When I met her

It was already 5:30 in the evening and still she(X) was not there. Someone has truly said that Indian trains and Indian gals are very similar; none of them come on time. It seems that both have obtained cordon bleu in irritation. The only advantage that latter have over former is that it can accomplish its task anywhere (restaurant, coffee shops etc) but former does it only at railway station. Being gal she was also the same. She(X) was supposed to be here by 4:30 but still …

So let me tell you about her till she(X) comes . She(X) is my cousin’s friend. I met her during my summer holidays 1992 when I went to my uncles place. (X) was my cousin’s best friend. My cousin is of same age group as mine and a very nice friend. In due course of time (X) became a very nice friend of mine. Mostly I pulled her leg by calling her “moti”. Time passed and we forgot each other. I have’nt even thought about her in past 7-8 years, till yesterday when I got a call from my cousin. While talking she told me that (X) is also there in Chennai. It was just like hearing about and Indian friend in foreign land. I got her number from Pooja and immediately called her. It ranged….

“Hello”.…. a sweet voice came from the other side

“Hello Is this (X)?” …. I enquired

“Yes”.. she said hesitatingly

Immediately I replied “Aur kaisii ho moti?”

“sorry yaar .. pehchana nahin” she replied

“Arre pehchanogi kaisse.. 16 saal ke baad jo baat kar rahe hain “ I answered

She thought for a min and replied “….abhishek”

“hmm…..” I said.

and then we spoke nearly for an hour she told me about her college life, her job , her parents etc. And I too told her the same. At last I told “Yaar abhi thora kaam hai baad main baat karte hain“

“Ok “ she replied

and then we started talking almost daily …..

As usual today morning also I got a call from her

“hulloo ….” I told with my eyes closed.

“abhi tak so rahe ho?” she asked

“hmm” I replied

“Ok phir main rakhti hoon” she said

“yaar main tujhe 15-20 mins main call karta hoon” I replied

I called her after 45 mins. . .

“uth gaye ?” she asked

“haan yaar!!! actually kal office se kaaffi late se aaya tha “ I lied

“hmm aur kya kar rahe ho aaj ?” she asked again

“abhi tak to kuch nahin …. agar tum khali ho to milte hain “ I asked expecting a affirmative answer

“hmm.. par kahan ?” (X) asked

“whereever it is convenient for you.”

Finally it was decided that we will meet at 4:30 p.m at the coffee shop in Isphani.

It is already 5.45 p.m and still she is not here. I have been here for long, watching others, talking on phone and finding several other innovative ways to pass time. But all in vain, now its too much and I am going back. I called her to tell my decision. It ranged….

“hello..bus ek minute aur . ”

“Koi nahin I am leaving , its getting late for me ” I replied

“Yaar I am at entrance and I ll be there in a few seconds” she disconnected the call after replying.

Suddenly I saw a very beautiful gal entering the coffee shop. Well you may have seen heroine’s arrival in thousands of films. Suddenly winds start to blow, thunderstorm strikes, music is started to acknowledge her appearance. Lots of lyrics has been written by poets for this. One reads the incomprehensible stuffs about those rosy lips, those cheese cheeks. Though I don’t have the skills of poet and the flourish of dramatist but I admit that I floored. Suddenly Ms. Beautiful took out her cell and started calling someone.  “Lagta hai ye bhi fixed  hai ”  I felt sad.  Suddenly my phone ranged.

It displayed

“(X) calling…”

“Hello” I answered

“Haan … kahan ho tum” she asked

“Main to wahin hoon jahan tumne bola tha” I replied in an arrogant manner

“Main bhi wahin hoon yaar” she told

“hmmm… acha tumne dress kya pehaa hai…. Mainne black T-shirt aur blue jean daal rakhi hai …. Can you see me?” I asked

“I guess yes ….” She told

I turned around but didn’t find her but I noticed Ms Beautiful was approaching me. She looked amazing. She was like a painting , a song , a calm breeze, early showers of monshoon  and all others that could have been described by a poet. I was just overwhelmed by her graceful beauty. She flowed towards me like a breeze with her hairs flying and earrings dancing , with a whiff of perfume, she asked “abhi…..?”

I was stunned. She asked again “Are you Abhishek ?”

“Ye ….. Ye…. Yes” I replied

to be continued ……….

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