AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Vikram.
I had no doubt that that I looked mentally deranged, sheepishly walking out from behind the dustbin. She cancels her engagement without proper reason and then goes around the city crouching behind dustbins; decidedly mad as a hatter. I prepared myself for whatever abuses Vikram was going to hurl at me for breaking his brother’s heart. Maybe I could explain to him. The chances were slim but I could try…
‘Bhabhi,’ he said simply and I looked up, stunned, my mouth open in sheer surprise.
Bhabhi. The word that I had once run away from was now music to my ears.
‘Vikram,’ I said stupidly.
‘I saw you hide,’ he said, grinning.
Why do I do such things? I craned my neck to make sure that Purva and, more importantly, Anju Aunty were out of sight.
‘I have to go but we need to talk,’ he gushed. ‘If, of course, you don’t mind?’
I nodded my head, vigorously. A piece of stale bread fell off my shoulders. Vikram stifled a laugh and pulled out a piece of green pepper from my hair.
‘Just tell me when and where,’ I said, grinning too.
‘I will text,’ he said hurriedly. ‘I’ve got to go now.’ He walked away, giving me a quick smile.
He had walked but a few feet when he abruptly turned around, came to me and enveloped me in a tight hug.
‘I missed you, Bhabhi,’ he said, avoiding eye-contact and leaving immediately without waiting for me to say anything. Which was a good thing, because his quick hug and earnest words had left me with a lump in my throat. Scream and shout at me and I will throw water bottles at you in retaliation; that is the kind of fight that I understand. Forgive me with a smile and I am as lost as a bright orange fish in the desert.
I don’t deserve to be forgiven so easily. Not this time, Vikram.
10.00 p.m.
I have not been able to push the little incident in Khan Market out of my mind. It is so true that sometimes a bigger lesson is taught by forgiving than by punishing.
I went to bed with a wide smile on my face, but only after having typed a lengthy email to the municipality of Khan Market, complaining about the unhygienic waste in dustbins that line their prominent streets.
8 August 2013, 9.00 a.m.
Letter of the day – U.
Flavour of the day – Chocolate.
Number of people gathered to receive my cake – sixteen.
I have been dropping off cakes at the hospital long enough for us all to have a schedule. The first thing I am told is Purva’s reaction to the box, which remains the same. Each day, after his rounds, he comes and has a look at the box. He never eats the cake and leaves the box at the same counter where I leave it each morning.
One of the ladies, whom I suspect is a convalescing patient, has recommended that I get pineapple cake instead of chocolate. Three others vehemently disagreed.
9 August 2013, 9.00 a.m.
Letter of the day – P.
Flavour of the day – Pineapple.
Number of people gathered to receive my cake – seventeen.
8.00 p.m.
Pitajee, Anu, Vikram and I sat in the living room looking at each other.
Love. A simple, four-letter word, yet it is so complicated and complex in its origins and ramifications. The things it makes the most rational of us do! And how docile it can make even the most boisterous of us. The power of love. The madness of love.
