I awoke feeling groggy, even as the clock struck 11 in the morning. My eyes, burdened by the weight of sleep, hinted at a prolonged journey through the landscapes of a captivating dream. It took me an additional half-hour to shake off the remnants of slumber, my body registering a subtle ache from the previous night's exertion. Yet, my spirit remained resilient and invigorated.
In the haze of awakening, I discovered my mobile phone lying beside me, bearing the traces of a partially composed write-up in a WhatsApp chat with the girl who had shared a delightful dinner with me the previous night.
The mere thought of her brought a smile to my face. A fleeting image of her beautiful face flashed before my eyes, instantly brightening my mood.
Manish, my close friend from my graduation days, had already left for his office and was expected to return in the afternoon. The apartment, nestled just behind the Amanora Mall, served as his home. Having met him during my time in Amravati, I was familiar with all his flatmates, who hailed from the same district.
My last visit to this place was at the end of June this year. Although Manish was absent from the flat, the camaraderie with his flatmates alleviated any discomfort. My mind, however, remained preoccupied with the delightful memories of the night before, rendering any absence or inconvenience inconsequential.
The flat, admittedly not luxurious, didn't meet high standards, but these guys had no lofty expectations. They found comfort and contentment within its modest confines, and, crucially, the rent was within their budget—just 13k rupees a month for a 2 BHK flat equipped with essentials like a washing machine, water filter, gas connection, and a fridge, generously provided by the owner. Despite the plain walls and less-than-ideal condition, these young men from small towns considered it a significant find in a new, bustling city. Their ability to find joy in simplicity intrigued me; their happiness seemed to surpass mine, despite having less than what I have.
Contrastingly, the accommodation of the girl I had dinner with last night was comparatively posh. Yet, there lingered a sense that she didn't view it as good as it should be. Life often subjects us to judgments based on social status, possessions, and the elegance of our homes. I wish I could convey to her that I don't gauge a person by such material metrics, but rather by their character and conduct. Was she really concerned that I would judge her for her unfurnished flat? Or should I just tell her that I see paradise in her smile?
While immersed in her thoughts, my phone rang, and it was my mother on the line.
"Hey, mumma," I chimed in with a touch of childlike exuberance.
"How are you?" she asked, her voice radiating delight.
"Me?" I sighed. "Happy."
"That's a rare answer from you," she teased, laughing. She had already sensed the reason behind her son's happiness. "How was your dinner last night?" she inquired, gently prodding.
Attempting not to blush, I confessed, "She is so pretty, mom."
Her laughter echoed with delight. Finally, her son seemed to be acting his age, a departure from the gloomy demeanor she had witnessed over the past three years—an existence marked by detachment and seclusion.
"And you know what?" I continued, recounting the details of my dinner. "I jokingly made a deal with her that if we met, and I didn't like her, we'd split the bill and go our separate ways."
"So, did you split the bill?" Her question held an undertone of curiosity.
"I paid the full bill, mother," I chuckled, attempting to conceal my shyness.
Her laughter echoed through the phone, a sound that genuinely delighted her. "I am just so happy that you had this kind of moment in your life. She's the same girl you talked about last time, right?"
"Yes," I confirmed, a flush of thrill evident in my voice.
"Are you planning to see her again?" she asked.
"Well, I intend to. That's why I extended my stay in Pune for another two days. I was supposed to leave today, but now I'll leave on Sunday." I felt a sense of relief, sharing these details with her as if she were my best friend, marveling at the changes in our relationship.
She, too, felt relieved. Finally, her son was emerging from the darkness he had been enveloped in. Though she felt a multitude of emotions, all she could articulate was, "Spend time with your friend Manish too."
"Of course, mother, Manya is my darling," I replied with enthusiasm. She knew well about the strong bond between me and Manish. He was the friend who stood by me during graduation, the one who loved me like a brother. Assured of my time in Pune, she wished us well and hung up the phone.
The rest of my Friday unfolded in a rather meandering manner. I found myself assigned to the last available bedroom. These individuals, originally Manish's friends but now becoming my own, exhibited such kindness that it prompted a reconsideration of my outlook on people. Typically prone to annoyance, I marveled at how they embraced me into their home, treating me as one of their own and generously sharing their food. Their hospitality painted a picture of wealth that transcended material possessions.
My afternoon was dedicated to the bedroom, where I concluded the write-up initiated in her WhatsApp chat. Without my laptop, left behind in Mumbai, I had intended to return there today, yet an unexpected reluctance held me back. The reason, perhaps, was becoming clearer – because of her.
The lingering memories from the previous night still held me in their sway. To overcome the hangover of emotions, I resorted to writing, penning down long paragraphs detailing my wild, silly, and at times insecure sentiments. Most significantly, my words flowed on the sheer beauty I found in her and how even the smallest aspects of her personality won my instant approval.
Lost in this writing process, I forgot about lunch. As Manish returned home, we shared our meal and engaged in our customary conversations about the good old days. Those days when we pondered the future, envisioning the prospect of better times.
Having indulged in laughter and a delightful meal served with warmth by my friends, I found myself back in the room, engrossed in capturing my unspoken thoughts from the previous night. After a while, Manish joined me.
"What are you typing with such intensity? Chatting with some girl, perhaps?" he inquired, his usual curiosity evident as he regarded me as his brotherly friend.
"Yup! Chubby Cheeks," I chuckled, enjoying my own humor. He remained perplexed but pleased to witness my happiness about something beyond his comprehension.
I continued the conversation, "Actually, I'm writing about last night's dinner..."
"Date?" Manish interjected.
I narrowed one eye and adopted a thoughtful expression on my slightly silly face. "Um, I don't think it was a date. Just a dinner, you know."
"And how many dinners have you been on in the last three years? Or ever, for that matter," Manish teased.
"Um, none," I admitted, accompanied by even sillier expressions.
"To my surprise, you entertained some girl, which is, in fact, a silver lining for me. Finally, some semblance of hope for my sad friend," Manish remarked.
I narrowed my eye even more and responded, "Not sure if that was praise or a nag."
"Praise with a nag, but followed by lots of love and care," Manish clarified.
"I love you," I said.
"Are you saying that to me or to the girl you're writing that long message to?" Manish laughed at his own nag.
Feeling a little embarrassed, I confessed, "Well, I said that to you," and then attempted to finish my sentence in the ongoing write-up.
"Come on, tell me something about her," he requested with excitement and burning curiosity.
With a bright smile and sparkling eyes of joy, I answered him, "I like her, Manish. I like this girl."
"Yee Baaaaat! Finally," he almost screamed with happiness.
I shot him a narrowed eyes look. "What do you mean by 'Finally'?"
"Finally, that there is a semblance of hope in you for happiness," he chuckled.
"Again, not sure if it's praise or a nag."
"Well, you know, a praise..."
"With a nag, yeah. I know," I said, feeling partially annoyed. Manish relished a heartfelt laugh at my expense.
I picked up my phone again and started to compose some final lines.
"What are you writing for her though?" he wondered.
"Would you like to read it?" I asked, looking at my mobile screen.
"This shouldn't even be a question. I'd definitely read," he asserted confidently.
"So give me some time; I am finishing the final part," and I got busy with my writing, while he passed the time by surfing the internet on his phone. After half an hour, I completed the entire write-up and handed over my mobile phone to Manish, who eagerly began to read.
Uncertain of whether he would appreciate or even comprehend my write-up, I was pleasantly surprised when Manish exceeded my expectations. The first glimpse of him laughing while reading my composition caught my attention.
"What?" I inquired, curious about his reaction. Was there something absurd in my writing? He continued to laugh. "Come on, tell me," I urged, consumed by curiosity.
He pointed to a particular line, making an effort to talk more and laugh less. "This line here. 'Her cheeks are what I'm already in love with, those cute chubby cheeks. Sometimes I feel like eating them like muffins.'" He burst into laughter again. "You want to eat her cheeks?"
"Well, I find them incredibly cute. I feel like kissing and biting them, duh." I expressed a mix of partial annoyance and embarrassment.
Manish returned to reading the write-up, alternating between laughter and expressions of admiration. I felt reassured that whatever I had penned was resonating positively with him. However, the most gratifying response came after he finished reading.
"I loved it," Manish declared.
"Really?" I remained uncertain, noticing a hint of annoyance on his face.
"Despite being a phlegmatic boy, I find myself romantically involved in this write-up. She would be thrilled to read this. I'm sure even if she's heartless, she'd feel a thousand things while reading this. And will definitely say to you that nobody has ever written this much for her."
"You really think so?" I sought reassurance with a fragile need.
With unwavering confidence, he replied, "I know so."
"Thanks, man." His steadfast support and confidence touched me deeply.
"Did she read it yet?" he inquired.
"No. I told her to read it only once I'm done sending her the last part."
"And you just finished the last part," Manish said, seeking confirmation if there was more to come.
"Yes. Now waiting for her reply only."
"Remember my words for what her reply would be," he boasted, then proceeded to the next room to answer a phone call from his boss at the bank. Afterward, he headed to the bank to complete his remaining work. Meanwhile, I found solace in music, awaiting her reply. The clock read 6:30 in the evening, marking one of the slowest and dullest parts of my time here in Pune.
I checked my phone incessantly, each passing minute heightening the anticipation for a message from the person I eagerly awaited. Despite attempting to lay on my stomach and drift into sleep, her thoughts lingered in my mind, preventing any semblance of rest.
At 8:22 p.m., a text finally arrived: "Nobody has written this much about me in a night." It was from her. She had taken a moment to check her phone once her work was done and had returned to her flat.
The joy induced by her text was quickly replaced by a sense of unease. What next? This thought nagged at me. I hadn't informed her yet that I was still in Pune, with plans to spend time with her tomorrow.
Despite dinner being served, my hunger persisted. It wasn't the fault of the food but rather my own disposition. My mind was preoccupied with concerns about how to convey that I was still in the city. Would she genuinely want to spend time with me again? Although she expressed curiosity about our next meeting, isn't that something girls commonly say? Would she truly be interested?
Observing my sullen demeanor, Manish had already discerned the source of my distress. After dinner, he took me out for a bike ride in an effort to lift my spirits.
We headed towards Koregaon Park, with Manish behind the wheel and me unusually silent in the back seat. Suddenly, Manish broke the silence, pointing to women on the footpath, "These are all prostitutes."
Startled, I looked around to see a few women with heavy makeup, evoking a mixture of disgust and pity. "They could give you a blow job," he chuckled. "I would pay them for that."
I closed my eyes briefly, shaking my head in dismay. "Just drive the bike, okay."
Manish probed, "Why the long face?"
"I'm just lost in thoughts," I replied.
"Lost in worry," he added.
I remained silent. Yes, I was worried. What if she refused to meet me tomorrow? The fear of rejection paralyzed me, preventing me from making that call to avoid potential disapproval.
As we passed Westin Hotel and entered Koregaon Park, the atmosphere changed. This part of the city was youth-friendly, with numerous pubs, cafes, restaurants, and hangout spots—a hub for the city's elegant society.
Manish attempted to distract me, pointing at women passing by. "Look at all these hot chicks."
"These aren't the chicks I want to see," I retorted with annoyance.
"What would cheer up your mood, then?" Manish inquired.
In my mind, I thought, I just want to see my Chubby Cheeks.
"Let's call her. I'll stop the bike at the next intersection," Manish suggested, and soon we pulled over.
I retrieved my phone and dialed her number. It was 10:13 p.m., a time that seemed appropriate for a call—neither too late nor too early. The phone rang persistently, and on the second attempt, she finally answered.
"Hey," I greeted hesitantly.
"Hello, what's up, Mr. Writer?" she responded with a seductive voice, at least that's how I perceived it.
"Hey, I just... I mean... how are you?"
"I'm good," she replied casually. "What's up?"
"Nothing, just out with my friends," she mentioned.
"Oh," I paused for a moment. "Well, I was wondering, I mean, I just wanted to tell... that... that..."
"That?"
"That I am still here, in Pune, and I was wondering if you could... I mean... we could meet... you know... tomorrow?"
"Well, right now, I am with my friends, and there seems to be a situation that they might be making some plans, so..."
"Oh, right, yeah... I understand." Disappointment settled in; it appeared she had other plans, and I wasn't a priority.
"Or, you know what? I'll let you know tomorrow around... um... 1 p.m.?"
"1 p.m.? Yeah, that would be great." Inside, I wished she could have decided sooner. I wanted to spend as much time with her as possible.
"Okay then, bye."
"Yeah... bye." I closed my eyes in disappointment. What was I thinking? Did I assume she would feel the same way in our first meeting? Was I expecting her to prioritize seeing me above everything else?
Feeling embarrassed, I glanced at Manish, who had overheard the conversation. He gestured for me to sit on the bike and attempted to distract me with other beautiful faces.
"I'll take the reverse route; we'll go back to see some chicks."
I wasn't really in the mood, but I yearned to see that one face from last night. "I'll leave for Mumbai tomorrow," I announced with dejection.
"An ambiguous rejection from that one girl is affecting your choice. At least stay here for me; we'll go out tomorrow night..."
"And do what? Watch these drunk chicks?"
"You just want to see her, don't you?" Manish observed.
"Yeah," I admitted without much thought. As we turned at an intersection to return to our flat, my eyes caught a familiar face, and I was stunned.
"Shit," I almost screamed.
"What happened?" asked Manish.
"It's her."
"Who?"
"The girl with whom I had gone for dinner."
"Really?" Manish looked behind.
"Watch out, you idiot!" I feared he might hit a pedestrian.
"Let's say hi to her."
"No! Are you mad or what?"
"What happened?" Manish asked innocently.
"It wouldn't look good."
"Why wouldn't it?"
"She would think I am stalking her."
"But this is a pure happenstance."
"I know, but she wouldn't see it like that."
"Or perhaps she would be really happy to see you, and you are the one who is not able to see the situation turning out like that?"
"I rarely meet someone who actually feels happy after meeting me," I responded.
"Are you really sure that you saw her?" Manish tried to confirm.
"Yeah, of course."
"I'll take a turn, and we would have another chance to go on the same route. And then we could see her again," suggested Manish.
I was nervous, yet I felt the temptation to see her once again. The next time we went on the same road, she was nowhere in sight.
"I think you thought of her excessively, and you mistook your thoughts for reality."
"I haven't lost the grasp over reality, Manish. I am sure that I had seen her."
"Well, you could ask her again tomorrow when you meet her," suggested Manish. I was quiet, feeling unsure about tomorrow. "At least she didn't lie to you. She was actually with her friends," he added.
- The End of Night 2 -
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