Over A Cup of Coffee and Paneer Tikka - Part 2

Memories..

It was a rainy afternoon when he had told her what he told her. It was just one day, Mishka, he was saying, just one day. I know it hurts, but you have no idea how terribly guilty I feel, Mish. She knew she believed him, her heart knew it. But her logical mind refused him outright. There’s was no world where she would forgive a lying, cheating bastard. A one-day stand, huh? That’s what it was? she’d smirked. She got up and left. Without goodbyes, without a last look. She didn’t even say she didn’t want him anymore. It was implied. She didn’t want him to say sorry. That would’ve eased his burden and guilt. He didn’t shout or stop her. He sat with his head hung. She’d walked, walked as long, as far as she could. Even though she knew every nook and corner of Delhi, she didn’t know at that point where she was. Then her phone had buzzed. It was her mother. She had seen her walk past their home and was worried. She cried in her mother’s lap that day. Told her everything. Her mother had suggested forgiveness but she denied it vehemently. It does no good, ma, she had screamed. Her mother had patted her all night and she had cried all night, saying just two words, why me?

“There’s another party at Swarovski. What about there?”

“What?” Mishka sounded like she had been woken up from a deep sleep. Lipika grimaced. “Party. Swarovski.”

“Hmm. No. I don’t want to. Anywhere. I don’t want to go anywhere,” she constructed her sentences with difficulty, carefully choosing the words, afraid she would give away her thoughts.

“I want you to meet someone. He---”

“I DO NOT want to meet any new guy, LIPIKA. How HARD is  THAT to UNDERSTAND?” She realized she was shouting and thumping the table and gave a look of apology to all the people sitting. Then she glared at Lipika.

Lipika continued calmly. “He is the Head of the Creative Department of Femina. Its Delhi office.” She had lighted a cigarette by now. That was the only way she knew to not retort to anyone who snapped at her.

“Oh.” Mishka was embarrassed now. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. They were quiet for some time.

“Are you still getting the roses, Mish?”

Roses. They’d started to come in from the next morning after the night she’d cried in her mother’s arms. They increased with the number of days. First day there was one, then two the next and so on. Every rose had a note. Notes of apology, notes asking for another chance, noted about how he still loved her. Her mother took the roses, read out the note to her and kept the roses in her books. Books. Ansh had never liked reading books. He thought they took too long to finish. She’d discovered that when she had gifted him ‘Three Men In A Boat’ on their 6 month anniversary. It was a nice, light read and she was certain he would like it. But he had only given an apologetic smile and put the book away. When she’d visited him the next time, the book was right where he’d kept it then. When he saw that she had noticed, he had explained his aversion to books. She had laughed and said that he could’ve told her earlier. Then, they didn’t know that they’d be celebrating their 5 years anniversary soon, which would be followed by pain. But what is love without some pain…

“Let’s go, Mish. You can decide on the way if you want to come to the party or not,” Lipika got up. She glanced at Mishka and saw she hadn’t got up. So she lifted her by the elbow.

“I am getting up. Relax,” Mishka revolted.

On their way, Lipika was briefing Mishka about Parth.

“Parth. The Femina guy, Mish.”

“Oh.” She realized suddenly that she might’ve missed on a lot of what she had been told. Memories were still swarming her head, clouding her thoughts, making her dizzy. She wanted sleep but she knew it wouldn’t come. She closed her eyes, trying to register what Lipika was saying but all she could hear was Ansh. The way was he said he loved her, the way recited cheesy Bollywood dialogues, the way he cried when they couldn’t meet for days, the way he came running after her when she was angry with him, the way he was. Every word she heard connected to him. She’d spent 5 years of her life with him. There was no way she could forget him. There was a possibility of forgiveness, easier. Not very easy, but easier than forgetting which was almost impossible.

“Let’s go to Max, Lipika,” Mishka said. She didn’t know where the words came from. She just spoke them.