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(8) The Ice-Lolly Conspiracy
"This or this?"
I snap out of the love stuck puppy gaze I had, tearing my eyes away from the magnanimous Arabian Sea before me, only to come across two ice lollies pushed into my face.
Perched on the concrete promenade beside me, I see Saran look at the two ice lollies he held in his hand thoughtfully.
"Mango, or strawberry?" I hear him ask and squint my eyes at him.
Is this what you mean by being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman and take an irresponsible employee to office? Taking me to Bandstand's lovers spot? Seriously? I muttered vehemently in my brain.
Ok, maybe that's an overstatement. We are not perched amidst sea of lovers, hiding themselves in umbrellas, and biting off each other's faces. We are at a secluded place, with nothing but the mighty sea herself in front of us, which is a huge relief because I frankly wasn't looking forward for the stupid smooching sounds I would have heard otherwise. Every time PDA happens before my eyes, I couldn't help myself from trying to look away and peering curiously. I know, that's not cool but oh well...
"I never knew our office has an invisible branch on the Promenade of Bandstand" I replied instead with what I'd call innocent eyes, and what Harry would've called as "The dumb expression".
Yes, I can stick to sarcasm, even though it isn't my forte. Now, I thought looking at him expectantly, come with another jab of yours, I thought fully bracing myself. Only that it never came.
He smiled looking down, and that actually distracted me for a moment. I expected a jab, or his usual grin, but a small genuine barely there smile on his lips, had disarmed me, and when he raised his eyes to meet mine, in a flourish, with dark brown eyes sharp, twinkling and penetrating, I had the sudden urge to look away.
He should be banned from smiling, I thought as I mustered a poker face and stared at him. It just distracts you and fiddles with loosened screws of your brain.
"How would it be if I take that as a yes for strawberry?" he asked with a half-smile and pushed the pink looking ice candy towards me.
I blinked at him and then at the delicious looking thing and swallowed visibly.
"Thanks but no thanks"
"Why, you think I'm going to drug you?"
Ok maybe that's an insensitive way to put it but mind you I had had an eventful past with accepting food from strangers.
I once had accepted from a friendly looking fellow commuters while I was travelling. The chocolate they gave me, I bought back home, ate and got knocked down and slept for continuous eight hours, and woke up with the entire room going round-and-round before my eyes, and a massive headache. So I am allowed to have my reservations.
However, of course there's a little change in this scenario. I'm not a child anymore. I was what barely, nineteen then. And I'm twenty three now. See, adult enough?
Besides, he isn't entirely a stranger, actually. I had known him since what, fifteen days? Anyway, not that he's going to get anything by drugging me. What am I, the CEO of Whiteworm? Or at least super-hot daughter of a stinking rich business man? Neither.
I'm a bloody ordinary girl, with an ordinary face, ordinary height, over-sized spectacles, and a baby-ish face (this I was told numerous times though I am still trying to figure it out whatever that meant).
"You think I've drugged it?" the casual curve of his eyebrow shot up in question, and I tried hard not to look alarmed.
The sun overworked on the poor ice lollies and the upper surface of it melted, making a colourful drop roll down, making my heart melt into a puddle. No one can see such a beauty go into waste.
Maybe Saran thought the same. That's why he had sucked that drop out of the ice lolly, and some more, making my eyes stick to the delicious curve of his mouth.
Pervert, pervert, pervert. What are you thinking?
I averted my eyes, but after a moment looked at the same spot from the corner of my eyes.
Oh wow, he has a slightly plump lower lip, and very beautiful looking, perfectly shaped lips. And look at his lashes, I thought wretchedly such a shame they are wasted on a man.
Unaware of the direction of my thoughts, however, the said man extended his sucked ice lolly to me and grinned.
"There, sample tested. It's safe"
I scrunched my nose, and half rolled my eyes. Are all men by default has the innate ability to say gross things, or am I blessed with such people in my life? First Harry, and now...
"Oh never mind" I said plucking the untouched mango flavoured ice lolly from his hand, and started sucking on it with a vengeance, while he took a seat beside me enjoying his strawberry flavoured one.
"So..." he said his eyes still on Arabian sea that stretched before us, and had our undivided attention.
Don't mention the stupid tears, don't mention them please.
"How's your internship going on?"
"Eh?" I asked completely bemused. I didn't see that coming. At all.
"You seem to be taken aback by my question Miss. Isha Mehra, did I disappoint you?"
Why do I have an odd feeling that he has a barely there smirk on his face?
"Slow" I replied ignoring his recent question. "That's how I'd define my internship"
Rich laughter wafted across the humid winds of Mumbai, making me chant Twinkle twinkle little star in order to keep focus and not get enchanted by the deep attractive grumble of that sound.
"Interesting" he said after a beat, and the silence followed just extended.
The occasional slurping of the sugar syrup on the cold thing was the only sound I heard besides the crashing of waves.
The tangy mango flavour touched the tip of my tongue and I slowly felt the irritation ebb out, just by sitting there, and eating an ice lolly, with him beside.
"I don't like it" I confess after a long pause.
"Really, mine is good"
"I'm not talking about ice cream bar"
"You don't like your project?" he supplies helpfully.
"I'm not liking how I am unable to help the pace of sales" I say.
"Even if Sunny Leone endorses our brand, sales won't climb up in fifteen days"
"Shahrukh khan" I correct stoically. "If ever there's going to be a brand ambassador it should be Shahrukh Khan"
"I thought you like Amitabh Bachchan" he said and the sly grin was back.
"Anyway" I backtrack, trying to forget the embarrassing moment when I made a cheap imitation of Amitabh's Aye. "That's another problem I have. Whiteworm doesn't advertise"
"Whiteworm doesn't believe in above the line marketing"
Which is so stupid, I thought because without advertising in TV, newspapers, and without actually blowing your trumpet before consumers, both existing and prospective, you can't expect to grow brand recognition or value. That's my point. I have raised the same point with Joseph, my trainer, who by the way, went all defensive by it.
"Shelling out millions of budget for a silly ad that runs in a television for mere seconds might not convert sales. Whiteworm instead invests that money in innovation." Joseph had said and only one thing was missing from his speech. Jai Hind.
Apparently, the dude seemed to know nothing about advertisements. So does big heads of Whiteworm.
When I start up my ad agency, I thought I will make an ad for free and gift them.
Of course telecasting it is their head ache.
"Since it doesn't advertise many do not know its name. Why, my grandmother asked me where I worked and when I said Whiteworm, she scrunched her nose and said that sounded gross. You see that's how a prospective customer identifies the company. Associating it with a stupid dumb worm"
"Caterpillar, world's renowned company is named after a worm"
I narrow my eyes at him, but he doesn't even look at me. His undivided attention was on his ice lolly.
"Whiteworm is market leader in top load washing machines for twenty years. Surely, that would not have happened if no one ever identified it"
I gnash my teeth.
So much for venting out.
I suck the remnants of the ice, and chew on the stick mindlessly, as I stare ahead, ran out of complaints.
"Can I ask you something?" I ask after a beat, and I see him look at me and give a tiny nod indulgently.
"We have such a great plan for cross-selling. All the technicians got to do is mention that we've got ACs too, when they visit customers to address servicing of washing machines. And then it's my job to follow up technicians frequently, get details of interested customers, contact them, and take it till the final sale happens, and then hand out incentive to the technician and franchise each for every converted sale." I say breathless at the end.
"Yet..." I pause as my eyebrows furrow "Why isn't it working"
He didn't say anything for a moment, and I sigh, realizing it was a rhetoric question I asked anyway.
But then I hear his voice speak "Do you bake?"
"Do. You. Bake" he punctuates each word carefully, and I try to understand the logic behind the strange question.
"Suppose you mixed all the ingredients right, are you sure of the cake's taste?"
Yes, I wanted to say, but I couldn't. I know already it wasn't the answer.
"What could ruin a perfect cake?" he mused out aloud.
The answers are numerous. Inaccurate oven timings, not using fresh ingredients such as baking soda, oven temperature, absolutely anything can ruin it. Even too much frosting will kill the beauty of it.
"Think about it, there lies the answer" he said and with a mischievous smile, he got up and dusted his jeans.
Walking a few steps ahead, he stopped and turned to look at me still sitting on the promenade, staring at his retreating form bemused.
"What are you waiting for, Whiteworm doesn't pay for site seeing"
With that said he walked away, making me follow him stomping.
The nerve of the man!
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(9) Of politics and premature attraction
"Har kisi ko nahi milta, yaha pyaar zindagi mein"
The caller tune went on and on, while I tapped my pen restlessly on the table.
"Hello?" a manly but hesitant voice answered the call in the third ring.
"Hello, I'm Isha Mehra, speaking from Whiteworm. Last week I've visited your franchise to give you a demo on cross-selling Whiteworm ACs" I said in a well-rehearsed tone of mine, trying hard not to make it sound bored, and waited for the technician I have called for the follow up to recognize to me.
Oh no, I am not being cynical. While I am received warmly at each franchise, looked with warm, beady, avuncular eyes of franchise owners, who ask questions on where my college is, and offer me Frooti and chips, and crackers, and call me "Madum" even I'm not even half their age, and while the technicians I train are positively beaming after my little speech, and giving me their full assurance that they will sell ACs almost swearing their life on it, the scene seem to change when I make a follow up call to see how far have they reached in their quest.
Not many recognize me at the first attempt, and I have to give them a small recap of how and when my existence came into their knowledge. Now, if a person doesn't remember anything about the eventful meeting, it really is naive of me to even think that they are working on something I've summoned them on.
So it was quite a breather when some people do recognize me, like for instance this man I have just called. But that still didn't make my day because, from his unsure voice when I asked about the response I knew nothing was working out, yet.
"I will let you know if there are any interested customers, madam" he had said, and it was my cue to say okay and hang up.
"Okay" I did say but I couldn't get myself to hang up on him, yet. A thought, still unformed entirely, niggled at some corner of my brain, making my restless tapping of pen against the desk increase by ferocity.
"What could ruin a perfect cake?" a voice rung inside my head, and suddenly the pen slipped off my grip and rolled out on the table and fell down.
As the deafening clatter drummed in my ears, I felt a deafening clarity suddenly.
"Why?" I felt myself ask the technician suddenly.
"Have you been giving demos at all?"
That was a big blow to his ego, I have understood later, as his tone suddenly went defensive.
"Of course I am, madam"
"Then what exactly is the problem?" I heard myself ask impatiently.
There was silence.
I sigh, gathering my wits. "Look Mr. Raman," I say checking for his name on the list I have in excel sheet spread before me "I am not looking for the converted sales, all I want to know is your feedback, tell me what is the reason for the lack of response in your area"
"Madam" he said in a contemplative tone "Our franchise generally deals in and around the Bandra area, where people are already well off and have ACs. Only at new apartments which are not yet occupied seems to be a chance"
"Hmm" I say as I type his feedback in the excel sheet next to his name. "Mr. Raman, there was an interested customer from Thane, who is a doctor by profession and ordered four ACs, none of them for his home, but for his clinic" I say and wait for a beat.
"So we can really not predict from where we get a lead. There might not be any leads for residential purposes, but for offices or businesses, there might be right?"
Leaving him with that thought to think about, I hung up shortly.
While I was typing down the response, and brainstorming through the other responses I got for the day, had I felt Kavitha peering into my laptop.
That, by the way is a very annoying habit of hers, which blows my fuse. She practically makes love with my laptop screen with her face thrust in it, and tries to know all the information of what I did, doing and will do in future. There was a time when I was actually wool-gathering, staring into space and she demanded to know what I was thinking.
It was as if I am conspiring something against her. Sometimes Kavitha actually took my breath away for all the wrong reasons.
I told her briefly about what my conversation with Mr. Raman and asked her progress.
She shrugged and said she wasn't feeling like calling today so she had been doing something else.
Of the entire twelve franchises in Mumbai, we were given six each to work upon and at times like these I really wonder how she's going to manage at the end. Or maybe, I thought again, she could handle the work coolly, so much so that she reads e-books of Connect the dots, and Stay hungry stay foolish all day. Everyone need not be stuck up like me anyway. People do have different styles of working. I have no business to judge.
"So anyway, what's for lunch?" I asked changing the subject, watching it's close to 2 pm, indicating us to break for lunch.
"So..." Mr. Sharma said disconnecting the call he just spoke, and met our eyes with a calm face that was in contrast with the stormy demeanor he had moments ago when he was talking with an employee who had taken a day off, and forgot to mention it to him.
"How is it going?" he asked with a smile.
Mr. Sharma was in his mid-forties with a bald head, yet handsome face. He had this sweet friendly face, and handsome features, and cutesy smile that shows that he was a bit of a heartthrob when he was in college. Yet, his trait of screaming at his employees at the top of his voice when there was a little mistake, and switching to his calm self, all serene and smiling at the next minute with another bunch of employees actually creeps me out.
I can't help but to wonder if he has multiple personality disorder or something. For this reason, I actually don't open my mouth much at him, answering only in concise sentences. Not that I am let to, anyway. Kavitha has a special love for answering to his every question without thinking. Right or wrong, relevant or irrelevant is out of question, mind you.
"It's going great" Kavitha answered with enthusiasm. "Why today I had an interesting chat with a technician"
Mr. Sharma cocked an eyebrow and leaned with his hands on the table, with an indulgent smile. "Really?"
"Yes," she said triumphantly, and recounted the entire conversation I had with Mr. Raman, just tweaking it a little bit, which changed the story that it was her, who talked to him, and her who asked the guy to try selling for business purposes.
I find myself whip my head towards her in surprise, and watch her as she smiled at Mr. Sharma and lied through her teeth, avoiding my presence totally.
"We need to give motivation, whenever we sense they are uninterested" she said sagely, "And that's what I did"
"Good" Mr. Sharma was saying, but I stopped listening a long time ago. I suddenly felt sick in my stomach.
"Can we leave for the day?" Kavitha asked and after affirming, Mr. Sharma dismissed us.
We came out of the cabin, and that day Kavitha didn't find me when she walked back to our cabin. She might have checked for me, but she left realizing that she had lost me.
It was true indeed. She lost me that day.
The sky turned violet, dusk setting in the beautiful city. Cool breeze blew in, making my hair fly in all directions, blinding my sight by falling on my eyes.
"Ugh" I mumble as I push the hair off my face, and try to focus on the task at hand; blowing bubbles.
Apparently, I lost touch it seems, or don't know how to do it, because all I could was some spluttering of the soapy water, in the name of few bubbles.
I place it down giving up, and bury my face in my crossed elbows placed on the parapet wall.
The small thought that niggles at the back of my mind screams to me what I was trying to forget. Welcome to the corporate world, another snide side of my conscience mocks me as I lift my head up, and gaze into the evening sky.
The wind picks up, making me close my eyes as my hair flow behind me, off my face and I stand there trying to breathe the humidity in the air, the saltiness, the sweet and sour fragrance, everything that was truly Mumbai.
A tension I didn't realize exists eases in the back of my shoulder as I stand there in the middle of the breezy wind, letting every other thought sink back. I didn't realize how far I stood like that and my eyes flew open at a distance thudding of footsteps I heard.
Only then had I realized that dusk had started to fall, and the view before my eyes was aglow with city lights blinking like diamonds in a jeweled crown, and that the thud-thudding I was hearing behind me suddenly stopped down.
For a moment there, there was absolute stillness in air, and if possible a little more chilly. It felt as if everything stopped, as if God shouted statue! on nature. Yet, there were only two things that were over-working. My sweat glands which were drenching my poor dress with the sweaty mess, and my racing heart, which picked up its pace and running a marathon. I had a creepy niggling thought that there was a presence behind me.
And then I felt it, something hovering over me, and I closed my eyes, as my hands ran cold. I have no freaking nerve to turn and face it - whatever it was. Nor could I scream and run like a sane person. I stood there dumbly, sweating and shivering when I felt a warm blow of air on my nape, and a caressing husky whisper at my ears.
I screamed and jumped and turned, all at the same time, and with the sudden movement I slipped, fell back and hit my back against the wall railing, hard.
Face crumbled with agonizing pain, I slid against the wall railing onto the floor and opened my eyes swimming with tears to the blurred vision of dark boots.
My eyes focused on the feet that were not twisted in the opposite side, as they say it would be for ghosts. Relief flooded me, which was replaced with anger as my eyes looked up to see who the monster was, only to find the stubble dude crouching on his knees to my level, and looking at me his face clouded with concern, guilt and wariness.
"Hey" he said his voice soft. "Are you okay?"
As I stared at him through my lashes, the stupid tears still in place blurring my vision, I felt something boil inside me, blood probably. Frustration, anger, everything just blew the top fuse and I heard reply in a voice I didn't recognize myself.
"Yes unfortunately" I heard myself hiss, "Why, you thought I would tumble down over the wall, trip and fall down?"
There was this blank look that crossed his face, before he looked at me with the stupid amused eyes that I so hated.
"You know Miss Isha Mehra" he said settling down himself against the wall, beside me "You have watched many a Bollywood movie haven't you?"
"That was a scene from Baazigar you just recounted"
"No" I said vehemently "I did not"
Screw it, I thought as I felt this stupid urge to prove him wrong. Huffing an exasperated breathe out, I get on my feet and look down at his still sitting form with crossed hands.
"You want to recount Baazigar scene?" I said belligerently "Get up I will show you" I said tugging at his hand.
When he looked at me, for a moment there was bemusement in his eyes, but then his eyes were alight with that stupid glint I came to hate.
"Get up" I say tugging at his hand, and he jumps to his feet in one smooth movement and stands with this hands tugged in his pocket and stares at me.
Narrowing my eyes at him, I touch the parapet wall gingerly and peek a look down. Big mistake. Are my screws loose to get onto the parapet wall of thirteen floor building? I am Acrophobic for crying out loud.
"You're acrophobic?" the stubble dude asks me, with a mischievous smile at the corner of his lips, and I stare at him wide eyed. Is he psychic too?
"Because if you are" he continued smoothly, ignoring my raced heartbeat as he came closer looking amused, and strangely sinister. "You're going to recount the scene perfectly. Shilpa Shetty was acrophobic too in the movie"
Of course Shilpa Shetty was acrophobic, and later she was pushed off from the building by an innocent looking Shahrukh.
I swallow visibly as I see him approach me now, looking harmless and Shahrukh-ish. A lightening went out in the sky, thunder roared, lightening his features, and that shadows that casted on his crooked smile, spooked the living daylights out of me.
But before I could open mouth, his hands went around my lower and lifted me to make me sit on the parapet wall with a flourish.
A squeal of surprise erupted me and I realized it was a bad idea. Very bad idea.
"Mr. Aharya, put me down, I am scared"
However the said man was so into his character that he mistook my lines to be the dialogues which to my twisted fate are vaguely similar to the original ones spoken by Shilpa Shetty.
"When your hand is enclosed in mine, how can you fear?" he asked his brown eyes glinting, being a spooky version of Shahrukh Khan.
"I am the mad one here, who is ready to take you away from this world" he said the next lines.
Okay, that was it. My tongue practically stilled and I looked at him, my eyes wide, and fear gripping my heart. Any moment he will go on his knees, take my feet over his knee, will enact putting anklets on my feet and then...
I felt his hands grip my shoulders and do a gentle push, and I forgot breathing, and did the first thing that came into my mind. Thrashing my arms, I screamed the living daylights out.
Everything happened in a blur afterwards. I have no more felt myself sitting on the parapet wall. I rather felt as if I was flying, as if there was no gravity. Blood rushed to my ears, and I went screaming until suddenly I felt some pressure against my cheek, a wild sound under my ear.
My screams subsided and only when I slowly opened my eyes had I realized that I was in air of course, but not in a way I have expected. I was rather in the arms of the stubble dude, my ear pressed against his racing heart.
As I saw his face and took in that unreadable expression, adding to the knowledge that I was finally safe, my face relaxed, my heartbeat slowing down, and then had it happened. The arms that holding me began to shake, and as I look at his face, it seemed to be shaking too. As if...
"You're laughing" I accused him, and the next minute, howls of laughter echoed, as his arms shook, his head thrown back facing the sky.
"Stop it! Stop it! Stop-Oww" my voice trails off as he suddenly collapses with laughter, his hands still around me, holding me, with me so ungracefully landing in his lap, my hair a mess, my cheeks flushed.
Finally he looks at me, his head rested against the parapet wall.
I felt something hot on my cheeks and I realize that it was tears. Before I knew what I was doing, and before he could realize what was coming his way, a fist hit his chest, and then some more. I know it isn't going to hurt him, yet as I feel the fear and embarrassment ebb away in the form of tears, I hit his chest, again and again, until the scary moment comes back to me, relieving me of my worst fears, and I break down into sobs, burying my head into the nearest thing that I could find-his chest.
I feel a pair of arms going around me.
I didn't realize how long had I sat there hiccuping, how long had I felt those hands slowly running through my hair.
After what it felt like eternity had passed, I felt myself whisper "I was scared"
I felt the tightening of arms around me as I heard a reply I was not expecting "I won't hurt you"
And then I felt a feather light touch of someone's lips on my hair, and I closed my eyes too afraid to face the reality just yet.
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(10) Bubbles of Joy
Minutes passed, or mere seconds I can't say. The silence around us extended, the strange fear that gripped my heart dissolved, the heartbeat of his echoed under my ear suddenly seemed more obvious, my hands that crumbled the collar of his white shirt loosened. The wet patch on his chest, which was the making of my tears stuck against my cheek as I slowly withdrew from his arms.
As the initial impulse dissolved, giving way to realism, I couldn't get myself to raise my eyes and meet his.
Pretend it never happened.
Of course, that's the sanest thing to do. And hence I tried to get up from his lap as normally as possible, only to have slip and fall over him, again.
Talk about being subtle.
Can earth just part and swallow me on whole, I thought for the millionth time in my life.
My fingers curled and uncurled as I thought about the easiest way to get up, without again falling in his lap ungracefully. All I need to do is take his support by placing an arm on his shoulder, and get up, and jump to maintain a five feet distance. Simple.
Only that I couldn't get my hand to extend and land on his shoulder. Touching him voluntarily seemed so odd, so intimate.
Hah, the snide side of my conscience mocked me says who is in the lap of the said person.
"Aargh" I groan covering my face with my palms, clawing out my skin by pressing my fingers tightly against my face, as if that would solve everything.
Something touched my closed palm, a delicate touch, and I heard a slow Pop, and felt moisture the next minute. I lower my palms from my face only to find the most amazing thing that I have ever seen.
Bubbles. Many of them surrounded me, drifting in the wind, twinkling in the moonlit night. My eyes fled towards him involuntarily and saw him blowing the bubbles from the pipe I had discarded it on the parapet wall earlier.
A large bubble touch my nose and explode, making me chuckle involuntarily.
I felt him blowing a series of bubbles with expert ease, all of them joined to each other, forming a foam. My eyes follow the path of the train of bubbles, and it comes as a surprise when his legs suddenly part, his legs now happily crouched and bent at his knee, his head against the wall, him totally focused on doing the most important thing in the world"blowing bubbles while he so swiftly made me" who was sitting on his lap suddenly fall on the concrete dusty floor with a thud.
"Oww" my growl dies down as soon as I feel another series of bubbles blown onto my face, touching my cheek, and popping involuntarily.
The nerve of the man! I thought as I stood up grumpily, dusting my trousers off dust, glaring living daylights of him, while he stood up himself, and walked with expert ease expecting me to follow him, while I look up towards heaven and slowly mouth to god to do me a favour.
I lie on my back in my room and look at the roof, watching the shadows pass slowly. I had this habit of keeping the window open. The cars that pass through the lane to the back of my house often made the shadows and head lights climb up to my window slowly moving up the wall, as they travelled farther.
That is my favourite past time whenever I couldn't sleep.
I feel my mobile vibrate, and turn my head towards it, pick it with a thudding heart. Only when I open the incoming message, I leave a breath I hadn't realized I was holding for so long.
It was my friend, sending me a forwarded message in Whatsapp. Only when I see it wasn't whom I expected, I realize that I was expecting someone else.
It didn't take me long to figure out that it was only my belongings that were left in the office, and everyone else left by the time we went down, which was the reason why he didn't ask me why I stayed so long. It is because he knew, all the way that I was the only one staying back in the office till that late hour. Him leading the way directly to where my bag was lying, confirmed my musings.
We didn't exchange a word, he lead and I followed. He dropped me home, I let him.
It slowly made sense, everything. Why was he not surprised on finding me at terrace, how he could change an awkward moment changing my awkwardness to irritation. How he would not ask questions, nor would make me answer anything I don't want to.
Only when I had got down his bike and was walking towards the gate of my apartment had I heard him call me.
"Miss Isha Mehra"
I turned then, not knowing what he would say, not knowing what I would say to whatever he would say, if he says anything at all. Of course, my thoughts were also not making any sense...
He called me closer, and I went, stood before him silently when he dug his pockets and produced something for me. It was my pipe to blow bubbles.
"Don't worry that you can't blow bubbles. Practice daily. Maybe someday you'll be able to--"
I didn't stop to hear his voice, but grabbed it and made a run and didn't stop until I dived inside the elevator of my apartment.
I smile to myself as I turn in my bed, and my eyes fall on the teddy at one corner of my bed, which had a red cap perched on it. As my fingers pass on the imitation of Nike emblem on it, the corner of my mouth twitch into a smile.
Strange it was, how his mere presence, and time spent with him took off my mind entirely from Kavitha. I grin to myself as I recount the entire eventful evening, including the Baazigar fiasco.
I embrace the lightness in the pit of my stomach as I close my eyes to welcome sleep that night. Of course, I still have some unresolved questions gnawing at my mind. The flip of my stomach when I felt his lips touch my hair, giving a delicate kiss was real. The strange nervousness of me not being able to meet his eyes while parting, still seemed to surprise me. Yet, I do not think of any of them tonight, pushing them off to a corner of my mind.
Turning towards my teddy with the cap perched on it, I whisper to him "You're a great guy, you know that right?"
After a beat I add as a good measure "Hey don't let the compliment get to your head by the way"
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How to write a novel?the solutions r here
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