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)

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)