by Nikita Singh
Ronit: Oh, great! :)
So what’ll be your gift from me? Shorter shorts will do?? :P :P
No, please. Spare me the pain . . . I like to breathe!
Vatsala: I wouldn’t mind! ;)
Ronit: And what’ll I get in return?
What was I supposed to say to that?
Vatsala: Whatever you say . . .
Ronit: Wear something super-short and super-hot for your b’day!! And upload pictures! ;)
Vatsala: Can’t promise the short part . . . live with my family . . .
And of course, the other tiny reason – Ranchi is hardly a metro!
Ronit: Hot will do :D
Vatsala: Hehe! Sure :)
Did I just flirt a guy I barely even know? And a celebrity at that?
Sometimes, I amaze myself!
All of a sudden, searching-for-a-hot-dress became the sole purpose of my existence. Since Jaanvi was busy with Nilaap, who was in a ‘crisis’ (whatever that meant!), I called Nalini and Shruti. Luckily for me, Nalini knew all the right stores and could almost sniff and tell if we’d find anything decent there.
One-piece dresses were something I had no affinity towards and shopping for one was definitely a first.
Chat-8
Messed up Plans
October 5th, 2010
“How could you do this to me?” Jaanvi shrieked when I showed her the dress I’d bought the previous day.
“What did I do?” I frowned.
“I’ll have to tell you that? You went to shopping without me!”
“But you were busy rescuing Nilaap from whatever crisis he was in. That’s why I didn’t call you.”
“I just said I was busy for the movie. It didn’t necessarily imply that I was busy for shopping too!”
“You lost me.”
“Let me explain, Einstein! Nothing happened to Nilaap. I’m not saying I wasn’t with him. I was. And it was so much fun. He’s totally besotted by me, that’s kind of obvious . . . and I think I’m falling for him too. Every time I’m with him, it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t even exist. And when I’m not with him—”
“So you mean you didn’t come with us to spend time with him alone?” I cut her off mid-sentence. I couldn’t bear to take anymore of that lovey-dovey stuff.
“Huh? What? Oh no! I meant that Nilaap wasn’t having a crisis. I lied to you. I wanted you and Ankit to spend some quality time together. My idea!” she said, sounding immensely pleased with herself.
“What?” It was too much for me to take at once. I was really dumb when it came to all that emotional crap. It was all French to me. Or German maybe. Whichever is more difficult to understand. Chinese. (Mandarin, to be precise. Since ‘Chinese’ is not a language!)
“Yes. Ankit had already seen the movie once. He said he liked one of the songs from the soundtrack a lot. So I suggested we get four tickets, I and Nilaap back out at the last moment, you guys spend some time together and after the movie – when you are starved as you always are – he takes you to Ecstasy and arrange for that song to be played. And then he professes his love for you and you guys live happily together forever after.”
“WHAT?” I repeated, only louder this time.
“Yeah. And although I don’t think he was going to execute that last part of the plan, I did manage to convince him to at least initiate a conversation regarding that.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“So tell me, what happened?” she prodded. “Ankit didn’t call. Neither did you. I was waiting.”
It was one of those moments when someone tells you what you did unknowingly and the first thing that comes into your mind is ‘Uh-oh.’
Ankit had planned on a date with me? He had wanted to talk about us? And I’d messed it up bad. So bad. First I invited Praveen and Evita to join us, when we were supposedly planned to spend some ‘quality time’ alone. But then the lovebirds had flown out of sight . . .
“Oh! So that’s why Praveen and Evita left right after the movie . . .” I wondered aloud.
“Praveen? Evita? What’re you talking about?” Jaanvi asked.
“I asked them for the movie. The tickets would’ve gone to waste otherwise.”
“Bloody hell! Are you crazy?”
“I didn’t know about your little plan!”
“Point. So what happened after the movie? Oh God, do I even want to know?”
I gave her my best dirty look. “They left. I guess Ankit made them . . .”
“That’s my boy! Then he took you to Ecstasy?”
“Yes, because I was so starved, as planned.”
She laughed. “I know you so well. If you weren’t starved, by any chance, he would’ve suggested the place. And you never say no to Ecstasy!”
“Who can? It’s the best ever.”
“I know. So what happened next?”
“Things didn’t go quite as romantically as planned. On listening to that cheesy song, I did not get doe-eyed and express my undying love for him . . .” I then narrated the entire incident to her, taking special care to emphasise on how her well thought-out plan hadn’t exactly worked out as expected.
“You hated the song?”
“Absolutely.”
“And you’re telling me you rushed home to check what VJ Ron sent you in that Message, without even bothering to stay a while longer to listen to what Ankit had to say?”
“How was I supposed to know Ankit wanted to say something to me in the first place?”
“This sucks. I can’t even begin to imagine how he must’ve felt . . .”
“Shit,” I said. Everything I felt at that moment could pretty much be summarised in that one little word. Shit.
I was pretty slow when it came to the emotional crap, but this time even I had a faint inkling that it couldn’t have been a memorable experience for Ankit. Or maybe it had been memorable, only for all the wrong reasons.
“Did you just have to run home? What did VJ Ron send you anyway?” He was still VJ Ron to her, while he’d become Ronit for me long ago. We knew each other.
“A half-naked photo of him,” I told her.
“What? Really? You lucky bitch!”
“Actually, it wasn’t exclusive or anything. He added it to his Album too.”
“Which album?”
“Australia.”
“Okay, I’ll check. And tell me something. . . What if VJ Ron wasn’t in the picture? What then?”
“As in?”
“I want to know your reaction to what Ankit would’ve said; had VJ Ron not sent you that Message.”
“I don’t know . . . it could’ve been worse than this, I guess . . .”
“How?”
“Because your plan was really shitty. You know I don’t give two hoots about romantic music and heartfelt confession of true love. Love doesn’t exist.”
“It does.”
“For some people maybe, but I ain’t that blessed,” I rolled my eyes.
“Why aren’t you taking this seriously?”
“I am serious. I don’t believe in that superbly overrated term love.”
“So what are you doing with VJ Ron?”
“You mind calling him Ronit? VJ Ron seems so—”
“OK, Ronit. Why such double standard?”
“I don’t love Ronit! It’s just a minor crush.”
“Ankit loves you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you at all?”
“It does . . . but . . .”
“But what?”
“You can’t force me to love him! I just don’t, for reason beyond my comprehension level.” I had a pea-sized brain.
“You—”
“Just close the topic.”
“Okay,” she agreed half-heartedly.
“So tell me. You like the dress?”
“Love it. Fish! I missed shopping with you. That too for a dress. By the way, why sudden change of style? I’ve never seen you wear a one-piece dress before.” (Jaanvi had a problem with using the F-word. She sa
id ‘fish’ instead. Or rats or pigs or duck! Don’t get me wrong, she didn’t have any trouble saying other swear words!)
Yes. I never used to wear dresses or skirts or other girly attires. Denims and sweatshirts pretty much defined me.
I also had a strong disliking for heels and make-up. But I couldn’t have looked hot in clothes that I preferred wearing. And I just had to look hot for Ronit. I didn’t tell Jaanvi this, though.
“We’re celebrating in a club and all . . . so I thought I’d dress up for a change.”
“Great.” She rubbed her palms together, visibly excited. Then she started deciding what kind of stockings, footwear and make-up I’d be wearing the next day. And yeah, the hairstyle! How can I forget about that? She spent hours on it, face contorted in concentration, twisting my hair one way or the other. I lost count of the number of hairs I lost that day. Clips, I counted up to eleven and then lost count of them, too.
And it wasn’t even my birthday that day! She was just experimenting with my hair to decide which look suited me the best. ‘Rehearsing’ was the term she’d used.
By the time she got her ‘perfect look’ I had developed a slight sprain in my neck.
But for once in my life, I genuinely didn’t mind. To tell the truth, I actually even enjoyed the whole session. Especially, when I looked into the mirror and saw my reflection. It felt like I might actually end up looking hot the next day.
It was a nice feeling.
Moments later, Jaanvi left after getting a call from Ankit. She didn’t let me join her, saying she had to talk to him alone about what had happened at Ecstasy the previous day.
It wasn’t that big a deal, I felt like shouting, but held myself back. I knew they were going to shop for my birthday gift and Jaanvi was just making excuses to keep me at bay.
I logged into my FB account, convincing myself that I was doing so out of sheer boredom. No other reason. Definitely not because of Ronit. Not at all.
I was living in denial.
His Status read “Ronit Oberoi thinks that we are a bunch of people accustomed to unnecessary trans fat in our diet and a paunch.”
Apparently, a lot of people had been trashing him for his weight loss. Too skinny, darker than before, eyes sinking back into sockets and dimples retreating back into the cheeks . . . I didn’t think so. Not after that absolutely smoking photo of his I saw just the previous day!
Not that I had any affinity to ultra slim skeleton look-alike boys. On the contrary, even the thought of ever going out with a guy whose stomach caved inwards, every bone of his ribs prominent under his T-shirt, arms sticking out like matchsticks, ready to snap at the slightest pressure and – worst part – wore his jeans extremely low on nonexistent hips . . . Yikes! Nightmare! I preferred some flesh on bones.
Don’t get me wrong. I hate too many muscles, because that’s so-not-sexy either. But Ronit had it perfectly balanced. He had the right amount of bones and muscles. Just like Brad Pitt! Remember Fight Club? Yum!
I posted a Comment on his Status.
Vatsala: Excessive trans fat in our diets is almost a way of Indian lifestyle!
But a paunch? We panic at the first sign of it! Definitely not accustomed to it!
Seven girls Liked that Comment. Ronit, however, did not show any sign of noticing it whatsoever. All girls were going mad, praising him like anything, debating whether they like the new Ronit or the old, trying to get his attention.
Ronit: None of the comments are in sync with the status! :P
Vatsala: Mine is!
Ronit: Oh yes, yours is :)
And that’s all the ‘conversation’ I had with Ronit that day. Did he even remember that I was the same girl he chatted with the previous day? I have no idea.
Chat-9
Dance Floor
October 6th, 2010
I rechecked my cell phone – no new message. It was my birthday and Ronit hadn’t wished me. It was almost eight in the evening and I was getting increasingly irritated. I hadn’t left my cell phone for even a single second the whole day. Online, waiting . . .
“So, how’s Buttons?” Jaanvi asked as she came to sit next to me on the windowpane.
“Buttons?” I asked.
“Your cell phone! You’ve spent all day with it, didn’t think it was humane to name him? How mean!”
“Very funny.” I-phones don’t even have buttons.
“Oh come on! It’s your birthday. We’re supposed to be having fun.”
“But he still hasn’t wished me.”
“So what? Your best friends are with you and everyone else is already at the club waiting for you. Does that mean nothing to you now?” she asked angrily.
“Of course it does! Still . . .”
“Whatever. I was really looking forward to this treat and I’m not going to miss it. I’m off,” she announced and left.
“Someone’s real pissed off,” Ankit observed, entering my room.
“Sure I’m pissed. She left for my birthday treat without me!”
“Actually, I was referring to her. She seems really pissed at you,” Ankit said, looking very amused.
“But she left!”
“No, she didn’t. She’s waiting for you outside. You really thought she left?”
“I hoped not.”
“So let’s go.”
I looked down at my phone, “Yes, we should. Before she leaves for real!”
“You know, there are still four hours left. He’ll send a Message.”
“Hmmm . . .”
“Anyway, I wanted to give you something,” he said, producing a wrapped package; my birthday gift! I tore it open to reveal a collection of all the movies Brad Pitt has ever worked in. All of them!
I hugged him tightly shrieking, “You’re the best best best friend anyone can ever get!” This is what I liked about Ankit the most – he never forced his choices on me. He gifted me movies of my favourite actor and did not try to make me like his favourite, who happened to be Leonardo DiCaprio (who is equally stunning, by the way. But I don’t fall in love with everyone!).
As I looked at Ankit at that moment and met his eyes, I felt a strange . . . something. I didn’t know what it was, couldn’t quite put a finger on it . . . I opened my mouth to say something but for the first time in my life, words failed me.
“Shall we?” he said and the moment passed.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
“And just by the way . . .”
“What?” I asked.
“You look stunning. I mean literally.”
“I thought you’ll never say.” Why was I blushing?
“I thought you weren’t in a mood to listen.”
“You could’ve changed my mood.”
“Guess I did just that!” He puffed his chest out, proud of himself.
“Yeah yeah,” I punched his arm.
“Cute way you have of expressing yourself!”
“Don’t. Ever. Call. Me. Cute.”
“Yeah yeah,” he mimicked me.
“You know what I like about birthdays the most?” I asked as we left for the club together.
“Gifts!” Ankit and Jaanvi said in unison.
“Guilty,” I grinned.
Despite the way it started, the evening went pretty well. Once at the club, everyone praised how I looked. Even Evita, who always raised eyebrows at my slightly tomboyish wardrobe, liked my new look. Although all I got from her was, purple suits you, I decided to take that as a compliment; coming from Evita, it was huge. The best I could hope for.
“Care to dance?” Jaanvi asked Ankit.
“Sure,” he replied and turned to me. “Let’s go,” he held my arm and the three of us made our way to the dance floor. We were soon joined by Praveen, Evita, Nilaap, Nalini, Shruti and Viyali.
Sad for me, I had to excuse myself after the first few songs to leave the dance floor and sit on the couch we had reserved.
So I ain’t much of a
dancer. Big deal. Why are all girls expected to dance well anyway? There wasn’t an extra hormone or something that made us great at dancing. And to add to the issue, most girls actually were great dancers.
And to make the matter even worse, Jaanvi and Ankit were both amazing dancers. And they made an awesome pair. They put the term setting the dance floor on fire to shame! They’d won every single dance competition at college and inter-college levels held in the past two years. They should audition for Dance India Dance or the like, I kept telling them. They thought I was just being kind. I wasn’t. They were fantastic dancers. I wasn’t.
All the steps I knew, when taken together, could save my grace for two songs. Three tops. So I satisfied myself with sitting on the couch and drinking my mocktail, trying to drown myself in my misery.
Though alcohol had always fascinated me, I’d never tasted it; going home after having a drink wasn’t a thought I cherished. Not even a sip. I respected my mother too much to do that.
My time will come. Once I’m out of home and into a hostel . . . you just wait!
Watching Ankit and Jaanvi dance together stirred something within me. Was it envy? Why would it be? I didn’t have a reason to be jealous. Jaanvi was quite clearly taken in by Nilaap, who returned her feelings with interest.
And Ankit . . . he loved me. Or at least claimed to do so. So why on earth was I jealous?
He joined me after another two songs.
“You didn’t have to come for me,” I said, although I appreciated his thoughtfulness.
“Come on, I couldn’t leave you alone at your own birthday treat. And anyway, I wanted to give Jaanvi some private time with Nilaap. She said she was done trying to make him jealous.”
We laughed and looked at the pair. Something was definitely brewing there.
Next day, I got a reply from Ronit, to the Message I’d sent him the previous night.
Vatsala: It’s my birthday. A wish wouldn’t hurt!
Ronit: Hey! Was travelling man!
I hope you had a great day. Upload pictures :)
Yeah, whatever, I thought. Who calls a girl ‘man’ anyway? And he really thinks I’ll upload my photos on FB just because he asked me to? Huh! Keep dreaming!
And till this day, the photos from my nineteenth birthday haven’t seen the face of Facebook.
Chat-10
Blues
October 16th, 2010