#1 I Still Love You....

Three calls a day to me and she feels herself on cloud nine. Her heart brims with happiness whenever I visit back to my town, her place too, in every six months. The lotus eyed beauty is 5’5 or 5’4 or even shorter in length. She ties her hair nape of her neck and I didn’t ever see the strands falling in her way of eyes. She told me, my presence floods her parch soul with blissfulness and my smile becomes an oasis for her deserted heart. I also don’t know when my days turned in weeks, weeks in months and months in years with her. Some days she calls me to recharge her mobile but how can I resist her melodious voice? If you are a boy, you would understand the detestableness when a girl or even your mom says to recharge her mobile. And if the recharge is less than hundred, your relation might end up in mobile war.

       According to rules of life, if you want to get something out of life, you have to pay the price for it. I scrutinized the fact and some years ago, I sacrificed her smile to pursue my carrier, moved to Chennai and became a new entrant for rat race. She wanted to see me in Delhi and tried to stop me but I parried her every attempt, leaving her behind in agony. She wailed but my greater gusto of college life overweighed. How could I put my carrier on stake? I heard and ignored her. The smile which defeats the shining moon and stars of firmament heaven was now far-fetched. 

        Despite getting love from her, within few days of my college I made a girlfriend. I didn’t tell her about my new love story. I didn’t want to feel her like being cheated so I buried the secret in my intangible heart. The common question in her calls: ‘When are you coming back?’ ‘Why you went there?’ ‘I feel so lonely without you.’ ‘Have you had your food?’ ‘Are you studying regularly?’ ‘Don’t you miss your old place?’ ‘How is the life there?’ ‘Are you still fair in colour?’ ‘Nakul, why didn’t you listen to me?’ ‘I told you to take college in Delhi so that we can meet once in week.’ And every time I retort before hanging down, ‘Don’t worry. Soon, I will be there. Now don’t disturb me, I’m studying and I will call you back later. BYE.’

Few days back, I thought about her and cursed myself. She did everything for me. But what I did? I only rendered her pain. That pain which was beyond the eternity. I still cannot forget the day when I first saw her sobbing. She looked me and I too felt tears in my eyes. It was love at first sight. Months and years went forth and my relationship with her snapped. I forgot her but she kept reminding me about her imponderable love for me.

         Like every driven day, today, she called me again and asked the same question, ‘You have your breakfast?’

         My heart wallowed in joy. Huge smile came across my face and it glued last forever. ‘Yeah…  I felt like you made it. It was same like you always make for me. Mom, don’t worry, I will come back,’ I said softly and felt like she smiled. Before I could say ‘MOM, I Still Love You,’ my phone’s battery drained off and it shut down. 

#2 Rajoi Kaur

Rajoi Kaur

Rajoi Kaur lived two houses apart from our house. Most of the time, I saw her talking on her mobile. She was stunningly good looking; had heavy scarlet lips, large bosom, broad buttocks, big plain eyes, and dark hair and always heavily made up. Her gait was rhythmic like that of show stopper of fashion show. I didn’t talk to her but whenever I drove by her she gallantly passed a smile on me. Then I blushed and disappeared from her gaze. Rajoi often tossed back her smooth hair while smiling. I pondered over her beauty and came to conclusion that she was better than any other woman dwelling in our colony.

The tragedy of her life happened when she married Manu Singh who was an alcoholic bloke and people generally saw him uttering loud obscenities while sitting under the Peepal tree at the corner of our street. For children like me, it was a part of entertainment while old nauseated. Manu Singh had been to rehabilitant several times. Doctors declared him as a cancer patient but nothing could deter him drinking. They had a daughter, Khushi, who was five years old and after Rajoi had herself as a dancer in marriages and orchestras, Khushi had begun studying in Sacred Heart Convent School where most of students were from affluent families. Khushi was happy, so was Rajoi, as now she used to go to school on motor bus.

One Tuesday evening I was standing in the boundary of my house I saw Rajoi passing my street. Like always, she had mobile on her ear and smile on her lips. She saw me and threw a wink of her eye. At that time, I was studying secondary and I often wonder what would have happened to her if I was of her age. As she moved forth to peepal tree, Manu Singh saw her and started addressing her in loud voice with words like whore, bitch, cock-seducer… She protested and now the loud curses would be listened followed by screams and brash. Neighbours came outside from their houses and went back fugitively. Who likes the stale food or same show every day? Obviously no one.

Three year rolled by and she didn’t look old a single day. She was still beautiful like an eighteen years old cherry blossom girl. In those years, I attracted to a girl, Neyal, a year senior than me in school. We fell in love with each other and then love buried in next month. I was flattering other girls as well. Relationship with Neyal brought forth two friends in my life, Aaliya and Aashna. Since higher secondary I haven’t seen them, but Aashna is still my Facebook friend and I often talks to her. Despite having experience with talking to girls I didn’t summon the confidence to talk to Rajoi. Rajoi was still passing smiles and winking on me.

I had seen Rajoi on Dhillon’s bike, Klair’s bike and on bikes of other blokes. Those blokes were strangers for me and sometimes, might be, strangers for her as well. Everyone knew about her stories of her performances but never discussed. Khuhsi was now studying in class second in the same school. Several times I had seen her frolicking with other kids of street. She had resembled eyes and nose from her mother. Her voice is like that of nightingale. Like Rajoi, she tossed back her hair while laughing. Manu Singh had begun interspersing his curses with string of blood coughing. The other thing I noticed the expensive salwar suits with sequined duppatta; gold bangles and earrings of Rajoi and branded tops and denims of Khushi. Rajoi’s gait was still so rhythmic and so luscious.     

One day while coming back from my Chemistry coaching classes I saw Manu Singh wailing under the tree. On enquiring from neighbours I got to know, as I was told, Rajoi fled from house with Khushi. Couple of days later, Manu Singh rendered the house on rent except one room for his own shelter and the money he earned from rent he used it as his new bottle of local Kesar Kasturi. Khushwant Singh was right when he wrote ‘Most drinking men, if given the choice between a willing female and a slug of premium Scotch, will opt for the latter.’

After two years, the news of death of Rajoi spread like epidemic. She died in small district, Abohar, of Punjab after few months of battle with uterus cancer. There is no tell-tale sign of Khuhsi. Manu Singh is in rehabilitant since one year. The last time I saw Rajoi binding her hair on top of her head in a chignon under the peepal tree. Next to her was Manu Singh sitting on cot nestling with Khushi.   

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