Arranged Marriage

“All I am asking for is a daughter-in-law,” my mom said, irritated.

“Please...I am least interested, and I guess we have discussed this umpteen times,” I responded, sounding more irritated than my mom did.

“But why? All your friends have eventually got married, and many are younger to you.”

“So? You want me to commit the same mistake?”

“Idiot. I have been longing for grandchildren,” mom expressed her unfulfilled wish.

“If that’s the only reason to subject me to this lifelong torture, I wish I had a brother.”

“Listen, you turned 28 last month. You have a stable career with one of the most renowned IT companies. We are now an upper middle class family.” I was shocked at how my mother had prepared a list of favorable points to ‘sell’ me.

“I am not a commodity. And what is this upper middle class? A middle class family is a middle class family. This is nothing but a stupid distinction created by a set of moron people.”

“You mean us?” mom said, with raised eyebrows.

“I did not say that,” I replied, without looking at my mother.

“God, please give him some brains,” my mother prayed to the almighty, looking at the ceiling.

“This is not the right time to disturb God. It’s 1 in the morning,” I quipped.

It was a weekly activity. Saturday nights meant extended discussions late into the night, and the topic remained the same – my marriage.

“Are you in love with someone?” my dad spoke as he came out of the bedroom, failing to concentrate on his sleep, courtesy mother-son high-pitched discussion. I kept mum.

“Can I take your silence for a ‘Yes’?” my mother asked.

“No. For God sake, I don’t love anyone and I don’t want to marry. Period.”

I almost pushed my parents to their bedroom to end the never-ending discussion. My mother stared at me, not because I shoved her, but because another Saturday had passed and I was still not convinced to produce children and fulfill her grandchildren wish. My dad though seemed relieved that he would finally be able to sleep.

Half asleep, I checked the clock on my cellphone. It was 3. I realized my brain had been cluttered with thoughts for the last two hours. I will have to marry one day, isn't it? What was making me avoid this reality? My heart intervened, trying to analyze the reason. It was the concept of arranged marriage. The thought of committing myself to someone after a couple of meetings was scary. I wish I had been in love with someone, someone I knew for quite some time before making the most important decision of my life.

“What happened? It seems you haven’t slept properly the last night,” Meera, my colleague, asked while we sipped coffee at a cafeteria table.

“Well yes,” I paused for a while and then spoke, “May I ask you something…Are you happily married?”

“What kind of question is that?” Meera laughed, “Of course I am.”

Meera had recently got married and it was an arranged marriage. We had known each other really well for the last 2.5 years at office, and I thought it was okay to discuss my dilemma with her.

“Initially, I too was reluctant but marriage has changed my perception. Once you spend some time with your spouse, you fall in love. Then it’s no different,” my dear friend explained.

“What should I do then?”

“Just go for it. Your parents must have wished for a daughter-in-law,” Meera said.

“Wished? They’ll throw me out of the house if I do not agree to marry soon,” I said, sounding worried.

“Hmm....you may start with online portals. They are convenient, hassle-free, and there is no dearth of suitable profiles online. Just CCC.”

“CCC?” I asked, confused.

“Yup. Choose, Click, Connect. Yes, you have to pay fees if you really wish to contact someone, but that’s later on. Atleast initiate,” Meera said with a child-like excitement.

“I have to create a profile?” I asked the obvious.

“Any doubts? Don’t worry. I will help you.”

“Did you connect to Mehul through one of these portals?” I asked curiously.

“No actually. But I would have considered this medium if I hadn’t got married through the newspaper matrimonial column. TOI.”

“Hmm....got it. Thanks for your help. Will call you as and when I’ll have any doubts.”

“Sure buddy,” Meera said with her lovely smile.

I decided to secretly carry out Operation Marriage. That was not much of a problem as all it required was an internet connection and some privacy. I had both in my room.   

Going by the word-of-mouth, I thought of creating an account on Jeevansaathi.com. As I created my profile, I went into a dizzy for the number of options it had. I called up Meera.

“Haanji, tell me,” Meera answered my call.

“I hope you are not busy.”

“Yes I am. Now tell me. Need help?” Meera had already figured out what my call was all about.

“There are a plethora of options. Is this all necessary to fill? I mean why do I need to mention what my weight is?” I asked, irritated, as I was slightly on the heavier side. Meera laughed out loud.

“Sorry. Could not control myself. You are so cute,” Meera said. “Not all options are mandatory. You may just fill the basic details. Don’t forget to add description about yourself and make sure to add a pic of yours.”

“Photograph?”

“Yes dear. That’s the first thing that would attract anybody to your profile. Isn’t it?” Meera stated.

“But you got to be attractive to attract someone, and I am just a guy-next-door,” I said.

“Arre, I mean it’s must to have a profile pic for better responses. Now get going.”

Coming sweetheart, I overheard Meera responding to her husband.

“Listen. Any more questions?” Meera asked, the hurriedness reflecting in her tone.

“No, no. I have bothered you much. Bye, good night.”

“Good night,” Meera disconnected the call.

I spent the next few days browsing profiles and shortlisting them. There were a few I refused, and there were many who rejected mine.

Over a span of two months, I had 6 profiles with mutual acceptance. Over this period, my response to mom changed from I-do-not-want-to-marry to I-am-thinking-about-it. That kept mom happy and enabled me buy time. Dad was happy as Saturday night discussions were on hold and he could sleep on time now.

“So, what’s up on marriage front?” Meera asked, as I caught up with her in the lift.

“There are a few I wish to get in touch with,” I told her.

“Great buddy, so you are spending a lot of time on internet these days,” Meera smiled.

“Yes, but I will have to talk to dad for paid membership. That would sound awkward.”

“Why awkward? I think it’s a good initiative. It’s your life.”

“Well, mom will be on cloud nine for sure hearing this,” I told Meera, as we stepped out of lift upon reaching the fourth floor.

That night at the dinner table with mom and dad, I decided to talk about it.

“Mom, I wanted to talk about…”

“Ssshh…the soap has resumed,” my mom interrupted, as her daily soap had resumed after the commercial break, and there was no question of any discussion now.

…marriage,” I finished my sentence.

Mom pressed the Mute button on the remote. I was shocked because mom had never allowed us to do that.

“No, no. We can talk later,” I said.

“Don’t worry. The repeat telecast is at 11:30 pm. Tell me.” My mom was smart enough, as she knew her daily soap would repeat, though I might not.

“Actually…” I looked at my dad. My dad stopped eating. “A friend of mine suggested me to register on a matrimony website, paid membership.”

“Beta, go ahead. You don’t need our permission,” Mom said, sounding delighted. My dad resumed eating.

“I have also shortlisted a few profiles,” I said hesitatingly. My mom switched off the television.

“Show me,” my mom pointed to the laptop lying on the table.

We spent the next one hour browsing profiles, and my mom kept pointing the negatives out of every prospective bride.

“Like this, I will never get married. What’s wrong with her? She is so beautiful,” I referred to one of the shortlisted profiles, whom mom rejected.

“Look who’s talking. This is real transformation. Our son is now desperate to get married,” dad laughed. I felt a bit embarrassed.

“You don’t say anything,” mom looked at dad. “Beta, beauty is temporary, virtues are forever. This girl doesn’t look decent,” mom continued, “That’s the reason your dad chose me…moral values.”

“But you are beautiful too,” dad told her wife. Romance never dies.

We finally zeroed on to two girls. I was amazed at how many filters these girls had to pass through before ‘reaching’ me. My parents decided to call the two families the next day for a one-to-one session.

“Mom, what’s for dinner today? I am very hungry.” It was a hectic day at office, and I even had to skip lunch.

“Beta, we were waiting for you. Should we call the girls’ parents?”

“After dinner. I want food.” I almost jumped on the floor, like a 4-year-old upon wanting a cute toy.

We hardly talked during dinner. No, it was not a cold war. The daily soap was on.

“What happened?” Dad asked mom, as she wiped off her tears.

“Disha…her husband cheated her. Look at her,” mom pointed to the television screen, “All men are dogs,” she murmured. I looked at dad and vice-versa. We both felt guilty.

“Anyways, let’s call up the Sahni family first. That’s their family name, right?” mom asked. I nodded.

Sunday morning. 12 noon. I was probably dressed up the best in recent times. My mom made full use of her make-up kit which she hadn’t used for a while now. I wondered what she would do on my wedding day!

We were supposed to meet the Sahni’s at around 1 at one of the shopping malls. We comfortably reached at 12:50 pm, and waited for the girl’s family to arrive.

“They will be here in another 10 minutes. I just had a word with them,” dad told us. I could notice many newly-wedded couples who seemed to be madly in love with each other. Not all of them were love marriages. Meera was right, I guess.

They were finally here. My heart skipped a beat when I first saw the girl. I did not expect this, but she was more beautiful than what her jeevansaathi profile portrayed her as. No wonder I was nervous.

“Hello,” I hesitatingly initiated conversation with the pretty girl after we settled down. The round of talks continued for a while and I seemed to have lost in her. We talked for almost half-an-hour, after which we dispersed.

“I think this girl has in it, all I wanted in my bahu,” my mom declared, as she adjusted her saree sitting at the rear seat.

“But this is the first girl we have met,” my dad argued. I looked at my mom through the rear view mirror.

“It’s a ‘Yes’ if you ask me,” I said as we drove back towards home.

“So, how was it like?” Meera asked, as we met for lunch at the office.

“Fantastic. I mean, she is a very sweet girl. I just loved interacting with her.”

“Did they seem interested?” Meera asked.

“Oh yes, very much. We are going to call them today to take things forward,” I told Meera, delighted. It did not last longer though.

“What? They refused?” I asked, astonished.

“I did not expect this either. They behaved otherwise when we had met,” dad said.

“I anyways feel she was not the right match for you son,” mom tried to ease my mood, which anybody on the earth could make out, was spoiled.

I dined earlier than usual and went to bed early. I knew I won’t be catching sleep soon.

5 more days had passed, and I told mom I was in no mood to meet another girl, not for now atleast. The rejection hurt. Mom didn’t pressurize much either.

“They called up an hour ago, profile ID UUU1953,” dad said, as I returned from the market.

“Who?”

“Don’t know. They said they have gone through your profile and expressed interest,” dad told.

I powered on my laptop upon dad’s insistence. Mom kept mum, though she stood next to me as I browsed the matrimony website.

“Let me look,” mom put on her glasses to have a closer look, “She looks okay.” My mother actually meant the girl got away with grace marks. We decided to meet.

The excitement was missing. I was probably overreacting, but half-an-hour can do the trick. Plus, this girl I was supposed to meet did not appeal to me to a great extent.

We reached a bit late, or I guess the girl’s family reached a bit early as I checked time on my wrist watch. It was sharp 5.

The girl’s father ordered coffee for everyone. Contrary to the first girl I had met, she was quite ordinary looking, and there were no surprises. She looked pretty much the same as her display picture.

“Do you smoke, or drink?” the girl popped up her first question.

“No, and you?” The girl seemed to be a bit surprised when asked about her drinking habits.

“Yes, I drink....Thums up,” the girl laughed, “and coffee as well,” as she sipped coffee from her cup.

This time, the chat lasted longer. We discussed our professional lives, career, hobbies, and all other stuff which could help us know each other. I realized our interests did not match, but something connected both of us.

My mom signaled me to stand up as it was 6:15. I actually did not realize, but it was late. I was not on a date with her.

“Did you like her?” dad asked after seeing off the girl’s family.

“Kind of. But I am not making up my mind this time. Let them contact us first,” I answered.

Once home, I opened my almirah and reached out for my school album.

“Vaibhav, could you please see who’s at the door. I am very busy,” mom yelled from the kitchen. I placed the album back in almirah.

“It’s Sharma aunty. Please don’t lend her another of your sarees,” I requested mom.

“Shut up. It’s none of your business,” mom pulled my ear. I laughed.

We sat in the living room the next day. Dad flipped through the newspaper pages. Mom cut the cauliflower brutally.

“I don’t think they are going to call,” I said, pessimistically. Both stared at me.

Dad’s cellphone rang.

“Namaskar Ji,” dad went into the other room. I gave mom a confused look.

“They liked our son,” dad announced, looking at mom. Mom looked at me.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“What do you mean by you don’t know? You said you’ll let us know if they respond first,” mom asserted.

“Give me some time.”

“Okay. You can let us know by 8:15.” I looked at the wall clock. It read 8.

“Are you kidding? 15 minutes! You want me to decide my life in 15 minutes?” I shouted. Dad chuckled.

“Okay. Take 30. And don’t make excuses. It’s been 24 hours now since you met the girl.”

I quietly went inside my room, and stepped out after 45 minutes. Mom stood up, waiting for me to utter something, as if my decision would change the way people live in this part of the planet.

“Okay. You may call them up.”

I could actually figure out how happy mom was deep inside.

2 weeks later, we went to the girl’s place. They had already visited us the previous week and this was the last step before I could change my status to ‘Committed’ on all social networking sites.

I sat next to Smriti in a separate room. This was our second meeting and a chance to know each other a bit more.

“You are looking very nice,” I initiated chat with my almost-certain-fiancée.

“And you always do,” she smiled.

“Always?” I questioned, not really getting what she meant.

“Yes, even during the school days, though you used to dress pathetically, Golu.”    

“Geetu?” I asked, stunned.

“Yes Mister, Geetu.” She sat comfortably, enjoying my expressions as they varied frequently.

“But you said you are Smriti, and you used to be so weighty during those days!” I exclaimed, still trying to come to terms with what I had just discovered.

“And you still are, my Golu,” she did a Ponds Googly Woogly Woosh, and pulled my cheeks. I held her hand.

“I hated my name, so changed it after school. No big deal,” she clarified.

“You know, I did pull out the class group photograph after meeting you, but then something happened and I kept it back....let me recall....Oh yes! Sharma aunty,” I told Geetu, with a pitch higher than usual.

“Ssshhh...who Sharma aunty?” Geetu asked.

“Forget it,” I smiled, now holding her hand firmly.

“So, you always knew I had a crush on you while we were together in class VII. You never paid any attention to me, huh?” Geetu complained, “Because I was fat?”

“You know that’s not the case. If you have any doubts, you can ask that friend of yours...Rashmi...yes, Rashmi was her name. Are you still in touch with her?”

“Yes, I talk to her occasionally. What should I ask her?” She sat closer to me.

“I was really very shy then, and always used to tell your friend how I felt about you.”

“But she never told me? I’ll kill her,” my gal turned a bit furious.

“No, no. I asked her not to. I was really a coward.”

“You made me wait so long,” Geetu said, sounding like she would cry anytime.

“It would be worth it, now,” I promised her, “But how did you find me?”

“Just a sweet coincidence, sweetheart,” she replied softly.

I stood up, and pulled her up closer to me. We both looked into each other’s eyes, making up for the lost time.

“Hug me.” Tears finally trickled down her cheeks. I hugged her tight, but not before I shut the door.

I called Meera, my dear colleague, after I reached home.

“Hey Meera. It’s love marriage for me!”

(End of story)

Second Cousin

It was just another mundane Monday in my life. Poor Mondays! They are hated by most of us, and I am no different. As usual, I was waiting for the Metro at Pitampura metro station. I use it 6 days in a week to reach my office at Connaught Place. That’s where I work as a marketing executive. Let me tell you, 6-days-a-week work schedule sucks!

The timeboard indicated 3:00. Ideally, the next Metro was to reach the station in another 3 minutes. As I waited standing in one of the metro-staff-maintained queues, somebody caught my attention.

Well, I can write pages on this gal, but I’ll rather keep it short. She was an amazingly beautiful girl, pretty much like a cute doll who has put on some weight. Okay, I have this strange liking for slightly plump girls, provided they are charming, sweet, bubbly, and have innocence marked all over their face. The girl in picture fitted the bill.

She was right in front of the queue next to mine. As the metro halted at the station, people lost their senses. The mad rush ushered in, everybody hoping to be one of the few lucky ones to grab a seat. Way back in the queue, I had no chance anyways.

A minute more and the gal was out of sight. As the automated doors got shut, the air conditioning effect started to show signs of death. I was not much bothered about the temperature though. I started to look for the damsel.

Luckily, she was right there, occupying one of the Ladies Only seats, sitting quietly. People still had courtesy, I thought. I managed to stand next to her, clenching one of the support handles. As far as I remember, I have been commuting by Metro for the last 5-6 months, but never had I developed so much fondness for any of the commuters.

A man in his 30s was sitting next to her. At each station, as the metro train stopped for a while, I wanted the gal to stay and the man to leave. He stared at the girl whenever he got a chance. Okay, okay, even I was gazing at her, but I had my intentions right. Who knew what this man was like?

God heard me. The filthy man’s journey ended at Shastri Nagar station. And it was the beginning of my journey, with the lass. As the man stood up, I quickly pounced upon the now vacant seat.

“Thank you uncle,” I greeted the man with a fake smile. He gave me a dirty look on being treated an uncle, and a final dirty look to the gal. Bastard!

Anyways, he was now not in the picture, and will never be again. This is what happens when you travel and meet people. There are slim chances that you’ll meet them again. But wasn’t it true for this girl too? The thought scared me.

She was busy reading a novel. I couldn’t figure out which one. Was the book title important? No, not at all! I wanted to initiate conversation with her, anyhow. The time was running by, and I had to think fast. Then, the notion struck me. The title was indeed important, atleast to strike the conversation.

“Which one?” I asked hesitatingly.

“Sorry…,” she looked straight into my eyes. My heart stopped beating for a second. Thankfully, the beat resumed after that one second.

Girls come with a Handle With Care tag, and I am ought to remember that. Her Sorry…probably meant Who the hell are you, and why are you talking to me when I don’t know you.

“Sorry, didn’t get your question.” Oh, so the hell was at bay at the moment. It was the question of not getting my question.

“I mean…I mean, which novel is this?” I fumbled.

“Oh, this one. The latest by Chetan Bhagat. 2 states – the story of my marriage. I just love him,” she replied, with a twinkle in her eyes. I wish I was Chetan Bhagat.

“Absolutely. Great writer,” I supported her view. Honestly, I had never heard of him.

“So, where are you heading to?” I wanted to learn how much more time I had.

“The next station,” she stood up as she replied. She would be out of my sight in a couple of minutes, and that would be terrible for me.

I had to think of something, quickly, something which could stop her. As she stepped out of metro, I shouted, “I know something very interesting about the man you love.” I don’t know what did I say and why, but it helped.

“About Chetan Bhagat,” she exclaimed. “Okay, mail me. niharika_87gal@hotmail.com”

At times, mail IDs tell you more than you ask for. Her name was Niharika, and she was around 22, and that she was a gal, of course! I wanted to tell her she had a lovely name. I did that when I mailed her. I also mentioned it was fantastic talking to her, and that she was charming.

This is what she replied:
“Hi. What was the interesting fact you wanted to tell me, about CB.

Regards,

Niharika Chauhan”

Gosh! She was least bothered about what I wrote about her, for her. All she was concerned about was CB. I again wished I was him.

Fuming, I did not reply to her for a few days. But that made things worse. I kept thinking about her. Then, I mailed her:
“Hey. I know Chetan personally :) I am one of his second cousins.”

I had no clue whether she would buy this or not. Apparently, she did.

“Hi. It’s great to know this!

Regards,

Niharika Chauhan

9910071633”

What was that supposed to mean? I did notice the addition to her signature, of course I did. Should I call her? Yes I should. That was a clean hint. I mustered courage and called her up after 2 days.

“Hello. Whoz this?” she asked in a firm tone.

“Adesh,” I replied softly.

“Adesh, who?” Of course, I was no Barack Obama.

“Adesh…Metro…Chetan Bhagat,” I summarized.

“Oh, Hi! Howz my CB?” Now this was extreme. Again…CB. What about me, someone who had spent sleepless nights thinking about her? I wanted to hang up.

“Fantastic. He is doing great,” I said, rather sarcastically. “By the way, he is married,” I warned her.

“Haan, I know. But I am a big, big, big fan of his.” I wondered how big.

“Anyways, so how are you?” Ok, so I did exist.

“I am fine, almost,” stressing extra bit on almost.

“I am doing good too,” she added. Did I ask?

“So, when can we meet up?” She popped up this question when I was way too pissed off.

“Why?”

“Well, there’s a lot to talk about. You know CB so well and…”

“And?” I interrupted.

“And I want to meet you. Kab mil sakte hain?” It sounded more of an order than a request.

I could have refused, but I liked her a lot. Her glance in the Metro that day…still set my heart racing. So what if she would only talk about her love interest and I would have to construct all sorts of stories; atleast she would be there with me!

I prepared a possible questionnaire I could be confronted w.r.t. Chetan Bhagat. I struggled a lot gathering information about someone I had not even heard about, about someone I was least interested in. It was tough, but it was all for Niharika.

I had a sense of déjà vu when I met her. She asked me everything about CB I hadn’t prepared for. That always used to occur to me during exams, during the school days. Whatever set of expected questions I used to prepare for, they never appeared. I guess I have always been like that, a bad guesser.

I had a real tough time facing her, but had to ensure she doesn’t catch my bluff. At the end of it, it seemed I had won the QA round. She sounded excited all the time she conversed with me, talking about Chetan Bhagat, his work, his upcoming projects, and what not. Is a second cousin supposed to know all this about a celebrity brother, I wondered.

We met again, and again. We mostly talked about him only, but that didn’t matter much to me now. I had fallen in love. Gradually, she did shift her focus to me, but I wondered if I was just a ladder to reach Chetan Bhagat, the man she admired so much. She hinted multiple times that she wanted to meet CB. For obvious reasons, I always pretended I never understood what she wanted. Then one day, she was straight-forward.

“Listen, I want to meet my idol. I really do,” she amicably placed her hand over mine while we were sipping Coke at McDonalds. I would call that emotional blackmailing. I did not want to refuse, but this was something beyond my reach. I could not gulp down the soft drink any more.

“Yes, why not. Anytime.” I exuded so much aplomb while making this stupid commitment. I ain’t sure if even his real second cousin would have been so sure about making her meet CB.

“Really! Oh thank you so much. Love you,” she said excitedly, flashing a big, lovely smile. I love you too, I wanted to confess.

I told Niharika bhaiyaa is out of town and will be back in 2 weeks’ time. This meant she was with me for another two weeks. But that was it. Once the truth would be out in the open, she’s gonna leave me. Worse, she is going to hate me, forever.

We met daily. As we spent more and more time together, Niharika shared a lot about her personal life. Those were the golden days of my life. I prayed to God for a miracle to happen. Split from Niharika now meant death. Then God flashed a signal.

Chetan was on a visit to the neighbouring town, to speak on Gen-X potential and the contribution today’s youth can make to the society. I decided to attend the session. No, no…I was least bothered about contributing to society. But I had to meet Chetan.

“…so now you know how you all can make a difference. Right guys?” The entire hall clapped in unison while I was busy yawning as Chetan Bhagat ended his speech.

“Now it’s my turn,” I murmured to myself. I waited until the famous author finished signing autographs.

“Hi Chetan. Excellent speech.”

“Thanks,” Chetan acknowledged as he hurried towards the exit.

“Listen,” I shouted. “I need you.”

“Need me?”

“Yes,” I answered and ran towards him. I narrated the whole incident, involving me and Niharika.

“I want you to act as my cousin…second cousin, for a day.” Chetan stared at me with this are-you-in-your-senses look on his face.

“Okay fine, for a few hours…,” I tried reducing the time frame. The expression remained unchanged.

“See, I know you are a busy man. But my love life is at stake. You have to do this for me,” I pleaded. “I love her as much as you love writing.” I don’t know if this comparison made any sense, but Mr. Bhagat seemed to have got it.

“Okay. All is fair in love and war. I will do this for love,” Chetan agreed.

“Thank you so much!”

Chetan told me he would be coming to Delhi for an interview, and that is when he can help me win my love. He was nice enough to share his cell number, and I promised it would not be leaked. I had started to understand his fan following.

“Two hours. Won’t be able to stretch beyond that,” Chetan made it clear as he left. I nodded in agreement. Something is always better than nothing, I recalled the old adage.

Niharika hugged me when I met her after I was back home. She hugged me again when I told her she would be meeting her idol next week.

Everything shaped up as planned. It was Chetan who fixed the meeting venue and time. As I entered The Retreat I noticed Chetan waiting for us at the reserved table. The fans kept him busy meanwhile.

“Hope I am not late,” I grinned.

“Where is she?” Chetan seemed curious to meet her. Of course, she was the reason he was here.

“There she comes,” I announced as the gorgeous gal entered the dimly-lit food joint.

I expected her to jump in joy as she approached Mr. Bhagat, the moment she had been waiting for so long. But that didn’t happen. She was rather calm and composed.

“Hey CB. How are you? Never thought we would meet like this,” she winked at CB. Now what was that?


Before I could analyse the situation, Chetan interrupted my thoughts. “Oh, by the way, this is Niharika, my second cousin,” Chetan introduced her to me. I sat there, bewildered.

“And bhaiyaa, he is Adesh, the love of my life,” she blushingly looked at me. I was speechless. It’s like you announce to a beggar that he had just won for himself a lottery with prize money of 50 lakhs.

“You guys enjoy. I guess you have a lot to talk about,” Chetan smiled and left in a jiffy.

There was pin-drop silence for a few seconds. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier when you already knew…,” and she silenced me with her fingers across my lips. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Boys do cry.

I leaned forward and kissed her gently. She put her arms around me and whispered…I love you.


(End of story)

My Pal, Online

“Abhay, I am going out. Inform mom if she asks,” my sis waved me goodbye. Didi left for her office. Mom was busy doing laundry.

Like all other days, I had nothing to do. This year, college vacations were no fun. It was boiling outside at 45°C, and evenings were no relief with heat waves refusing to settle down.

I stepped into the virtual world to kill time. I hadn’t had much success in the last few days, trying my luck contacting girls with different tastes. Neither did I get a response from apparently sweet ID cutiepie_rashmi, nor from nasty ones like sexybitch01 on the chat messenger. Guys are so desperate, I tell you.

Anyways, being a Delhite, I always hunted for girls in Delhi chat rooms. May be I could get hold of someone pretty one day, who knows. I did the same…that day.

“Hi.” I got an instantaneous reply when I pinged decent_gal09. I am not sure if I am decent enough, but thought it would be a good experiment to chat with a decent gal.

Without much delay, I quickly typed, “Hello. Would you like chat decent with me?” Of course, I was expecting a ‘Yes’. That’s why she was here for, the decent_gal09.

“Yes. Would like to know you more,” was the quick response. I was unstoppable now. I told her everything she wanted to know, and we had pretty interesting conversation for close to 2 hours.

“See you tomorrow then.” With a promise to meet again the next day, she left. Conversing with Preeti really made me feel good, and the impatient me just couldn’t wait for the moment when she would be there for me, with me, the next day.

Days passed, but she never appeared online. I logged on to the messenger daily at 10 in the morning, hoping against hope that she would appear from nowhere. She never did. Then one day, it happened…she was online!

“Hi.” I pinged her hesitatingly.

“Hi Abhay. I am so..so..so..sorry. I know you must be very angry. But you see, it’s not my fault. I was not well all these days.”

I was a bit, infact, a lot upset about the fact that she did not turn up when she promised so. But the extra so’s did the trick for her. Well, when a sweetheart feels apologetic for something she was not actually responsible for, I was not supposed to be angry anymore.

“No, no. It’s fine. How are you now?” I asked, expressing concern.

“Well, much better. Did you miss me….?” Preeti asked. Of course I did, but did she actually expect me to? This was just the second time we were meeting online. Some guys can be luckier than others, I thought.

“Oh, yes. I did.” I inserted a smile emoticon in the chat window. She followed it with a blush smiley. We were progressing.

She never fell ill again. We met online daily, same time. At times, twice in a day. I gave it a damn if the temperature was now breaking 5-year or 10-year highs. I was pretty happy staying indoors. I never thought life can be so beautiful. If merely communicating your feelings with someone online can make you feel so gay, what would it be like meeting her. Was it possible? I had my fingers crossed.

We met online again that day, like all other days.

“Hey sweetheart! Good morning.” I used these affectionate words often now.

“Gm sweety,” Preeti reciprocated.

“Never asked you all these days….you are from Delhi, na?” I just wanted her to type YES.

“No, I am not. Who told you this?”

“Nobody. Actually…you were in that Delhi chat room the first day we chatted, if you remember, so….,” I reasoned.

“Oh, yes. That was JLT.”

“JLT?”

“Just Like That.”

I would have to upgrade my chat lingo, I thought. But I was not ready for that response. Today, I was to ask her if she would like to meet me. Being in different cities, will that dream remain a dream? I had no idea.

“So…which city?” I queried, half-heartedly.

“Bangalore. But why did you ask that?”

“Nah, JLT.” I was quick with my chat lingo upgradation. Apparently, she was happy meeting me…only online.

“Shall I ask you something?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” I typed, with dying excitement and enthusiasm.

“Would you like to meet me in person?”

The nearly dead excitement was now alive again. I wanted to mention that I was dying to meet her, but decided not to.

“Well…don’t know. Yes, would like to,” pretending I was just about okay with it. “But how? I mean, you are in Bangalore, and I…..”

“Not to worry. I am coming to your dilli next week, to meet a friend. I won’t mind meeting two,” she put a smiley in the chat window.

next week - the words echoed in my mind. I was thrilled. For the first time in my life, things were shaping up better and faster than I had anticipated.

“Ok great!” I exclaimed.

Preeti left, informing she won’t be available for the next 2-3 days. I did not ask why. I was anyways meeting her in a week’s time.

We connected through messenger after 4 days. We chit-chatted for good 3 hours that day. She told me she was out for her cousin’s wedding. That she had great fun. That she was very curious to meet me. She also shared her pictures she had got clicked on the wedding day. Man, she was a beauty!

“Hey, you look very pretty.”

Always complement a girl on her looks, even if you don’t really mean it. It works! But Preeti was indeed mesmerizing.

“Thanks,” Preeti batted her eyelids through a smiley. These smileys are fun, I tell you.

“Won’t you send yours?” she demanded my pic.

“Actually…I don’t have looks as killing as you,” I hesitated.

“Did I ask how good you look? But I just want to see you.”

I sent my picture across. She said she found me cute. Apparently, looks didn’t matter to her.

“Now we can recognize each other easily,” she smiled.

“True. Another thing Preeti, since we are going to meet soon, I hope you won’t mind giving me your number,” I asked.

“Oh…yes, yes. But you see, I lost my cellphone yesterday. By the time I’ll reach Delhi, I will get a new one. Will give you the number when we meet. Fine?”

Not a big deal, I thought. Just wanted to meet her now. She asked for my contact number, promising she would call me as soon as she would reach the capital city, my city.

I spent the next 3 days restlessly. She was to call me on Sunday after reaching Delhi. Sunday passed, but she didn’t call. I was in bed when the phone beeped.

“Nice song, dude,” I heard this when I picked up the phone. The caller tune was set to Kaise Mujhe Tum Mil Gayi from Ghajini.

“Preeti!” I almost jumped in jubilation. Such a sweet voice had to be hers. Thank goodness, I was not diabetic.

“Where were you? I was waiting for your call the entire day. And…how are you?” I asked in one breath.

“Relax. Arre baba, my flight got delayed.”

“Oh, okay. I thought….”

“Now give rest to your thoughts. I am here!” She said excitedly.

“So you haven’t got a number yet. It’s a landline you are calling from.”

“Oh right. Told you na, arrived late. But will call you myself. We are meeting tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow….yes, tomorrow.” Now when the moment had finally arrived, a certain sense of nervousness wrapped me.

“Where do you wanna meet up? I don’t know much about here.”

“Where in Delhi does your friend put up?”

“Yes, I am at my friend’s place only. Model Town,” she responded.

“How about CP? A metro ride can take you right there,” I suggested.

“I would love it. I’ve learnt it’s a cool ride.”

“Certainly is.” Having traveled by Metro umpteen times, I was sure she would love it.

We decided to meet at 2 pm, as we could not fix it for evening due to other commitments. The thoughts of how everything would go the next day kept me awake for long. I wanted everything to be just perfect.

I took my own time in getting ready the next morning. I had never paid so much attention to how I would look on a particular day though. She was special, after all.

I thanked God for the clouds that appeared from nowhere and covered most part of the sky. The weather was now electrifying. I wanted to ensure she doesn’t have to wait for me. I reached at the pre-decided spot well in time. It was 1:45. As my wrist watch struck 2, I started to get impatient. It was as if I was expecting her to be right there at 2.

Each passing second was getting heavier. I was constantly scanning for her face in the crowd. 10 more minutes passed, and now I just wanted to be with her.

The next moment, I felt a gentle touch tapping my back. My heart skipped a beat. It had to be her. I quickly turned around.

“Just see how long you have been sleeping,” I heard someone calling out from a distance. I realized it was mom’s voice. I rubbed my eyes, now half-open.

I looked around. Mom? But where was Preeti…Oh my God…was I…was I sleeping?? But when did I chat with Preeti? Ok, hold on. This was unreal. Or was that unreal?

“Mom, when did I sleep, do you know?” I asked mom in a low tone, as she entered the room.

“Don’t know. Look at your computer screen.”

Now I remember. I had laid down my head while my computer my booting. I must have dozed off during that period of time.

I was heartbroken, almost. It was all fictitious – Preeti, our bonding, and most importantly, our meeting which could have changed a lot of things…probably a relationship that was all over even before it could kick start.

A few days passed, and once in a while, the dream I had experienced occupied my mind. It was a beautiful dream, after all.

I did not feel like chatting again. The fantasy dream was bothering the real me. But then, it was just a dream after all. After some days, I logged onto messenger once again. I was not enjoying the time I was spending online. And nobody was actually responding to my ‘Hi’s and ‘Hello’s today.

“I’ll shut down my PC in a while if I do not get any response. It’s frustrating,” I murmured to myself.

I answered the call of nature, and returned back to my system. What I saw on the monitor screen left me dumbstruck. I was shocked, and I was stunned. I did not know how to react.

A new chat window was open. No, it was not a response from any of the gals I had pinged.

“Hi. This is Preeti. Would you like to chat decent?” said the message window from decent_gal09.

(End of story)