by Nikita Singh
The only problem is, when we’re done shopping, I’m pretty broke, which is a little sad, since I had my heart set on this pair of Chuck Taylors I spotted at the mall earlier today. I’ve spent all the money Mum gave me and have nothing left. I take the basket home with me. My mum already knows I’m dating Sameer, so I don’t suppose she’d be against me getting him gifts on his birthday. Though I bought him all this only because I was told to. He’s not my boyfriend, not really. I mean, sure, before I got into that accident, but now I don’t even know him. I just hope he understands this (better sooner than later) and lets me go.
Twelve
I get home and tell Mum about the plan and am surprised by her reaction. She is okay with me going to Sameer’s place in the middle of the night, and partying till the morning. She apparently knows Sameer’s parents and said she doesn’t have a problem with me spending the night at their place if all my other friends are there.
She said she’d just speak with Sameer’s parents to confirm, so I tell her it’s a surprise, at which point she assures me she’ll ask Sameer’s parents to not tell him. I call Ada and ask if we could tell Sameer’s parents about the midnight surprise and she said she’d have to check with Tisha, so we get Tisha on conference, who goes all of course we can tell them, duh, who do you think is going to let us in and arrange everything if not his parents?
So I tell Mum she can call Sameer’s parents, which she does, while I have dinner with Dad, watching an IPL match on the TV, where the Chennai Super Kings are kicking some Pune Warriors butt. Dad is very much into cricket and keeps track of all the matches taking place. This season of IPL began the day after I woke up from my coma and, watching the matches with Dad, I’ve begun taking a real interest in it.
Ada calls and I answer, picking up my empty plate from the table and taking it to the kitchen sink with the other hand. ‘Hey.’
‘Hi, be ready by like 11.30. Bharat will come pick you up and the rest of us will meet you at Sameer’s place,’ she says quickly, like she’s in a rush.
‘Sounds fine.’
‘And don’t bring the gift.’
‘What? Why not?’
‘We won’t have time to arrange it or anything. We can do gifts in the evening.’
‘Umm, okay then.’
‘Cool, see you then. I’m so excited!’ and excited she sounds.
‘Me too,’ I mutter, meaning it a little. Hanging out with my friends isn’t exactly fun, but I can see myself settling down and making a place of my own amongst them. The only problem is that Bharat is too busy and Kapil can’t hang with us while Tisha’s there, which is always. I don’t like Tisha. Which leaves just Sameer and Ada, both of whom are Tisha’s BFFs and always by her side. Kind of difficult to build my place in the group, but I can try.
They’re all always saying it’ll be so great once I get my memory back. They talk about my past as if it was an intensely fun, never-ending series of really happening parties and like we were all a tight-knit group, with especially Tisha and I being inseparable. No shit. Going by the stories they tell me, we were practically inseparable. And I try extremely hard, but I. Just. Can’t. Picture. It.
At 11.35 p.m., I get a text from Bharat and make my way downstairs. It takes us fifteen minutes to get to Sameer’s place. Once we’re parked, we join Kapil, Ada and Tisha near the elevator. Kapil is willing to be around Tisha because this is a ‘special circumstance’ where neither of them is willing to back down. We all get in and Tisha pushes the button to Sameer’s floor.
‘Excited?’ Bharat asks.
‘Oh, hell yeah,’ Tisha exclaims.
We reach the floor and step out of the elevator. Tisha calls Sameer’s parents and asks them to open the door and let us in, which they do, a moment later. Bharat enters first, carefully carrying the cake. I notice Tisha is also carrying a package.
‘What’s that?’ I ask.
‘Some decorations and stuff,’ she shrugs.
Bharat sets the cake down on the centre table and Tisha starts putting all sorts of decorative stuff around it. She gives the confetti blaster to Ada, who passes it over to Kapil. We switch off the lights once we’ve lit the candles and I check the time. It’s 11.57 p.m.
‘Call him,’ Bharat asks me.
I dial his number and he picks up after half a ring.
‘Hey,’ he greets.
‘Hi Sameer. What’s going on?’
‘Nothing much. Was just about to go to sleep.’
‘Sleep? But it’s your birthday in like, two minutes,’ I say.
‘Yeah, that’s why I haven’t gone to sleep yet. I know there’ll be a zillion calls I’ll need to answer.’
‘Yeah, nobody’s going to let you sleep tonight.’ Just as I say this, a landline phone on my right starts ringing. I start, but Bharat places a finger on his lips to shush me. Oh, I get it. He called the landline so that Sameer will come out to pick it up and SURPRISE.
‘Who’s calling at this time?’ Sameer’s voice questioned through the phone.
‘Me?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, I can hear a phone ringing in the background.’
‘Oh, umm,’ I look around and Tisha pokes a finger at the dial of her watch, which I cannot see from here, but assume she’s trying to convey it’s 12.00 and say, ‘I think it’s yours.’
‘What? No. Hold on, lemme check,’ he says and a moment later, light from his room floods the gallery through his open door. ‘Oh yeah, it’s mine. But I swear I could hear it coming from the background,’ his voice is very low and it feels like he’s talking more to himself.
‘Who is it?’ I ask, just as he emerges into the living room. Our eyes are adjusted to the darkness, but he obviously can’t see us clearly in the candlelight. Ada and Bharat flip on the lights and we yell together: ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY!’
He looks completely and utterly surprised for a second, before his face splits into a big ‘O’ and he exclaims, ‘Oh my God, guys! Thank you so much. But you shouldn’t have,’ and then he giggles.
Way to gay it up.
1 MAY 2013
From where I’m sitting perched on Sameer’s desk, my legs resting on his revolving chair, it looks like we’re on a reality show. There are no cameras though—I looked. Kapil and Bharat are lying lazily on Sameer’s bed, Ada is sitting on the bed too, inspecting the LP T-shirt (yeah, Tisha brought and gave the frigging tee to Sameer, while making Ada call me up and ask me to not bring my gift. I strongly suspect she wanted to steal the show, which she would have anyway, what with the high level of amazingness her gift promised, but she felt the need to get rid of the competition just the same), Tisha is typing furiously into her phone since she can’t go fifteen minutes without making her presence felt on all sorts of social networking platforms and Sameer is sitting by a window, accepting birthday wishes. It’s caller number 73. Yes, I’m keeping count. It spices things up and keeps me from falling asleep right here on this desk.
‘Can we go home now?’ I ask. Sitting on a hard wooden desk for two hours in the middle of the night is literally a pain in the butt.
‘Mmm?’ Tisha looks up from her phone. I feel privileged.
‘Home. I’m sleepy.’
‘But this is Sameer’s special day! We can’t leave!’
‘Seriously. Look at him. He’s been on the phone for hours now. I bet he wouldn’t even notice if we just left.’ ‘That’s so awfully selfish of you. Don’t you think you should be here with him today?’ God. Too much drama for 2.37 a.m. ‘Fine. Then I at least have to change out of this,’ I motion towards my top, which is plastered with cake. Apparently, on birthdays, cake is applied to the faces and bodies of people present, instead of being eaten. I tried to wipe it out, but there is still a little left on my top and my hair. I thought we would go home in a little while, but if we’re planning to stay all night, I need a change of clothes, and to wash my face.
‘Actually, me too,’ Tisha says, looking down at her own dirty clothes. And slowly, all the others follow suit. I
t’s like nobody realized we were all covered with sugar and whipped cream until I pointed it out.
‘Let me find something for everyone,’ Bharat says and gets up. He opens Sameer’s wardrobe and steps back to inspect the contents inside. ‘Hmm. Who’d like a pink tee?’
‘Me,’ both Ada and Tisha say.
Bharat tosses it to Ada, ‘Here you go,’ he says, and to Tisha, ‘Sorry, a little biased here.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Tisha drawls, while Ada’s cheeks turn pink.
‘Black?’ he asks and looks around. Tisha, Kapil and I say yes, but he keeps it for himself and says, ‘I don’t think I’m the right person for this job. Too much pressure.’ He then turns towards Ada, tilts his head towards the bathroom and heads there, Ada following close behind.
‘These two,’ Tisha mutters. The situation we are in right now can be called a rather uncomfortable one, what with Tisha and Kapil not being on speaking terms. I look from Tisha to Kapil and back again and try to think of something to say. Unable to think of anything, I get up and go to the cupboard. I pick up a couple of T-shirts and throw one at each of them and select one for myself.
‘What’s this?’ There is a green women’s handbag lying on the bottommost shelf of Sameer’s cupboard.
This time Tisha doesn’t look up from her phone. I look at Kapil and he shrugs. I look at Sameer, who’s facing away from us and towards the window and ask, ‘Sameer? Whose is this?’ I take out the bag and raise it up to show him what I’m referring to.
‘Huh?’ he turns to look at me. ‘Oh, that’s yours.’
‘Mine?’ I ask.
He says, ‘Yes. You left it behind the last time you were here. I keep forgetting to give it to you.’ He goes back to his phone call.
‘Ah, yeah. You lost your memory,’ Tisha points out, as if just remembering so.
‘Ah, yes, I did indeed.’
‘It’s getting really old now.’
‘Like I’m doing it on purpose. Why would I leave my handbag behind?’ I mutter to myself, just as Bharat and Ada come out of the bathroom, clasped together. They’re making out rather heavily as they stumble across the floor, reach the bed and fall into it. Kapil gets up and out of the way just in time.
I close the cupboard shut and walk back to my spot on the desk, taking my handbag with me. It’s an oversized bag and is like really heavy. Just as I’m about to open it and snoop around, a rather interesting conversation ensues between Tisha, Bharat and Kapil, so I listen in. It’s the first time I’ve seen Tisha and Kapil even speak on the same topic, let alone agree on it.
‘Ugh, guys really,’ Tisha sighs.
‘Get a room,’ Kapil looks at the lovebirds and shakes his head.
‘Why? What’s wrong with this one?’ Bharat winks.
‘That there are other people in it,’ Tisha says.
Bharat: ‘One would think you’d have enough decency to look away.’
Kapil: ‘One would think you’d have enough decency to not make out in front of us.’
Bharat: ‘There’s nothing decent about not making out, my friend. Just pathetic.’
Tisha: ‘But there sure is something indecent about you guys making out like RIGHT IN FRONT OF US. I mean—we’re RIGHT. HERE.’
After that it gets repetitive and I lose interest. Bharat continues to make out with Ada and argue about it and Tisha and Kapil continue protesting. I open the flap of the handbag they say is mine and that I have no recollection of. There’s a wallet inside, with some cash, a few ID cards and bank cards, a picture of Tisha and me hugging and making weird faces and some bills. Let’s see, what else.
There’s a key ring, with two keys, one of which I suppose is to my apartment. I remember Dad mentioning they changed the locks, since I lost my key and anyone could have found it and got into our home. Although I don’t see how the said person finding the key would know which of the millions of homes in Delhi to go to and try the key. But that’s parents: overprotective, overcautious and perennially paranoid. At least my parents seem to be that way.
I find a round pack of compact powder, a few coloured pencils (I’m unsure about their purpose, they look like lipstick liners but could just as easily be eyeliners—the thin body of the pencil doesn’t say anything), there’s mascara, a few shades of lipstick and a small, round container of lip balm. Also, wet wipes, skin cream, moisturizer, sunscreen, breath mints, a couple bottles of nail polish, a box full of small shiny balls that look like something used for makeup but honestly I have no clue about, a few small bottles of perfume, sticks of chewing gum, a medium sized diary, some Disprin, my cell phone charger, some bars with SNICKERS written on them and a small teddy bear.
Phew. It’s like I used to carry my entire freaking world with me.
‘Anybody wants Snickers?’ I ask, waving a bar in the air.
‘Here,’ Kapil says and I throw the bar to him, which he catches with unnecessary flourish and animation, like he’s in
a cricket ground and just caught a ball and I’m OUT.
‘I’ve got another one.’
Both Bharat and Sameer ask for it, and I have just one, so I say ‘share’ and throw it at an unoccupied portion of the bed between them, roughly equidistant to both of them. Sameer grabs it first.
‘Do you know how many calories that bar has?’ Tisha grimaces.
I shrug.
‘You only kept it with you in case of emergencies. Nobody eats Snickers just for fun!’ She looks absolutely scandalized.
I don’t entertain her, and instead shove a stick of gum into my mouth. ‘Want some?’ I point the rest of the pack in her direction.
‘No, thanks, sweetie. I like to keep my sugar intake in check. And I’ve already reached today’s limit.’
‘But it’s no longer that day. We’re three hours into a new day,’ I state, confirming the time on my phone. I’m just messing with her because everybody else is silent and it’s the most boring party ever, although this is the first birthday party I’ve attended so I have nothing to compare it with.
Ada takes a stick of gum from me but Tisha doesn’t, maybe on principle or something. When after a few minutes, everybody looks close to falling asleep, Tisha gets up and plays music on the stereo, which jolts everyone awake. She turns on the disco lights (yeah, Sameer has disco lights in his room, for REAL) and turns off the regular lights.
She then climbs up in the middle of the bed (everybody moves back a little to make space) and starts dancing, throwing her hands in the air, tossing her hair around, shaking her hips and what not. After a moment, Ada gets up next to her and joins in. It takes the rest of us about thirty seconds to join in. The bed is king size, but really not big enough for six teenagers to be jumping on. But we jump on it anyway.
‘Isn’t the music going to disturb other people?’ I yell over the music to Sameer. Arguably, it is the middle of the night, and this room isn’t exactly sound proof.
‘The room’s sound proof,’ Sameer yells back. Of course it is. So that’s why he couldn’t hear the landline phone ringing in his own home, but could hear it in my background earlier tonight.
‘Fancy,’ I shout.
Sameer nods his head and turns sort of towards me, so now even when we are six people dancing in a group, it’s like the two of us have created our own smaller group inside the original one. When the music changes, he puts both his hands on the sides of my waist and kind of sways with the song, swaying me with him. I have to agree that this is kind of fun, minus the hands on my waist bit.
We must look really stupid hopping on a bed, all wearing T-shirts of the same size but different colours. But the disco lights blink in a way that keeps us from actually seeing anything for more than a fraction of a second. As if that wasn’t enough, Tisha starts singing along too, and is once again joined in by everybody else except me. I don’t know the song, just like I don’t know any other song. In the thirty days of my life, my education in music has been fairly limited.
As soon as everybody starts sing
ing along with the song, the music turns into noise. But they seem to enjoy the noise much more than the music, whereas I can feel my eardrums protesting. And, when Sameer twirls me around so that my back faces his front and wraps his arm around my stomach, that’s when I get really uncomfortable. Our bodies are touching at places they should not be touching, and suddenly I am acutely aware of the existence of my butt.
Then he leans down and whispers (actually, he speaks at a regular volume used during conversations, but given the noise around, it translates into a whisper) in my ear, ‘What’s up?’ like it means something. Like what’s up did not mean what’s up, but something else. Something more. Once again, I feel like I’m letting him down by not remembering this secret language or personal joke or whatever we used to share. These people keep making me feel guilty about letting them down by not remembering. I make my face curve into a small smile, and hope that compensates for not remembering what what’s up means to us. He leans further down and kisses the base of my neck. And keeps kissing it.
Oh God. We’re supposed to make out. I remember the things Bharat and Ada were doing and my blood turns cold. I can’t deny him his girlfriend on his birthday. How am I supposed to convey the message that I’m just not ready without ruining his special day? He kisses my cheek, and I can sense him moving toward my lips. I’m not just nervous or scared or panicked, I’m NERVOUS AND SCARED AND PANICKED. I try to tell myself that maybe it won’t be all bad. He sure looks yummy enough. But he’s a girl inside. And I don’t ‘like’ like him. Too late. He pecks my lips softly, which feels a little awkward, what with him standing behind me and holding my chin to keep my face turned towards him, and meeting me halfway.