The girl in the rain (Part 5)

Scene 13

“Yes, Mummy. I did it”, she exclaimed. “I’m proud of you gudiya. You’ve achieved what you truly deserved”, her mother shared every bit of the adrenalin rush. Fifteen minutes of happy conversation followed.

As she disconnected the call, she realized she had strolled into the balcony. She noticed the half-moon. It was close to midnight. She had called her parents and her siblings – the people who had been the pillars all her life. She looked at the dimly lit screen of her phone. Speed dials 4,5,6 and 7 had all been dialed in the last hour. It was time for speed dial 3. It was time to let him know.

The phone rang for the full duration but there was no response. She knew it never took him more than a couple of rings to pick up the phone. She called again. This time, response was brisk.

“Who is it that disturbs me at this unearthly hour?”, his baritone voice beamed, still dowsed in slumber. “Get up you lazy fellow”, she shouted. “Oh, its you”, the response indicated his sleep had vanished in a fraction of a second. “What happened?”, he asked. “Remember, I had told you about the masters program I had applied to. I got through it”, she screamed at the top of her voice, for the fifth time this evening. “Oh. That is absolutely fantastic. Congratulations. Wait a second, who had told you were going to do it when you were not prepared to even see the solutions online?”, the excitement seemed to have been teleported through the phone. She stayed mum for a few seconds. “You”, she said, an air of finality riding on the word.

“I’m coming to your town next week. Can you please look up your diary and fix up an appointment for me?”, he chuckled. “I’m sorry. All slots are already taken”, she smirked, thinking – two can play this game. “Ok, then I will meet up with all my girlfriends in the city”, he announced. “You can meet your imaginary girlfriends sitting there. Why waste time coming here?”, her onslaught was relentless. The phone went quiet. She knew he could never argue with her for long. And it gave her a strange pleasure to see the national debating champion go mum when she started to speak.

“Café Coffee Day, near my university, 11 AM”, she asserted. “Done”, he smiled. “And no need to bring your ugly umbrella along. The rains here are not as erratic as they are in your city”, she whispered into the speaker.

Scene 14

“Will you play with me?”, the boy’s voice beamed from one end of the see-saw. The community park was empty save for the two of them. The little girl wanted to pay no attention to the hideous creature. She heard him climbing down and walking towards her. She tried to act preoccupied with her doll. But this wasn’t enough to curb the uncouth. “Will you play with me?”, the boy shouted as he hovered over her head. She looked up, and declared, “No”.

“But why?”, was the boy’s injunction. The girl wanted to get rid off him. “Have you seen how fat you are? We can’t play see-saw, you idiot”, she lost her temper. She wasn’t used to playing with boys. She hated their rowdiness, their brutally physical sports and the way they were mean to each other during any game. But this boy had a unique quality about his stupidity. Not only was he coaxing her to play with him, he was well beyond shame in asking her the same question repeatedly, despite the rebuke.

“Some other game, then?”, he argued. “No. I’m not playing with you. Get lost”, she screamed and ran with her doll, towards her house.

“How about a board game?”, the boy ran behind her, undeterred, unabashed.

Scene 15

“So, what do you do Hemant?”, she asked, taking a sip from the glass. The awkward silence that had been pervading, save for the drizzle trickling off the plastic shelter covering the tea-stall, was finally broken. “Its Hiten, actually”, I corrected the lady whose attention span now seemed questionably low to me. “And I’m an investment banker”, I proceeded to answer the question, which seemed to have been born out of the urge to fill the silence, rather than any genuine curiosity.

“That’s good. And sorry about the name”, she apologized. “Never mind”, I tried not to look her in the eye. My dislike for her was beginning to grow. And seeing her appraent disinclination to divulge, I was not going to ask her about her profession or her purpose of visit to the city.

“Why are you so uncomfortable with girls?”, I could scarcely believe my ears as the words pierced through them. “What did you say?”, I lifted my head up to confront, but could not look her in the eye, still. “Yes, just like the way you cannot look me in the eye right now. Just like the way you practiced saying “Tea” ten times before you said it. Just like the way you did not proffer your overcoat the second time”

“Excuse me”, I could barely feel my throat as I spoke. “You seem like a nice person. And you are not an introvert. I could make that out from the way you talked to the tea-stall owner. Then why this change of disposition for someone else, just because she is not of the same gender”

As much as the words were chipping away on my already shattered sense of self respect, I could see some degree of veracity in them.

“How can you say all of this, having known me for all of sixty minutes?”, I tried to reason. But evidently, she seemed to be beyond all reason. “Is it untrue?”, she smiled. My silence gave me away.

Here I was, sitting half-drenched on a cold damp November night, with my conduct being put to the butcher’s table. I had lived all my life with a toothpick stuck inside my throat, which flared up everytime I interacted with a girl. And this girl seemed to have caught hold of the obstruction and was moving it about, inside me. I started sweating. In another vain rush of indiscretion, I found myself uttering,” So what do I do about it?”

“Those who matter don’t mind, and those who mind don’t matter”, she lowered her voice.