. I could have lost her sight had I taken the lift.

Her friend mentioned something to her and left. From reading of her lips, I figured out she would be back shortly. I presumed I had little time. I stepped forward towards her.

“Hello Miss,” I tried to grab her attention.

“Sorry, I didn’t recognize you,” she replied in a very soft tone.

No big deal I thought. Unable to recognize somebody whom you are seeing for the first time was obvious.

“Are you Shriya’s friend? She was with you a while ago,” I asked inquisitively.

I had noticed her friend sporting a tattoo on her left arm with this name. It could have been her daughter’s, but more than a mom, she looked self-obsessed.

“Oh yes, how do you know her?”

The risk worked. Bingo!

“Well…,” I had to quickly think through, “We were in the same college.” I just uttered it out.

“J&M, really?” she questioned.

“J&M, of course, J&M,” I confirmed, whatever it expanded to. I had never attended a college, forget about J&M.

As soon as I finished, she received a call. She spoke in a very low tone, and hung up shortly. She shifted her gaze towards me.

“It was Shriya by the way. She seemed to be in a hurry,” she stated, before I could say anything. “I wanted to tell her about you, but she just hung up. I am sorry….”

“No, no. It’s alright. I will contact her later.” Thank goodness she was in a hurry. “So it seems she isn’t returning. Are you heading back home?” I asked.

“Not really. I have some shopping left,” she mentioned, excited.

I had serious doubts that she could handle any more bags. What else was left, I wondered.

“Can we go together?” We spoke the exact same words at the exact same time. It couldn’t have been better. We laughed out loud.

I signalled two of my friends on the second floor to fuck off. They had no clue what was happening down here, and how. They signalled something and were kind enough not to bother me at that point in time. I acted on the signal the following weekend and they had freshly brewed beer burning a small hole in my pocket. I didn’t mind.

I had the time of my life with Paridhi thereafter. We met frequently. While I helped her with her bags on most occasions, she helped me with the bills. I learnt she was from a very affluent family. I didn’t care, I loved her to the hilt.

.      .      .

On one date, she invited a friend of hers.

“Shriya, this is Madhav,” Paridhi introduced me with a grin.

“Of course…Shriya. Hi. Long time.” I didn’t know what to say next, when Paridhi intervened.

“Shriya, he studied with you, right? In all-girls college,” Paridhi looked at me, with a straight face.

I was numb. This could well be our last date. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, my mind struggling to think anything. That’s when I heard the most mesmerizing laugh, of Paridhi’s, and it was well accompanied by her friend’s.

Life was beautiful after that. Relationships and lies can’t co-exist. She hated lies, but knew it led to something beautiful, the love that had blossomed between us.

After tough round of discussions with her rich parents, we got married after a year. I knew I would never be able to earn enough, but I presumed she would be able to manage it. We loved each other.

We didn’t plan to extend our family for next 3 years. Paridhi was doing great as a career woman, and I always supported her decisions.

.      .      .

“What do you like the most about me Paridhi?” I asked her one evening, looking into her eyes.

“Don’t you know?” she cross-questioned.

“I really don’t. I want to hear from you,” I smiled.

“You are a Joker, you make me laugh all the time,” she held my hand and kissed it gently.

That hit me hard. This is what I wanted to become as a child. Of course, now I realize I don’t want to join a circus, but I liked the tag. I loved making people laugh.

.      .      .

Another couple of years passed. While Paridhi continued her success at workplace, priorities started to change, for both of us. We longed for a child.

“Haven’t we been trying enough?” Paridhi discussed, slightly frustrated.

“I guess so, especially when it matters the most. The fertile days I mean,” I stated.

Sex was no more a pleasure. It had become a routine activity to produce a result, an offspring.

.      .      .

After we celebrated our 8^th marriage anniversary, we were still without a child, and hope.

“I think it’s me. Imbalance of hormones. How can I have my baby now?” Paridhi started to weep.

“It could be me also. Why are you blaming yourself?” I pulled herself towards me and hugged her.

While IVF was always an option, Paridhi insisted to have it the natural way, inside her womb.

I didn’t realize, but this took a big toll on her. She talked less now, and seemed to be lost on many occasions. One day, I received a call from my mother.

“Where are you? Run to home immediately,” my mother shouted, panicked.

“What happened Ma, is Paridhi okay?” I sensed the call was to do with her.

“Come fast beta, she is not uttering a word,” my mother elaborated.

I instantly boarded an Uber and rushed to home. When I reached, my mother lay beside Paridhi who was lying in the bed, numb.

“Has anybody called the ambulance?” I shrieked.

.      .      .

“She had a nervous breakdown,” the neurologist at the hospital told us, looking at my wife. “We’ll be keeping her under close observation.” The doctor rested his hand on my arm, consoling me.

“Will she be alright?” I looked at him with pleading eyes.

He didn’t answer, and left the spot. I didn’t want to interpret his silence.

.      .      .

After 3 months of treatment, Paridhi showed signs of improvement but it was still a long way to go. She spoke little, mostly dismayed. We all wanted her to restore, free from all worries.

“You remember beta, how my bahu used to always smile earlier. She used to be so chirpy all the time. Look at her now,” my mother spoke with tears in her eyes, and she left the room before I could notice them trickling down her cheek.

I could not sleep that night. Paridhi’s laughing face was a thing of the past. Though she didn’t talk about it anymore, I presumed she thought about it a lot, the joy of motherhood.

“May be it’s a stupid idea, but I want to give it a shot,” I said convincingly.

“But bro, who does that? I have never heard of such treatment. In fact, I wonder if that’s categorized as treatment.” That was my younger brother, and others had the same opinion.

“I know, but Paridhi loved my jokes. Those made her laugh. It doesn’t work anymore,” I sulked.

“He is coming in tomorrow, it’s final,” I announced.

.      .      .

Raghu was very popular during his heydays. He charmed kids and adults alike. With unmatched expressions, witty lines, and perfect timing, he made a great Joker. He earned quick fame and money while associated with Royal Circus.

One fine day, the idea of being his own boss made him part from the hugely successful Royal Circus back then, but he could never create that magic again. His I-will-make-you-laugh services were sought seldom; apparently people loved him more as part of a big canvas with pomp and show.

“Come in, please,” I signalled Raghu to enter the bedroom, “There she is.”

Paridhi was half-asleep with her covering sheet on. She took a turn to the right, blinked her eyes, and went back to sleep.

“Can you do something?” I asked Raghu with pleading eyes.

“Sir, I can understand your situation. No doubt I can make people laugh, but this is a medical condition. How can….”

“I made her laugh all the time. That’s what she loved the most, and then shit happened,” I interrupted Raghu.

“Laughter therapy can be very powerful. I want you to spend time with Paridhi. Bring that magic back you had created for so many years, and the smile in her life,” I rested my hand on his shoulder.

“I will give my 100 percent, I assure you. I know how much it matters to you, and how much you love her. I’ll be back in a couple of days,” Raghu assured, and left for the day.

“Son, listening to your conversation with that man, I am convinced and I am with you. Come here,” my mother gave me a hug.

Raghu was back after 3 days. I could figure out that he did prepare himself well, and his charm eventually started to work.

With Paridhi out of office, I resumed work after a few days. I seldom intervened when Raghu performed his antics in front of Paridhi. I noticed her smiling on a few occasions, and as she started to heal herself, Raghu managed to get some laugh bursts out of her.

A month later

“Sorry brother, I doubted your gut feeling,” my brother said, “Bhabhi seems to be doing great.”

“Yes, a lot better. By God’s grace,” I smiled.

“So what next?”

“Oh, Raghu? Well, he has done his job. Potentially another couple of days, and I need to make sure he gets appropriately paid for this,” I said, with sparkle in my eyes. My brother gave me thumbs up, and left. I entered the bedroom.

“Sweetheart, it is so good to have you back. Love the smile on your face.” I kissed her lips.

“Thank you for doing this for me, Madhav. I feel alive.” She continued, “And Raghu…”

“Don’t you worry about him. I will reward him more than he deserves,” I said, caressing her hair.

“Yes Sir,” I spoke on phone, and left the room to attend the official call.

“And Raghu was awesome, like, really awesome,” Paridhi thought out loud, to herself.

.      .      .     

Two days later, while I was at work, I got a call from the home landline.

“Where are you? Run to home immediately,” my mother shouted, as panicked as she was on the day when Paridhi had a breakdown.

“What happened Ma, is Paridhi okay? She had recovered….,” I expressed in dismay.

“She should be fine, but she is not here,” my mother mentioned quickly. “I searched for her in the whole house, and I can’t see that Joker too.”

I rushed to home, only to find out what my mother said was absolutely true. I frantically searched for her, everywhere. Both the mobiles were switched off.

2 years and 2 months later

“What the hell is going on?” I barged into the police station.

“It has been 2 years inspector, and there is still no trace of my wife,” I shouted uncontrollably.

“Pitch low, Mr. Madhav. It’s a clear case of eloping. You should have taken care of your wife,” the inspector responded, with a wry smile on his face.

“I was exactly trying to do that,” I murmured to myself.

Back home, my mother tried to reason, “God knows what happened son. Do you think….”

“She was kidnapped Ma. Paridhi loved me to the hilt. I will find her out, one day,” I asserted with strange confidence.

“Why don’t you move to Kausali? You were talking about an official project the day before. It will help you divert your mind a bit,” my mother suggested, concerned.

“Nothing feels right Ma. But I think you are right,” I affirmed.

.      .      .

I deboarded the Himalayan Queen at around 11 in the morning, and then caught a cab to reach to Kausali. Just about to reach the hilly town, I spotted two familiar faces walking carefree on the road, laughing like they cared for nobody but each other.

“Slow down please,” I signalled the taxi driver from the rear seat.

I got down, and spent a few seconds deeply pondering something, resting against the cab. Then quickly, I jumped back in the rear seat and instructed the driver to start the engine and speed up.

.      .      .     

“You were supposed to return in a week’s time na? How come you are back after a day?” my mother questioned, confused.

I didn’t respond to her and went straight to my room. I gazed at the photo frames wherein Paridhi looked stunning in her wedding gown.

.      .      .

I am 38 today, and while the circus had long lost its charm, it started to make a comeback in its new avatar – more glamourous, to be precise. But one thing didn’t change – the Joker and his antics.

I took the centerstage as Marcus and enacted my hard-practiced, amusing performance to enthrall the audience. Nothing beats the applause from a cheering crowd.

“How was your day son?” my mother asked after I returned home.

“Another satisfactory day, Ma,” I replied, smiling.

“Are you happy from within?”

“I guess I am. We have to accept a few things in life,” I said with a sigh.

It was a very tough decision to let go of the love of my life. But what really mattered to me was that Paridhi was content living with Raghu, and that was evident when I had discovered her in Kausali. She was expecting back then, probably in her third trimester. Love is strange, I thought.

Becoming a Joker was in my destiny. It just happened this way. I wanted to feel closer to Paridhi, or maybe I was just trying to fulfil my childhood dream.

I lay down in my bed and closed my eyes, trying to sleep. The phone beeped, and with my half-open eyes, I read:

You were spectacular today. P.

(End of Story)

By God's Grace

A man, seemingly in his late 50s, approached me in the park. My German Shepherd started to bark at him, his natural reaction at any stranger. I shut up my pet. The man with his folded hands greeted, “Namaste.”

“Namaste,” I responded, puzzled. In all probability, I did not know him.

“I know what you must be thinking,” the man smiled. “I am new in your block, a couple of lanes away. I have seen you take a walk here, daily.”

“Oh, okay. I don’t step out much of my house, so probably never saw you earlier.”

“Nevermind. I am Kamat. I have come to stay here with my son.”

“Your son?”

“Yes, he has recently settled here. You might not be knowing him as well.”

“Okay,” I replied, not going into too much detail about his son.

“May I walk along with you?” he asked politely.

“Sure,” I smiled. We started to walk together in the park.

“Oh, by the way, I am Suneel, Suneel Mishra. Retired, and at home now.”

“Good to know you. All well at home?” Mr. Kamat asked with a personal touch.

“Oh yes, thank you for asking. All is going good, by God’s grace,” I replied.

“That’s nice,” Mr. Kamat nodded. He left shortly. There was something pleasant about the man, the way he interacted. It felt good.

Back home, I sat aside my ailing wife. She had been bedridden for almost 3 years now. A major part of my day went into taking care of her needs. To take a break from the hectic schedule, I made it a daily routine to stroll in the nearby park.

“When shall this time pass?” my better half asked with suppressed words.

“Have faith in the almighty. He will take care of everything,” I assured her. She clutched my hand hard.

Post dinner, I prayed to God like any other day, before going to bed:

Hey Lord! Thank you for the beautiful life I have, with my family & friends. Bless me as always and give me strength. Thank you for everything.

The next morning, I got a call from my elder son who was settled in US for more than 4 years now.

“How are you son?”

“Okay,” my usually chirpy son responded in a dull tone.

“What happened Abhay?” I sensed his mood.

“Situation is not very good in the office. Pink slip has been issued to many in the last few weeks,” Abhay said.

“What? Why?” I asked worriedly.

“The company feels they have surplus resources. They are finding it difficult to afford the IT staff,” my elder son explained. “Let’s see what happens,” he said after a pause.

“May God be with you,” I said and disconnected the call. I closed my eyes and prayed for the well-being of my son.

“Did Abhay call?” Mamta asked. We were married for 30 years now.

“Yes. All is well,” I told my wife and left the room.

I met Mr. Kamat in the evening again. “Hello, Suneel ji,” he patted my back.

“Mr. Kamat!”

“So what’s new at home?” he asked casually, as we walked together. My dog barked at Mr. Kamat everytime it saw him, and I had to shut my pet all the time.

“Nothing much.”

“Who all are there in your family?”

“I am blessed with two sons, and a daughter. Daughter is married, elder son is settled in US, and the younger one stays with me…at least uptil now,” I answered.

I was never happy with Abhay’s decision to leave us and settle abroad. I had relied on Abhay for all important decisions at home and he was a big support. Nitish, my younger son, lived in his own world and wasn’t close to us. Abhay, on the contrary, loved us but big money and better growth prospects lured him to US.

We walked together for another half an hour before Mr. Kamat said goodbye.

Days passed by and Mr. Kamat & I became really good friends. He knew a lot about me now, though he himself didn’t talk too much about his family or friends.

One fine day, my daughter visited home. Sumitra had visited us after long. I hugged her instantly.

“How is mom?” my daughter dear asked. She was yet to meet her mom, who was asleep in the adjacent room.

“No significant improvement. Anyways, hope things are good at your end.” Sumitra’s eyes became moist.

“Worried about mom?” I asked my concerned daughter.

“Papa, Shirish...,” she did not finish her sentence.

“Why do you seem to be so worried? Finish what you want to say,” I laid my hand on her head.

“I never told you earlier, but…we have frequent fights,” Sumitra started to weep as she talked about her turmoil relationship with her husband.

“Why did you hide this earlier?” I asked.

“I believed things would settle back to normal, but they never did,” she continued to cry.

“Don’t discuss this with mom. Stay with us for a few days…and have faith in God,” I tried to calm her.

I met Kamat ji after a couple of days, at the park.

“Aap aaye nahi do din se?” Mr. Kamat asked.

“My daughter has come to meet us, so spending time with her,” I answered.

“Oh, good. How is she doing, happily married?” he smiled.

“Yes, of course. God has been very kind to us,” I responded.

Sumitra returned to her in-laws after 4 days. I asked her to try yet again to make her relationship work.

Later that day, Abhay called twice but I couldn’t pick his call. The third time he called, I was with Kamat ji at the park, taking a brisk walk. I picked up his call this time.

“Bad news dad.” These were the first words Abhay spoke. I stayed silent.

“Dad…can you hear me?”

“Yes…..what happened?” I dreaded his answer.

“I lost my job. I have to come back to India.” I disconnected the call. The expressions on my face changed.

“All well? Who had called up?” Kamat ji had guessed something was wrong.

“My son, Abhay,” I replied.

“Kya hua?” he asked again.

“Nothing, sab theek hai.” I put on a fake smile. “Let’s walk.” I started to walk. Mr. Kamat followed me.

Two weeks later, I was at the dinner table with Nitish and Abhay.

“What’s going on Nitish?” I asked my younger son, with a spoon of rice in my hand.

“Nothing. As usual,” Nitish replied bluntly.

“That’s what I want to know beta. What is your As usual?”

No response.

“You stay in your own space all the time, don’t interact with us. You seem to be disturbed since a few days,” I asserted.

“Abhay bhai is here now, with you and mom,” Nitish looked at Abhay as he spoke.

“We need you also. You are also our son,” my voice choked. Nitish left the half-eaten rice plate and went straight into his room.

I prayed to the almighty before I slept, like all other days:

Hey Lord! Thank you for the beautiful life I have, with my family & friends. Bless me as always and give me strength. Thank you for everything.

Tough time continued. My son-in-law wanted divorce from my daughter. Sumitra was back home and this time, I could not hide this fact from my wife, whose ill-health continued to be a cause of worry.

“Dad, I swear, I tried everything I could to make it work but Shirish is adamant. He fights for no reason at all,” Sumitra said, who had started to accept that divorce was on cards.   

“What do you suspect?”

“He is seeing someone, probably in his office. His body language tells me that, even though he refuses to admit,” she asserted.

The next morning, Abhay came to me.

“Any job calls Abhay?” I asked casually.

“I am trying dad, let’s see.” I patted his back.

“Dad, I want to tell you something,” he continued to speak.

“Go ahead.”

“Dad….I think Nitish is doing drugs,” Abhay said hesitatingly.

“What?!” I exclaimed, taken aback.

“Probably not to a dangerous extent. He is part of some betting group. I have heard him talking to a person on phone, a friend.”

I lost my senses. I started to rush towards Nitish’s room, when Abhay stopped me.

“Dad…Dad, please. This is not the right time. I will handle this,” Abhay assured me.

I left for the park. That might lighten up my mood a bit, I thought. I called up Mr. Kamat.

“Kamat ji, good morning,” I greeted him.

“Good morning. Kahiye.”

“Would you like to come to the park?” I asked him.

“Abhi? Umm....okay, will reach in 15-odd minutes.”

I reached the park and waited for Mr. Kamat, sitting on the newly painted bench.

“How are you Suneel ji?” Mr. Kamat’s voice interrupted my thoughts as I was lost in my problems at home.

“Thank you for coming, Kamat ji.”

“Shall I ask you something?” he asked. “You seem to be in some trouble. I can read your face,” he said, without waiting for my nod.

I opened my heart out to him. I probably wanted to do that and had called him to the park for that reason.

My wife’s illness, my elder son’s unemployment, my younger son’s lifestyle, and my daughter’s turbulent marriage – I discussed it all.

“Oh, I can empathize with you Suneel ji. But whenever I asked you in the past, you insisted that God had been kind to you.”

“Yes, certainly,” I replied.

“But what about your problems?” he asked.

“I can’t blame God for my problems, or say that he has been unkind to me.”

“Of course, he has been unkind to you. Who else? If he wished, your life would have been problem-free.”

“Whose life is problem-free? Nobody’s. We have to tackle with our life and its underlying problems,” I asserted.

“So what, according to you, is the role of God?”

“He is the guide, the mentor, the source of inspiration, and the caretaker. He will eventually help us get rid of all the troubles in our lives, only if we trust him and have complete faith in him.”

“Trust? What have you achieved so far by trusting him? Your life is a living hell at the moment,” Mr. Kamat mentioned, irritated.

“But I still have faith in him,” I said, with firmness in my voice. “Are you an atheist?” I asked Mr. Kamat, after a brief pause.

“Yes I am, if you may know,” he answered, and stood up. “Belief in God will land you nowhere Mr. Suneel,” he shouted as he walked away.

I was astonished at the behavior of Mr. Kamat. We had very good terms with each other but the question was of belief – belief in God. I did not see Mr. Kamat at the park again. Probably, he changed his time of visit to the park to avoid another altercation. I thought of calling him once, but then decided against it.

67 days later

At a fine restaurant, we all were enjoying our meal. Chinese, North Indian, South Indian – the table had it all. Nitish had ordered Manchurian with fried rice, Abhay ordered his usual Punjabi thali, Sumitra & Shirish were loving Malai Kofta & Pindi Chana and we oldies, me and my wife Mamta settled for light-on-stomach Rava Masala Dosa.  

In a sudden turn of events, my life had taken a U-turn and situation changed for better. God had showered his love upon me and in what manner!

I wanted to share these events with Mr. Kamat, more so after that conflict of belief between us.  I called him the next day but the number was switched off. I could not resist and went around in my colony to look for his house. The chowkidar in his lane helped me locate his residence.

I pressed the doorbell twice. A young fellow opened the door. He had a son who had recently settled here, he had told me.

“Hello beta. You must be Kamat’s son.” I actually intended to confirm from him.

“Yes….uncle. You?”

“Of course you don’t know me. Your dad and I are friends. We take a walk at the nearby park daily, I mean….we used to.” I had not seen him for more than 2 months now.

“Used to? When?” he questioned as if I was cooking up all this.

“Roughly 2 months ago. Why?” I answered, and counter questioned.

He did not speak, and had this bewildered look on his face. He took me inside, and pointed his finger to the framed photograph hanged on the wall. The frame had a garland over it, which looked fresh. It was Mr. Kamat.

I was dumbstruck. Now I knew why I never got to see him in the last couple of months.

“Oh, I am sorry. When did this happen?” I was quick to ask.

“Yesterday was his death anniversary,” Mr. Kamat’s son answered with heaviness in his voice. “And when did you say you met him…2 months ago?” he asked, still puzzled.

My body stood stiff, cold and still like a dead body. If he was not among us for a year now, whom did I meet in the park, daily?

“I think there is some confusion. Nevermind, I have to leave,” I responded, after I recovered, with whatever struck my mind.

Before he could analyze and react to my words, I exited Mr. Kamat’s house. I rushed straight to my room after I reached home, and latched the door. I gulped a glass of water, and sat on the chair lying in the corner of the room, head down.  My eyes closed, Mr. Kamat’s wavering image dominated my mind.

“I know what you just went through was disturbing,” a voice echoed in the room. I opened my eyes. I was hallucinating. There was no one in the room.

“You have passed the test with flying colors, my child.” It was the same voice. I tried to compose myself.

“Who…who is it?” I mustered courage, and asked.

“God,” pat came the reply.

“Who?” I wished to confirm.

“It’s me, the creator of this universe, the one.”

“God? Oh-my-God!” I exclaimed.

“Yes. I know you have lots of questions to ask. Go ahead.”

I held my nerves and got ready for the conversation.

“His son told me he died a year ago, Mr. Kamat…,” I paused.

“Yes indeed. The soul you met at the park was an atheist when he left this earth and travelled to me. It does not matter if you believe in me or not, you all will have to come to me at the end.”

I kept quiet. I just wanted to listen to his magical words.

“Like I said earlier, you passed the test. The soul I sent on earth tested your patience, questioned your beliefs, and tried to manipulate your conviction, but your faith in me was intact. Your unshaken credence in my divine powers is what pleased me, my son.”

I was in a different world. It felt heavenly.

“Lord, I am speechless. I just want to say – Thank you. Thank you for fixing everything in my life.” I closed my eyes, and cried with joy.

My wife was speedily recovering and could now walk with some support. Abhay, my elder son, had notched a job with an IT major within the city, and got a prominent position. He vowed to stay with us, forever.

Nitish broke down when Abhay, as he promised he would, confronted his younger brother and made him spill the beans. Luckily for us, one of Nitish’s accomplices was held by police in a betting racket and this made him vulnerable to confide in his elder brother, when questioned. His behavior changed overnight and we were now a happy lot.

My son-in-law Shirish too learnt his lessons. As Sumitra had sensed, he had an extra-marital affair with a woman colleague. My daughter took charge and got hold of that woman, who claimed she was unaware that Shirish was married. She was too hurt to continue in the same office, and resigned. She also threatened to lodge a complaint against the cheater, but held her decision on Sumitra’s plead. Shirish apologized, and we all agreed to forgive him.

I had now realized how this turnaround happened in my life – by God’s grace.

7 months later

“Dad, something interesting happened today,” Abhay spoke as he picked up Real juice from the refrigerator. He was still sweating after his evening jogging session at the nearby park.

“What?” I asked, not paying too much attention to his words.

“This man came to me at the park – must be in his 50s, and tried to befriend me. He was a warm person though, and I liked the way he interacted,” Abhay told me.

“Hmm…,” I responded, just for the heck of it. I was busy reading.

“And dad, he kept asking how things were going on in our family….et cetera, et cetera.” Abhay paused for a while, and then said, “I never saw him earlier.”

This diverted my attention. I removed my glasses.

“Who was he?” I asked, unsure if Abhay had an answer to it.

“Oh yes, I did ask him. He was…he was Mr. Kamat. Any idea who this fellow could be?”

I put on my glasses back, shadowed my face behind the newspaper I was reading, looked upwards, and just smiled – to God.

(End of Story)

The Girl With Jute Bag

I just made it in time. My train at New Delhi railway station would have left the platform, thanks to the overloaded truck which collapsed right behind me near the station and wasted 30 precious minutes. Somehow, just made it.

“Seat number 21. It’s mine, young lady,” I confronted the young girl occupying my seat in B2 coach.

“Oh sure. It was unoccupied so far. You just made it in time,” she looked into my eyes. “Actually,” she said hesitatingly, “I am ticketless.”

“Why?” I asked her politely. She seemed to be from a decent family, and saw no reason she saving money on the ticket.

“Could not get the booking. All booked.” Then, she smiled gently, “No worries. Will settle with the TT.”

She must have been around 23 or 24, and damn cute. Her voice had innocence and expressions so serene. The long, curly hairstyle suited her well.

“Well ok, you can share the space with me. I don’t mind,” I said.

“Neither will I,” she placed her jute bag on the left corner of the seat. I adjusted my trolley bag under the seat.

“So which station are you going to get down at?” I asked casually. She kept quiet. I did not repeat. She probably did not want to tell, and it was not my business after all.

I bent and pulled out a pack of cream biscuits from my bag. I offered her one, which she accepted readily.

“Chocolate flavor, my favorite,” she spoke while munching the biscuit. I offered her more, but she refused.

“So you travelling alone?” the pretty girl asked me.

“I’m going to Jalandhar to attend a family function. My wife and kids are already there. I had some official commitments, so…” I explained.

“Hmm, okay. So you are married, don’t look like though,” she smiled at me. I was 32 and looked my age. Don’t know why she felt different. Anyways, I smiled back.

“By the way, I am also going to Jalandhar to collect my college degree. I hail from Punjab.”

“Okay, nice to meet you, miss…” I paused.

“Sonika. But all my loved ones call me Soni,” she smiled again, this time flirtatiously. “You too can call me Soni.”

“Okay, Sonika,” I hesitated, “Soni, I mean…”

I went to the loo. When I returned, I found the girl comfortably seated on my seat. It was mid-December, but she was dressed in yellow shorts and her bare legs spread across the seat, leaving little space for me. I could not help but look at her legs. I was a man after all.

“Oh, sorry. Please come,” she sat with her legs folded. I adjusted myself and pretended to read a magazine I had carried. We did not talk for the next half an hour. Meanwhile, she kept text messaging someone.

Then suddenly, she came closer and whispered, “You were staring at my legs?”

“What? No. Why would I?” I replied, feeling a bit embarrassed. She must have noticed me starting at her.

“Why wouldn’t you? Are you not a man?” She looked straight into my eyes.

“No…I mean yes I am. But I did not…”

“That’s okay, I did not mind,” Sonika winked. I felt jittery and decided to keep mum.

We casually conversed every now and then to kill time. She told me a lot about herself, and I gradually developed a certain fondness for her. We were just about to reach the destination.

“All right then, it was good to know you,” Sonika stood up as the train halted at the Jalandhar station.

“The feeling is mutual. Take care Soni,” I replied.

“Hope to see you again,” she waved me goodbye and was out of my sight within seconds.

Me too, I wished. But that was never going to happen. I pulled out my bag from under the seat and just as I was about to leave, I noticed the jute bag lying in the corner. Alas! That was Sonika’s bag. How did she forget? I picked it up and ran but it was too late. I felt some sort of personal responsibility to return it to the owner.

“Let me scroll and see if I get a clue,” I murmured. I checked the jute bag and found a few documents, some ladies’ stuff, and a note which read:

444, Preet Nagar, Sodal Road

Unfamiliar with the city roads, I enquired about the address and an old man told me it was some 3 km from the railway station. Though unsure if that address would actually lead to Sonika, I still decided to give it a shot. May be we were destined to meet again. I waved at an auto.

“Preet Nagar, Sodal Road. Chaloge?” I asked the auto-rickshaw driver.

“Meter se nahi chalega sa’ab,” he replied promptly.

“Theek hai, chalo.” It did not matter. Delhi was just the same.

We eventually reached as he asked me to step out of the rickshaw. “Sa’ab, yahin kahin hoga 444 number.” I paid him the fare and started hunting for the address.

“Right in this lane, somewhere at the end of it,” a shopkeeper pointed, helping me with the address.

“441…442…443, oh there it is,” I said to myself, and reached house # 444. It was a single storied building, old and shabby.

I rang the bell twice, but nobody turned up. I wondered if anybody lived there. I stepped inside and heard a female voice talking loudly on phone. It was Sonika.

“Sonika!” I called her name in excitement.

“Goodness gracious me! What are you doing here?” she jumped in surprise.

“You hoped to see me again, so here I am,” I smiled. “Here’s your bag,” I handed over the jute bag to her.

“Oh, thank you so much. I was getting crazy. It has some of my very important documents,” she asserted, feeling relaxed.

“Yes, I saw them.”

“But how did you reach here?” she asked, eyes wide in astonishment.

“That note in your bag. It had the address of this house. So I thought…”

“Thank you again. This is my chachi’s house. I will be here for a couple of days,” she told me. “Coffee?”

“Well, I am getting late. I would rather leave,” I stood up.

“C’mon, let me do this much for you,” she came closer and kissed me before I could react.

“That was a thank-you kiss. 2 minutes, and I’ll be back with the coffee,” she rushed into the kitchen.

I was in a fix. One part of me wanted to leave, but the other part dominated and I stayed back. I love coffee.

She returned with two coffee mugs while I was still engrossed in thoughts.

“Don’t worry. There is nobody else in the house,” she comforted me. Sonika sat next to me and gave me my cup of coffee. She picked her coffee mug from the table and cheered, “Cheers!”

“Cheers!” I joined her.

The next thing I remember was my head spinning and her pretty face gradually fading as I lost my consciousness. I woke up with a heavy head, only to find myself semi-naked under a velvet blanket.

“What the fuck?” I breathed heavily. I searched for my phone but damn, it was missing. The wall clock struck 5. It was still dark outside.

Gosh! What happened last night? And where was Sonika? Nothing happened last night, I assured myself. I was freaking out. I put on my shirt and leather jersey.

“Sonika….Soni….” I shouted. No response. I was hell nervous and was sweating badly. I checked one room but no one was there. Kitchen. No one. Restroom. No one. Lobby area. No one. Finally, I pushed hard door of the second room which was a bit jammed.

And there she was. But…dead! The sight sent a chill down my spine. The girl was lying in a pool of blood, brutally murdered. I froze for a few seconds. Then, realizing the gravity of the situation, I ran out of the house and ran and ran until I thought I was distant enough from 444, Preet Nagar, Sodal Road.

2 days later

“What connection did you have with the girl?” the police inspector roared.

“Which girl, inspector sa’ab?” I tried to play innocent.

A tight slap answered all my questions.

“Tera bag mila hai hamein uske ghar se. Ladki ke saath teri photos bhi. Dirty Picture. Samjha?” Yes, I had left the trolley bag before I ran for my life. And nude pictures? Oh boy! It was game over.

I revealed them all but they said I was talking stupid. I had no guts to talk to my wife but I knew she must have been frantically searching for me. We had not communicated for the last 3 days, and I had no clue about my mobile phone.

Eventually, I called her from the police station and she cried hard on the phone. I hired a lawyer who, after listening to my case, gave me little hope but promised he would fight hard.

“Life term or may be a death sentence,” the police inspector told me. “Tere finger prints mile hain knife se. Pehli baar murder kiya hai kya?” he laughed. That was not funny.

I mostly kept quite. Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw death. The court hearings over the next few months brought me closer to losing the case.

3 years, 4 months, and 5 days later

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to Vaibhav & Vishal. Happy birthday to you!” we all sung the birthday song for our twin kids. They both had turned 5 and we had called in our relatives to celebrate.

“It was great fun today,” my wife said later in the night, as she prepared the bed to sleep. “The kids were so happy!”

“Yes,” I smiled at her. A tear rolled down her cheek.

“Hey, what happened?” I asked her for her sudden change of emotion.

“I just thank the almighty to be kind to us. We could have never experienced these moments had that criminal not confessed to his crime 3 years ago,” my wife recalled.

“Oh, c’mon. Stop thinking about it. It’s past,” I put my arms around her and pecked her on the cheek, wiping her tears. I turned the lights off for her to sleep.

It’s easier said than done. Whatever happened to us 3 years back was not forgettable. The images of murdered Sonika still haunted me. I closed my eyes and got lost in the past…

*                        *                        *                        *                        *                        *                 

“Kismet hai teri. Someone has confessed to your crime,” the inspector said, signaling the hawaldar to let me breathe free.

“I told you I did not commit any crime,” I spoke as I stepped out from behind the bars. “Who did it?” I asked him inquisitively.

“He says he knows you,” the inspector replied and walked out of the police station.

I met him later in the jail. He was Prashant Bhushan, my junior in the office against whom I had complained a couple of times regarding matters which involved huge amounts of corporate money. After he was proved the culprit, he was thrown out and I was rewarded a promotion.

“So that was your revenge, huh?” I grit my teeth in anger.

“Yes it was,” he replied with firmness in his voice.

“So why did you confess?” I still couldn’t believe my luck.

“That’s a long story.”

“I want to know. I guess I have the right to know after my suffering in jail, courtesy you,” I gave him a cold stare.

“I planned to kill two birds with one stone. Revenge was all on my mind, from you and from Sonika.” Prashant paused for a few seconds, looked at me and revealed, “Sonika was my girlfriend.”

“What!” I exclaimed in astonishment. “She was your girlfriend, and you killed her! But how did you do that all? Tell me, now,” I commanded.

“We had been seeing each other for the last 2 years. Lately, she had gotten very possessive about me, obsessed. She acted weird all the time. I had lost my freedom, myself. She was nothing but an albatross around my neck.”

“So you murdered her and trapped me. And how did you do that?” I asked.

“Well, Sonika had asked me to marry her. I wanted to get rid of her, so I promised I would marry her if she’ll assist me, and she agreed readily. As part of the plan, I managed to learn about your visit to Jalandhar. And then….,” he continued after a short pause, “And then I searched for an empty house. A friend of mine knew a property dealer in the city, so he helped me,” he spilled the beans.

“And what did you tell Sonika?”

“I told her about your role in getting me suspended from the workplace, and the miserable life that followed. Girls are very emotional, you see,” Prashant asserted. “I wanted to create havoc in your personal life. As a first step, I asked Sonika to get her nude pictures clicked with you,” he explained.

“And she got ready to be clicked?” I asked in a thoughtful manner.

“Yes, she knew she was doing all this for me. And her face was nowhere in the frame. So for her, it was kind of okay to pose with you like that,” he replied.

“And then?”

“After clicking the pictures, I killed her with a knife,” he told me in a casual manner.

“My fingerprints were on the weapon…”

“That was necessary to get you trapped. Earlier, I had taken your fingerprints on the knife while Sonika was away in the washroom and you were lying in the bed, unconscious,” Prashant explained.

“Hmm…I got it all. But tell me, after all that meticulous planning, I am restless to know what made you come to my rescue. You know the consequences of your confession,” I told him.

“I know. But I am broken-hearted. Don’t feel like living,” he said, mournfully.

“Why? What happened?” I asked him.

“It’s all because of that bitch. I contacted her on a social networking website, we eventually met, and gradually fell in love,” he told me.

“So you were two-timing Sonika…” I stated the obvious.

“Don’t know. It just happened.”

“You rascal! And you say Sonika behaved in an over-possessive manner. You surely had lost interest in her after your new love interest.”

He kept quite. He knew that every word of my statement was right. It was too late now.

“Then what happened?” I wanted him to finish the story.

“She cheated on me. Her parents had found a match for her who was financially very sound and also had plans to settle abroad. I was no match for her, according to Megha.” Prashant’s shaky voice indicated he would weep anytime.

“Megha, oh, you mean your social networking girlfriend...”

“Yes. She dumped me. I was madly in love with her. She got married day before yesterday. I do not want to live now, hate myself,” he sighed.

“See, Megha dumped you after you murdered Sonika. That’s God’s justice,” I said.

“Go away. It’s all finished,” Prashant lamented.

*                        *                        *                        *                       *                        *                  

I woke up next morning at 10 am. It felt as if I didn’t sleep at all after the kids’ birthday party last night. My eyes were burning from the lack of sleep.

Later in the afternoon, my wife got a phone call.

“My uncle has expired, Jalandhar wale tauji,” my wife told me after the phone call.

“Oh, sorry to hear that,” I sighed.

“We should visit them tomorrow,” she said. “But I can’t go, need to stay back with children,” she expressed her concern.

“Then?” I asked, and waited for her to speak.

“You leave. You’ll easily get a bus.”

“All right then, I’ll go to express our condolences to the family.”

I boarded the early morning bus to Jalandhar the next day. The seat next to me was vacant, until a young lady came in the front and occupied it. I looked at her, and then got busy reading newspaper. She was attractive.

“Have you been to Jalandhar earlier?” she interrupted.

“Long time back. Why?” I asked.

“Actually…I am travelling to Jalandhar for the first time, and I’m alone. So if you could do me a favor and help me reach the venue…”

“Well, I have to reach somewhere urgently. May I know the location address…I can try,” I tried to help her out.

“Yeah, it’s….sorry, got a call,” Kolaveri Di played out loud from her cellphone.

I resumed the piece of news I was reading, and as the time passed by, I dozed off in the bus.

“Mister,” a female voice woke me up. It was the girl sitting next to me. “We have reached the city,” she said.

“Oh, okay,” I stood up as the bus applied the brakes.

“It was nice meeting you,” she shook hands with me. “My name is Priyanka.”

“Avaneesh Mathur,” I responded.

She left the bus, and her bag. She was carrying a small, designer jute bag which was now lying on her seat. I picked it up hastily, and shouted from the side window as she was still within my sight, “Lady, lady….Priyanka, your bag….”

She probably didn’t hear me and disappeared in the crowd. I was getting late and hence decided to hand over the bag to bus authorities. Suddenly, a beep sound diverted my attention. There was an SMS on her mobile handset, which Priyanka had left in the bag. Apart from that, there was nothing else; just a piece of paper, which I flipped, and I read, and I shivered, and I trembled, and the note sent shock waves through my soul. It read:

444, Preet Nagar, Sodal Road

(End of Story)

Contact Number

(Based on a real-life incident occurred to me)

“Anybody left, except me?” I called my cab-mate, already seated in the cab.

“Miss Shilpa Mehra. She is always late,” Harish answered. “And where are you today buddy?”

“Just coming, 2 more minutes. Do you have her number? You must be having,” I said confidently. Shilpa was one of the few hotties we had in our office, and almost every guy who had opted for a cab had picked her number from the cab roster circulated to all employees.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have it.”

“Well, I seriously don’t have,” I said firmly.

“Why so?” he questioned out of curiosity.

“Well,” I answered amusedly, “I broke up with her last week. We are not on talking terms now,” and we both started laughing.

“Anyways, here it is…” Harish read out the number, “Nine-nine-one-zero-zero-zero-six-one-three-three-three.” I noted it down on a piece of paper.

“Thanks. Let me call her up and check the status. See you in a while,” I said, and hung up. The phone had almost run out of battery, so I decided to call her from the landline, referring to the number I had written on that piece of paper.

“Hey Shilpa, this is Jasveer,” I introduced myself.

“Yes.”

“Kitni der hai? Everyone is waiting for you in the cab. Chalna nahi hai? It’s already 4:15.”

“Excuse me. Whom do you wish to speak to?” Shilpa asked in a slightly suspicious tone.

“Of course you madam. Now hurry up,” I told her sternly. She hung up. I hurried downstairs and apologized for being late.

“Is she coming?” Mohnish asked.

“Don’t know. I called her but she behaved weird, and hung up. Fake attitude!” I announced in the cab.

“Softer, softer, big bro,” Mohnish spoke, “She is a beauty yaar.”

“To hell with her beauty. Beauty can’t beat bad behavior, understood?” I reasoned. The not-so-pretty Neha looked at me, and smiled. She was happier learning that beauty was somewhere down in the what-I-want-in-a-girl list of some guys.

As we all waited in the cab, I texted her to make it fast or else, she would be on her own. Shilpa eventually arrived after 10 minutes.

“Hi Shilpa, how are you?” Mohnish tried to initiate talk as she tried to settle down at the rear of the cab.

“Hello guys,” Shilpa greeted all, rendering Mohnish’s attempt of one-on-one conversation futile. I wanted to ‘greet’ her too, but kept mum after Harish signaled me to calm down.

“Mom, can I have a cup of tea? It was a tiring day.” I had reached home an hour later.

“Noodles, anyone?” my sis dashed out of the kitchen.

“Tea post noodles – I wouldn’t mind it,” I smiled at my sister.

“Sure bhaiya, you just relax.”

I spread my legs on the sofa, and switched on the D2H.

Beep Beep. There was a message. I picked up my cell lying on the glass table.

Who r u? Sorry, I shudn’t hav hung up like dis.

This was from a number I recognized. Yes, this was Shilpa’s number – the number I had sent SMS to. No doubt I was surprised. I mean, it was nice on her part to feel sorry about that episode, but the first part of her SMS was intriguing. She knew who I was.

“4:10 again today,” Neha looked at her wrist watch. Shilpa hadn’t arrived yet, and for my cab-mates, I was a volcano waiting to erupt. But I was cool as a cucumber today. That message from Shilpa had pacified the things.

“Hey Shilpa,” I said in a low voice, after Shilpa arrived and adjusted herself with pleasantly-plump Mohnish and Neha in the middle row.

“Hello,” she turned her back, looked at me briefly, and smiled. Mohnish stared at me.

There wasn’t much interaction amongst the guys after that, as most of them dozed off in the cab like they would never wake up, half-dead. Shilpa, like she did on most of the days, resumed flipping pages of her novel from seemingly where she had left off.

I picked up Tropicana Lychee Twirl (my favorite!) from the refrigerator once I reached home. Sis and my mother were nowhere to be seen. Dadi Maa was glued to Aastha channel. I shattered few of my top scores while playing Sudoku on my cellphone, the initial levels. While I lay in the bed, I decided to reply to Shilpa’s previous day’s message, though futile now.

Hey. Did nt reply ystrday 2 ur msg. So, wasup?

What began after that was a series of messages exchanged between us. She seemed inquisitive and wanted to know more about me, a behavior she never exhibited in the cab. We haven’t had much of a chance to interact in the cab, and she was probably hesitant, I presumed.

It felt good after conversing with her through texting. Oh boy! I couldn’t actually believe it was her, the beautiful Neha. I did not see her for the next few days as there was a change in my shift pattern. I had started to go in the evening shift. But we continued to message each other, daily. We never discussed work. It was all about knowing each other on personal front, more and more.

I had started craving to hear her voice. I messaged her.

Shilpa, wanna tak 2 u. Can v?

I did not receive any reply for the next 2 hours. WTF, I thought. May be she did not like the idea. Then suddenly, it beeped. I quickly reached out for the handset, anticipating Shilpa’s SMS.

2 BHK flat in Noida * starting 24 lakhs, contact Angara Builders 9900991234. Limited offer, early possession in 24 months.

Bastards! That bloody SMS pissed me off. I threw my cellphone on the bed and went to the other room, restless. After 20-odd minutes, I returned, only to see a missed call from her. I called her back, but she disconnected the call, which was followed by her SMS.

Sorry, can’t take ur call. Wanna meet u though. Tomorow, 3 pm, CP. Reply YES or NO.

Yes! Yes!! Yes!!! I wanted to respond, but contained my excitement. I texted her.

Wud luv 2. Ok, vil reach, sharp @ 3.

After a sleepless night, I wondered the next morning if I should present her with flowers. Was it a date? Or just a casual meeting? But then, she had offered to meet. It was of course a date, I convinced myself.

I carried a bunch of roses, a mix of yellow and red, keeping both the options open to her, and waited to catch a glimpse of the gorgeous gal with bated breath. Shilpa called.

“Hey! Where are you?” I enquired.

“I am near the Central Park, just crossing the road,” she replied. “And you? Oh, I see….that must be you. Coming.”

“You are sounding different,” I said, as my eyes were set across the road searching for her.

“As if we have spoken earlier,” she giggled on phone, then suddenly hung up.

“Hi,” a shrill voice grasped my attention, before I could make out what she meant.

“I’m Shilpa. Jasveer, right?” she extended her hand.

“Sorry?” I was stumped. In front of me stood a very ordinary looking girl, wearing glasses, dressed in a pale green salwar-suit.

“Jasveer, right?” she repeated, her hand still extended, waiting to shake hands.

I was in a fix. It was too little time, but I had to react. I decided not to take it forward.

“Sorry, I am no Jasveer. You must be mistaken,” I replied politely, trying hard to keep a straight face.

“Oh, really?” she stepped back, but kept gazing at me.

“I am waiting for my girlfriend. She must be here any moment,” I said after a dead silence.

“Yes, of course. Sorry to bother you,” she left and stood a few meters away. I looked in her direction after a while, and saw her reaching out for her cellphone.

“Hell!” I quickly pressed a key on my handset to put it on mute. She called thrice, and I avoided looking at her. I did not want to give her any hint whatsoever. But deep down I knew, that she knew. She did not budge, and apparently felt disturbed, as far as I could make out from her body language. Eventually, I escaped her sight and did not turn back again.

I had my mobile switched off for the rest of the day. When I switched it on late in the night, it beeped.

I noe it was u Jasveer. U r too arrogant. I didn’t expect it.

She called me arrogant as I was fairly good looking, and she had concluded that her average looks was the reason for my insensitive behavior. I felt guilty, more so because I actually did not intend to do that. I could have met her, talked to her, and left without making any commitments. But what I did was insanely wrong….WRONG! Probably I had little time to react, and act.

Intrigued by this event, I narrated the whole story to Harish on Monday.

“How is this possible?” he asked, puzzled.

“How would I know? Something is fishy. I don’t know,” I sighed. “You gave me her number, right?”

“Yeah, and you even talked to Shilpa, asking her to reach quickly as we were getting late, remember na?”

“Right, I did.” I pondered for a while. “Wait…hey, give me her number again,” I said hastily.

“Sure. It is…nine-nine-one-zero-zero-six-one-three-three-three.”

“Cross check. It must be nine-nine-one-zero-zero-zero-six-one-three-three,” I told him, after I matched his words with the number I had stored in the phonebook. “This is the number I have been sending SMSes to,” I added.

“Wrong. That’s not the correct number. I have verified,” Harish confirmed. “What’s the matter dude?”

“Gosh…we have to test this, now!” I hollered. “Speak your number man, fast.”

“Okay, okay. 9899058480.”

I dialed a number from my cellphone, and then hurriedly asked, “Do you have a landline?”

He pointed at the phone lying on his desk. I dialed a number and his phone rang. I looked at him, and he looked back at me in bewilderment.

“It’s ringing, so?”

“I dialed this,” I showed him the last dialed number on the landline phone instrument.

“98990584801? How come? It is 11-digit. How did it connect to me?” Harish asked me, taken aback.

“It does. I was not aware either. You suffix a 10-digit number with any number, and it’s going to consider only the first 10, and dial that,” I explained to him. “And this holds true only when you dial it from a landline. Before this, I tried dialing this 11-digt number from my cellphone too, but it failed to connect,” I added.

“Hmm....”

“And you dog, you gave me this number that day,” I pulled out that piece of paper I still had in my wallet. 99100061333, it read.

“Agreed. But what about all those messages you have been sending to that girl? Her number is 9910006133, correct? So what made you send messages to this number….”

“Uh, I am at fault too. That day, I did not refer to this piece of paper in the cab, and texted her on the basis of what I could recall from what you had dictated. I dropped the last digit and sent her the SMS. Strange!” I said ruefully.

“Well, you could still have spent time with her. You did not even bother to give her due respect,” he complained, objecting to my behavior when I had met her.

“I…I…well, I was a bit shocked. I was anticipating Shilpa, the charming beauty, and then all of a sudden I confront this girl-next-door, average types. I do feel culpable about the whole episode,” I tried to justify myself.

The story spread to many, including the one around whom it revolved, though indirectly. I met Shilpa a few days later in the cafeteria.

“It’s okay. You shouldn’t take life too seriously,” Shilpa said, sensing the uneasy state I was in, tete-a-tete with her. “So her name was Shilpa too…,” she continued.

“Now that you know everything, let me tell you that my emotions were for you, it was only that there was some confusion and…”

“…and?” Shilpa interrupted.        

“And I like you,” I blurted out. I felt numb after making that heroic statement. She laughed, and kept laughing unless I asked her to stop.

We dated for six months, before she left the organization and joined one in another city. We kept in touch, and tried catching up whenever she came back to pay visit to her parents.

Then one odd day, I received a friend request from Shilpa. No, not the girl I had dated, but the girl I had ditched. She was Shilpa Thakur – I got to learn from her Facebook profile. I accepted her friend request. We interacted casually online, and I apologized for what had happened in the past. She seemed to have forgotten that and forgave me. That was some relief! I had a guilty conscience all this while.

“Hello…yes...okay, just a moment,” my wife picked the ringing phone. I lay in the bed, half-asleep. “You got a call honey, wake up,” she gave me a shove.

“Kiska hai, early morning?” I inquired, rubbing my eyes.

“Forgot to ask. Take it,” she handed over the phone to me.

“Hello. Who’s this….uh….saale Harish…,” I shouted at the top of my voice, brimming with excitement. “Where were you buddy? 3 years…no contact, nothing. Yeah, I did not have your new number…Haan, you just talked to my wife…Thanks, thanks.”

“You know her bro,” I told Harish, when he asked about my better half. “She is Shilpa.”

“You got married to Shilpa Mehra? Can’t believe this! And what about that girl…you met once, did she ever contact you again? She was….”

“….Shilpa Thakur. She had added me on Facebook.” I kept quiet for a few seconds, and then broke my silence. “How can you be so sure that I got married to Shilpa Mehra?” I laughed.

“Of course you married Shilpa Meh….wait….what do you mean?” Harish asked, perplexed. “Do you want to kill me with suspense? Spill the beans! Shilpa Mehra or Shilpa Thakur?”

“Alright, alright. She is Shilpa…..” The call got disconnected, before I could finish.

“Oh Jesus! Sweetheart, could you please give me the charger. The phone has run out of battery,” I yelled.

(End of story)