Showing posts with label STORIES.... Show all posts
Showing posts with label STORIES.... Show all posts

Tuesday, January 05, 2010

A YUMMY DATE! (short story)



She stands in front of the full-length mirror and looks at herself.

She cringes a bit, for she does not like what she sees.

The jeans make her look fat.

And the tight blue top – it’s all wrong!

So she wears a loose dress – Churidar, Kurta and Dupatta – to hide her bulges.

She looks at her new high-heels – should she? They’ll make her look tall, less fat.

No. Not today.

Now it’s got to be walking shoes.


A brisk invigorating walk from Sanky tank to golf course rejuvenating her body breathing the fresh evening s breeze is what she needs to cheer her up.

She stands on the weighing machine near richie rich ice cream parlor and, with a tremor of trepidation, puts in the coin.

Lights flash.

Out comes the ticket.

She looks at it.
Same as yesterday.

And the day before.


And the day before.



No change.


She is doomed.


There is never any change in her weight or in her fortune!

Her face falls.

She’s trying so much; exercising, dieting. But it’s no use.


She looks longingly at the Softy Ice Cream counter.

There is a smart young handsome man with two Ice Cream cones, one in each hand.

He looks at her for that moment longer than necessary.

She averts her eyes, but he walks up to her and says, “Hi! How are you?”

She looks at him confused.

His face seems vaguely familiar.

“You are Sheena’s roommate, aren’t you?” he asks.

She remembers him. He is Sheena’s boyfriend!

“Here,” he says, coming close, proffering an Ice Cream cone.

She steps back awkwardly, perplexed and taken aback by the man’s audacity.

“Take it fast. It’ll melt,” he says.

She hesitates, confused.

“Come on. Don’t be shy. I know you love Ice Cream. Sheena told me.”

She takes the Ice Cream cone from his hands.

“I’m Raghav. I work in the HR department"

She doesn’t say anything.

“Let’s walk,” he says, “and hey, eat your ice cream fast before it melts”.

They start walking.


As they walk slowly out of richie rich 's towards golf course, they slowly lick the creamy yummy softy ice cream off their cones.


“You walked all the way?” he asks.



“Yes,” she speaks for the first time.



“All alone?”


“Yes.”


“You come here every evening?”


“Yes. I jog every morning too.”


“All alone?”


“No. On other days we come together.”


"We?"

"Sheena and me."


“And today?”

“Sheena’s gone out.”

“For the office party at the disc?”

“Maybe.”

“And you? Why didn't you go for the party? Didn't want to go all alone is it? No date?”




She’s furious. But she controls herself. Says nothing. No point getting on the wrong side of HR.

He notices and says, "Hey, don't get angry. I didn't go the party too."

She hastens her steps and says, “Okay. Bye. Time for me to go! And thanks for the Ice Cream.”

“No. No. Wait. Let’s have a Pizza over there,” he says pointing to the Pizzeria near golf course.

“No. Please. I’ve got to go.”

“Come on. Don’t count your calories too much. And don’t weigh yourself every day.”

“What?” she goes red with embarrassment!

This is too much!

So this guy has been stalking her - watching her every day.

Outwardly she fumes. But inside, she secretly feels a flush of excitement.

“Yes. Don’t get obsessed about your weight. Like Sheena.”

“Sheena?”

“She keeps nagging me about my weight!”

“But you’re not fat!” she says.

“Then what would you say I am?” he asks.

“Let’s say you’re on the healthier side?”

“Healthier side? That’s great!” he says amused. “Then you too are on the healthier side, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes. We both are on the healthier side.” She laughs.



He laughs.



They both laugh together.



Healthy laughter!



They sit in the cool  breeze and relish, enjoy their pizzas.

He is easy to talk to, she has much to say, and the words come tumbling out.

And so they enjoy a ‘healthy’ date.


Relishing delicious Pizzas, and other lip smacking goodies, to their hearts’ content, capping the satiating repast with the heavenly ice creams at Baskin Robbin's  nearby.

“Where were you?” Sheena asks when she returns to their room in the working women’s hostel late at night.


“I had a date.”


“You? Fatso? A date?” Sheena says disbelievingly


“Yes. A yummy date at golf course.”


“A date at golf course? Wow! Things are looking up for you yaar!”

“Yes. Things are really looking up for me. And you Sheena? How was your date?”

“The whole evening was ruined. That creep Raghav. He stood me up. He didn’t turn up at the disc and kept his mobile off.”




“Raghav?”




“You’ve met him.”



“Raghav? You’ve not introduced me to any Raghav.”



“Of course I have. He’s come here to pick me up so many times. He comes over to meet me at our office too. He works in HR.”



“Oh the guy from HR. The chap on the healthier side! That’s your darling Raghav, is it?”



“Darling? My foot!” Sheena says angrily, "Bloody ditcher, that’s what that Raghav is - how dare he stand me up - to hell with him!” Sheena mutters and goes off to sleep.



But our heroine cannot sleep.



She eagerly waits for sunrise.



For at six in the morning her newfound beau Raghav has promised to meet her on Sanky tank opposite the - for a “healthy’”jog on Sanky tank.



And they will be meeting in the evening too - at golf course- for ice cream, pizza and a yummy lovey-dovey date.



She feels happy, full of anticipation and zest.



Happiness is when you have something to look forward to.








Thursday, August 31, 2006

ANONYMITY

Even after two years of living together, she barely knew anything more about him than what she did when he first staggered into her life… She remembered the incident so clearly that it could have been just yesterday… Home after her shift at the hospital, she was heating the dinner cooked earlier that morning, when the shrill doorbell shattered the somnolent silence of the night. It had been a long and tiring day, and a friendly neighbourly visit was the last thing she wanted.

Safety chain firmly in place, she peered out to see an unfamiliar man leaning heavily against the doorjamb. “You are a nurse…” he said, rather than asked. His left hand was gripping his right arm, trying to stem the blood that oozed through his fingers, trickling slowly down the back of his hand and wrist, soaking the sleeve of his shirt already red with blood. He had noticeably lost an enormous amount of blood. Barely managing to enter the room, he collapsed.

He drifted in and out of consciousness for the next 24 hours. A total stranger, she knew nothing about him. Yet she instinctively realised that he didn’t want anyone to be called. No doctor, no neighbour, no friend. Relying on her years of experience and using all her skills, she extricated the bullet, cleaned and dressed his gaping wound...

The first night had been bad. Hot and feverish, she worried whether some infection had set in. But he looked visibly better next day. Well enough for her to go for duty, even though leaving the house with an unknown person inside did cause her a few qualms.

He stayed on for almost a week before he left one day while she was still at work. Reserved, almost to the point of being brusque, he said very little. Except for his name, she had learnt nothing more about him… his family, his home, his job.

He surfaced some weeks later as suddenly as he had disappeared. “Can I stay?” he asked. Black eyes gazed into hers, piercing her fragile resistance, plundering her thoughts, reading her mind. Her prudent head screamed at her to say no, but her defiant heart replied, “Yes…”

She had always considered herself sensible and level headed. Not someone who was foolishly attracted to a man she barely knew. And definitely not someone who even more foolishly surrendered herself completely, body and soul. But succumbing to the unthinkable, she had discovered gentleness that surprised her. Passion that set her aflame. Caresses that conveyed what he never uttered in words. Tenderness that spoke its own silent language.

She learnt to respect his secrecy. Accept the fact that he had another life that he was unwilling to share with her. Was he married? Did he have a wife? A child? What did he do? How did he earn his living? Her gentle probing came to naught. Deftly evading her questions, he divulged nothing about himself. “I care for you… nothing else is important…” was all he would reply.

He would disappear for weeks at a time, sometimes returning tired and withdrawn, sometimes elated and happy. But return he always did, picking up the threads of their relationship as if he had never been away. Till that last time, that fateful day… Tuesday, July 11 to be exact.

Seven bomb blasts in the space of eleven minutes had devastated Mumbai, creating death and mayhem. Hundreds were injured, some grievously, while more than 180 persons lost their lives… innocent men and women. Memories of the commotion and chaos at her hospital still woke her up in the middle of the night, cold and shivering. The agonising cries of pain and terror still haunted her waking hours.

She read about the unclaimed body in the newspaper. Despite herself, she had gone to that hospital, to its morgue. One part of the face was blown off completely, one side of the body mangled and destroyed. Her eyes confirmed what her heart had known. Overcome by intense pain, she turned away…

She mourned his death in the solitude of her loneliness. Nursed her anguish in the shadows of her darkened room. Prayed that his soul had finally found peace.

She didn’t even consider collecting his body. What did she have to substantiate her claim? Probably even the name she knew him by was not his real one. She didn’t want to unnecessarily open a Pandora’s box... provide a headline for the next day’s newspaper… start a new tamasha… He had lived his life in secrecy. She would let him die in anonymity…