Part 7: FC-18 (Postlouge)

Her eyelashes were beautiful …

I felt like an electron that reached its own orbit after emitting energy, an orbit I can be in forever or a coin that now settled at the bottom of a wish tank after changing hands all its life or like a dew drop that left the sky during a rattling storm but found the comforting solace of a glass blade in a remote landscape…

It took me a week to find the love that I searched for years.

Oh besides the fact that I am emotionally challenged and in grip of my own self-absorbing, reality-evading thoughts and mind boggling imagination … another fact is that life is much simpler then expected if we can look without the glass of perception…

Yes I can give all the gyan now because it all unfolded well for me …

She slept blissfully while I lay alongside, sleepless and mesmerized… looking at her …

I still don’t know how mom convinced Retired Major Mahinder Singh Shekhawat to give the hand of his daughter to a Punjabi-Iyenger guy he already hated. He hated me because it was me because of whom his daughter stalled marriage for so long. Every time I ask details, mom says that I can’t comprehend or understand… all I can do is to thank mom everyday for the rest of my life…

I evaluated the chances of waking her up if I kissed her eyes…

The never-ending assignment in Australia, the desperation to be back and get married, the long phone calls, the planning of honeymoon over a web-ex and a seven hour rajasthani wedding …

I kissed, I woke her up, she complained in her very sleepy voice “Go to sleep, tomorrow there is a status call at eight…” and she rolled over to bury her face in my shoulder…

I thanked mom from the bottom of my heart and drifted to sleep…


*** The End ***

Part 6:FC-18 (Chapter 5)

Problems are problems till we find bigger problems …

Come next week, I tried to keep everything BAU. BAU, Business as usual … uhh ... abbreviations make one sound smart. I guessed I picked this from my managers. Damn I need to be more choosy about my source of education..

Anyway I juggled the need to be at my desk and be with Anjali. Well, I am not the kind of guy who likes to tell people I am busy. Yes Anjali is special but I would be there for anyone… a chat on messenger, a break at food court, a conversation on phone … a broken code in office or an escort on the weekend… for me “I am busy” is a bad word …

As we went through my third coffee with Anjali, I saw Aarti from the corner of my eye. She had noticed me with Anjali previously that day and looked visibility upset at the site. I was perturbed by the thought of hurting her.

This time Anjali also noticed her and waved zestfully at her, obviously oblivious of my unspoken discomfort. I kept quiet.

“You know this is all wrong!” Anjali spoke to me with a sudden insight. “Look at Aarti, she successfully managed to stay away from marriage. Her parents insisted but somehow she convinced them that she will not marry for any reason other then love. And she hails from a conservative rajput family. I can’t even imagine the drama she must have braved.” She was excited to find her source of inspiration.

With what I heard, I could only let out a sigh in response.

As I walked out of the food courts, at the end of the stairs, Aarti called my name. As I turned back, she walked towards me and asked “Coffee?” I chuckled. ‘She just saw me having coffee with Anjali she can’t be serious’ I assumed. But Aarti was not smiling.

When we settled with the coffee, she broke the grave silence “Stop seeing Anjali she said” … “What!!” my mind yelled….”Stop hurting yourself” she repeated…

I blinked twice and glared. She was obviously aware of my feelings and was hurting with the fact that I was exposing myself to more hurt. I stared hard. She blushed. But she brought herself to speak her mind. “Listen, stop this. You are not this kind of a guy”. She meant the guy who could tolerate unwarranted pain. I understood. But I was decided to pretend ”Really! What kind of a guy I am?” I made her more mad at me. “Useless” she snapped in anger. And then felt sorry on her own outburst.

I was not sure if this was the right time to talk. But I knew that even if this was the wrong the time, there would not be any better one. “I am going to Australia. The production bug last weekend made the client ask for a resource at onsite for support”.

Her eyes looked like mine, in peace and shielding the voices of the head. She pain stabbed her hard and it took a lot of time to ask the only ask the one word question she could think of “When?” “By this weekend” I answered.

All events were falling into place in her mind. The obvious analysis for her was that to avoid the pain of witnessing Anjali with someone, I found a way to leave the country…

Things were falling in place …

****************************************

When I reached home I saw masi in the living room. Ahh, everyone refuses to admit but going to a foreign land is still a big deal, I thought. Masi probably came to congratulate mom and reassure her for company in my absence.

“So Cool! We always knew you would do your mother proud” She reacted on seeing me. While she probably was thinking, this useless boy is going to Australia just because he learned some computers while my hard working, well deserving kids got no such easy opportunity. He he he…

I smiled. “So you are all settled… good job, now overseas assignment, now you can get married…” My mom bit her lip, to prevent herself from chuckling. She knew how I hated this beaten conversation.

“I will marry very soon masi” Today I had a new answer. Mom looked at me with astonishment. “Oh so you found a nice Punjabi gal?” She teased. She also wanted to know if the gal was a Punjabi like my late father or a Iyenger Brahmin like mom.

“She is a Rajasthani. Oh I mean a Rajput.” Mom’s jaw dropped. She was not expecting this. Oh no not at all. “Who is it?” masi asked. Her stare now shifting to mom, she felt betrayed that her elder sister withheld facts from her on her only nephew’s wedding. But mom continued to stare at me.

She for better or for worse knew me inside out. But today she needed more explanation around what I was up to.

“Oh mom!” I thrusted a crumpled piece of paper in Mom’s hand. ”This is her Dad’s phone number can you please call him and ask if he will marry off his daughter to me.” I paused “And can you call him after a board the flight, he is retired from the army but still owns some firearms”. Mom burst out laughing.

It was not my sense of humor that tickled her but the relief of seeing me out of the pain and dilemma she saw me struggling with. Masi was still very confused and shooting questions to make sense of the situation. “What is her name?” she asked
`
“Aarti Shekhawat” I smiled.

Part 5: FC-18 (Chapter 4)

I went behind her and put my arms around. I lowered my head to rest my chin on her shoulder and pleaded “Please don’t leave me… Please don’t go”. She chuckled at the obvious and rare display of my affection, even though she was surprised by my outrageous demand.

Yes outrageous. Mom is a workaholic. I assume she is the best gynecologist in the city based on per her workload …. Her working on off days in wake of emergencies is a more common site then taking an off. Actually I don’t remember the last time when she stayed away from work…

she suddenly turned back…while I was engrossed in my thoughts and asked mocking at me” trouble at workplace or girl trouble…” “No trouble…” I was prompted to say as expected from my adult, all-in-control persona….

Wait a minute …As per the last status the girl I love in marrying someone she don’t want to marry and I am her shoulder to cry on. Another girl confesses “to the whole world” that she loves me, besides me.

Oops!! I hate these thoughts!! they caused enough delay for mom to get her answer. She teased ”Let me know which mandap to make it to and when. I wont like to miss your wedding even for a complex hysterectomy.” The last part was true … I chuckled at my scalpel-crazy mom.

It was obvious that she knows more than what I had told her and also that she does not take my troubles seriously. May be for a person not living the agony this was all very immature and dramatic

Yet, the blanket of fear engulfed me as I saw her leaving the house, I was very scared that voice of my head would drive me crazy on a lonely Saturday. Today was one of the rare juncture when a weekend with no plan seems to be a very bad idea.

She turned back at the door and tried to appease me with her words “You are too young to take this seriously. It will all sort itself out”. I wanted to reply “ yes I know it will all sort out, I just want to know where I will be at the end of it” but I kept silent and smiled.

As I closed the door behind her my mind started chalking the combat plan. How quickly and for how long can I sleep? Should I eat and then sleep so I don’t wake up around lunch time or should I sleep at the earliest without taking the risk of my mind loosing itself in its imagined maze? Phew…

My mobile rang. I dreaded that this would be Anjali. Her pain and agony was unfathomable but the biggest problem was that somehow her talks stopped me from making peace with my loosing her. More then her disinterest in the marriage, her need of my presence and approval kindled hope…

The phone was from office. There was production bug. The team member who called sounded like he was the last man drowning after the titanic had already sank. His message should have been recorded and used by the English professors to teach how to make a complex sentence using the words “shit” “screwed” and “dead” more them once.

When I reached office the work area at office had no resemblance with any other day. Today the air was heavy with stress. The palpitation and throbbing of the team members thoughts resonated all around. The whole team including boss was there. Root cause analysis, salvaging the situation, damage control, face saving, earliest restoration … such things were on mind …Honestly a morning gathering would have had more life…

All members were not in position to fix the issue, actually the real cause of the bug was still unknown but still each of them pretended to be the sincerest, most important, most impacted and most motivated in the room. As if the solemn aura they brought to the environment itself would find and resolve the issue.

Hey issue, by the way the issue was not meteor-showing, hurricane or earthquake… some values on our site got wiped out… Duh!! Real serious stuff… see dollar amount disappearing from a godforsaken website was not my idea of a crisis. I would love to tell the idiots using my site … all the weird issues it silently housed… huh!! Big deal if one came out in open… I have personally coded thousands of logic bloopers when I worked half asleep, disillusioned and at times plain disinterested…

While I though all this… I behaved like all. I talked little, frowned a lot. I generally stared my comp and in sudden outbursts typed prolifically on my keyboard. Heavy sighs and occasional murmurs of disappointed “oh shit!!” were fashioed to remind that I was still around and still trying.

The drama was somehow endearing today … may be because it saved me from myself.

Part 4:FC-18 (Chapter 3)

I love my job as a software engineer, not because its easy to get if you completed your engineering in any discipline, in any number of attempts from any, just any, college or because the pay is better then the most available options; I like it because I can be happy, ecstatic, crazy, cranky, dreamy, reflective, enthusiastic, indifferent, sad, devastated, hurt, jerk, confused, in love or out of love… my mood, on a good day, it is exposed only to my computer.

“Abhay Manchanda” boss called me. Oh ok so today is not a good day!

He had loads of complains with my work. I am not really aware of the details as while he professed the code of conduct of the work place I was distracted on the motivation of him choosing to adorn a bight red full sleeved t-shirt on his dark, short body cursed with extra fat. I was both amused and absorbed by my thoughts, which I deemed to be more important then his.

I returned to the lonely confines of my cubicle which I shared with four more team members. I checked the mails hoping to find some interesting forward. Just then Aarti came in silently and sat at my desk, next to my monitor. “Hey you” I smiled unable to conceal my surprise. She smiled wearily as her eyes kept looking for the hurt, she knew, existed.

“Today forgot my wallet and now I am starving, so come buy me breakfast” she lied and jumped off the desk. She started walking, giving me no option but to follow to the FC.

It was obvious that she observed me too closely all these days and was aware of my feelings and heart break. She was worried about me. Now I knew why but couldn’t tell her how much better I was after she showed me the unabashed disloyalty of my heart. I so wanted to talk to take away the tension caused by the flurry of questions on her mind. After few failed awkward efforts from my part to start a conversation, she took up that task. We talked long, about everything except the gang and Anjali. She cracked up at my description of my bull-inviting boss … hehehe

Normalcy prevailed. I was really happy at returning the favor of helping me out by pacifying her doubts on my state of mind. Obviously on my return to my desk, my boss was exasperated. I was, for him, the little stubborn boy with wall around me, through which he could not reach and put anything in my head. And since the little boy was not so little … his frustration was justified just like my unreasoned but feel-good rebellion to his authority.

I decided not to push my luck today and settled to work.

The phone rang just then. “I need to talk. Come to FC” it was Anjali. She sounded weird. I darted back to the FC, almost running unmindful of my boss by now.

When I saw her, all my fears of facing her vanished. They were displaced by a deep sense of concern. She looked pale and in a lot of pain.

“How are you?” I asked. She broke into tears in response to my question, inconsolable tears. Shit. This was totally unexpected. I panicked. I had no clue what to say to do, what to say. I looked around; others at the food court were staring at us. “Anjali, control yourself” I pleaded in the lack of more sensitive words.

She tried her best. But the pain and frustration was too much. She did not want to marry. She simply hated the guy. “He is gross. He burps so loudly even at a crowded restaurant. He is manner less. He puts his feet up on the seat in front in a movie theatre. In all public places he shoves and pushes and preaches me to do the same. He bargains at all shops…” her complains were many; though not all seem serious but it was obvious that she had little respect or love for the man her family chose for her.

As I patiently heard her pain and agreed with her in the hope to pacify her, the voices in my heads soared to a new high, my feelings slipped into a new muddle of confusion and I dreaded to evaluate this new turn of events, in the light of my own emotions.