Another fictional story

The phone rang continuously on the table next to his laptop. The popular number set as his specific ringtone for Shreya blared on. He ignored it as long as he could. Then, unable to take it any longer, he picked it up meaning to tell Shreya off or put it on silent. At that moment the phone stopped ringing. Just as he was about to set it down again, it rang again. Only this time it was a different ring. No popular number this, it was an old obscure tune hummed and whistled as if by amateurs. In spite of his busy schedule, a smile played on his lips as he hit the green ANSWER button. “I will be home soon”, he said into the phone. A “Humph!” was all he heard before the phone clicked shut on the other end. He couldn’t suppress a broad smile.

We were in college when we first met. It wasn’t supposed to happen really. We were both so different. He was a nerd. He believed in attending his classes and acing as many subjects as possible. He had a small group of guys he called friends and felt content spending his free time with them. I, on the other hand, was a floater. The whole world, or at least the whole college, I counted as friends. I could talk to anyone. And yet, I had no one who understood me well. So I floated around trying to find my spot. Academics were never my thing. I believed I could change the world and worked hard at it by indulging in all manner of non academic activities possible. Our worlds knew no intersection. Yet we met. At best it could be called an accident. Although the naive, romantic me believed it was destiny. We were both waiting in front of the staff room trying to get the attention of a particular professor. The professor didn’t actually teach me. I just needed his signatures on some petition documents I was trying to push through. He though actually studied the professor’s course. So as the professor exited his room on the way to the next class, we both swarmed him from both sides trying to get his attention. Much to his chagrin, the professor favoured my petition to the discussions of his favourite student. He looked daggers at me.

The next time we met was as accidental. Or like I said before, it was as fortuitous. We were paired up for assignments in a course we had to take in common. I wasn’t too excited when it happened.  But with time, we warmed up to each other. I realised we can actually work together without being at each other’s throat. We were friendly without actually being friends. And then came that moment when I think it all changed. He stood up for me.

The course was a compulsory one on Government and Political history. One of the assignments was a solo essay where I wrote a controversial yet thoughtful article on the history of communism in India. The other 60 students tore into me. Or at least the more interested 10 or 12 of them did. The professor for this course encouraged arguments. She said it helped people develop opinions and become more aware of their surroundings. But sometimes the argumentative back and forth would get vicious. And this time it definitely did. Surprisingly only one person stood up for my point of view. He did. And that opened a floodgate for both of us. We realised how much we had in common.

Having been content with his small group of friends before, he was no longer satisfied with their limited conversation. And I finally had someone who understood me. We couldn’t have enough of each other’s company. We spent all our waking hours with each other. The years of college went by quick. And it was graduation day.

The world felt our chemistry and talked about us. But somehow it never bothered us. It never occurred to me that we could be more than friends. That would have been blasphemy. So we just continued as best friends would. On graduation day and the after party, as was customary with us, we spent all the time together. We spoke till the wee hours of the morning of our individual futures, what lay ahead, the uncertainties, etc. And then as dawn peeked beyond the horizons and birds stirred in their nests, and as there flowed enough alcohol in our veins, he held my hand. It just felt right. It felt as if we always knew that would happen. We didn’t have to say anything more we just sat there and saw the sky lighten and the first day dawn when we were no longer students, but were supposed to be grown up.

The bell rang three times in a row and I ran to open the door. I knew it will be him. The moment the door opened he enveloped me in a bear hug. I hugged him back. I couldn’t be happier to see him. It had been almost a year since I had last seen him. “So good to see you”, he almost whispered into my hair. “Same here”, I grinned back and then turned around and shouted in the general direction of the kitchen, “Shreya, your husband is home”. Shreya walked into the room with a tray covered in food. “Finally”, she smiled and asked him playfully, “Happy to see your best friend again?” He nodded wordlessly.

It was a good dinner. Shreya was an impeccable cook. And he and I had so much to speak about that conversation never ebbed. I told him all about the last year –my travels, the places, the people I met, my future. And he told me about his new venture, the hard work he was putting in and the results that were finally showing. It was just like old times. We sat there and talked about the future, what lay ahead and the uncertainties.

I knew he had been worrying about me. The last time we had parted weren’t on the best terms. So when he saw me smiling and relaxed, he could feel himself relax too. His smile widened as the night progressed. He could feel the guilt slip away as he saw I had moved on.

It was 2 years after college and we were best friends. It hadn’t seemed possible in college that we could have gotten closer. But we did. We passed out of college and started working in the same city. We worked hard during the week and spent our weekends catching up of movies, plays, shows or just gossiping over dinner and drinks. We never spoke of the night of graduation day when we had held hands. I in my heart assumed it was a matter of time before he would ask the question. But I was in no hurry. So when he asked me for a take away dinner on a hot sultry June Friday night to his place, I didn’t think much of it. I thought we would probably just stay in and see a movie or two. So I was taken aback when post dinner he turned to me and said he wanted to talk. In spite of everything, I could feel a small flutter in the pit of my stomach. “I have something to say”, he whispered and took my hands. The butterflies in my stomach took wings. “My parents have found a girl for me that they want me to meet. They say she is perfect for me. And if I like her too then the marriage will be held this winter.” I sat in stunned silence. “Please say something,” he implored. But I couldn’t. I wordlessly got up, collected my purse and walked out. I took the stairs from his 12^th floor apartment.

A month later I handed in my resignation. Two months later I had encashed all my savings and borrowed a fair amount from my father. The following month I travelled to Europe to backpack across the continent. The trip lasted eight months.

He came to drop me off at the elevator. My dazzling smile as I entered the elevator soothed him. He felt relieved and knew he would be able to sleep undisturbed again. As the elevator door closed, he failed to notice my glistening eyes. He turned to return to his apartment, to his wife. The glisten formed a tiny drop and made its way down my cheek and past the smile.

[The story is a work of fiction and while many people may find resemblances, its only for inspiration for characters and not incidents in itself. Writing in first person is only a writing style.]