The Unsaid...

He felt something with her. Something he couldn't understand. Something he wanted to tell her but couldn't. He dialed her number and waited with baited breath and wondered if she too was feeling as nervous as him.

The all too cliché 'tring tring' stopped and a sweet voice answered from the other side of the phone. His heart skipped a beat as she said "Hi".

He was skeptical. Never before has he ever talked to a stranger before without any purpose. Sure he has talked to random people now and then but that was only in relation to work. This was different. She was different.

The conversation went on. The clock swept its hands swiftly. Time became extinct and thus started one of the most beautiful journeys of his life. He didn't know what it was. He didn't want to know what it was. What he wanted was to merge in that moment. The journey started and engulfed him so deep that something inside him twitched. Something dark. A fear. Fear of losing someone special. But then, she was with him. He felt invincible with her; as if she was the light that drove away the darkness in him.

Somehow they completed each other. Like pieces of a puzzle. They discussed their life, their past, their present and future. Conversations lit up like fireworks. Conversations regarding ambitions, passions, love and what not.

Then came the personal stuff. His mind told him to be cautious. 

"Do not take a dive so deep."  His mind warned him.

"Do not worry. Take a leap of faith my friend and you shall be rewarded." His heart convinced him.

He listened to his heart and that was one of the best decisions of his life he has ever made.

They went up and down in the roller coaster of emotions. Light and Darkness; Sorrow and Joy: All the facets existed together and what he experienced was something beyond explanation. Something pure. Something divine.

Time galloped like a mad horse and minutes turned to hours. He was talking to her effortlessly. The conversation went on like magic. May be she was it. She was Magic.

He didn't know what she was. He didn't know what was going on. But he never wanted to know. What he wanted was to merge in that beautiful moment which made his heart lit up like a Christmas Tree. What he wanted was the time to stop still. What he wanted was to be with her in that magical realm forever and ever and ever.

At last it was time. The conversation ended. She told him she felt a connection between them. 

"I have never felt this way before. You are someone special." she said.

He gave her an awkward chuckle.

"What? Say something. How do you feel. About this conversation. About me. About us. Tell me."

With a smile on his lips, all he could manage to say was:

"Somethings are better left unsaid."

-----------*-----------

From the first time their conversation started, he wanted her. He wanted someone who never belonged to him. He wanted someone who cannot be his, ever. As time went on, he fell in love with her. Truly, madly, deeply. He knew she could never be his. He knew he could never have her the way he wanted. Somewhere deep in his heart he knew he is going to get hurt. But he didn’t care. He always used to say : "Love knows no logic."

He woke up from the sound of a short beep.

“Feeling sad. Wanna meet?” she texted him one morning. 

“Sure.” He replied. 

At 11 AM they met in a café. She looked miserable. Her eyes confessed of a tearful night she had last night. He knew what the matter was. He knew he was seeing her one last time. She cried. Complained. Whined. She didn’t want to leave. But she has to. He didn’t say a word. He was listening to the melody of her voice for the last time. He didn’t blink. He was drinking in her beauty through his eyes for the last time. Somewhere, his mind tried to compel him to speak out whatever he felt for her. 

“She is leaving you and this place forever. Tell her that you love her. What worse can come out of it. She will reject you. That’s it. You have been there with her for years. Helped her with her problems and corrected her mistakes. You made her pain yours. Now is the time to get something in return. If she loves you too, she will stay with you. If not, then she is leaving anyway. Just tell her the fucking truth. Tell her. NOW!” The logical side of him argued. 

She wiped her tears off. Held his hand softly and gave him a peck on the cheek. “You are my best friend. Someone I can trust. Someone I can rely on. Someone with whom I can share my deepest secrets.  Always be the same. Never change.” 

Her words echoed in his ears : “Always be the same. Never change.” 

“Tell her now. This is the right time. She is emotional, she misses you and she has a soft corner for you in her heart. May be she loves you too. Tell her now…” The logical side of him tried to convince his heart. 

With tears in his eyes he hugged her. 

“What’s the matter? Why are you not saying anything? This is the last time we will be talking to each other. Don’t you want to tell me how you feel?”  she asked, wiping tears.

He gave her an awkward chuckle. With a smile on his lips and tears in his eyes, he came close to her and whispered in her ear:

“Somethings are better left unsaid.”

----------------------------*--------------------------

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Image source :
http://sd.keepcalm-o-matic.co.uk

The white snow. The cold breeze. Streets lit up with dazzling lights. Everything was just fine. It was the Christmas time. But her face wasn’t matching up with the ambiance around. She was lost. Lost in her thought. Thoughts about him. She was not sure if he would come back this year. She has been waiting for him since 5. Before that he would always come and bring gifts for her. She never saw him but it was okay. The gifts were there and she felt it comforting to know that someone cares for her.  Now she is 16. She waited for him every Christmas. ‘He would come. He always does at the middle of the night’, they said. She waited every Christmas night. He didn’t come. Not even once. Were they lying? Will he never come?

Still, in those dark eyes, there was a glint of hope. She waited. She felt drowsy. Her eyes refused to stay open but her resolve kept her awake. It was midnight. Nobody came.

It’s time, she thought. It’s time she accept the fact that Santa is not real. It was her Father who brought her those gifts. The only man who cared for her. She remembered the day she received her father’s death news. He was gunned down by a lunatic killer for no reason, whatsoever. It was a day before Christmas. She was five then. Since then gifts were not there. Santa never came.

But she still waits for that old man with white beard and the red-white Christmas costume. She knew her father couldn’t come back from the dead. But a hope lies. Santa will come. So she waited. In the white snow. The cold breeze. With streets lit up with dazzling lights. Everything was just fine. Well, almost everything.

3 Incidents That Changed My Perspective About The Phrase "HAPPY DIWALI"

Diwali is a Festival of light. We usually celebrate Diwali at my Grandfather's home with around 20 members of the family gathering in one place. It is nice, bright and happy. However, there are some incidents which leave a trail on your heart. Something similar happened with me. Following are three incidents that changed my perspective about the phrase "HAPPY DIWALI".

_____________________________________________________________

1. My father is a Judge and I was staying at his home before Diwali. My parents were out of town and were to return a day before Diwali. Now, as Dad is in a government job, he gets plenty of servants and drivers. It was 10 PM. Hudhud storm has affected the weather and as a result, it was raining outside. I was happily wrapped in a cozy blanket with a cup of hot coffee in my hand. The TV blurted out brightly coloured Diwali commercials begging you to buy a camera, a car, a home and what not this Diwali. I wonder if India wasn't so obsessed with morality, Indians would have sold "new Wife", "new Children" and even a "Packaged Family Specially for this Diwali"

As I comfortably immersed in the aroma of my coffee, one of the peons who did night shift in the house came.

He: Bhaiya, I would like to go home tonight.

Me: Aren't you supposed to stay here all night. I don't know about your duty timings but I think Dad told me so.

He: Yes, bhaiya but...

Me: What? Do you have any problems?

He dipped his eyes low on the ground and his voice became shaky.

He: Bhaiya, I have been suffering from fever since last few days. I have a little son at home and no one else. He too has high fever since this morning. Moreover, for some unknown reasons, he has this unbearable pain in his left leg at random intervals. The neighbors called me and stated that the pain has started again and they told me to come home as soon as possible.

Me: Oh. I think you should leave right now. But wait. Isn't it raining outside. How will you go? Where do you live?

He: It is all right. I live 12 kms from here. I have got a bicycle.

Me: You will go home riding a bicycle in this rain?

He: Yes. No problem.

His lips smiled but his watery eyes recited a different story.

I got out of my blanket, packed some sweets and chocolates and drove him home in my car.

That was the least I could do. There was a single Diya (earthen lamp) at the door of his house. It was fighting with the wind and rain that night.  But it was still bright...

***

2. Here is an extract of a conversation with my brother a week before Diwali.

Me: Did you notice, Ishwar is always in a hurry. Always wants to go home.

Brother : Exaclty. His duty ends at 9 PM and yet he always ask to leave home early. Lazy fellow.

After 2 days:

I went out for lunch with an old college friend who is a judge. His father was also a judge and he was posted in the same place a few years ago where my father currently is and so he is acquainted with the staff. 

After a casual conversation with him, he told me something about how he used to play cricket in the large compound outside the house with Ishwar,

Me: Ishwar, the driver?

He: Yes. Nice fellow. But a bit unfortunate.

Me: Why?

He : Last year, on Diwali, her wife passed away. She was fighting cancer. It was a dreadful and painful death. The medical expenses were high and made Ishwar buried deep in debts. It was a hard time for him. Now he lives with his only daughter who is 4 years old. No one else.

I realised why he yearned to go home so early.

Now, when I am in my Grandfather's house, celebrating Diwali with atleast 20 family members, a variety of sweets and a large number of diyas at every corner of my house, my mind thinks of lonely Ishwar and his daughter. 

***

3. It was D-day. Diwali day. I like watching the fireworks rather than burning them myself. So, every Diwali, I go to the terrace and watch the colourful shows of crackers, sparkles, and rockets.

The streets were all lit up with coloured electric lights, the bright yellow colour of diyas and sparkly crackers. I was taking in the beauty of the festival when something colourless caught my eye. It was in contrast with the colourful festival. It didn't fit there. 

Suddenly, my eyes went wet and I had a lump in my throat.

What I saw was an eight year old boy in dirty tattered clothes standing by the side, jumping and clapping every time someone let off a rocket. His little dark eyes lit up every time my little cousin lit a sparkle.

When the show was over; when the kids took a break from their charade, those little eyes were sad again. It seemed as if the dreams in those eyes have just been shattered by the reality. His smile would vanish in a moment and he would start picking empty packets of fireworks and sometimes, if he was lucky, he would find some un-burnt plug of crackers. He would put them in a small polythene bag and waited for another round of show to begin. He would watch the "Festival of Lights" standing in the dark until someone smack him on his head and yell at him to get lost.

I picked up some packets of sweets, some sparkles and crackers. I rushed down the stairs, on the road. But he was gone.

I wish he got enough crackers for his little brothers waiting for him in a light-less hut.

***

I wanted to post a glittery and happy post this Diwali like I did previous year. But I guess, sometimes Darkness dazzles more than Light.

Wishing you all a very HAPPY DIWALI !

LONG LIVE THE QUEEN

Haven't got much time. Have been busy a lot these days. So, here is one of my older mini stories I have composed long ago for blog-a-ton which I never posted. 

(I posted another one you can find here.) 

Enjoy.

A common man was murdered.

"Whoever did this shall be punished." She addressed the crowd before her. 

As she wiped of her tears with her shawl, it slid off and revealed the red colour of blood stains on her white saree. She hesitated for a moment but then smiled contently. She knew it was not a problem. She knew the crowd before her was blind.

As she walked away, she can still hear the cries of "LONG LIVE THE QUEEN".

***

DHAK DHAK KARNE LAGA...

If you were born before the facebook or orkut, you must be playing this song in your head now with heaving bosoms of Madhuri. But I am not going to write about them here. It's all about our dhak dhak boy... Mr. Heart.

This post is something that just came to my mind while listening to that awful yet daring song from Krishh3. I mean you need guts to film a song like that. And Hritik, I think, took that 'guts' part quite literally.

This guy has the GUTS !

Now, dont judge me. I am not that depressed with my life to listen to the song deliberately. It was on MTV and Kangna Ranawat was ... well... doing something that even Jaadu's ancestors cannot guess what.
Then came the Indian Superhero whose abs looked like his intestines have swollen and bulged out. Remember, very 'gutsy' song it is.

The lyrics went on :
Dil tu hi bata
Kaha tha chhupa
Kyu aaj suni teri dhadkan
Pehli baar...

Kangna Ranaut doing something... 

Now isn't that just ridiculous. I mean, Mr. Heart has been doing his work 24 x 7 and still the girl is complaining. I wonder if Mr. Heart could speak up he would like Bollywood to know exactly what the function of heart is.

JUST IMAGINE...

***

Bollywood : Hi Mr. Heart. How is it going?

Mr. Heart : Fine. Just had a blockage last year. But otherwise it's alright.

Bollywood : Oh come on. Now that's a small problem. You have so many other businesses to take care of. I mean you are the reason people fall in love. You are the cupid. You are the ...

Mr. Heart : Errr... I think you have mistaken me for Brain. He is the guy who does those stupid things. He has so much of free time after all. He is just like bloody government servants. The babu types who have ample time to play solitare on their computer. Or if they don't have a computer in their office they will simply exhibit their creative skills in picking their nose.  On the other hand, I was given this tiresome task of pumping red fluid 24 x 7.

Nose Picking : Creativity at its peak

Bollywood : Is it so?

Mr. Heart : Yup.

Bollywood : So you were not the one who drives girls crazy when they see Tom Cruise or that pale-shimmering-vampire what's his name?

Weirdest Fantasy : "That Shimmering Vampire"

Mr. Heart : Robert Pattison?

Bollywood : yeah him.

Mr. Heart : No. I don't have time for such useless stuffs. That's Mr. Brain releasing his magic potions called hormones.

Brain : Hey hey hey... I am guilty of getting females mad about Tom Cruise or the likes but, geee, not that shimmering guy. Even I am searching the organ, gland or hormone who just got out of control and hooked on to wierd fantasies like him.

Bollywood: So all this time I was mistaken, wasn't I? It wasn't you who is 'deewana'. It was Brain 'jo bin sajna ke maane na'?

Heart: Thank God. Now you know atleast some basics of human anatomy, I guess. Didn't you study about us in schools? We are like Shahrukh and Salman of biology you know. Quite a celebrity.

BFF : Hollywood & Bollywood

Bollywood: I never paid attention to what teachers taught. I never researched in college projects. I never had to. I had my buddy Hollywood to copy from.

 But hey, wait a minute. Even Hollywood thinks you are the reason behind love, passion, desire, etc.  Now, he can't be wrong, can he? I mean, come on, he is from 'phoren' country and people from 'phoren' are cleaner, fairer, even their kids and servants speak english. They can't be wrong.

NEVER!

I think it is you.  You have it in you. You just don't know your potential, my boy. You don't know it yet. But you will my dear friend. My heart knows it.

Heart: No, you freaking idiot. Your heart knows nothing about all that crap. We 'hearts' know nothing about anything except pumping bloods and then eventually dealing with a blockage and die. We know nothing about your bloody things like love and passions. Instead, we give people heart attacks and kill them and..... hey, hey... where are you going you fuck face... listen to me.

Bollywood shook his head, certain that there is something deep in Mr. Heart's heart and he will know it soon. He walked off slowly in style without turning back to listen to Mr Heart.

But then we know our beloved Bollywood. There is always style...only style. No matter. Just like this post which I don't know why I am writing. May be that's what my heart wants me to do. Or does he really? If you find out the answer, let me know.

THE BUS STOP

Madhu gazed steadily at the scene that was unfolding before her eyes. An hour ago she was whining over her daily routine...

Monday blues caught her by the neck and she was already late. Her husband was searching for his wallet like every typical Indian husband.

After he left, Madhu went on to prepare lunch for her 3 year old daughter, Shivani. She packed the lunch in a yellow coloured tiffin box and then waved good bye to her. Now she had to rush to the bus stop. She was getting late.

She missed Bus no. 11 which left just before her eyes as she reached the stop.

"Why does it happen to me?" she thought annoyed by the terrible day she was having.  "It's only me who had to deal with these stuffs. Daily. Why me?"

She was late for her office and she decided to hire a taxi. She sat in the yellow-black cab cursing her luck when the taxi came to a halt.

"God dammit! Why did you stop now? What happened?"
"Looks like an accident madam."

Madhu got out of the taxi to see what was going on. There was a large crowd surrounding Bus no. 11 which was burning in flames. An ambulance was rushing in to take all the burnt victims to the hospital.

"Don't know how but the bus caught fire and was covered instantly in flames." She overheard someone in the crowd saying it.
There were cries and howls of burned passengers.

Madhu gazed steadily at the scene that was unfolding before her eyes. An hour ago she was whining over her daily routine.

Suddenly, a truck passed by and she managed to read the text written on the back. It read:
"BETTER LATE THAN NEVER"

***

THE PUNISHMENT

He opened his eyes and found himself tied to bed - his hands, legs and mouth. He heard footsteps approaching.  He wanted to speak but only a muffled sound came.

"You can't escape from me now. " someone whispered.

His heart skipped a beat and his forehead was covered with sweat.

He saw someone in the dim light. Only the outline.

"Are you ready to get punished?" Asked the voice.

The figure approached the bed with a whip in hand.

"Yyyes... yes my lady" he stuttered in excitement.

*Smack! *

His heart paced faster as he saw his wife playing a dominatrix.

THE TRUTH

This is a fiction for write tribe's HEMINGWAY THIS WEDNESDAY.

The task was to pick one or all of these quotes from Hemingway and weave it/them into a story, a piece of non-fiction or a poem even.

“There’s no one thing that’s true. It’s all true.”   (For Whom the Bell Tolls)

“Never to go on trips with anyone you do not love.”   (A Moveable Feast)

“You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another.” (The Sun Also Rises)

“When you love you wish to do things for. You wish to sacrifice for. You wish to serve.”   (A Farewell to Arms)

“When you start to live outside yourself, it’s all dangerous.”   (The Garden of Eden)

The following is my attempt: a fiction based on all the given prompts.

  ______________________________________________________________________________

http://www.peoplespharmacy.com/siteimages/terrifying_hall_photo.jpg

Srikanth was advised to go to some place far, away from where he lived now. His nerves were not in their best form. He needed to get away from memories. Dr. Naidu, his psychiatrist had recommended him Kasoli- a hill station far away from city life. Amidst the sea of green trees with various flora, Dr. Naidu thought Sri would be just alright. Dr. Naidu was wrong. You can’t get away from yourself by moving one place to another.

***

Wearing his favorite sky blue shirt and blue denim jeans, Sri was driving past the lush green orchids, drinking the serene beauty with his eyes. The giant mountains, proudly flaunting their crown of snow; the tall pine trees trying to grasp the blue sky; and the sound of the divine silence. It was like a paradise. Sri passed by a deer and a doe and saw a small wooden cottage by the side of a brook. Dr. Naidu has booked the place for his stay. It was beautiful. A short, bald man in his fifties came to Sri and greeted him.

“Namaste Saahib. My name is Krishna Nath. Tourists here call me Kris. I am your cook cum guard cum caretaker.” He said with a smile.

Sri nodded.

“Let me take your luggage.” Kris took his luggage out of the car and went in the cottage. A black raven was staring at him with its eyes blood-red. It cawed continuously.

Something is not right. Sri thought and went inside the cottage.

***

After a hot water bath at the cottage, Sri took out his car and went on to explore the surrounding scenarios. Just as his car passed a small stream of river, he heard a sound. A whisper: “Never go on trips with anyone you do not love.” With the sound of screeching tyres the car came to a stop. Sri was terrified. He looked around and saw nothing. Then his eyes met a scene which made his stomach churn inside out. It was the same doe and the deer he saw when he entered the village. But the scene he was seeing now was unbelievable. The doe was eating the deer’s flesh. Its face covered with red blood of its partner. Sri felt like puking. He wanted to go away as soon as possible. He turned on the ignition; put the 1^st gear pushed the accelerator. The car wasn’t moving. He applied full force on the accelerator pedal. NOTHING. He left the car and dashed his way out into the woods.

***

He ran and ran till he could. When he was all out of breath he found himself near the cottage he was residing in. He went in and found Kris sharpening a knife on a stone and mumbling something to himself. Sri listened carefully and was terrified.

“I will kill him. I will kill him for you. When you love you wish to do things for. You wish to sacrifice for. You wish to serve. I will serve you. I will sacrifice him for you. For our love.”

Sri saw a small picture placed before Kris. It was his wife’s photograph.  Without saying a word he moved out of the cottage quickly. As he turned, blood drained down his face. He was sure he was dreaming. 

This can’t be true. He thought

 What he saw was a man in late twenties, with sky blue shirt and blue denim jeans. Sri was seeing himself. It was like the image from the mirror jumped out into the real world and is standing before him.

“Ww..who are you?” a terrified Sri asked.

“I am Srikanth.” Came a chilling whisper that made the hair on his back stand.

“It…It cccan’t be. I…I…I am Srikanth.” Sri noticed he was crying.

“I know. I am you and you are me. It’s dangerous, you know?” replied a whispering shriek.

Sri managed all his courage to ask, “What… What is dangerous?”

“When you start to live outside yourself, it’s all dangerous.”

That was the last sentence Sri heard before everything got dark and silent.

***

A week after the incident, Sri opened his eyes and stared at the white ceiling fan. He looked around and saw beds with white sheets. He knew he was in hospital. He remembered what had happened to him but shrugged it off as a dream. Whatever it was, his conscience told him, it just can’t be true. It was a mere dream.

Dr. Naidu entered the room with another doctor by his side. He looked familiar. He was bald and in his fifties. The entire incident came crashing back before his eyes. The man resembled Kris, the caretaker at the cottage. Krishna Nath. Sri was sweating, his eyes rolled up and he fainted again. Dr. Naidu showed no surprise. He knew it was normal. The report in his hand read:

Name: Srikanth Rao

Age : 29 Yrs.

Sentenced to 10 years of rigorous imprisonment for murder of his wife.

Suffering from:  Schizophrenia and Hallucination.

***

Sri was standing beside Dr. Naidu. He can see himself deep in sleep, his body lay on the bed. He saw the black raven with bloodshot eyes staring at him and cawing continuously. He heard Dr. Naidu say to the other doctor:

“He told me about some caretaker named Kris Nath. You know, when you jumble up the words it becomes Srikanth. He told me he was hearing voices and that everyone was trying to kill him. Again, a common symptom of schizophrenia. Poor Sri, he thinks it is something supernatural. He is wrong. The truth is so simple. It’s all in his mind.”

Standing beside Dr. Naidu, Sri smiled a sinister smile. He can see his unconscious body still lying on the bed. He knew Dr. Naidu couldn't see him. He can only see his limp body on the hospital bed. The raven cawed for one last time and flew off the tree. Dr. Naidu froze with fear as he heard a whisper.

“The truth is never simple doctor. You know why? Because there’s no one thing that’s true. It’s all true.”

__________________________________________________________________________

Points to ponder:

1. Is the whole story only from Sri's point of view and therefore is just a dream/hallucination?

2. Why did Sri turn against his own consciousness? [If you support the 'supernatural is real' theory.]

3. Was Kris Nath real or Sri just pictured him out of the other doctor and turned him into imaginary caretaker?

4. What is the TRUTH?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

I seldom write personal experiences. The inspiration for this post is Parama Ghosh's blog - potpourri. A few days ago she wrote a beautiful piece titled MONOCHROME. This is just an attempt on my part to try something new on this auspicious occasion of Diwali.

DISCLAIMER: The incident took place on 31st October. That's when the birthday was. It is being posted here today because of technical problems. (You will find many such problems below. So enjoy). There is no intention or motive to defame our beloved language "ENGLISH". The instances of text messages in acronyms (eg. u [you], m [am], txt [text], cm 2 me, etc.) are purely for the sake of reality. Some might do it for "Koolness". I do it to save word limits and time. We do sometimes want words to be typed quickly on a cellphone. A wise man once said: "Feelings matter, not words." Enough of disclaimer. Let's start with an awesome quote:

"Some don't believe in God. Some are devotees. I am neither. I just like to blame Him for everything."

  -- Shreyansh Chouradia

***

It seems more than just a coincidence when you tread back the memory lane and think of how some people enter your life and become so important. Without any reason. You meet them and you have a feeling; a 'something' that tells you that he/she is special. No I am not talking about my girlfriend.  I am talking of a girl very special to both me and my girl friend. We call her Rupa di.

That 'special someone' had birthday. I set the date on my cellphone's planner and then waited for the day. 31st October. Ok. So, I had plans.

1.   To wish her Happy B'day right at 12.00.

2. To send her gift.

3. To surprise her with the above gift.

But then, that sadistic creature we so lovingly call GOD had different plans. Plans to ruin my sacred plans.

Now I shall tell you how Mr. GOD ruined my plans.

Plan no. 1 - WISH HER RIGHT AT 12.00.

Cliché as it may be, it is now a universal protocol that you must wish a person close to you at 12.00.

I looked at my watch and became ready. I took a warm bath and waited for the hands of the clock to embrace each other at 12.00

11.40 pm:  I composed a birthday message.

11.55 pm: The battery died. Shit!

I plugged in the white, short-tailed charger of my galaxy note 2 and waited.

11. 58 pm: The cellphone had 2 % battery. Enough to send a message and place a call.

11.59 pm: I touched the cellphone's screen and started searching her name in the contacts. Found it and dialed the number. A beep and nothing...

I dialed again and found out there was no network.

Damn!

The clock struck 12 and then 12.15 pm. After a good 15 minutes I called her. The number was busy. That was obvious. I sent her the message I had composed for her and then started searching on the internet for floral services for delivering gift.

That marks the end of our plan no. 1: WISH HER AT 12.00

***

Plan no.2 : TO SEND (place order) HER GIFT.

After searching long on the internet for the gifts and flora I selected a package, entered her address where it was to be delivered and proceeded to 'net banking payment' option. After a few minutes I was staring at a blue and white site. The SBI homepage. It begged me for logging in and I obliged.

*invalid username or password*

I typed again.

*invalid username and password*

Again.

*invalid username and password*

*Due to three unsuccessful attempts you have been blocked for the day*

I knew my account was hacked. So was my plan no.2 : SEND HER GIFT.

***

Plan no.3 : THE SURPRISE.

Okay. So, my account was hacked.  I wasn't concerned because it only had a sum of five thousand rupees. Now what? 

"Message your girlfriend." Said an inner voice. Though we were taking a silent break from each other because of last night argument, I thought I should message her and ask her to pay for the gift now. I shall pay her later.

I picked up the phone. The battery and network bars both were full. I typed the text in a hurry as we all do, setting fire to the pyre of grammatical rules :

*u alrdy knw its rupa di's bday. I wnt 2 gv her surprise. Plz gift her smthng frm net. My sbi bank accnt hacked.*

And I touched the send button. This marks the ruining of my last plan.

Plan 3: TO SURPRISE HER. How you ask?

When I clicked the send button, my cellphone displayed the following text:

*Sending message to Rupa di*

I have mistakenly sent the message to our very own birthday girl. I could not cancel that message. Like an arrow from a bow it was gone. 

A beep. 

Even the technology mocked me, I thought as I read the delivery report. *message delivered to Rupa di.*

Shit!

Now, she knew everything: from ->my plan to surprise her-> to my financial crisis.

Anyways, I forwarded the message to my girlfriend too so as to get some help only to get the reply : 

*k. But plz u select the package. I m busy.*

My anger rose and I replied:

*Dnt worry. U work. I shall manage.*

I was angry. I didn't manage anything. I slept off.

Then, after an hour I got up from my sleep from a ping. I read the message and came to know that my girlfriend has placed the order and paid for it. 

No, its not the end yet and so everything won't be right just yet.

***

She also told me that our beloved birthday girl (Rupa di) was leaving for home tomorrow morning and she won't be be there to receive the gift.

I was angry. Very angry. 

1. With my girlfriend, for no apparent reason. 

2. With the telecom companies, whose dogs are better at following you than their networks.

3. With the guy who hacked my account and made me stand Below the Poverty Line. 

4. With God who was enjoying the twists in the story just like you. 

I felt helpless and frustrated. I put the lights off, let the darkness engulf me. I drifted to sleep again.

The next morning I woke up by the sound of the message tone. Feeling groggy, I put on my glasses and with drowsy eyes I read the message:

*I am glad I cancelled my journey when I came to know about your gift. Thank you, thank you, thank you for the lovely gift. I m glad I received it myself.*

I sighed. A sigh of relief. My lips curled contently as I muttered in a low whisper:

*Thank God.*

A HAPPY ME