Let's Have Coffee

by Parul A Mittal

  ‘Last-minute packing done. Rushing to catch the flight. A little planning never hurts. Driving fast can #MehaAndSamir #LiveInLoveOut.’ I send my first tweet of the ‘spot the differences’ week, highlighting Samir’s lack of planning which made us almost miss our flight.

  I am eager to see what Samir says about me. I know he left the room really early to capture the first rays of the rising sun bathe the yellow, mudstone walls of the Sonar Quila. I don’t think he is back yet. I wonder when he will find the time and the signal to tweet. As my phone syncs, I am surprised to see that Samir already managed to tweet an hour ago.

  ‘My mess clutters her mind. Well, her vacant bed is blanking my mind and driving me crazy! #SpotTheDifference #LiveInLoveOut #MehaAndSamir.’

  I smile, amused.

  The day goes by in a blur. Sitting on a charpoy, its legs adorned in rani-colour satin, I admire the little white tents embellishing the barren land behind the palace. After hours of labouring in the piercing desert heat, I am satisfied with the way the mehendi venue resonates with the sandy starkness. Parched, I guzzle down half a bottle of cold water and pour the rest on my burning skin.

  I watch NetGen arrange the clay lanterns amidst rose petals, along the pathway. Pyare is standing nearby talking to the parrot reader. I notice Pyare squeezing NetGen’s hands, every few minutes, as they start to twitch in the absence of social media. I was actually worried that she would go berserk without the keep-alive beeps of her devices, but she hasn’t once made the dash to the tower top. Pyare’s affectionate gesture is keeping her calm but making me long for the warmth of Samir’s friendly hug.

  I am sure Samir is somewhere around in the hotel itself, but it’s been so busy that I haven’t had a chance to talk to him all day. I did see him with a flock of who-else-but-pretty-girls at breakfast and tried to catch his attention, but he was busy reading their palms. Incorrigible flirt! I wonder why I took the trouble to find a parrot reader. I am sure he would have readily done the honours.

  I wonder if Samir has tweeted again about me. I eagerly head to the top of the sandstone tower and wait for my phone to sync. He hasn’t tweeted again! I want to know what he is thinking. Is he tired? Is he missing me? I was hoping to hold on to a piece of him through his words. I try calling him but his phone is unreachable. Well, there is no way I am climbing up the tower again today. Some more exercising like this and I will lose my membership in the B-U-T-fulls club.

  The next day, I manage to catch Samir’s attention on several occasions. I give him all kinds of stares, loving, busy and angry, but he royally ignores every single one of them. Hurt, I wait till its evening before I climb up the tower to tweet. I want him to wait for my tweet like I waited for his. I am shocked when I realize that he hasn’t tweeted till now. Not only am I desperate to talk to him, I am now worried that we will lose our rank in the show.

  Irked by his non-responsiveness, I tweet, ‘Poor communication skills. Can’t differentiate between an angry silence, a serene silence, a busy silence and a lonely silence.’

  Another day passes. We have now been together in this beautiful palace, sharing the same room and working on the same wedding, for more than three days and he has barely said a word to me. Everyone is praising the decor and appreciating my team’s efforts, but no, he can’t even spare a loving smile. I know it’s a hectic schedule, but I am certain that he is avoiding me on purpose. Last evening, during mehendi, when I was called by the bride’s mom, he was standing right there talking to an old lady. He saw me approach and turned his back to me. Why he is doing this? Maybe he doesn’t want anyone here to find out that we are supposedly a couple. Maybe he wants to be able to flirt with the girls freely. As I stand atop the tower, all by myself on a romantic starry night, I read his tweets from yesterday and today, both together.

  ‘Jumps to conclusions, often wrong. There are better ways to exercise e.g. asking. Rule of life—KISS (Keep It Simple Senorita).

  ‘I said ask, but please not at bedtime. Men also need beauty sleep.’

  The first tweet is in response to my comment on his poor communication skills. He obviously thinks I am over-reading his responses or lack of them. The second tweet is because I did ask, like he has suggested, except I woke him up in the middle of the night to do so. Well, if he avoids me all day, and he is busy typing God-knows-what till midnight, when am I supposed to talk? Besides, what does he mean by saying better ways to exercise? Does he think I need to exercise? And boy, he does like to use the acronym KISS for everything.

  I feel like launching a palace-wide hunt, extracting him from whichever girl’s embrace he is in and giving him a long hard kiss. But I know I can’t, because I have no idea where to start and I am too tired. If only everything was as simple as he seems to make it sound. Feeling helpless and annoyed by his implication that I am seeing problems where there are none, I tweet back: ‘Has no feelings. Sees life in moments. In still pictures. Can’t see the complete story behind the pictures.’

  Already feeling low, my heart further sinks, when I find a mail in my inbox updating us on the mid-week reality show stats. Apparently, As have taken a strong lead this week with their army of social media friends, retweeting their tweets. Ds seem to have taken a hit, as this week requires more words than action. Most astonishing is Cs sudden rise to third position with their newly found love. Since media always likes new news, they are all over Cs loving tweets. With limited connectivity, an un-cooperative Samir, and a busy workweek, we are left behind in the race. Crestfallen, I wish for the week to get over so we can return to being a living-in-separate-room but loving couple rather than sleeping-in-same-room but not talking strangers.

  Next day, as I am soaking in the early morning tranquillity, with a cup of green tea, I see Samir returning from a run. Forgetting all our differences and happy because the wedding is about to get over, I ask him if I can borrow his razor because I have forgotten mine. He actually refuses. Can you believe it? I mean we are in this god forsaken, deserted fort. There is no parlour in a hundred-kilometre radius. My underarms need work, as I have to wear a halter-neck blouse for the evening function. And he refuses to share a razor. He can kiss me, exchange saliva with me, but he can’t allow the blade that grazes his stubble trim my silkier and softer…um…well stubble. How fussy can someone be?

  So obviously I run up the sandstone tower immediately to tweet, ‘Has sharing problems and commitment issues. Sometimes selfish.’

  When I check later he has responded, ‘Sharing a bed doesn’t mean I have to share everything. I have an identity that is me. And a razor that is mine. And I like it that way.’

  There’s another tweet, ‘Unsure of what she wants. Confused and insecure.’

  I can understand why he thinks I am confused. Earlier today, he took the initiative to organize a trip to the sand dunes because he knew that I really wanted to go. But then, I got all jealous and angry when he showed up in the jeep with all those bimbos. So obviously I didn’t go with them. And I couldn’t tell him that what I really wanted was to be with him alone.

  Why is it so hard for him to see that I really love him? I trudge down the stone stairs, feeling sad, cold and hungry. I bet he has had dinner at the dunes without me. It’s the first time in my life that I haven’t enjoyed planning a wedding. And that says something.

  I am glad when the dreadful week is finally over and we are on our flight home. NetGen and I are discussing the blog post to cover the wedding. Samir comes over to our row and asks NetGen if she could exchange seats with him. He sits down next to me, takes my hand and gives it a tight squeeze. I try to pull my hand away, but he keeps holding on to it tightly.

  ‘So what kind of silence is this?’ He asks jokingly.

  I keep quiet in an angry-sad-confused-lonely silence.

  ‘I am sorry, I hurt you,’ he says with a sheepish smile, his eyes searching mine for forgiveness.

  Okay, so this is the weirdest thing with Martians. They think that relationships are like an on-off switc
h. I haven’t the faintest idea why he was so unfriendly with me for last six days and now he expects me to give him an all-ok-smile, just because he is saying sorry. Not happening!

  ‘My mom, she was there at the wedding,’ he says softly when I continue to ignore him.

  I turn to stare at him, shocked.

  ‘Family friend. Remember?’

  I vaguely recollect him telling me this, weeks ago at Chaayos. Well, he could have reminded me. And he could have introduced me to his mom. After all, the next week of reality show is a family week. Surely she knows about us and the show.

  ‘She is not overly fond of you, you see. I avoided you so she doesn’t find out that you are around. Believe me, you don’t want to feature in her “usne mere bete pe jadu tona kar diya hai” melodramatic soap.’

  Ouch! I squirm as I picture myself in the role of a sweet, innocent, helpless girl being viciously rebuked by a hideous, cunning to-be mother-in-law.

  He looks in my eyes and apologizes for the bad things he tweeted about me. ‘Every time I sat down to tweet, I would think about you and I would see this huge expanse of soft, fluffy white clouds that I so love. And then I had to focus on a little black dot of your negatives and blow it up into a sinister blob.’

  It was very mean of him to not share the damn razor, which by the way I anyway used behind his back, but I have to admit, his confession is seriously romantic. I look at him, molten and gooey with forgiveness and love. I don’t tell him that whatever I tweeted about him was mostly true. It’s not important. What is important is that I continue to love him despite all those tweets. I think that this week was not meant to test our love for each other, but to see how we can cope with our differences. Love doesn’t need to be perfect; it only needs to be true.

  ‘By the way, next time you sneakily use my razor, just leave it on the slab. Don’t lay it out neatly on a towel to dry. It gives you away,’ he says, his face serious but his eyes smiling. And then he gets up and goes back to his seat.

  End of week three, I know we are doomed, having fallen to the fourth rank, but somehow I am not as upset. I feel a strange joyous cloud hovering over me. My MJ is telling me, ‘Haule haule ho jayega pyaar chal yaar, haule haule ho jayega pyaar.’

  Reality Show: Week 4

  The fourth week starts on a really good note. We get a message from the show’s host, informing us that the As who were at the top of the chart last week have been disqualified. Apparently, a scrub of their online chats revealed that they are already married in court and have enrolled in the realty show to earn a free honeymoon. Samir claims he always knew they were married because the guy would agree with everything the girl said and that kind of democratic agreement happens only after marriage. I am largely thrilled that we have one less couple to beat, although this week being a family week, our performance really depends on how our parents behave. For once, I wish I had not been a difficult teenager.

  Before we know it, it’s already the middle of the week and our parents’ comments are about to be released. Sitting at our coffee table, I watch the boys playing cricket in field outside. I am really edgy. I suck hard on the straw to sip the last drop of Frappuccino that Samir got for me on his way back from work. He has really been very sweet to me. That is worrying me even more. It’s making me wonder what he is trying to make up for. I do hope his parents have sent their views, because he never got me to talk to them. He simply said he has it under control.

  The door bell rings. It must be Samir. He had gone to check on Sharma uncle who is not keeping very well. Samir never remembers to take his keys. I am used to it now. I open the door willingly. We stand at the door, just looking at each other, while our eyes make love with our souls, oblivious of the cross-ventilation that is causing the loose papers lying on his futon to fly all over. Finally he breaks eye contact.

  ‘Let’s see how our parents have rated us, shall we?’ he says, walking in. I nod and follow him hypnotically.

  First, we read my mom’s comment. ‘My parents thought I was too bold to step out of the kitchen and do a job. I feel the kids today are bold to bring their personal lives out of the bedroom into the social media. Parents are always cautious and change is never easy. I would have been ok with anyone Meha chose for herself and Samir just happens to be truly the prince charming every mom wishes for her daughter.’

  ‘Wow, that’s a straight ten on ten. What did you bribe your mom with?’ Samir asks me teasingly.

  ‘Nothing,’ I dismiss his question. It’s not my mom that I was worried about. I had full faith in Samir’s charm. I am just not sure how well it works on men, especially potential father-in-laws. Samir had a conversation with my parents on the phone yesterday. When I asked him how it went, he just said fine.

  I move on to my Dad’s comments with mixed emotions. ‘I like the boy but I don’t approve of the modern ways. If he has already read the book, how do I know he will ever buy it?’

  Hmm…Not bad. Not bad at all, knowing my dad. It’s not all nice but definitely very like a cautious-and-grudging-father-of-the-bride. I think the judges will give him a seven on ten. Samir must have really impressed Dad yesterday, as he did not out rightly reject him.

  ‘What did you promise my Dad, a pilgrimage to Mansarovar?’ I look at Samir admiringly.

  ‘I told him I will marry you, if that’s what you want,’ he says with a playful grin. ‘I thought that was safe enough. He only wants you married, whether the card says Vir or Samir doesn’t bother him. I am relying on you now Senorita, to marry Vir once the show is over. Don’t make me a liar in your father’s eyes.’

  I look at him bewildered. ‘What if I don’t want to marry Vir anymore?’ I ask, searching his eyes for an answer.

  A faint smile tugs at his lips as his eyes sparkle warmly with love. The love I had seen in those eyes all those years ago. My heart misses a beat. Should I tell him the truth about Vir? While I am debating, he has moved on to his Dad’s comment.

  His Dad has posted, ‘I am okay with whatever my son wants.’

  Well, now I know where Samir’s concise communication skills come from, especially when trying to evade a situation. So, his father’s comment is probably a five on ten. Its okay I guess. Last one is his mom’s. Her post is the longest of all the parents and the most, shall we say, scandalous.

  ‘I am sorry to say this, but Samir, you have hugely disappointed me. After all these years of hardships, in raising you all by myself, this is how you reward your Mom. By denying her the simple pleasures of a diamond necklace and a soni bahu. But it’s not all your fault. I know you are scared of commitment because your asshole of a father left me when you were so young. But you are not your Dad. Remember the favourite doll that you always played with when you were a little boy. Beta, that baby doll is Sonia. I have couriered baba Shankardev ka amulet at your office address. Please wear it. I am sure it will free you from that chudail Meha’s kala jadu.’

  ‘Your parents are divorced?’ I ask, hugely shaken.

  ‘It’s okay. They are not dead,’ he jokes.

  ‘This isn’t a time for jokes, Samir. Why didn’t you tell me?’ I am so worried about what my parents are thinking right now as they read all this.

  ‘It wouldn’t have changed a thing. Dad is least bothered. He has posted exactly the SMS I sent him. And Mom would have said what she wanted to. No one can change her mind, least of all you,’ Samir says coolly, totally unaffected by his family drama unfolding in public.

  ‘Look at the bright side. I think my Mom’s drama will add spice to our story,’ he adds thoughtfully.

  Spicy drama it is for sure, and Sonia’s vile video did work in our favour, but I am finding it all too hard to digest. And I can see people calling me an evil witch on the Internet.

  ‘Listen, I don’t think Ds are really a competition,’ Samir says confidently. ‘I mean people may enjoy their “petikot me dhamaka” and “balam pichkari” stunts but think about it, there is no way all those matrimonial companies can openly endo
rse porn. With As out, we only really need to worry about Cs. I think we need something that captures the public’s and judges’ imagination alike. And what can be better than a “saas-bahu” drama? It’s mainstream, it’s entertaining, and we Indians are a sucker for it.’

  He does have a point. And to be truthful, I don’t care about how anyone thinks about us as long as they are thinking of us as a couple. I like this feeling of us being united against everyone else. It makes me feel like I am one with him, as if we belong together. We don’t have much time to debate and analyse as it’s time for the online, live video chat with Mini Mathur. Sadly, there is no celebrity joining us today. Although I have heard that they are planning a mega star-studded finale. I fix my hair, adjust my bra straps and fix my lipstick. We have both coordinated our outfits reflecting the harmony in our relationship, especially after last week’s name-calling. I am in a bottle green, short-sleeved, crossover-neck-top paired with mid-rise, boot-cut jeans, while he is in matching tee and jeans.

  ‘Ooh, that was quite an unexpected unfolding of your family story out there, Samir,’ Mini says as soon as she fills in the laptop screen. Wearing a bright, orange, strappy dress, with a bust enhancing, kundan embroidery belt, she looks glam. Least bothered with what really happens to us, she is only interested in keeping the show’s ratings high.

  ‘Anyway, so while we will only know the judges and janta’s verdict by the end of the week, I have news to share with you. This time about the couple that is standing between you and the victory cup,’ she says building the suspense.

  I have my fingers crossed, hoping Cs are out as well. They seemed fishy to me right from the start. My heart is beating so hard, I can barely hear the video Mini is showing us. The video shows the judges discussing the Cs. The judges have just learnt that Cs were in love with different people, who are now a couple. They had entered the contest to break their ex’s coupling and win them back and have been only pretending to be together to make their exes jealous. But now they somehow seem to be head over heels in love with each other.