No Space in Heaven

It was a clear blue sky when the first one hit the ground with a thud, and then there was another.

Thud!

As the seconds passed the tick of the clock was punctuated with many more thuds, which were getting heavier by the minute. 

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

The bright skies were engulfed with dark raging clouds that were spitting thunder and spewing lightning, signaling that the deluge had begun.

Soon the streets were filled with what was falling from the sky, they were falling on the roof, on vehicles, it even fell on people walking down the street. It was not a heavy torrential rain, nor was it a hailstorm, it was not Mother Nature wreaking havoc, it was a more powerful force that was unleashing the terror. When it fell in front of Shankar, the local security guard of Jubilee Atrium who was ducking for cover, hardly could he believe his eyes. There lay in front of him the heavyset frame of Murthy, the recently deceased local MLA–a brute of a man who was notorious for conducting shady businesses that ranged from abduction to prostitution to smuggling, a man who ruled the town by instilling fear amongst its denizens through his henchmen.

Shankar looked around to see bodies falling from the sky, “Had a plane crashed in midair?” he wondered. It was like a hundred thousand people had decided to jump to their death at the same time from the stratosphere. A synchronized mass suicide. Shankar and the others were initially struck with curiosity as the cataclysm unfolded, and now as minutes passed they looked with their mouths agape and eyes wide open with fear at the horror that was playing in front of their eyes. Mothers covered the eyes of their young ones shielding them from the ghastly sight.

The thuds slowly stopped,  Shankar looked up to the sky to see the downpour had ceased, the Sun had emerged from the clouds burning bright at its full glory. He looked around to see the streets that wore the look of the aftermath of a genocide. Bodies were lying all around him, corpses that had plummeted from the sky lay motionless in open gutter, cramming the sidewalks like garbage.

“That was the last of them, Sire” said the Gatekeeper dusting his hands off the vermin he had disposed.

“Good” said the Man in White stroking his beard. “Now it feels like Heaven doesn’t it?”

“It certainly does my Lord.” the Gatekeeper replied.

“I wonder what these people down there think? That they could kill, rape, and loot from their people and get away with it at the end of the day by saying a prayer to me? That they could convert, exploit, and pillage places in the name of religion after which I will reward them with a place in heaven? That they could lie, cheat and steal the whole year to get what they want, after which they could fast for one month and visit my shrine, and that would absolve them of their sins?” the Man in White thundered.

“Humans they call themselves, my Lord” the Gatekeeper said in mock irony.

“I sometimes wonder if they are my creation, or I theirs?” the Man in White said whimsically. “Close the gates, we allow no more souls in here!”

The Gatekeeper obeyed his Master’s orders as he locked the gates, walked back to his post with a tune on his lips and slipped into his reverie.

The Solitary Viewer

Chapter A

It was a Friday, God's sign to all of mankind to forget your worries and plan for a weekend. I was following God's command. I was browsing the site of a multiplex for any good movie that was being released over the weekend.

"Aha!" I said with a childlike excitement as if I had been gifted a PlayStation-3. I had found the perfect movie to watch. I did the needful as I was taken to the online transaction page when I heard a familiar voice from behind.

"Money transaction online! Wah bhai wah! What are you buying?" my colleague asked.

"Booking a movie ticket dude!" I said trying hard to contain my excitement.

"Nice! Planning for a weekend date already? With whom? Anybody from our office?" he asked with a wink.

"No, I was booking just a ticket for myself" I said.

"Just for yourself? Are you going for some aisi-waisi movie?" he asked.

"No way! I prefer watching such movies at home... I mean I don't watch such movies" I tried to clarify.

"Oh, so you are.... really watching a movie at a multiplex.... all... by... yourself?" he said slowly trying to make me feel as if multiplexes only allow couples to watch movies. 

By the time he had completed the sentence I could feel that he was rubbing the fact in that only lame people watch movies alone at the cinema.

Chapter Two

I was dining at the office pantry with my colleagues when...

"Hey heard about The Social Network getting released today? We should all go for it" Zulu said.

"Yeah, I heard it is a movie on Facebook. Its made by some Finch guy who made Benjamin's Buttons and some movie about fighting" Juliet said trimming her nails.

"Its David Fincher, and its The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. And the movie about fighting is known as "Fight Club" a cult classic of our times." I said with a mock nonchalance expecting an applause any minute from everyone dining in the pantry.

But all I got were blank stares from my colleagues.

"Anyway, I am going for The Social Network this weekend. You can read my review at my blog pretty soon" I said as if the whole world would plan to watch the movie only after reading my review. 

"Ooh who are you going with?" Juliet asked.

"I am going alone" I said mentally reminding myself that it was not a crime that I was committing.

"That is so sad, awwww!" Juliet said sympathetically rubbing my arm.

"Dude, is all okay?" Charlie asked with a genuine concern. "I mean why alone for a movie?"

"But why not alone for a movie?" I exclaimed.

Chapter Tres

"Are you a serial killer?" Vishal asked

"Not that I know of..." I said.

"Are you a married man who wants to get away from his fat nagging wife and pain-in-the-ass kids?" he probed.

"No, but that was some really bad sense of humor there" I quipped.

"The only person with a bad sense of humor in this room is YOU! How can you watch a movie all by yourself? That is... Lame!" he said smoking his cigarette with a sophistication that one would relate with Nobel laureates and holders of Ph.D. "Don't you have an ash tray in this dump which you call your room Anuraag?" he said searching for one. "Oh wait a minute... you don't, because your whole room could give an ash tray an inferiority complex. How is that for a sense of humor!?" he said, with a wicked grin and a wink to Kumar.

"Why do you guys have to judge me because I go for movies alone? Why does society have to judge single movie goers like that? We haven't committed any crime! We just want to watch the magic of cinema unfold on the big screen like everyone else. We want to laugh, we want to cry, we want to whistle and we want to clap. But we prefer doing it all by ourselves. We have emotions too you know. Is it a crime?! Is it a crime to ask from the society to not judge us because we spend a weekend at a movie theatre all by ourselves? From the usher, to the guy serving the overpriced popcorn, to the guy making out with his girl in the corner seat... I could feel their eyes looking at me with sympathy as if I am suffering from some disease and have got only two weeks to live" I said, gasping for breath.

"First of all - Bravo! Erin Brokovich for a stirring speech. You are a crusader for the army of lonely movie goers like Joan of Arc. I wish I had your speech taped it so that I could send it to some acting school, and second "The Society of Single Movie Goers Association" would love to make you their president after they hear that speech you just gave." Kumar said with a mock applause.

"Hey its not like I haven't tried asking people out for a movie. I went to a movie recently with someone you know." I tried to explain myself.

"Explain no further if it were a guy. Because it is as good as going alone for a movie." Vishal said.

"It was a girl"

"We are all ears!" They said in unison.

Chapter IV

Kids, you ever heard the famous saying "Never miss the beginning of a movie in a cinema hall because there is no rewind button"?. It may not be a famous saying, but it is true that it has happened to us all. We all have missed the beginning of a movie in our cinema going experience and we have always blamed the other person for it. I blamed her too when I missed the first fifteen minutes.

"She must have had a reason" Kumar said.

"She blamed the traffic" I said coldly.

One of the most breathtaking part of going to the movies is to see the lights go dim as the hall is engulfed by darkness. As the operator says "Let there be light... and sound" the giant screen before us lights up with the movie trailers, as the audience falls silent. It keeps the audience guessing on what the forthcoming attractions are. These are the little moments which we always cherish while going for a cinema. We may come out of the cinema hall loving a movie or absolutely hating it. But we cannot ignore that exhilarating feeling of the lights dimming slowly as darkness falls in the movie hall. She had made me miss the trailers of new movies, and a chance to boo at Harry Potter when his trailer was shown. She had deprived me of that exhilarating feeling when the lights had dimmed. And that in my book is akin to butchering a sheep.

"It is not that big a deal as you are making it out to be" Vishal said.

"You must have made the poor girl feel like she had killed someone" Kumar said.

"Why do you have to sympathize with the girl? You guys don't even know her!" I asked.

"Did you at least have the courtesy to buy her something during intermission?" Vishal asked.

"She did not want anything, so I did not buy her any" I said.

Strike One !

 

"That is what they say! You have to buy them even if they insist not to. Has anybody not forwarded you the mail of what women say and what they actually mean? Do a Google search and you could even find it on the internet!"

"She did not need any because she had put on weight" I said in my defense.

"Don't tell me you used that as a reason to not buy her even a soft drink. Please! please! please!" Vishal begged.

"I just said that she looked like she had put on weight. I was just being her friend with an honest opinion."

Strike Two !

"My dim witted friend, if you really were trying to be her friend you should have told that she looked wonderful and not fat! They can hear anything in the world. But they cannot hear you tell them that they have put on weight." Kumar enlightened me.

"Women are meant to be loved, not to be understood. Only theorems, maps, philosophy and rules for monopoly are written to be understood. Women are not any of those. Its no wonder you go to movies alone. I would be surprised that she even talks to you these days." Vishal presented his philosophy.

"I find it amusing that you are even allowed to talk to other people" Kumar joked.

"So where did you guys go after the movie?"

"We went straight home"

"I like that! Her place or yours?" Vishal asked.

"She went to her place, and I went to mine" I replied solemnly.

Strike Three and Out! 

"You guys did not go anywhere? Not even for a cup of coffee?" 

"Nope" I replied.

"Why did you even invite her to watch a movie then in the first place?" Kumar asked.

"Hey, I did not know that there are certain "Do's and Dont's" to be followed while watching a movie with someone. Why should there be guidlines to be followed by two friends in watching a two hour movie? Where would all the fun be then?" I asked

Chapter Paanch

"With whom will you argue about movies? Could you imagine anyone watching a movie like Avatar all by themselves? Movies are made to be enjoyed with friends and family and the neigbour's daughter. Especially movies that are larger than life! You will look like a complete nerd if you went to watch a movie like that all alone." Vishal tried to justify.

"There are some movies which appeal to a certain audience and that can be better understood when viewed alone, and I am not talking about porno. I watch movies so that I can review about them in my blog."

"Take a movie like "Inception", as mind-bending as it was would you have felt great for having watched it all by yourself? Picture this: you are in a packed theatre, watching a thrilling story unfold in front of you. It has got surreal visual effects, pulsating action sequences and a chase scene that would make the audience go "Ooh" and "Aah!". But there you are, in that packed audience alone in a crowd with no one to share your feelings with. You got no one to share your excitement with, you got no one to whom you can say "Wow did you see that!?". The only "person" with whom you share your feelings is a flat screen monitor and a bunch of keys that convert words into emotions which you want to display. People read what you felt about the movie. People whom you probably don't even know. And the only way you know that they felt the same way is by their comments. And you don't get more than two or three for every post that you write." Kumar argued

"You need to live a little, take a risk, ask a friend out! Its a big world, learn to share your popcorn!. So what if you end up not liking the movie. You atleast would have had the comfort of knowing that you were sitting next to a person who does not pity you for being alone in a crowded hall. A friend to whom you can say "Wow! what a scene!" It does not matter if you were with a guy or a girl. All that matters is some experiences are ought to be felt with the people you know."

Epilogue

I logged on to the site of the multiplex as I browsed for a movie that I could watch over the weekend. I browsed through the movies that were being played. I clicked a movie whose poster had a pretty looking girl leaning over a guy. It took me to the next page.

Seats it was neatly titled on top of the page.

I hovered the mouse pointer over the number of seats.

I clicked "2".

I took out my mobile and punched the number of a familiar friend.

"Hey, what are you doing this Saturday?"

Image Source: Getty Images

Numbered

He woke up even before the alarm clock chimed 5:15 a.m, he gazed at the ceiling as the fan above his head kept clunking. It was a wonder how he could sleep with a fan that was nothing less than a Damocles’ sword hanging above his head; the bloody thing looked like it could fall on his face any minute.

“Clunk clunk clunk clunk” the blades of the fan kept running.

Sid increased the speed of the fan.

“Clunk clunk clunk clunk clunk clunk clunk clunk” the fan started gyrating dangerously.

Sid moved the knob from 4 to 5

The revolutions of the fan started getting bigger and bigger with every passing second as it slowly loosened from the ceiling. And before you know it, the sword came falling on Sid’s head.

Sid opened his eyes, his digital clock showed the time 5:05

It was just a nightmare, but for Sid the blade of the fan piercing through his head felt like being caressed with a feather. For Sid it felt like a dream. But Sid was alive and it was still a Monday. How he wished to have his head split by the blades of a fan than logging in at work on a Monday morning. He got up from his bed unwillingly and got ready for work.

It was 7:30 a.m when he left for work. He passed by a bunch of school going children one of whom shrieked “Oh Shit yaar Maths ka homework nahi kiya! Geeta maam maar dalegi!"

“Want to trade lives?” Sid wondered.

 He punched in his card fifteen minutes before 9:00 people were slowly trudging in to work. Some were chirpy, for some it was a new day, it was a new week. For some it felt like the previous week was copied and pasted:  same work routine to be followed, same reports to be sent, same people to report to, same questions asked and same old answers to be given.

Half of Sid’s Mondays were spent preparing reports to be sent, performances were evaluated by this report. The report consisted of numbers that would determine the effort put in by him in the last week. Higher the numbers- higher the utilization of the “resource”. Higher the utilization, higher the efficiency. Higher the efficiency, lesser the number of questions asked. “Weekly target met! Congratulations! Keep it going!”  and a scattered applause.  And it all depended on the percentage, the metrics, and the numbers. Higher the percentage louder the applause, lesser the percentage harder the brickbats fell on your face.

When you come to think of it, we all are judged by the numbers we churn out. Teachers judge a student by the numbers he scores in exams, a cricketer is judged by the runs he makes, the wickets he takes, the catches he hangs on to. A woman is judged by men on the basis of her figure a 34-26-36, a prospective groom by the numbers he has in his bank account, a music artist is judged by the number of copies he has sold worldwide. A movie is branded as a hit or a flop by the amount of money it made in its run at the box office.

 Love it or hate it but we cannot deny the fact that numbers make us and numbers break us.

And it was the numbers that Sid churned out last week that would decide his fate this week. Another bad performance then he may be dealt with sternly, it all depended on the percentages and the numbers. But Sid knew deep within that there was nothing worth showing for in the last week. His performance was not up to the mark, his percentages were not good, and his efficiency was debatable. Sid had to come up with convincing answers, and when he checked his manager’s mail in the inbox that ended with “I am looking for reasons!” he realized that he had to come up with convincing answers fast.

Hell of a way to start a Monday.

His boss who was an otherwise jolly good fellow, on seeing low numbers would turn into much like a bull that has seen red – crazy and untamable. But Sid was not a good matador.  An hour later his boss waltzed in with a smile on his face as he chimed “Good Morning guys!”, but Sid knew that the smile was just a decoy, it was covering up a sea of emotions and questions that would soon be unleashed upon him. And Sid was still searching for his life jacket.

Pleasantries were exchanged between the team, jokes were cracked as Sid tried harder to laugh to ease his nerves. But he knew he was just being fattened up for the kill.

Half an hour had passed without anything having happened, and then it did. His boss walked over towards him “What the hell happened last week?” the boss questioned.

“I worked hard, I did put in a lot of effort”

“Then where are the numbers to show for it!?”

“You have to understand, every week cannot be the same, and it’s not possible to calculate the effort put in by numbers” he said coyly.

“Do not come up with such silly explanations! Am I supposed to give such reasons to my managers!?” the boss bellowed.

He was being gunned down in front of everyone around him, people who did not know him, people who knew him. But they all would be glad that they were not him. What a way to be known on the floor! Very soon he might be referred to as “the guy who did not churn out the numbers” during office gossips that happened near the coffee machines.

Sid could do nothing but look down wishing the earth split wide open and sucked him in. He tried to focus on pleasant things, he tried to drown away the shrill voice of his boss by focusing on cute little pups, a sunny beach, a rainy day, a walk in the park. But it did not help.

“You better come up with an action plan to what you are going to do this week, I cannot take such kind of incompetency from you again” saying this, his boss walked away.

He heaved a sigh of relief and got back to work again, he looked around to see that people were glued to the monitors pretending to be oblivious of everything that was happening around them. But then he knew the word would have spread that Sid had become the Monday Morning Scapegoat (MMS) through chat messages and e-mails. He would be the butt of all jokes until he proved his worth all over again. But for this week Sid had to retreat back to his shell, he had to stay there and focus on work, his friends may come over and offer a kind word because that is all they could do. They may invite him to a cup of coffee and would ask him to talk about it to ease all his pain away. But Sid would say “Thanks, but no thanks”, he wanted the pain to remain. He wanted the wounds to remain unhealed so that they serve him as a reminder of the humiliation he had suffered. He would now work with a vengeance, he had a point to prove, he would take the bull by the horns. He died this Monday, but come next Monday he will redeem himself.

                                                * * * * *

It was a Friday evening, he felt like a long week was coming to an end. Yet he did not feel burnt out with all the work he had been doing. He was minutes away from wrapping up a tough week, it began with a Monday that raised questions on his capabilities, he was dead and buried. And by the time Friday had ended he knew he had found all the answers, he had the right numbers. He just could not wait for the following Monday, like a phoenix he would rise from the ashes. There was a smile on his face as he clicked “Turn Off” on his computer.

Blindfolded Eyes

She was a head turner the moment she stepped out on the streets, jaws dropped, eyes popped out, everybody wanted to be inside her the moment they set their eyes on her. She was the new air-conditioned luxurious deluxe bus that was launched by the government. She was the envy of the other buses that were on the streets. Every other driver-conductor duo looked at her with a desire to attain her, for she was of a different kind. She was a Volvo deluxe bus and was in pristine condition. Her driver and the conductor were neatly uniformed. There was music playing through the speakers that were installed on its walls. It gave the passengers a feeling that the bus was not being driven, but instead, was being glided. When the ignition was turned on, she purred to life without any fuss. The hydraulic doors opened with a hiss with just a push of a button. And when she left the bus terminus, those outside wished they had enough money in their pockets to go for a ride in her. She was the pride of all the employees who worked at the terminus. She was much like the foreign returned boy in every family of whom the parents spoke of proudly. She was the apple of their eyes.

Within the bus it was a world of comfort, the seats were comfortable and the AC worked like a dream. The highly priced tickets meant that not everyone could afford a ride in her. Thus, she was safe from the hooligans who called themselves “students” and created a ruckus in the other ordinary buses by banging on its sides, whistling, harassing every passenger who travelled in it and dancing to the tunes of some loud and crass Tamil number. But the Volvo was untouched; its beauty remained unblemished, for no sadistic mind would even think of destroying something that looked so regal. There was class written all over her. It had been a few months since she had first captured the people's imagination, she received rave reviews in the dailies, soon she found lots of fans who did not mind shelling out extra money to enjoy a comfortable ride. 

It was a hot Sunday morning as the Man waited for the bus at the terminus, all the buses looked the same- beaten up and looking like they might collapse any moment once you stepped on the accelerator. But the Volvo stood apart from the crowd, the sun was shining off her roof and she looked spotless, her wheels looked brand new. Her sleek headlamps glowed as she teased him to come over and try her out for a ride, he obliged. He fell in love with her the very moment he stepped in, it was as if he had stepped inside a  aircraft. There were a few passengers who were marveling over the Volvo's beauty, and her design. He rested himself in the cushy seat as he took in the plush environment, the engines slowly came to life as the bus began its journey. He got his ticket from the conductor which came out neatly printed from the ticketing machine. Half an hour had passed since the bus stepped out on the road, there was a faint music being played over the bus' sound system, people were busy chatting in hushed tones as there was an air of calm inside the bus which one does not relate with public transports. The silence was broken as an empty beverage bottle rolled off the floor, everybody looked around but could not fathom how it had gotten on the floor. The culprit did not come forward to claim the empty bottle, as the bottle rolled over the floor from left to right back to left with every turn the bus was making.

A few stops had passed and a few more crowd had gotten in as now the passengers started to walk all over the empty bottle which now lay crushed on the floor. Yet no one bothered to take out the bottle from the floor, the conductor was busy issuing tickets, the people were busy gossiping about Commonwealth games, reality shows and Endhiran that was now the talk of the town. No one bothered to take out the crushed bottle which now looked like a blemish on an otherwise beautiful creation. They all had their eyes blindfolded, they had dug their heads within the sand unwilling to see the crushed bottle lying on the floor. "It's not my job, why should I do it? I did not pay thirty bucks just to clean up the bus!" thought one, "I am not picking up the bottle, I did not drop it there" thought another, "If I do it people may think I am trying to become a hero, I don't want to go through this crowd just to pick up a bottle, I may lose my seat!" thought another, "Why don't these people have a dustbin in the bus, they could after all afford to spend so much! ?" thought an elderly gentleman, "They will clean it up when the bus reaches the terminus" thought a woman. The crushed bottle still lay there as the people were busy pretending that they had other important things to do. 

We refuse to cleanup the mess which others make thinking that it is not our job, or that it may belittle us, be it a piece of paper on the road or that beverage bottle in the bus. But when the issue snowballs into a bigger problem we all make sure that we tweet our opinions and point our fingers at others. But do we realize that when we point one finger at others we are pointing three fingers at ourselves?

Topped Up

Love makes the whole world go round. Love makes you do the simplest of things in the craziest of ways. People had erected monuments, written ballads, invaded nations, given their life all for the sake of their love, so what would have Rishi lost if he just had to top up for 20 Rs? He had a lot more to gain, her trust, her care, her affection, and most of all- her love. And these were one of those little things that would go a long way in gaining her trust. She had a low balance in her mobile, and was busy in Diwali celebrations with her extended family- the parents, the uncles, the aunts, the Macho Brothers, the caring Sister-in-laws, the nagging kids, the whole cast and characters who probably belonged in any Ekta Kapoor teleserial. She was the apple of their eye, guarded in a cocoon so that lafange launde like Rishi cannot reach her. But this is the mobile age, our Nokias and Blackberrys have replaced the kabootar which so dutifully used to deliver love letters to couples in love. Bhagyashree even coaxed her pigeon to deliver her pehle pyaar ki pehli chitti to Salman Khan in Maine Pyar Kiya, but that was in the 80's. Now all you need to do is to just press the "Send" button from your mobile, and there goes your sms adorned with those emoticons just to add a bit more zing to an otherwise stale "I miss you/ I love you" sms.

She had just topped up her number two days back, but spent all her balance on calling up her friends to inform her that she had passed the semester exams that had happened much to her own surprise. And now, when there was a meager balance left in her mobile, and when mobile operators so ruthlessly charged for a single sms on Diwali, she hollered for Rishi's help, her little lamb, the Vodafone pug who followed her wherever she went, who thought the world of her. Rishi was happy to oblige, these were one of those little chores that would cement his place in her heart, of all her friends she had asked him to help her and Rishi was not going to squander that. "Bees ka chalega" she had said, but Rishi with a generosity to his tone said "Arre I will do it for fifty!" as if he were buying the Vodafone company for her as a Diwali present.

He checked his wallet, he poured down the contents of his wallet on the bed, lying on his bed were a couple of bus tickets, a movie ticket, a chewing gum wrapper, a photo of a  semi-clad Salma Hayek with a revealing cleavage posing seductively, and some loose change amounting to eleven rupees. He went to check on his father who was busy over the phone calling up everyone on Diwali in the living room. He nonchalantly walked over to his father's bedroom, went through the pants neatly hanging inside the cupboard and found the wallet that he was looking for. He took a quick look sideways to see if his pesky brother was spying on him, and with quick dexterity flicked a crisp hundred rupee note from the wallet.  "I'll pay him back when I start earning" he thought to himself. He felt a little bad for having to steal from his father's purse, but asking for money would only land him in trouble. Questions would be asked by his father, and the answers given by Rishi would be just like the ones he gives in university exams - vague, and unconvincing.

He left home hurriedly on the pretext that he was going to a friend’s place. He walked hurriedly towards the store near the street dodging the crackers that were being burst with a lot of enthusiasm by the kids in the neighborhood. Rishi had lost his fascination with lighting up crackers for a few years, it no more caught his interest as he moved on to spending Diwali by flipping channels searching for any new movies being played on the numerous television channels that are available these days. He was walking with a spring in his steps when the vigor in his footsteps was sucked out from his feet as he set his eyes on the portly figure walking down the streets. It was his buddy Vishal. If ever there was anyone who would suck out the “feel good” factor that was within him it was Vishal. With his cold, sarcastic jibes at Rishi over the years Vishal had become a master of pulling him back to earth whenever he was soaring up in the sky. And today of all days Rishi did not want him to toy with him. Rishi feigned surprise when he neared Vishal.

“Where do you think you are going?”.

“To the store” Rishi replied as he mentally measured his words.

“Now? I was just coming over to your place”

“No no I have this thing to do at the stores, I will meet you in the evening”. 

“What’s the rush man? The stores won’t go nowhere if you are a little late, let’s go have a smoke”

“No no, I have to get back home soon” Rishi insisted.

“What are you buying from the store?” Vishal pried. 

“Groceries yaar"

"What are you buying?"

"Uhhhhh..... bhindi and tamatar..." Rishi mumbled.

"On a Diwali you are going to buy vegetables from a grocery store? Tell me where you are really going."

"I am going to top up my number" Rishi said, but realized he was too late as he knew Vishal would now spring another trap at him.

"Had you said it in the first place, I would have believed you. But I can read between your lies. You are doing it for some girl aren't you?" he said with a sarcastic grin which over the years Rishi wanted to slap it out of his face but could not, not because Vishal was his friend, but because he was much stronger than Rishi was.

"Yeah I am. I give up. Now go ahead, make me believe how naive and vulnerable I am." Rishi said with a sigh.

"Who is the girl, is she the one who has filled your inbox with forwards on friendship and trust?"

Rishi nodded glumly.

"But the stores here are closed, you gotta go till the Town Square for that."

"Fine, it’s hardly half an hour away, I can be back in an hour if I go now."

"Love can make a man do the craziest of things, I will meet you in the evening, good luck!" Vishal said with a wink, and bid him goodbye.

The Town Square was the shopping center of this small hamlet where there were shops of many kinds. From footwear stores to a supermarket to a bakery, the Town Square was the pride of the junta who otherwise had nothing worth mentioning in their little village. Rumor mills began to grind rumors that a mall with a movie theatre was going to be built in the Town Square, the folks could hardly contain their excitement to know that they no longer had to travel till the big city to catch a glimpse of their favorite matinee idols in the big screen.

Rishi reached the Town Square and began searching for a mobile store frantically. Luckily there were stores opened although the place looked like a ghost town with people far and few between thronging the Square on a public holiday. He looked around to see a mobile store which had a hoarding of “Hello Mobile Stores” imprinted neatly on it, pictures of Deepika Padukone and MS Dhoni were on it speaking over their phone. The shop had a string of people waiting to get their numbers topped up so that they had enough balance in their mobiles to call and wish their near and dear ones on Diwali. Rishi barged between a middle aged man who was patiently waiting for his turn to get his mobile recharged. He then called the boy in charge.

“Top up for fifty”

“Give me the number”

“9841252717” Rishi said with a sense of pride that he did not have to check his mobile for her number. He may not remember his roll number in college, but this he could rattle of even after having been woken up from his sleep at the middle of the night.

He felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, he looked back to see the man he had barged through.

“What was the number you just said?” he asked.

“Why do you want to know?” Rishi asked.

“Could you please tell me?” the man insisted.

“It’s my sister’s number, do you know her!?” Rishi asked with a fake excitement to his tone hoping to get away soon from the store.

“I think I know her pretty well since I am her father, and I don’t remember her having a brother who looks like you” he said as he kept an arm around Rishi’s shoulder.