Nov’13
1. Study for IIFT.
2. 14th Nov – Drums
3. 15th Nov – Octopads
4. Open Demat Account.
5. Start PD Classes.
Dec’13
….
….
“Ah! This is so boring!” exclaimed Sush.
She flipped back 2-3 pages and opened to the page I had scribbled in black. My eyes widened in both fear and excitement.
“Don’t read that part!” I cried in an alarming tone.
“And why shouldn’t I Nanduuu…” she said stressing on the last syllable.
My pseudonym sounded so sweet when she made that sound rounding her lips.
“I won’t like it Sushmiii,” I said answering her alike.
“Ooo I see…what have you written on this page?” said Sush, imitating a curious teenager.
“It’s our story in bits and pieces,” I replied.
“Ohkay!…and what’s before it?”
“It’s mainly my story from 1st year of college to job to you…to us,” I added, one thing to another.
She flipped open to the page titled ‘1st Year’.
These things don’t count
But time and again it reminds me…
…
…
Of the late night chats
The birthday hats
…
…
The full-moon and the stars
And chocolates ‘n’ cookie jars.
“Fuck! You are a nice poet man!” she said pacing her finger fast, skimming through the lines.
“Who is this Shreya you have talked about?” she continued.
“Ah! I had a crush on her…back in high school. I met her in Doon club and was enthralled by her beauty…and curly hair of course!” I recalled.
“Did she like you?” Sush said, narrowing her eyes.
“She said so. But it never seemed that way. We used to talk but then she suddenly disappeared.”
“You never tried to contact her back?”
“No, I got busy with my debates and other sundry interests.” I chuckled.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t stalk your first crush, you liar!” she shouted.
“I didn’t,” I said softly, just to ensure that she kept her voice at same levels.
“I DONT trust you… AT ALL!” Sush hooted, defying all my attempts to hush her.
“Let’s see what this loser has written next.”
Today is that tomorrow which you thought about yesterday!
“Now, who has quoted this? Einstein?” she suggested. Her sarcasm was obvious. Clearly, she did not expect to read these sorts of things in my diary. Even worse, she was not allowed to read ‘Our Story’.
“I don’t know. I overheard it in a conversation at the library, in college.”
Do daily and hourly your duty…
…
…
– James H. Aughey
“Blah blah blah!” she said in a monotonous tone.
“Wrong section I guess?” I indicated feebly.
“You are hopeless!” she snapped back.
“Yeah…just skip 20 pages.”
1st March ’11…she got committed. It feels like someone has snatched my Toti from me.
“Who’s Toti now?” Sush demanded.
“Won’t tell you,” I said shaking my head.
“Why?”
“I don’t have answers to all your questions!” I retorted.
I hung my head. She had touched the wrong nerve.
14th April ’11…I want to be a billionaire and get listed in Forbes magazine.
“Hmm…do you really think you’ll get listed in Forbes?” she questioned doubtingly.
“It’s my dream and I am sure it will come true,” I said reflecting a shine in my eyes.
“Then how much will I be the owner of? Tell me…” she asked eagerly.
“I can already claim to be a future millionaire at least…can’t I?” Sushmita giggled.
I kept silent. When you have no answers, you keep silent. Whenever, I think of silence, I remember our P.M. Dr. Manmohan Singh. I am sure even he doesn’t have answers to many things. Thus, he maintains tacitness.
“Oye! Tell me…” said Sush, her voice wavering this time.
“I don’t know Sush. I am too ambitious. I don’t know how long we’ll be together…how long I will stay in Odisha…how often I will come to Vizag, just to see you.” I explained my predicament.
“Take me along wherever you go,” she snivelled.
“Don’t kid yaar…I am serious. In another 2-3 years you’ll be married off. I still need another 7 years at least to be successful, to be me.” I stated bluntly.
“We can be successful…” she suggested hopelessly.
“I don’t know…you distract me…A LOT,” I said, distracted by her childlike face once again.
She closed my diary and thrust it in my hands and made off in the other direction.
I watched her go. I let her go. I knew she would come back. She didn’t turn and headed straight towards her parked car. She had made her mind; there was no stopping her. Still, I sprinted on my joggers to stop her.
“Sushmi! Wait…please…” I puffed breathlessly. She had tears rolling down her eyes. The kohl-blended tears trickled down her chin to the ground.
“You are no one…no one to stop me!” she croaked. “Here take your jacket. I don’t need it.” she said, pulling it off her shoulders. Her sobs continued as she moved on, maintaining her pace.
“Sushmi please…”
“Don’t call me that!” she screamed back. She opened her car door with a jerk and tried to get in. I stood in between, preventing her from entering. With a final outburst of tears she fisted 5-6 heavy punches on my chest.
“Don’t try to stop me or I’ll call the police!” she threatened. I gave way and begged her to listen to me. Tugging the car door shut, she sped off and in a few seconds all I could see were the rear lights of her Swift. Even in this serious moment, I couldn’t help remembering this new Swift ad…’We the Swift, Swift and Shout’. It is funny but ‘a good sense of humour’ seems to mock back at us sometimes, even when we do not want him too.
I waited there motionless. I was confused and still replaying the last 10 minutes over and over again, in my head.
Was she angry at me for not letting her read ‘our part’ of the diary? Was she jealous of Shreya or curious about Toti…did the billionaire thing trigger it…I don’t know. I can’t even call her, I know she won’t pick it up. I returned back to my cousin’s Navy apartment. We had a hearty dinner. I have always had a good appetite and good food makes a good day for me. But now I realised that a hearty dinner cannot fix a broken heart. We slept at 11 p.m. after watching a movie on TV. At 2 a.m. in the night, I suddenly woke up. I couldn’t sleep. Grabbing my phone, I typed hysterically…‘I am sorry baby. I love you.’
“Nandu delete the last line. Don’t mess things up!” my inner voice said. Touching the backspace key 10 times I pressed the send button.
To be continued…
Nandu speaks 