Money Matters

On Oct 5^th, when the world was paying tribute to the founder of Apple Inc. with those messages pouring on Facebook and Twitter, “RIP Steve Jobs”, “A Great Entrepreneur” etc., an unsung legend left this world silently on Oct 8^th, leaving behind his foot prints which are present in every embedded device no matter it’s a to be launched Apple IPhone 4 or Samsung’s latest Tab 10.1. The invention of this legend has touched the life of more people than the “Entrepreneurship” of Apple Inc’s founder. But the irony is that his death hadn’t made big news anywhere. Well it’s not difficult to understand now “Money Matter’s”.

It’s sad to say that “Dennis Ritchie” is no more. May his soul rest in peace.

The Florist Part VII

11.15 pm With Her, The Florist

Finally, it was a dream comes true for me. I am falling short of words to describe the anxiety and the gaiety I was feeling at that moment of time. I was eager to touch her and to feel her because she was mine that night.

“It’s quarter past eleven and I feel we should have the dinner now, so what’s your call?” I said breaking the mysterious silence which was prevailing since Shikha left us alone.

“Yeah sure”, an expected terse reply came from her. I started moving, mistakenly forgotten that fact that she can’t walk all alone. By the time I turned back she had lifted her hand bashfully, to be held by me. Unhesitating I caressed her hand and felt the silken soft touch of her palm. Her palm over mine with hardly any space left between the two, with my fingers closing over the darker side of her hand. With that we moved towards the dining area.

It was quite cold by that time and people were having dinner while hobnobbing with each other. There was an arrangement of the bonfire for the guests at different locations in the garden. Near to the dining area I saw the one and nobody was standing near to it. So I thought of sitting there while dining with her.

I said “Dhristi sit here for some time till I get a dinner plate for you. And do tell me if you have any favorites in the dinner”.

She smiled on my question. “Did I sound silly”, I thought for a moment. But no, she was chuckling on my innocence. Neither she was used to such courteous questions nor did she want herself to be the object of pathos for others.

She said “I can come with you. If you don’t mind”.

“Ok”, I said. We took the ceramic plates from the stack and started serving ourselves. She was finding it difficult but I helped her. I just held her hand from the wrist and assisted her to pick her favorite dishes. She was asking me the names of dishes and every time I was answering to her, feeding to the inquisitiveness of this beautiful lady. I also took some food in my plate. I was very hungry and the beer we had some hours before had stimulated my appetite by theb.

We finally sat down near the bonfire again on the beautifully crafted wooden chairs. The radiating heat of the ambers was warming my body and so was her warmth to my soul. The moments were flowing like those of a beautifully scripted dream and we were the mere actors, the florist and the photographer.

To explore her further and to satiate my curiosity I posted a question to her to which she felt little hesitant and turned dispirited.

I said “What happened to your parents Dhristi? Can you share with me If you don’t mind”.

“They died in a bus accident when I was too young. I was with them at that moment. I somehow survived and lost my eyes”. A silent tear rolled down through her eyes onto her cheeks. And for me it was difficult to digest the fact that she was not blind by birth but mishap made her life miserable. “Oh I am sorry Dhristi. I am really sorry for that” I stammered and said.

What on oaf I was. I posted a wrong question on my first date ever and made her cry. Truly speaking I had no prior experience of handling such sophisticated situation. But Dhristi was a mature and different girl. In fact way different from others. She quickly controlled her rolling tears and said “It’s ok Abhigyan”.

She said, quickly reconciling the situation “What do you do Abhigyan and where do you live”?

I hadn’t expected such a prompt question after I bungled the things and that’s how she portrayed here maturity and equanimity.

“I am fine art photographer and I stay at Bangalore”, I replied.

“Bangalore, Yeah I had heard about the city. But it’s too far from this place”, she said.

“Yups, It is. I come to north once in three months to visit my parents. And sometimes once in a month if at all my work permits”, I said.

There was an impulse in me when I was talking to her while looking at her ruddy face. I wanted to ask her “Does she knew how beautiful she is?” And the next moment I posted the question to her.

“Dhristi, Don’t take it otherwise, but I wanted to know that do have any clue how beautiful you are?”, I said capriciously.

God, It took the enormous courage to say those words to her. I was an unknown to her and I have said something which could spoil everything from now. I was not certain that how she was going to behave now onwards. A little worried I was but finally decided to take a gauntlet. Now the ball was in her court. And I was waiting anxiously to know her reply.

She smiled on my words and felt a bit reluctant to express herself. “I am done with the dinner what about you Abhigyan” she said as if she had not heard my words.

“Yeah Yeah its over for me too”, I said after hastily putting the last piece of sweet in my mouth.

“Give me the plate I will just keep it” I said and took it from her.

12.00 Midnight, Near Bonfire with Florist, June 3, 2008…..

Happy Birthday Abhi….

I heard those voices coming from behind. I turned back this was Manish and Anshul.

“Oh Thanks Guys” I said. I forgot that it was my 27th Birthday and these guys still remember it. Sammer and Shristi also came to wish me up. All the guests had already left by then and just the relatives were present in the garden.

“Happy birthday dude”, said Sammer. “Thanks Buddy”. I said

‘You got the advance gift I guess” said Manish humorously. “Ab Aur Ki Chiyeda Ennu”, Anshul acceded in Punjabi. Everybody burst out laughing. Dhristi was quietly standing there listening to us, a bit muddled. She came forward and said “Happy Birthday Abhigyan”.

“Oh thanks Dhristi”, I said…

Everybody was looking at my face when I uttered those words. A mummer came from Anshul “Thanks Dhristi hunnnn “and they all chuckled again. She was still alien to fact that I am in an impassionate love with this ravishing blonde.

12.45 am, At Mandap

“Mandap”, this structure is an integral part of Hindu wedding ceremony. Sameer’s wedding mandap was beautifully decorated with the specially crafted flowers. Most of them were roses of all shades along with lilies. It was a canopy erected on the ground and supported by four wooden pillars and all of them were adorned with the most beautiful flowers of this region. Under the canopy was seated the Brahmin who was supposed to perform the ritual ceremony.

Sameer and Shristi were seated next to the Brahmin and in front of them was the sacred fire which was going to be the clean and pure witness of their love. Anyhow at that moment for me it was huge relief from the spine chilling cold as I was seated in front of Sameer and Shristi and just behind his parents. Those aromatic lilies appealed deeply to my senses and observed that Dhristi was missing once again. My eyes grew impatient as I could not able to locate that piquant face. I stood up and asked Shikha who was standing near me, “Hey do you know where she is?”

She puckered her forehead and then said “I guess she is sitting upstairs, may be alone since we forgot to bring her here”.

“Oh that’s bad, fine I will get her”. And I ran to bring her. I clambered up the stairs in haste just to avoid wasting much time. I inspected all the rooms before looking in the last one, the one of a bride. I knocked on the door and opened it up.

Thanks to god I found her. She was sitting there as this place was alien to her for navigating all alone.

I took a deep breath and said “Hey Dhristi you are here. We were looking for you. Let’s go down as the ceremony is going to start”

She stood up as I uttered those words and walked towards me. However, her leingha got stuck in one of those protruding nails of sofa. I saw this and ran towards her to prevent her falling. I said quickly “Hey Dhristi ! Be there your leingha got stuck”

I held her hand firmly as she felt a jerk while moving. She careened and leaned away from me. I enwrapped my left hand along her waist to help her out. Fortunately I managed. All this happened in a flash of time and I could able to find out only at that time that I was standing closest to this beautiful lady. My face was at bare minimal distance from hers and I could able to feel the warmth of her breath. There was a hint of newly found intimacy in her gesture and it felt good to be near her. She was breathing deeply and I could able to count her every new breath. Though those eyes were not lustrous but still they kept low in a gesture of intimacy. I moved closer and caressed her along the waist, this time to move her closer. The time was still and I was losing control on my senses. God! This girl was driving me crazy. I was looking at his face and those unwrinkled lips. The moment didn’t last for long and she drew back.

I loosened the grip immediately and tried to gain control of the lost senses. I immediately engaged myself in unlacing the part of the cloth stuck in the nail.

“Fine it’s done, let’s go” I uttered.

“Yeah”, she grinned sheepishly.

One More Please

Let me share this experience of mine with you all since I feel it’s one of the most cherished memories of my life. I was in a third grade and if my mathematics is not wrong, then was eight and a half year old. She was a second grade student. An auto rickshaw use to drop us to our home and she use to be the last kid to get down and I was last but one. One day it so happened that when everybody got down and I was about to, she kissed me on cheeks and said “I love you”. I was in awe. What was that!!! I could not able to understand for few minutes. And what to say back was just “I love you too” as I had heard in those movies but I was speechless. I got down as it was time to, but I was still thinking upon that. I thought of telling to mom that she said this to me and kissed me up but frankly speaking I would have done the blunder. I didn’t say anything. The next day, she did it again. And you won’t believe that what did I do? I kissed her back this time and said I love you too…..

It was a sheer act of my innocence and nothing else than that. This innocence continued for quite a long time till she changed the school after few months. And you know what, I met her quite recently and that’s too accidently. I wished I could ask her “One more please!!!!”

I Met The Einstein

A friend stopped it as the signal turned red. A little kid knocked on the glass of window and I slided it down. He popped his head in and with those flags in his hand he said “Babuji 2 rupee mein ye jhanda le lo”. There was a hardly any cloth on his body. The roadside rags were loosely tied to just cover his privates. His prima facie view triggered the faded thought in my nebulous memory. The thought about life. The absolute definition on it. I like those aphorisms on “Life” capturing pertinent thoughts of eminent people but they lack the symphony. But the deductions from their maxims appeal me to the highest degree that the definition of “Life” is not absolute. It’s relative. And as soon as I cherished the idea of relativity I got the definition of “Life”. It never existed in its concrete form. We are the person who should define it and that’s what the others have done. They have defined it for themselves. Those maxims are nothing more than their definitions and I should have my own. For that pauper who offered me that flag the definition is just some coins a day to meet his puny expenditure. And that is neither synchronous with yours and nor with mine just because it’s “Relative”.
I dropped 2 Rupees on his hand and got the one for me as it was an Independence Day eve. I thanked that little Einstein who taught me the Relativity of Life. The signal turned “Go”.

The Florist Part VI

I thanked god that finally we joined the party back after a long chase. We all were madly excited by then. The faces in the Barat were new and I was struggling to find a known face. Most of the time we usually dance with unknowns in Barats and that’s how we get to know the people. And at times the sexy gals too.
Manish and Anshul were busy dancing. I was able to notice their furtive glances on some ruddy female faces while enjoying the moment. I shouted loudly and said “Dada let’s bring Sameer out of the car and we all will dance together.”
Manish concurred and said “Ya lets go.” We took Anshul also to execute our plan and reached Sammer’s car which was crawling behind the band. Anshul opened the door hastily and forced himself partially in to pull Sameer out of the car.
Dammmm. Its was a gaffe of lifetime for three of us. First of all we were in an unknown wedding celebration and secondly we were pulling out the groom who was alien to us. Anshul reacted immediately after he saw the groom’s face. He closed the door of the car and jabbered “Dada katlo. Itthe to kat gaya si. Mundda Sameer nahi hai.”
“Ahhhh I knew that, the absence of single known face insinuated me fact that we were sailing in the wrong boat.” , I ratified Anshul’s statements.
“But I think we should spare some more time here”, said the beguiled Manish who was enamored of the beauty. “No No, we are caught now and it’s better to leave before somebody comes to kick our ass”, said Anshul. Dada was unhappy with the decision but he knew that we were late now. “But where the hell is Sameer’s barat”, said muddled Manish. We both were confused too. I caught one person of the band party and asked him “Did you see any other Barat going from here”.
“Hannn Babuji, they turned right on the last turn”, He said. We thanked him and launched ourselves in fresh chase.

10.37pm, A-23 Mussorie Gardens

We were late by now as this was not a new story with a trio of ours. I could barely remember if we had seen any movie from the beginning in spite of the fact that we haven’t spared visiting any multiplex of Delhi.
Before stepping in Mussorie Gardens we made sure that we were at right place. “Ya, We are at Mussorie Gardens now, I am sure this time”, I said after reconstruction the fainted pictures from my nebulous memory.
The place was looking gorgeous in misty moonlit night. Mussorie Gardens was the most famous marriage gardens of this place. The lush green carpet grass and the pine trees at the wall boundaries ornated with fairy lights were enthralling. Right before us was the couple seated on a stage decorated with flowers like a canopy, adorned with “Sameer and Shristi’s” name. The wedding décor was lavish, bold and infused with the gaudy colour scheme of Red and Golden.
While I was relishing the aura of wedding celebrations somebody nudged me from the back. This was Shikha. Before I could ask anything she said ”Bhaiya, can you come here for a minute”.
“Ya sure”, I rubbed my hands, as it was getting colder, and followed her after promising the guys that I will be back soon. She had a surprise waiting for me. It was implausible for me for the moment that the female in the sparkling brocade was she, the florist. She was standing right there in the corner as if she had a wait for someone. The roseate fabric “Leingha” with the silver embroidery was tied on her pinkish white waist. The thousands of spangles on it were shimmering in the glare of the bright lights. The other part of the attire, the “Chunri”, was well fixed on her right shoulder, a way down till her waist line covering the part of the belly towards right of the belly button. No sophisticated necklace. She was wearing rather a beautifully crafted elegant pendent tied to an argent color snake chain, which hung low on her neck. She was looking a paragon of beauty. Every now and then I see her I find her more alluring than ever before. In my miniscule lifetime I hadn’t seen a gal more gorgeous and enticing than her.
For the moment I thought that I was hallucinating but to my surprise she was there right in front of me. I looked at Shikha inquisitively. Before I could say anything she whispered and said “Bahiya, I know whom you were looking for since evening and I hope she is looking preen, as preen as Shrishti bhabhi”.
Her words insinuated that she knew everything. May be she was keeping an eye on my activity since evening. Anyways whatever happens happens for good. I thought that I should thank her for favor she had done. She had made my day. Her words blended with my thoughts and triggered a cheerful smile on my dimpled cheeks and I said “You have done a nice job and you deserve something great for that”. She was jolted since she hadn’t expected such audacious and prompt reply from me. She said “Hmmm. I do. But, before that, let me introduce you to her”. Now that was something I was waiting for thirstily since last night when I had seen her on the flower shop. The conspiracy of fate was evident from the difference between the nights in Mussorie.
In her articulate voice she said “Hi Dhristi, meet him. He is Abhighyan. Sameer Bhaiya’s best pal”.
“HI”, that’s all she said. She spoke to me for the first time. It would be silly enough to say that those words echoed in my ears till the faintest harmonic died in the most sensitive part of my ear. But all that happened for the first time and was special to me. I replied in an arrhythmic voice “Oh, Hi Shristi, Uff I am sorry I mean Dhristi”. Shikha gagged on my slip of tongue. And a smile also triggered on Dhristi’s face.
“I guess I am required there in the celebration for some work, so Dristhi you better be with him for some time. Bhaiya will take care of you”, said Shikha. At that moment the worst thing that I had expected to happen was Dhristi calling me Bhaiya, mimicking Shikha’s salutation. But fortunately the salutation was missing. She gave a laconic reply yet again and said “Ok”. Come on, I had expected more this time. At least she should have had asked some questions. She was wearing an infantile innocence which was setting a trigger in me to kiss her on those lips. It was hard to stay temperate and curb those nasty temptations. But I did it all against my throbbing heart.
“Bye”, said Shikha and she left leaving me and the florist alone, right in the corner near to that big tall pine tree.(Next Post on Sept 27,2010)

The Florist Part V

“Ya, sure we will. Happy to see you after a long time” I acknowledged.

I drink occasionally and that’s too on special occasions. Though it was a special occasion for me, I tried to refrain myself from boozing. It was difficult to say “No” to Manish and Sameer. Though I tried to, they insisted a lot. Finally the bargain ended on a can of Fosters. The other thought in my mind which was prompting me against having the alcohol was the thought of her. I wanted to be in all my senses that night, just for her. But she was not there. I wished I could see her again tonight.

“Let’s go buddy”, said Manish.

We left the place and reached to the Maruti 800, Manish’s car, parked at space juxtaposed to the temple. It was the same car, the one which we used to travel with during our halcyon days in Delhi. Manish reached for the can in the car and grabbed two of them. We moved behind the car so as to avoid being watched while boozing.
Manish opened his can and waited for me for the drinking toast.

“Cheers!!!”,we both toasted together for Sameer.

After a while we saw somebody was heading towards us. The face was hardly visible since we were standing towards the brighter side of the road. He was tall and walking briskly as if in haste. We both became conscious for the moment.

“Bingo!! This is Anshul!!!” Manish shouted loudly.

“Ya he is Anshul”, I said.

We both were aghast. He had no plans to join the marriage as he was preoccupied with the commonwealth games preparation activity and to our surprise he was here to attend Sameer’s wedding.

I met Anshul through Manish in Delhi. And later he shifted with Manish when he was on a job hunt in delhi. Since then we were good pals. Anshul was smart and 6.1 feet tall young punjabi lad. He was a little mischievous guy and was a great singer indeed who used to sing only after having some sips of Blender’s Pride, his hard drink brand. He was working as an Assistant Project officer in commonwealth games which were scheduled in 2010.

If you ask him how the CWG preparation is going, he used to reply humorously, “Naak katayenge saale.”

Bacchanalian and agoged Manish shouted loudly “Baby Logon! Sharabi is here.” And I choked laughing.

“Hey dude. Great surprise”, I gawked and said.

He smiled and said “Yar, I am very tired and thirsty pass me an energy drink first”, his hand reached over the stomach to complement his words.

“Ahhh that’s like a true sharabhi”, Manish reached for the can from the car.

After a sip from the can he felt so contented as if he didn’t have any for ages. Ironically he was in sense now.

“Dada, aaj taa dhamal karange” he uttered in Punjabi.

“Anne dino baad milya si, dhamaal to karanga hi, bas tussi ek gana suna de”, said Manish.

Though I don’t know much Punjabi but I could construe that Manish had demanded for a song from him.It never happens if you ask for a song from Anshul when he is drunk and he had refuted. So he started with one of his favorite’s “Teri Deevani….by Kailash Kher”.

I could hardly recollect that if I had heard this song by Kailash Kher for more than once. But from Anshul it was more than hundredth time I was hearing it.
We all enjoyed the party on that night. I was feeling lighter than before. But her thought was still there in some part of my memory; Still unaffected by alcohol’s incursion.

It was 9.30 PM , time to wind up and to reach for the barat. We kept the empty cans back in the car and left the place hastily.

9.40 PM, Drunk and Running Behind the Barat

The Barat was way ahead than we had expected. We were just able to hear the remote boisterous sounds. We were badly chasing it. After running for some four hundred meters, Manish yielded and gave up the chase.

“You people continue if you want I couldn’t chase any more”, said Manish, breathing heavily.

“Come on dada, just four hundred meters more I guess. You can make it”, said Anshul
“I guess!!! What if it is more???”, said Manish.
“No it won’t be. Believe me”, said Anshul.

Dada again gathered the courage and started chasing. I was tired too and so was Anshul. We could observe the frequency shift in the sound coming from the other corner of the street.

“See there they are.” I said.
Manish yielded once again and said, “Oh my god, they are still too far. No I can’t run guys.”

With that he relaxed himself on the pavement, lying carelessly. It was difficult to please Manish this time. I saw a rickshaw passing on the street and I called for help. The rickshaw puller was a meek old man in his 60’s may be. I wondered if he could pull the rickshaw. We decided that Manish will chase in rickshaw and we guys by foot. Manish climbed up and we started running.
“Chalo baba. Tejh chalo”, Manish urged the rickshaw puller who was finding it difficult to pull.

After running for some three hundred meters more we looked back. We were shocked to see that Manish was running instead of being on rickshaw. We stopped and waited for him.

“What happened to the rickshaw dada??”, Anshul queried.

“That rickshaw puller could not pull. Dammm, with that I would never able to chase. So I dropped the idea of chasing with him”, said Manish breathing heavily.

We both burst out laughing. And even Manish could not able to contain his mirth.
“Dada. Some more distance is left. They are right ahead and the next halt”, said Anshul.

We gathered the energy scattered in all our veins and started again. After covering someone fifty meters more we finally landed right in the middle of the dance gang. Though we were puffing out, we were still exuberant enough to dance.

Manish was too zealous after seeing some beautiful faces all around. He felt energetic than before. “Baby Logon!!! Lets rock!!!”, said exuberant Manish. The band was playing good bhangra beats and lots of those were familiar ones. One couldn’t contain oneself in such situation and the same was true with us. We started dancing in that spirited environment.

The Florist Part IV

“Abhigyan, I am leaving. I have other works to finish by evening” said the mother. She asked Drishti also to come with her and she consented. With these words mother departed with the florist and promised me to meet again in evening. The old man was still standing there. In a meek trembling voice he said “Babuji, can you help me? Can you please ask somebody to help riding my cart till my shop?”
“Of course!” . I caught hold of one the servants who was busy is arranging the chairs and asked him to help the poor. The old man felt obliged and expressed his gratitude.

5.00 pm, Mussorie Gardens

Things were now in place. The stage was all set for the Sameer’s wedding. It was just 5.00 in the evening and the sun was heading towards deep west. Behind those mountains was the place where it had to take rest and wait till dawn. The streak of sunlight in the dusky and azure sky was pleasing. The mist was all set to kiss the grass of mussorie gardens and in those glittering lights it was aureating. I was looking for a cup of coffee so I headed towards the roadside shops. I was able to spot out one in the corner, near a fig tree. I grabbed one chair and ordered a glass of coffee , yes a glass of coffee since Indian roadside cafes cannot afford to have ceramic mugs. And yes these glasses measure the same as the ceramic coffee mugs.
Sameer met Shristi, the bride tonight, in Mumbai during the fashion week. Shristi was neither a model nor she was photographer. She was an assistant editor in one of Mumbai’s dailies. I could still recollect the day when sameer called me up and said that he had some altercations with one girl in the fashion week. It so happened that sameer photographed her out of his impulse even though he didn’t knew her. She expressed her resentment. They had some altercations when he refused to erase the photograph. And the next day sameer patched up by asking her to meet for coffee for the photograph. And since then they never fought again. Lucky sameer was and so was Shristi.
By the time I finished my coffee it was 5.30 in the evening. Sameer’s “barat” was to start from a nearby temple at around 8.00 and was supposed to reach Mussorie gardens. It was already 5.30 and I had to get ready and reach the temple. I immediately took a taxi and asked to drop me to hotel.

Clarks Residency, Room No 732, 6.15pm

Finally I was back to my den. There was no time to relax even a single muscle. Hastily I took my shaving kit and went to the washroom. I had shaved my beard some four days back, but yet the harvest was less. Though beard gives a true manly look to anyone but I always appreciated the boyish appearance on my face. I took my time to shave them off. I decided to have bath as I love to bath with hot water during winters. When hot water rolled down my mildly tanned skin, stiffing each muscle beneath the skin, I felt the sensation of a smooth soft touch of the petals. I was enjoying the bath but since I could not afford to continue further I aborted. The vapors made the big mirror translucent so I could not have a bare-bodied masculine view of mine. I grabbed the towel, wrapped it along my waist and came out.
It was already 6.45 pm and I was getting late. I hastily dried myself and looked for some comfortable party wear. I had a suit, one of my favorites, but I skipped wearing that. Of course I cannot wear the formal since it was my best pal’s marriage. So I opted for something casual. Oh yes I was carrying an Indian party wear, a black colored Jodhpuri styled wedding attire. It was splendid and embroidered attire which I grabbed from cupboard for my style tonight. Yup, a handsome debonair, I was looking. I had a pair of Jodhpuri style shoes, perfectly resembled to one of those wore by the royal clan. I laced up. I picked up a small bottle of “Royal Yacht” from my kit and just sprinkled some. With that I was done with the party gear. The last thing which I could forget to accouter was my camera. So I took out a pouch reading “Samsung’.
My watch showed 7.15 pm and warned me. I locked my room and left for the venue.

The Temple, Near Mussorie Gardens, 8.12 pm

Well I was late according to my punctuality, but not according to Indian “Barats”. During my one month stay in Delhi I was a daily commuter in Delhi metro. I have seen those electronic panels camouflaging, at time they read “ Yamuna Bank :04 “ and the next minute the text displayed read “Yamuna Bank :05”. The other day in one of columns I read a snippet “Delhi’s Metro 99% punctual”. They should be, after all they were practicing the theory of relativity at their best.
Everybody gathered outside the temple, Sameer’s family and relatives. I was greeted by his father, the newly married couple, his sister Shikha and Sagar, and his brother Jatin. I was looking for Sameer and I spotted him near the gate of the temple. He was flocked by gray-haired women probably his aunts and grand-mother. It seemed some ritual ceremony was on the go and I avoided disturbing.
Truly speaking I was looking for her. My eyes were growing impatient. I scanned each and every face but was unable to catch sight of the most spotless one, the one of my sweet-heart. She was not there. Her absence raised suspicion in my slaved mind. What happened to her? Why she was not here? Had she left? Come on, she couldn’t do that. I was befuddled. Anxiously looked out for some help. At once I thought of approaching Sameer’s mom but it was not a good idea. I tried to contain my thoughts and my feelings but all in vain.
Seeing my perplexed face Shikha approached me and asked “Are you looking for her?”. I shook my head and said “No”. In my futile attempt to hide my anxiety she got a hint. She was just kidding and she never knew that her unintentionally targeted question had a such an obvious answer.
She said “Dada is calling you. Can you just come?”
“Ya lets go”. I followed her in the haze maze of near and dears. Gorgeous and Manlier, he was looking, in a creamish colored sherwani, a typical wedding attire of Indian grooms, with a radiating smile on his face.
“Hey Abhi where were you idiot? You hadn’t called since morning” uttered Sameer.
“I was in Mussorie Gardens. Was bit busy with work”, I said.
He just muttered under his breath “Dude. Have some beer.”
“Catch Manish. He has made the arrangement”.
Manish was one of our common friends. French bearded, voluptuous and cool-headed. He had a dream of getting an offer from Kingfisher as the sales manager, “No dream too big” and exactly there he was working for, the Jaypee group, as an area manager.
“Nooooo Dude” I resented.
“I could not afford to have it today.” I said.
“Come On don’t be a kid. I wish I could have one today”, said sameer.
“Baby Logon!”. A sound came from behind. This was Manish.
Fundamentally it was not “Log-on” of English but “Logon” of Hindi meaning people.
I wished recommending this Hinglish patio to be the part of Oxford’s latest lexicon.
“Hey. You are here. Delighted to see you. We will rock tonight”, said Manish.