‘Hey baby, I was missing you so much, I was just about to message you,’ I said after picking up her call.
‘Why was your phone busy?’ she probed.
‘I was talking to Karan,’ I replied, my words didn’t sound too convincing.
‘No, YOU WERE NOT, it’s his birthday and you still haven’t wished him, I just wished him.’
I’m fucked, I don’t know whether I was right or wrong in lying, but I am totally fucked. Well I have understood one thing, Pooja has an inbuilt 6th sense and her antenna only catches my thoughts which don’t include her. That’s why she keeps such long luscious hair, so to keep those antennas hidden under them. Why I had to lie, I cursed myself. Though my brain had shut down, I tried hard to come up with some excuses.
‘Hello, are you still there?’ she asked, seeming infuriated with my silence. This has got to be the most awkward silence one could think of. It was a kind of silence when you are confronted with an unexpected pregnancy. ‘You fucked and now you will be fucked. I have to say something, I said to myself. But somehow I have lost the ability to speak the English language. There are 26 alphabets, joining those makes’ millions of words. However my brain and my tongue together couldn’t form one single word.
I suddenly had an idea, which was ironical as the light in the kitchen blew a fuse. Ideally it should have lightened up, but oh will that was the level of insanity in my plan. I disconnected the call, waited for few seconds and called her again. I knew she would instantly try to call me back and the line would be busy. Fortunately for me, I was right; line was busy, and now I had to think up something to say. I had three options, tell the truth, or lie my ass off and a third option, which I thought would be the solution just that I was not able to come up with it.
My phone started to ring again, and just to show my eagerness I picked it up in one ring, though I was not able to make my decision. I quickly said, ‘hey I was not able to hear your voice, there must have been a network problem.’ The decision was made, and I was going to lie. I think any man in my place would have done the same thing. We are tender creatures who practice nonviolence and often we get scared of women when they get angry at us. We are not able to take the scorn of women and thus we try to avoid it by lying. The thing is we are like those puppy dogs that hide under the couch after breaking something.
Her voice hinted her fixated views as she came directly to the point and asked to whom I was talking to. There was a great urge to tell her everything. Somehow to my better judgment, telling the truth was not something I fancied at that time. If our relationship was a peaceful town, telling the truth would be the hurricane Katrina.
‘Are, people were calling to wish me Christmas, noting else baby.’ This was the best excuse one can give on a holiday season. ‘I just didn’t want you to get angry, that’s why I said it was Karan’s call. I tried to sound as convincing as I could; I spoke like a lawyer giving his final argument. I pushed the phone deep in my ear to listen whether my words have left a mark or a scar. The only way I was able to lie without hesitation was because I figured my dishonesty was based on a good intention.
After few minutes of silence I asked, ‘how come you are able to call me this late-,’ next thing I knew the phone was disconnected. Now I was worried, my Sherlock brain concluded that Sagar must have told her about the marriage. Whatever may be the case, I had to call and ask about the abrupt hang up. I called her many times, but she kept disconnecting the call, and then she switched off her mobile phone. I was regretting my decision, and started questioning my reasoning for lying. After sometime, I tried to call her again, but each time the robotic voice would give me the same reply.
My Christmas keeps getting better, first the news, now this. I don’t quite remember when I fell asleep, but when I woke up, it was eleven in the morning. I checked my phone and it had some mails and other stuff, but not a single call or message from her. I called her again and still her cell phone was switched off. So I called up Sagar and asked him, if they both had any conversation. Sagar had not talked to her, which made my head spin even more. Now I didn’t know why she was acting so erratic. This mental stress is surely going to make me bald.
I had started imagining everything that could have happened. I tried to remain positive, yet positive thoughts were hard to find in the mist of negativity. In this state of despair I was contemplating calling her parents to ask as to what has happened. I kept wishing that she would call back, as I didn’t want to talk to them. I conjured up courage and started searching for her mom’s number. I found it, and those ten digits were like a mirror which was showing me my horrified face.
The bell rang. I was glad it did. I wanted any excuse not to call her mother. I opened the door and to my surprise, Pooja was standing there. She had tears in her eyes and looked like she didn’t sleep all night. Nevertheless, she still looked beautiful. I hugged her and she grabbed me even harder. Her embrace made my eyes a little wet. We kept standing at the door for a time which looked like an hour. I just didn’t want to let her go.
She came inside and I quickly brought her some water. She was still sobbing. I couldn’t look at her. Maybe it was my guilt, but I wanted her to stop crying. I asked her what happened. She didn’t reply. I sat beside her and held her tightly. She buried her head in my chest. I rested my chin on her head as I took in her essence; her mesmerizing scent was the same. This was the main reason I loved hugging her, I loved her aura, it made me forget about everything and get lost in her. She was crying, and her eyes had swollen up, yet all I could think of how happy I was that she was back. All my doubts had been eradicated with her sitting next to me, I really loved her.
I asked her again as to what has made her so teary. I started to fear the worst, maybe someone in her family died. She looked at me with those teary eyes and said, ‘My parents want me to get married, they have a guy chosen, he was going to come tomorrow’.
To be continued. . .