Episode _ 2

‘Shut up and don’t distract me,’she said. I could sense her smiling even as she pretended

to be angry.

‘I am done,’she said.

The bags and suitcases were done, the wardrobes were empty, the toiletries and the shoes

had been packed, the utensils had been washed and the flat now looked habitable; it also

stank less somehow.

‘So, we leave now?’ I asked.

‘In a while,’she said. ‘Let me catch some breath first.’ She flopped down beside me.

‘You’re by far the dirtiest boy I have ever seen.’ She breathed heavily.

I leaned in to kiss her but she slapped me away. ‘Your mouth stinks of dead rat. Did you

even brush today?’ She scowled.

‘I did!’

‘You still smell like shit.’ She laughed.

‘Why don’t you simply say you don’t want to kiss me?’

‘Didn’t I do that just this morning?’

She pulled me by the collar and planted a long one on my lips. And as it happened every

time, bolts of electricity ran through my spine as she pulled me deeper inside her mouth. Her

sweet lips and rampaging tongue turned my world upside down every time they touched

mine. She let me go while she still stared into my eyes.

‘You taste terrible.’

‘But you seem to like it.’

‘I love it.’

The plan to Goa was cancelled, like every other plan. There was never a better plan than

just being in her arms. She told me that she was tired and I told her that we should just hug

each other, sleep and not leave the bed for the next five days. Avantika nodded like a little

child and buried her head into my chest.

‘So we are not going anywhere then, are we?’she asked, her eyes twinkling.

‘Does it look like we are going?’

‘Are we just sleeping?’she asked.

‘Yes,’ I said and made her lie down on a pillow.

‘Where are you going? I need someone to hug,’she said adorably and my heart melted in

unrecognizable blobs.

‘I will just come.’

‘Okay,’she said, rubbed her face on the pillow, closed her eyes and smiled.

I took a mental note—burn the pillow, she loves it. I returned with a ring I had bought for

her with the stipend of our first months’ internship. My friends advised me against getting

her a ring because of the obvious symbolic connotations of buying a girl a ring, but I

couldn’t care less. If anything, I bought the ring for its symbolic connotations.

‘Come here. I missed you already,’she said and pulled me inside the quilt, ‘and go

nowhere.’ She kissed me.

‘I am not going anywhere.’ I kissed her back. ‘I have something for you.’

‘I want it if it is a long hug.’

‘That too,’ I said and fished it out of my pocket. ‘This is for you.’

‘What is?’she paused and took the little red box in her hand. She gingerly opened the box

as if she would break it. ‘Oh! This is beautiful, this is so beautiful!’she exclaimed, running

her fingers over the tiny stone studded in a gold ring. ‘Thank you so much, baby! Won’t you

help me wear it?’she asked.

Nervously, I slipped it on her ring finger, not worrying about what she would think I

meant.

‘I didn’t know you had any taste in junk jewellery,’she nudged me.

Junk jewellery? Maybe I should have listened to my friends and not trusted my terrible

taste in jewellery. I kept shut.

‘Deb?’she said as I stared blankly at the ring, which had seemed beautiful to me when I

bought it, but now looked awful. Why? It looked all right before. Even the over-eager

salesgirl had said I had brilliant taste and that my girl would be very happy. Liar, I thought.

Scumbag, I thought.

‘This is real,’ I said. ‘It’s not junk.’

‘Real, as in?’she asked, a little puzzled.

‘This is real gold, and this is a real stone. I got it from a nice place,’ I said, dejected.

‘Even the salesgirl told me that I had made a great choice. Is it that bad?’ It almost never

happens, but I was, like, teary eyed.

‘Don’t tell me. This …’she looked surprised. ‘It is really nice.’

‘You don’t have to lie now. You just said it. Never mind, it is for you. You can get it

changed if you want to,’ I said, trying not to sound low. I added, ‘I have the receipt, and if

you see the salesgirl, smack her for me. That lowlife.’

‘Deb? Are you crying?’she asked. ‘Are you?’

‘Me? No! No, not at all. Why? Why would I cry?’ I asked.

‘Aw! That’s adorable.’ She looked at me like I was a puppy run over by a minivan. ‘I

could tell you the item code of this ring, Deb. I know it’s real. I was just joking! And I,

absolutely, LOVE it!’

‘I positively hate you,’ I grumbled. The useless tear streaked down my cheek, washing

away my masculinity.

‘No, you don’t hate me,’she responded. ‘You wouldn’t have given me this ring. Deb, this

is very expensive.’

‘Money’s never an issue,’ I said, my head held high in mock arrogance.

‘I would just hate to marry a guy with no bank balance!’

‘Marry?’ I asked her. ‘How many times do I have to say it is just lust?’

She snuggled up to me and whispered, ‘For all the macho shit you pull on me, Deb,

you’re like a little child inside. You’re like a soft toy with extra testosterone.’

‘That has to go down in history as the strangest compliment, ever,’ I answered.

‘I know,’she said, closed her eyes and rested her head on my arm. ‘You smell nice.’

She wrapped her arms around me and purred.

5

It was late evening when we woke up amidst the packed suitcases and nowhere to go. I was

hungry, but too lethargic to reach out to the phone and call for food. Avantika’s eyes were

still closed, her lips quivering, half-awake, half-asleep. ‘What do you want to do for the

next three days, baby?’ I asked her.

‘Don’t disturb me, let me finish the dream,’she said and turned away from me.

‘It’s not a dream if you are awake,’ I said and she punched me. I waited for five minutes;

her closed eyes fluttered and her lips curved into a small smile.

‘What was the dream all about?’

‘Nothing much, the usual,’she said.

‘Either you don’t tell me such things or if you do, complete them! Tell me what the dream

was about?’

‘Umm … we were … you know … kind of getting married,’she murmured. I was

pleasantly shocked and infinitely happy that she, too, thought about the idea.

‘So where was the wedding?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Who all were there?’

‘I don’t know,’she said. ‘All I know is that it was a wonderful feeling. You were there.

There was me, and a lot of flowers. There were promises and the vows that we would

always be together. Your parents were there too.’

‘And yours?’

She didn’t answer. It had been a year since she last talked to her parents—conservative

idiots—and they had called her a disgrace since she was overage, unmarried and was

dating somebody. For them, she was a commodity to be married off in a family that would

accentuate their name, and more importantly, their business. She hadn’t seen much of them

since she started working.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, finding nothing to add to her wedding dream. ‘Hey, do you still want to

go to Goa?’

‘Nah, I just realized after two months of office that all I want is to stretch and relax,’she

said.

‘Umm … Aparna Di called when you were asleep. We can go to her place,’ I said,

wanting to cheer her up. ‘It will be a change.’

Aparna was my crazy elder sister who got married a couple of years ago, and she knew

about Avantika and me. There were more than a few reasons for me to believe she was fonder of Avantika. They had met just a couple of times but there was an undeniable mutual

liking between them.

‘She called me, too, in the morning. But I didn’t give it a thought because we were going

to Goa. Yes, we can. That would be nice.’

‘You want to go?’ I asked her.

‘I would love to go. It’s been like ages since I met her. And she has been asking for so

long to meet up,’she said.

‘That is probably because Arnab is out on a tour and she has nothing better to do.’

‘Shut up! She just likes me so much,’she said. ‘And you are just jealous that she likes me

better.’

‘Oh, please! Keep me out of such TV-soap-opera-type feelings!’

She laughed. ‘So when do we leave?’she asked.

‘Let us leave tomorrow.’

‘Check the bus timings?’

‘As you say,’ I said, like a puppy would. ‘The last thing I would do is try to argue with

someone as pretty as you.’

‘Men are not meant to win arguments,’she said.

‘Yes, they are not.’

‘I am so excited to see her,’she said, clutching my hand.

We took the next available bus to Pune, which wasn’t until the next day. Aparna Di had

been living in Pune since she got married and I had not seen her in the longest time. She had

settled into the role of a wife more comfortably than I had imagined; she had been a problem

child for all her life, spoilt and loved and boisterous and outgoing.

‘Why? I have spent eighteen years with her and let me tell you, she is boring.’

‘Did I ask you anything?’she said.

‘By the way, Kabir called when you were loading your baggage. He wanted to know our

plans for the day. I told him we are going to Pune,’ I said.

‘Why didn’t you give me the phone?’

‘You were busy.’

‘Oho!’she said and started tapping her phone. I was miffed at her eagerness to call Kabir

back, the self-satisfied bastard. Luckily enough, the call didn’t connect.

‘You seem to be pissed,’she said and smiled.

‘You know why. I don’t like the guy. He’s just … I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘No, let’s talk about it.’

‘I don’t want to. It is better that we don’t talk about a guy who is probably better than me

in every sense and likes my girlfriend.’

Being with Avantika was a constant battle; the feeling of insecurity never went away. I

was just an average-looking guy with strange hair and a patch of beard on my chin. I didn’t

deserve a second look or a second date. Avantika always told me that she liked my dimple, but people usually missed it. No one, absolutely no one and that includes my mother, found

me cute.

‘He doesn’t like me,’ Avantika said.

‘But he is better, right?’

‘He is not better for me.’

‘But he is better. If you were not with me, he would be your obvious choice. Or someone

like him.’

Why couldn’t she just lie that I was better! I never said Malini had better hair, or wore

better shoes. It wasn’t true, but still I wouldn’t have said it even if it were true.

‘Deb, if I were not with you it would not matter. But I am with you and for me, you are the

best. I would prefer a shoe from a street-side shop than a Jimmy Choo that doesn’t fit me.’

‘Firstly, it’s interesting to know that men are like shoes to you. And secondly, he’s a

Jimmy Choo and I’m a street-side shoe? What’s next? That I’m a pair of slippers and he’s a

pair of stilettos?’

‘You’re taking the analogy too far,’she growled.

‘You started it!’

‘You are making me angry now,’she said, her eyes widening to show it.

‘I’m sorry. I just don’t like the guy. He’s so good at everything he does, and he’s fucking

arrogant about it.’

She held my hand and calmed me down. ‘By the way, how do you know he likes me?’she

asked. ‘Just curious.’

‘I just know. It is evident. I have seen him look at you. He shuffles his feet and sweats and

he’s not his usual bastard self when he’s with you,’ I explained.

‘But he has a girlfriend, Deb. And that is all he talks about.’

‘So what? I can tell by the way he looks at you and drools. I don’t blame him for that,’ I

said.

‘Do you drool at other women too?’

‘I am yet to come across a girl who is half as hot as you are. And I never move around

without you. It is good for my ego to have you by my side. But yes, put Angelina Jolie with

nothing on, that might stir something more than emotions,’ I smirked.

‘Good for you. I think there is an empty seat there. I will go there and from now on you

can think of her and stir whatever you want to,’she said irritably.

‘What? Why are you being angry?’

‘I am not angry. I just want the best for you.’ She smiled and tip-toed her fingers up my

thigh. ‘So who are you thinking about now? Angelina Jolie?’she smirked.

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