Miss She

I went to this club, ordered for five shots of Tequila, and later a Tia Maria. There was this lovely girl standing next to me. She looked pretty happy, talking with someone over the phone, her smile in some way was pretty fascinating. Okay then my  Tequilas turned up, and 1, 2, ….3, 4…..5. All done. I felt like having more. But Tia Maria was anyways on its way.

 I was still kind of gazing at this girl. And shooo!! From somewhere, she drops dead on the floor. I am speechless, motionless and stunned.Bartender and manager both come to her. And wow! As the bartender shooks her, her head shows this whole dark crimson blood oozing out from her brain. She was shot dead. Dammit ! What the fuck!

Did I have over seven shots? No, I didn’t.

Manager grew pale, and so did the ‘happy realization’ people. I was still in my chair. And before, I could gather the situation, police was on the scene. Everyone in the club was asked to stay back till the police summons a move. We all were drawn in one room with our faces facing the wall, and hands up in the air. No movement was allowed.

I don’t know why, but I didn’t move even from my chair.

“Ma’am, should we print you out a personalized invitation?”

“Ah ….. what?”

“You too need to go and stand there with the rest.”

“Ouuh , yeah”

And, I collected myself from the chair and got up. But just as I got up, something fell from either my dress, or from my bag. When I looked down, my heart stopped throbbing. I was completely ZONKED!

“Revolver? Is this your?”

“Me…..mm…… Revo…… No….. I mean, no no, nope, this is not mine.”

“ Oh yes! We understand ma’am, somebody would have sneaked it underneath your bag. Isn’t it?”

“Amm…. Yeah, may be.”

“Or may be NOT !” The inspector started getting cold and stern.

“Get her in the police van.”

“No, Sir, trust me. I am so clueless about it. And why in the world would I murder such a pretty girl.”

“Pretty girl !! Ohk! So you knew she was pretty. That gives us enough reasons for us to take you in our custody.”

I became so numb and my blood went so cold, that I could literally see myself under the hangman’s noose. My mind went blank. I couldn’t reason at all. Suddenly, in the van, my cellphone rings. It was mummy’s phone. Ouuh damn! What do I tell her now?

My mother, she lives in our hometown in Lucknow, and me, I am a student, pursuing my Mass Media course in Mumbai. So I live alone and miles far from her in a Paying Guest apartment here.

The cell kept ringing, I didn’t take the call.

“ Can, I make a call?”

“Yeah! Yeah ! Get your lawyer.”

And I dialed a number. Somehow, I didn’t dial it by hunting for it in the contacts list. I rather, literally, pressed each and every number. I was amazed that I remembered the number.

“Hello, Purple, hello. Will you say something?”

The guy on the other side of the phone reiterated his greetings.

“Abhay ( some pause, some heavy breaths, some clearing of throat) I love you.”

“What?”

“I love you Abhay.”

“Purple, what happened? I feel something’s amiss.”

“Yes there is, I love you. I never told you. I wanted to let you know. So I called up, and am confessing, that I love you Abhay.”

“But Purple, all of a sudden. And your voice, it sounds so dry. Are you sure, just this much was the matter.”

Yes, just this much. I love you Abhay.”

“Princess, I love you too. You are sometimes so funny. You make my heart go for a stroke in seconds. But I love you my Purple. I …..”

I broke in between Abhay’s sentence,

“I know you love me. But I never have confessed my love for you. I have used these words very rarely. Today I feel like sitting with you for eternity and every moment that flies by, I want to look in your eyes, kiss you, love you, and tell you that I love you.”

“Ouuh Purple” ( Chuckles of laughter are heard from him. “ I know you aren’t like the rest of the girls. You don’t usually say, ‘love you, love you’, but I know, you love me. So why all this my Honeybee?”

“No. I need say. I must say. I should say. If I love to hear this from you, so do I know, you too want o hear it from me. And most importantly I must say cause I am proud to love you Baby. I am proud to be your Lover Abhay. I am. Abhay, I love you.”

And before Abhay could respond, I disconnected the call.

Of course, Abhay kept calling thereafter. I didn’t receive either a single one of his. His friends, my friends, everyone started calling up. I know this would be Abhay only, he must have asked them to check up with his Princess. He knows my mood swings, but I guess this one was too surprising and heavy for him, and perhaps, lovely too.

Me, lost in my own thoughts, when I reached police station, I didn’t even realize. The enquiry started. It took a long time. The matter is still yet not sorted. I am under investigation still. My phones are tapped, perhaps, am not sure, and lots other has all of a sudden taken up in my ‘happy teenage life’.

But I am dealing with it all alone. I know, one day, it’ll all be over. And all the while, I am not taking Abhay’s call. I called him up from a local PCO and told him, that for a few days, or may be months, I have taken an absolute retreat from the world. That I am working on some real important script, so its better he doesn’t call me up for sometime. I would call him up myself.

It was real hard to convince him. Fights, tears, and all happened. But finally, 41 minutes, and I cajoled him.

This surely was a weird night. One of its kind in my lifetime. But I believe, its good it happened. It made me realize the importance of those ‘just’ three words. These are merry three words , for which romantics have laid down their lives, authors have gone crazy, and lovers lost and found their love. These are just three words, yet all the universe encompasses in them. All the beings, you and me, are its servants.

The fragrance of sunrise, the melody of sea-waves, the silence of smiles, and all, are nothing until said. Its important to express what you feel. I have learnt this the hard way. I want you all women like me, who just succumb to their PMS days, or peculiar feministic traits, and rarely express what they feel. Please do reach out to the one you love, please say before the sand of time slips away from your life. If we women crave for ‘just’ these three words , so do men, equally feel blessed when you tell them. Confess. That’s not going to get you in a mess. Keeping it locked in your heart, and shedding tears on your lover’s grave would serve no point. Value the person when he/she is alive. Be it your Mother, your Papa, your sibling, or perhaps your neighbor. Please let them know, through words too, that you care for them. That’s what God gave us ears too with our rest of the senses.

I hope you will

I love you Abhay.

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