'I have a confession to make,’ Riya said. We were sitting on a jute
charpoy on the haveli’s roof, looking up at the millions of stars you
could never see in the Delhi night sky. 'What you said about Bihar and
its simplicity in college had something to do with me accepting the
Patna offer.’
‘Really?’ I said. ‘And that you hoped to run into me?’
‘Yeah, right.’ She laughed, so I couldn’t tell if she was being
sarcastic.
‘Don’t worry about my mother,’ I said.
‘I’m not. Why should I be worried?’ she said and smiled at me.
‘All mothers are the same, I guess.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Nothing. She’s Rani Sahiba. Literally, the queen of her castle. She
is entitled to say whatever she wants.’
‘She’s not bad at heart,’ I said.
‘I know. Did she mention me? When I went to the kitchen?’
‘Not really. Why?’
‘My clothes. My divorce. Anything?’
‘Nothing important,’ I said, thinking of little else but how to
casually hold her hand.When I did gather the courage to do it, I lunged
forward suddenly and grabbed her hand. It was not a subtle move.
‘Careful,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘My left wrist. It’s a little tender.’
‘How come?’
‘An old injury.’
‘Basketball?’
She gave a hesitant, non-committal nod. I released her left: hand
and held her right.
‘Your mother is downstairs,’ she said.
I took her words as encouragement. She had not said that holding
her hand was wrong, she only mentioned my mother.
‘She’s asleep,’ I said.
I entwined my fingers with hers. She didn’t protest.
I turned my face towards hers. She freed her hand and slid a few
inches away.
‘Hey, you want to do speech rehearsals here? Its a good place to do
it,’ she said. It is unique, the grace with which girls can deflect
situations and topics.
‘Not now, I’m tired,’ I said.
‘Should we go downstairs then?’ Riya said, all innocence.
I looked into her eyes. She understood that look. We had shared it
years ago in college.
I leaned forward, my lips an inch from hers.
‘No, Madhav, no,’ she said and gently placed her hand on my
chest. However, she didn’t push me away Her fingers were directly
over my heart, I leaned back a bit.
‘Why not?’ I said,
‘We agreed to be just friends, No more.’
'Why not?’
‘Don’t ask the same question twice.’
‘I can try twice.’
I leaned over again. This time, she pushed me back.
’Don’t do this. Please,’
Her eyes were wet. I withdrew.
’Can we at lease talk?’ I said, Losers get words from girls; winners
get kisses, ‘We are talking.’
‘Are you worried about your dad?’
‘Among other things,’
‘Which you won’t share with me,’
‘Madhav, you are a nice guy. An amazing guy, okay?’
‘If you say so,’ I said,
‘But,’
‘There’s always a “but"'
‘Can we please not do all this other stuff?’
‘Not now,’ I agreed,‘But maybe later?’
‘Madhav,’ she said, I don’t want to get your hopes up. So no
"maybe later",’
‘Why? Because of what I did in college?’
‘Are you crazy? Do you really think I will hold on to something
from years ago?’
‘So what is it? I’m not good enough for you?' I said.
She smiled at me.
‘What?’ I said.
‘I just said you are an amazing guy.’
‘Give us a shot, Riya,’ I said.
‘A shot? Wow. Someone knows English slang.’
‘A chance. Whatever. Anyway, let it be. Okay, fine, friends.’
I realized I had blown my moment. A failed attempt at kissing has
to be aborted, not converted into an argument.
We stayed silent for a minute.
‘My father is dying,’ she said. ‘And I don’t know what to feel.’
‘He is your father.’
‘Yes. I hope he makes it.’
‘I can’t live without you, Riya,’ I said, or rather, blurted out, She
turned to me.
‘Not again.’
‘Sorry,’ I said.
I turned the other way. Girls have no idea how much it hurts when
our love is rejected. Yet, men are expected to keep trying and take hits
all the time.
She held my hand. I pulled it away. Be a man, they say. Well, it
sucks to be a man sometimes.
‘Stop sulking,Your Majesty,’ she said.
‘One kiss,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘Just one kiss. After that I promise we will be friends. Just friends.'
‘How does that work?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t get that one kiss out of my head. I need to
know I mean something to you. I understand your situation—the
divorce, your dad and your job. I won't expect anything. I will let you
be. I will be a friend and value you as one. But just one kiss.'
She applauded.
‘What?’
‘You said that entire thing in English. Oh my God, Madhav.’
For a moment I forgot about the kiss. I reflected upon my
achievement.
‘I really did,’ I said, surprised.
‘Awesome,’ she said.
I returned to reality.
‘So, yes, one kiss.’
‘But...’
‘Shh...’ I said and kept my hand on her mouth. I came forward and
kissed my fingers placed on her lips. Her eyes blinked in surprise.
I removed my fingers. My lips landed on hers. We had kissed
exactly three years, four months and eleven days ago. She put her arms
around me as if to keep her balance.The kiss was light at first, and
then picked up intensity. Frogs croaked, crickets chirped and the
breeze soared as Dumraon’s night sky witnessed Bihar’s, if not the
world’s, best kiss ever.
She buried her face in my shoulder. More than kisses, I could tell
she wanted to be held, as if she had not hugged anyone in a really long
time.
I held her tighter, landing kisses wherever I could, on her face,
neck, lips. After a minute, or maybe an hour, she stirred.
‘That lasted a while,’ she said.
‘Still counts as one kiss. Was it nice?’ I said.
‘Madhav.’
'What?'
‘You said one kiss. Not one kiss, then an in-depth discussion on
the quality of the kiss, or what did the kiss mean, or can we do this
again or let’s get carried away. I did it for you. So you know you mean
something. But please don’t discuss mention or bring this up ever
again.’
I looked at her, shocked. How can you brush aside the most
incredible kiss in the state, possibly the world, without even a basic
review? But I said,‘Fine,’
‘Sit up,’ she said. She sat cross-legged on the charpoy. I faced her,
but I moved far enough so she wouldn’t feel I could strike again.
She smiled at me.
‘What?’
‘It was nice,’ she said.
‘What was?’
‘What we just did.’
‘We sat up cross-legged. That was nice?’ I said.
‘Yes,’ she said and laughed. ‘It was wonderful how we sat up.
Wow. You sit pretty well.’
‘We have sat before.’
‘This was a different league. Guess maturity makes a man better,’
she said, ‘at.. .sitting.’
We laughed. I wanted to touch her, if only to touch my fingertips to
hers, but didn’t. I couldn’t believe we had kissed again. We chatted
about old classmates of ours. We had lost touch with most of them, but
tried to update each other with our limited information, Twenty
minutes later, she coughed. Once, twice and then five more times.
'You okay?’
‘Yeah, it is a little cold,' she said and went into a coughing fit.
‘I’ll get water.’
I ran downstairs to my room. I came back with a bottle of water.
She lay down on the charpoy, right hand on her forehead.
‘You’re not well, Riya?' I said.
She coughed again, sat up and had some water.
I touched her forehead.
'You don't have fever,' I said,
'I'm exhausted, l guess.'
‘Did I stress you out?’ I said. I felt guilty about kissing her.
‘No. I should just go rest.'
She had a coughing fit again, this time more violent.
I helped her stand up and escorted her to the guestroom, ‘Will you
be okay? You want someone here?' I said, She smiled, ‘Nice try, sir.
But I will be just fine,' she said, ‘I didn't mean that. I could wake up
Ma,' ‘No, no, please. I need sleep, that's all. We are going to the school
tomorrow, right?'
'If you’re feeling better.’
‘I’ll be okay. Goodnight, Madhav,’ she said.
‘Goodnight, Riya,’ I said, not wanting to leave.
'Thanks for taking care of me,’ she said, her voice sleepy.
She shut the door. I came back to my room. As I lay in my bed, I
touched my lips. I thought about our magnificent lip-lock under the
stars.
'I love you, Riya Somani,’ I whispered before I drifted off to sleep.
0 comments:
Post a Comment