If its not forever, its not love

             "Are you freaking kidding me?" 
           
            This is one question that people have asked us ever since we got together. Why wouldn't they? It is not everyday that they come across a story like ours. Unconventional in every sense and illogical to anyone who sets about thinking how it worked. After overcoming the first shock, some dare to ask, "Where did you meet?"

            But this story isn't about how we met or how we got into a relation. To cut it short, we met at a relative's place and became friends and like a million love stories, our friendship bloomed into love.
                                                

            The reason why our story perplexed people has always been the same. There has never been a more unlikely match that they have seen.
            For starters, the age difference between us isn't very common. I could say that I have always been a good five years advanced emotionally and he has always been a little too young for his age. Mentally we had bridged the difference and it never felt like too much of a gap. We lived in different cities when we confessed our love and it has been that way for years now. We have been in a long distance relation from the start. If these two things weren't enough, we are as different as chalk and cheese.
           He is always on the move while I can sit and dream for hours. I am a voracious reader while he never makes it past the last page of the paper ( in reverse order that is). He eats to live and I live to eat, get the difference? He has always been practical and I have been an emotional fool. I have a nibbling desire to talk out all that I feel and he likes to conserve it like petrol. These are just the most starkly visible difference, don't even get me started on the  million others!

         Back to the question, "Are you freaking kidding me?"
        No one gets why we stuck to each other for so many years. Once we had not met each other for two and a half years. Even now our meetings have been around his official visits and some special days. I have always shrugged and smiled and told them that we have no choice. Inwardly, I cringed.
                                         
     
         
          We were that perfect couple. For those who know us. We have never been with anyone else, we have never taken a break from each other. It seemed like we were made in heaven. That was far from reality. We weren't great. We were just struggling. The lovey-dovey chatting and long night calls had stopped long back.
          We were getting frustrated with each other. Opposites attract but did they ever tell that opposites can annoy the hell out of you? We went around taking all that came our way, but even a slight change in the tone of one's voice would sometimes lead to fights. He was always tired after work and it would annoy me if he refused to talk to me. Fights had become the order of the day.

After a point, Skype and calls aren't enough.        
 I longed for the romantic dates.
 He longed for company.
Being apart was only adding to the misery of our differences.
 It was becoming a travesty of a relation.

     
  I was bored. I did not know if I was falling out of love. It was that  numbness. He did not show any response to my altered emotions. He would sometimes just ignore me and that made me doubt him. No matter what had passed in the day, I got a "good night" message at night. It would irritate me that he did not take notice of my mood. Why couldn't he say something to placate me? Why did he behave like everything was normal?

        Our careers were also taking a toll on the relation. It seemed like there was no way this would work any more.
                                                 

        I was shopping at a store when he called me. He was getting married. 
        I should have been crying, but I heard him in a composed mannered. 
        He told me he was out shopping for a gift for his to-be-wife. I tittered. 
        He also mentioned he would gift it on their honeymoon. It stabbed me but I didn't say a word. 

        I resumed my shopping. The  saleswoman had picked up so many clothes of my size and all of them fit me well. Then it struck me. I cannot ask him for an opinion. I cannot watsapp the photos and ask him which one to buy when I was confused.

       Have you felt a pain so intense that you cried? Cried in real even if the pain was a dream? Have you ever woken up and still felt that ache in your heart and that lump in your throat? Have you remembered each moment of that torment and had tears which refused to stop?
   
       "Good morning baby" he messaged me as usual.
       In that very moment, nothing felt more special than that regular message. 

        I sent him.
       "What happened?" came the quick reply.
      "I saw a dream that you are getting married. I want you. Don't ever leave me"
      " I won't. Now go back to sleep"
   
       That was our platinum day of love. The day we rediscovered our love. The day I discovered how much he had become a part of my life without actually being with me.The day he realized how much I was scared to lose him. We depended on each other. We shared the most mundane details of our lives. We knew each other like the back of our hand. We completed each other's sentences. It was ok to be truly ourselves with each other. We did not have to impress each other. Somewhere down the line, we became a part of each other. So much that we treated the other the way we treated ourselves. Everything just rubbed on both of us. There was never anything that had happened to me and did not have a consequence on him and vice versa. Only, we did not notice how far we  had come from a single meeting!

Love has always been there. Strong and resistant like platinum. Rare and precious. Unconventional and beautiful and beyond the means of regular stories. It is our platinum love story. A love story that has no golden glitters or silvery nights. Our love is Simple and long lasting. It had seen us through good and bad and been hit by our negativity and yet it stood strong. What could be a better metal than platinum to celebrate our love?
 Falling in love is golden, keeping it forever is platinum. 
What do they say about forever? If it is not forever, it is not love.

                                     

We now meet people who ask , "Are you freaking kidding me? You two are still together!!!" 

This story is part of the Indiblogger contest celebrating our Platinum Day of Love 

Image credit- Google

Know your safety in Mumbai

           I agree I haven't been to many places. I still vouch that Mumbai is the safest of all places I have been to. Despite the recent rapes. You have to cut some slack. It is over crowded with people. People from every walk of life and every imaginable lingual and religious background. Mumbai is not just about the night life. It is also about the suburban middle class residential areas. It is also about the chawls where people are separated by paper thin walls. It is also about the slums that mushroom in the most impossible places. In this city of crores, you can either make your way home safely or go horribly wrong.

          I represent the average Mumbai girl. A college student living in suburbs in a middle class residential area. I do not go party hopping, I do not wear skimpy clothes, I do not roam about with guys and I do not take lift from random people. In short, I do not do anything that would invite rape. Yet I live every day as if it could be the day I run into danger. Frankly, I live like the million girls in my city. Free spirit yet perpetually planning an escape at the back of her mind. 

        With about 2 decades of caution with which I was brought up,  1903839 advices that I still get from N number of female relatives and some of my own rescue plans, I thought of writing my Smart Suraksha Tips for Mumbai.



1. Do not travel in empty train compartments: If you have been in Mumbai, you might fancy a train ride to boast of the unforgettable experience. If you plan to stay in Mumbai, trains are the fastest transport mediums. If you have been anywhere near a Mumbai railway station, I bet you have sweated profusely even looking at the huge numbers. In the face of such travel conditions, an empty train compartment is enticing. If you happen to see such a rare sight, you are either travelling too early or late in the day or in the opposite direction of the normal public. Beware! The train sometimes halts in between stations which gives ample time to hooligans living by the railway tracks to enter the compartment. Do I say the rest? Always make sure you travel in second class, even if you have a first class ticket, at such hours. If ladies compartment is sparsely populated, enter the general compartment. It is  much safer than the ladies! Trust me on that.

2. Do not discuss your travel plans on the phone: Do not give away any information related to your journey on the phone. You never know who is eavesdropping on the conversation. While travelling in public transport or on road, do not divulge the details. Text if you must inform.

3. Carry something to protect yourself: Remember, Mumbai is insanely populated. Not everyone who brushes against you is a pervert and not everyone who tells you sorry is a gentleman. During peak hours, use your bag or umbrella as your shield. If you have to stay out late, carry a spray or scissor.

4. Do not lock your mobile screen: I understand that privacy is important. If you must keep your phone screen locked, always put the lock off when you are travelling alone. You wouldn't have time to unlock your phone to dial a number or a smart app in crucial situations.

5. Keep your phone charged: If you are in a profession that demands extensive usage of your phone, please invest in a portable charger. Do not use up your battery playing games or keeping your data network on. If you cannot help that, buy a portable charger. A dead battery would be of little help in real crisis. Even with a smart Suraksha in it.

6. Do not eat or drink what is offered by strangers: We were taught that early in life but it is time to revisit the lesson. You will find some small children or a man with a cow offering you prasad. They might be near a temple and asking you to donate a few coins for the pooja. Do not act like a devout idiot. Do not accept what they give as prasad even if it looks normal and the people look decent. You never know what that is laced with. Do not accept anything offered by the aunty in train who looks all motherly. Specially if you are alone.

7. Do not sympathize: If you find a kid, who says he/she is lost and gives you the address, do not take him/her to that address. Take that kid to the police station. If it is a genuine case, they will do the needful. Sometimes, it is just a gang of thugs waiting to loot you at the address and the child is a part of the act. Do not give in to the cries!

8. Do not get into arguments: It is brave to fight back. It is reckless to argue when you know that the other person isn't of a sound mind. Applies to everyone. People are frustrated, specially those at the grass root. Ask for your change from the auto driver but if he uses slang, make your way out. Some of them are drunk or chewing mind numbing things at times.

9. Know how to scare a potential rapist: A rapist is a coward basically. He doesn't want to get caught and he doesn't want you to give too much of a fight. If you are in Mumbai, more often then not, you will find police patrol teams near auto and taxi stands. A traffic police at least! If it is dreadfully late at night, you will find patrol jeeps at crucial points. Approach them for help. They often ask the driver for his registration number and note it down and then make you get into one. Yes, I have seen that side of Mumbai police. If you are not so lucky, make sure you call someone up and give out the auto details loud and clear so that the driver hears it. He will be extra careful to drop you home.

Raise a voice if you find someone coming too close to you in bus.
Click his photo if someone is following you in broad daylight.
Run towards the nearest Noble chemist shop. They are open day and night and have people around. Cafe Coffee Day is another day and night joint in most places of Mumbai.

10.  Do not act scared: The nervous kind of girls who look too meek to fight back are the softest targets. Act like a bull. Stone your facade. Look confident and bold to protect yourself. Half your battle is won by your courage because remember, a rapist is a coward basically.

I repeat, Mumbai is much safer. I can still come home at 11 pm and not worry because the roads are full of people enjoying a late night stroll, of a million small chat shops, of  buses still packed with people and also because I know where I m headed. Know your surrounding. I wouldn't feel the same way if I were going to closed down Mills in some forsaken place plagued by drug addicts. That is another side of Mumbai. I wouldn't feel so safe if I were cuddling with a guy on the isolated patch of the rocks  that is a safe haven to slum thugs. Remember, no city has just one type of environment. Stay smart, stay safe.

 I am sharing my Smart Suraksha Tips at BlogAdda.com in association with Smart Suraksha App.

Liebster Award :P

            Liebster Award is given to up and coming bloggers who have less than 200 followers. It’s appreciation from fellow bloggers and your chance to introduce yourself to other awesome bloggers.

            

       I shamelessly copy pasted the above lines from Khushboo because I was too lazy to write something creative :P 

       Khushboo gave me this award. 

       Yes, sadly, after 3 years of blogging, I still have less than 200 followers :P 

If you receive this award, you are expected to:

1. Post 11 facts about yourself

2. Answer the 11 questions the tagger has given you
3. Tag 11 more Bloggers (with no more than 200 followers; no tagging back) and make     11 questions for them
4. Tell the people you tagged that you did.

 11 Facts about me : 

1.   I go color crazy sometimes. By that I mean, I own many things of the same color for a particular period of time. For eg, right now the color is Red. First I bought two red tshirts. Then came the red college bag, red purse, red sandals and finally the red Diwali dress. Yes, hum yaha ke red riding hood hai :P 

2.   I m never on time. I m either early and waiting like an idiot or I m late and at the receiving end :D 

3.   I get addicted to things very quickly. Specially games. I was addicted to Criminal case a few months back and religiously played two times  day ( read as soon as I got enough points). Current addiction is Solitaire. 

4  Luckily, my addictions don't last a long time. A month or two at the most! 

5  I lie on the bed and think of perfect situations in life and my reactions to it. Imaginary ofcourse! 

6 I hate being interrupted while I blog. I need to complete the post in one go. That is also the reason why I don't blog on the move or when everyone is at home. 

7 I love books and I love stories. Yet, I do not hang on it. I believe stories become a part of you but I don't see the point of obsessing about it. Sorry to say, I do not get all the hyper reactions about Harry Potter series. 

8 I usually don't leave anything incomplete. It is an OCD. No matter how boring the task, I finish it. 

9  There are a few things I left undone. 

    Did not complete My experiments with truth

    Did not finish Shades of Shadows

    Did not write the complete  "Will you still love me" series 

10 When I have  a tough decision to make, I use my fingers as the options and ask someone to pick one :P 

11. I don't like completing tags :( It has to be painfully short for me to attempt it :D 

The craziest dream you ever had?

My dreams have been epic. The dream catcher on the header signifies the dreamer in me. Most of my dreams are crazy and I have written a full post on the craziest Here

How many gol gappas can you eat at a time?

I guess 20! 

Your favourite toy as a kid?

I don't remember :P 

A superpower you wished you had?

Apparition! 

The funniest prank you have ever played?

Hmmm.. lemme think... Hawww!! none!! 

Which one do you prefer:

-Riding a roller coaster or reading your favourite book?

Reading my favourite book

-Walnuts, cashewnuts, almonds or pistachios?

Pistachios

-Swimming in the pool or relaxing in a bath tub?

Relaxing in a bath tub

-What would you name your pet monkey?

Changumangu

-Salsa or Bhangra?

Bhangra 

And finally a sensible question, what inspires you to write?  

The satisfaction of putting my imagination to words :D 

My nominees for the award 

goes off to reading list

Ankita

Anita

Sreeja

Little Princess

I can't think of anyone else who has less than 200 followers :P 

My questions for the nominees

1. One relation you were responsible for ruining

2. The worst lie you told

3. One relative who is more of a friend 

4. Your favorite story

5. One habit you wish to do away with

6. A movie date or a theme park with friends

7. The movie you regret watching in theatre

8. The best compliment you received

9. Whose comments inspire you on your post

10. Who do you think of when I say "angel"

11. Have you experienced paranormal :P 

Light smiles

             

                "Baba, will you send me a pink frock for Diwali?" his 6 yr old daughter asked him over phone.
                " I will bring it for you myself." Manoj assured her.
                "Did you talk to Saheb? Is he going to give you a bonus?" His wife asked him, worried.
                " I will talk to him today. Did Munna get his pay?" He asked about his son.
                " That wretched Kumar has still not paid him. My poor son works so hard and Kumar and his bosses gobble all the money. They will go to hell." She cursed.
                "Ok, I will call you later." He hurriedly cut the call when he saw Bharadwaj, the secretary of the building, approaching. He rushed to the gate and saluted him.

                Bharadwaj was returning from his morning jog. His wife had started nagging him about his ever increasing waist and huge belly and made it difficult for him to sleep past 6. He hated jogging but he had no choice but to step out of the house. He would go to the jogger's park and sit on the benches and on his way back, empty the water bottle on his clothes to fool his wife. However, his wife had grown suspicious and accompanied him and he had to jog. He was breathless by the time he reached the society gate and was angry on his wife. Manoj refrained from asking him about the bonus. He was now an expert at gauging Bharadwaj's mood.
             
               " Manoj, society has some rules. You have not completed even 3 months. How can you demand a bonus from us?" Bharadwaj asked him.
                Bharadwaj and a few committee members were going through some papers in the society office that evening. Manoj had mustered courage to ask, thinking that Bharadwaj wouldn't insult him in front of other members. Diwali was just a day away and he had yet to send anything home.
              " We gave you this month's salary. That is enough" remarked Gohil, another member.
              "Saheb, I have kids at home. I cannot buy them gifts from my salary. It is barely enough for our existence" pleaded Manoj.
              "No Manoj, we cannot give you a bonus. What if you just go away to your native and don't return. You have not worked enough time to earn a bonus." They dismissed him.

              "What happened? They refused you right?" asked Manish.
              "Why can't they just give me a bonus?" whined Manoj.
              "They are just heartless. The more money they make, the more they sell their soul."
              "How will my family celebrate Diwali. They don't even have clothes or chappals?"
              "There is a way. You know Sharma ?" Manish asked.
              Manoj squinted at him and wondered what he was about to get at.

              Manoj had moved to the city 3 months back. He had to sell his ancestral lands to pay the loans that his father had taken from the landlords. The land wasn't much fertile anyway. He had stayed with his distant cousin in a small chawl. After bribing the agent at the security services, he had finally landed a job in Charmi apartments. The building had a small quarter at the back which he shared with the night-shift watchman. Manish was Sharma's driver. He sometimes chatted with Manoj. The other drivers usually considered themselves a class upper to him and were not so open to him.

          The day of Diwali dawned. The scale of celebrations was beyond Manoj's imagination. He had heard such tales from the men who worked in cities but witnessed it the first time. Before sun rise the building had bustled with life. The women had set out to draw beautiful rangolis. The children welcomed the Diwali morning with firecrackers. The cars were decorated with garlands. As the sun set, the whole city lit up.
                           

             Looking at the pretty dresses that the girls wore, Manoj thought of the pink frock his daughter wanted. 

            Seeing the boys lighting crackers worth thousands of rupees, his heart went out to his son who had to drop out of school to support his family. His son, who worked in a small unit manufacturing crackers. 

                                       

            The women were adorned in jewels and rich saris while his wife hadn't seen a new sari in ages. 

            The men played cards and burnt up money, while his children didn't have even footwear.

            They splurged on a million lights while Manoj's house would be dark. 

            They frolicked as a family while he ached to see his own. 

                                            

            "You know Sharma right?" Manish's question came back to him.

            "Yes.. your boss. Will he give me a bonus?" Manoj had asked innocently.

            "You are a fool. These people never empty their pockets for the likes of us. You know Bharadwaj's son bursts a rocket worth rupees seven thousand! Can you even imagine that? A single rocket! Yet Bharadwaj wouldn't part with a bonus of five thousand. You have to snatch your money from them." 

           " What do you mean?" Manoj had asked out of curosity.

           "See that Sharma hoards his money at home. I have seen his wife take out cash once. They stack it in the cupboard of the inner bedroom. During Diwali, they keep the house open for Laksmi to enter they say! They will all be down, playing cards and celebrating. You have to go and simply take out the money." 

           "If it is that easy, why don't you do it yourself?" Manoj had asked suspiciously. 

           "You don't use your brain. They would question me first. I keep going in and out of their house. No one would suspect you. The other watchman who does night shift will be questioned." Manish had divulged his plan. 

           "No, no I won't rob." Manoj had refused.

           "Then don't. Let it be. I thought of helping you. If you can't do it then don't. Sit and cry in a corner." Manish had walked away. 

           His wife called. He could hear his daughter wailing for a pink frock in the background. A lump formed in his throat and he disconnected the call. He went to look for Manish. 

           Manish was sitting at the paan stall outside. Seeing Manoj, he smiled. 

           "Manoj bhai, changed your mind?" He quizzed.

           

         They knocked on the door of the small room. His wife woke him up. Manoj limped to the door. Before he could gather his senses, they snatched him by the collar and huddled him in the police jeep, thrashing him with their lathi. 

         

          He had done as Manish had instructed. He had sneaked into Sharma's flat. He found the money where Manish had told him to look for. Packing the money into the bag, Manoj had reached the railway station. As per their deal, Manoj had handed part of the money to Manish and made away with the rest. He had thanked Manish for his help. 

         He had come home to his family. He had bought the pink frock for his daughter and clothes for his son. He gifted his wife a sari and had also brought lot of sweets. He still had money left with him and thought of doing some small business in his village. Everything had looked so perfect. 

        He had committed sin but the smiles of his family made up for his guilt. 

        He had  carried the robbery perfectly. One thing he didn't know was that he was being watched. 

        Manish never told him that Sharma's house was under CCTV protection. 

        They had started tracing him after Sharma's wife discovered the robbery and they checked the footage. Manish was never under the scanner and made away with his share. 

                                              

P.S : I wish a very happy Diwali to all of you. There are many like Manoj in our surrounding. I just hope that as you spend your money on crackers and lights, you give a thought to how the same money could light up someone's life. What is Diwali if you cannot bring light into someone's life? Light smiles this Diwali.

                                         

   This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

                                                

Write Over the Weekend theme for this week

This time your entry must contain, ‘One thing he/she/they didn’t know that they were being watched.’

    

Practical Lessons

                     I stood in the queue to weigh the starting material, phthalimide, which we had made in the earlier practical. From across the room, our instructor was constantly shouting out to take precautions in this laboratory. We were guests in the laboratory as our actual chemistry lab was under renovation. We were adjusted in the Saturday slot and were given the entire day (8 hours) to complete three set of experiments. The place was crammed with some 32 students and the weather outside provided no respite from the heat that was generating within the laboratory. Each table had a water bath boiling, the concentrated chemicals emanated fumes that gave a sustained headache all through the day, the exhaust fans did little to dissipate the heat and I waited in a line that was not needed at all and yet we all knew the place would be swarming if we didn’t!

                    Although I m never really ecstatic about chemistry lab, I had reasons to be nervous. The first reason was that we were carrying out a reaction using the product we had obtained in a previous practical.

“If you have not made phthalimide properly, you will not get the product,” our teacher warned us. Unlike other days, where we had some consolation in blaming the starting material, here we were to be held responsible.

                 “Control the reaction temperatures perfectly, heat it gently just for 2 minutes at 80 degrees” her voice echoed in the room.  Maintaining a temperature is laborious as it is, but keeping it steady while continuing a reaction is another task altogether. A little lax, the product is gone!

                 Armed with starting materials, ice cold water, freezing mixture, bromine (that dangerous, attractive and toxic chemical resting in a burette), boiling water and a chilled spine, we set out to perform the task. 

               “Stir, stir, stir, freeze it, the temperature is rising” we called out to each other. My partner, Ketan, was stirring the mixture, while I was keeping the temperature regulated. Once done with preparing the mixture, he looked around.

               “Stop looking at them, 2 minutes is over! Concentrate on our reaction” I chided him.

  

               The tricky part was done and dealt with. The next part required precision but time wasn’t a constraint. Our reaction mixture in the conical flask was a shade of yellow.  We finally stood straight and rested our back and neck, which were strained, monitoring the reaction.

“Why is everybody else’s solution looking like coca cola?” I wondered out loud.

“They must have gone wrong.” Ketan gave a flat reply.

“The entire class got in shades of brown, only ours is yellowish. I think we didn’t keep it for 2 minutes exact” I doubted.

“You kept it for 2 minutes with a stop watch! We are right.” He shut me up

                                                 

We started adding the concentrated hydrochloric acid as he insisted we start. I was hesitant and wanted to confirm if something could be done about the colour but gave in.

“How come you got this colour after adding hydrochloric acid?” asked the girl from other table.

“We haven’t yet started” I replied.

“We all got brown color. Did you forget to add bromine?” she interfered further.

Our table had become more interesting to others. Everyone took turns to ask what the matter with our product was.  We continued adding concentrated hydrochloric acid to get the required pH.

With each drop, my skepticism hit the roof. I tried recollecting everything we could have done wrong. Did we heat it well? Did we freeze it as much as it had to? Did  we measure the exact volumes? Where did we go wrong?

                                                  

“Did you get this color after adding hydrochloric acid?”

I was tired of giving a reply to the same questions. Yet, the person asking was our expert. Oh my God! It is definitely wrong! He wouldn’t have asked that otherwise.

“Yes, sir. We are yet to reach to isoelectric pH.”

“Wow, you have carried the reaction perfectly well. You won’t even need to precipitate out again. You will get at isoelectric point. Continue very slowly” He advised.

           Suddenly the clouds of doubt hovering above us had cleared.  Assured that we were doing it right, we started with a new vigor. Like he said, we obtained the product in the first precipitation. We drained it lovingly, washed and drained and dried it.  Finally we put it for recrystallization.  While our product was getting recrystallized, my friend walked past our table.

“Hey! This is not the product. When you dry it, it will just crumble into powder and you will get nothing.”

“Ketan, did you hear what she said? We won’t get the product.”

“Are you mad? Those who don’t get the crude proper often tell that way!” He brushed aside the comment.

Sometime later in the day, I had shining crystals. Although they didn’t have the perfect shape, yet they were the buff colour crystals which I almost lost to my pessimism!

Life is like that chemistry lab, only without a manual. No one warns you that what you did previously will affect you now. No one shouts their lungs out to keep the conditions regulated. No one checks on you to clear the mess strewn on the table. A cluttered table is a cluttered mind. No one would peek into your doings and tell you that you have done awesome.

Instead, there will be people who would wonder what you did that made your life different. People who would question your sanity. People who would taunt and tease at what you make of yourself.

You would look around and find their lives to be perfect. Their dreams fulfilled. Their products all brown and perfect whereas yours would look unprepared.  They would mock at your creativeness, smirk at your ambitions and isolate you. The test is to not falter. To do your best and be content. To not doubt your judgement if you are happy with the outcome. To not compare your life with their standards. To be happy with your pale yellow uniqueness and wait for the outcome.  It is easier to compare and feel incompetent than to look within and feel complete.  Be the positive force that makes you stand the test.

Do I know you?

             She opened her eyes to darkness. It was abysmal, that feeling of dark that crept over her. The floor was cold and hard against her back. She tried to grope but nothing came into her hands. Her legs felt numb as she tried to balance herself from slipping. She could smell a foul stench emanating from her. 

             That morning, Neha had received a call from Samir. It was unusual for him to call her up so early in the morning. They had agreed to meet for lunch. She had been occupied with her work, but the thought was at the back of her mind. Why did he want to meet her during the day? They had been having an affair and kept their appointments at night. She couldn't wait to see him. They had missed their dates for a week as Samir had gone to visit his parents. 

             Sharp at 1 pm, she reached Rainbow, the place that Samir had called her to. He had already started drinking, which was unusual. Neha had taken a half day leave, hoping that they would spend more time together but one look at Samir had made her doubt her plans. He looked at her without a smile. She pulled a chair and sat in front of him. 

             "Samir, what is this? Why have you started drinking at this time?" she asked him. 

             "Neha, I m not in a mood for your lecture." He snubbed her. 

             "Tell me what couldn't wait till evening?" she was angry at him.

             " I m getting married." He told her without emotion. 

             "Whoaa, what? Wait, are you telling me that you are getting married?" 

             "I m." He replied coldly. 

             "So what have you called me for?" She shouted at him. 

             "Neha, don't over react. We never had any agreement over marriage. It was just an affair which you too enjoyed. Frankly, did you think I would marry you?

             Right. Did she think he would marry her? He had never as much told her about any commitment. He was from a rich and traditional family of Marwaris. She was just a product of a broken marriage. She had spent her early years in hostel and later lived on rent until her biological father died, leaving behind a modest 1 BHK flat for her.

            "So this is the end of it?" She still asked knowing the reply.
            "It doesn't have to end. We can continue the affair. You know I can take care of your needs." He gave her a smug smile and lit a cigarette.
         
            His face, behind the smoke, evoked such disgust which she hadn't known in years. It reminded her of another man who had made her feel so cheap and dirty. Her head was spinning with thoughts which she had buried long back.

                             

            She had made it to the switch board. Panic stricken, she ran her fingers over all switches and turned them on. The lights lit the room. Scared, she looked at the floor. The sight made her insides turn. She retched  on the spot. The man lay on his stomach. The blood was splattered all about the house. 

                

           He had just returned from his office. His wife, as usual, had started bickering about the neighbors. He resigned on the sofa and surfed the television. His wife raised her voice and began nagging him. His blood pressure was rising. His teenager son had shut himself up in his room. His wife was complaining about their son's behavior. 

         "Come home and only watch television. Don't care about your family." She nagged further. 

         His anger had crossed threshold. 

         "Just shut up you bitch. Can't  you give me a moment of peace." He had raised his hand on her. Taking his car keys, he shut the door behind him. 

         He parked near the beach. He let the fresh air get to him and then started smoking. 

         "Hey sexy, all alone?" beeped  his watsapp. 

         Tina. He smiled to himself. The girl always seemed to track his mood. 

         She had first called him by mistake but they had eventually started chatting regularly on watsapp. They flirted openly and sometimes the chats became too intimate. It had been just a week since they  had started sexting. 

        "Yes babe. Want to share my loneliness?"

         He was thrilled when she sent him her pictures. She called him to her home. 

        This is my lucky day, he thought. He turned the car and before going to her apartment, he went to the pharmacy. 

                                 

          

          He had his doubts. When she opened the door, dressed in a peach negligee, it all vanished. She was fair skinned, curvy and had dark eyes. She looked no more than 25. He was 45, balding and with a pot-belly. 

        

        She turned him over. His chest had stab wounds. The knife lay next to him. His eyes were wide open in shock. 

        "This will be our secret. You know I can take care of your needs." His words came back to her. 

 They were all alone in the house. He had run his hands over her thighs and touched her. She had squirmed under his touch, not knowing why she felt so uncomfortable. She had tried to escape from him. He had over powered her in the end. 

        Her mother and step father had gone for a party and left her behind with her step father's brother. She was just 8 year old. She had been sent away to hostel after she had confided in her mother. 

        

       "This will be our secret" she had whispered in his ears. He had followed after her into her room. She played blind fold with him. 

       He could hold himself no longer and plunged for her. She tied his hands tightly and pushed him on the floor. 

       She is a wild thing, this Tina. He couldn't believe his luck!

       She was searching for something in her drawer. He pitched in, "Its in my wallet. I brought it on my way" 

 She smiled in a wicked way and drew a shiny knife. It sent a chill through him. 

      "Wasn't blind fold your favorite game, step-uncle?" She laughed.

      "You, you... "He was terrified of what had come on him. 

      

      His eyes had been wide open as she stabbed him multiple times. 

     She had tracked him down finally. She stalked him like crazy. She knew all about him. She knew about his wife, his son, his fights, his whereabouts. She was waiting for a chance to strike. She befriended him and made a trap of lust. 

              She sat there crying for hours. She did not know how she had landed up this way. She did not know how her dark past had come face to face. The last thing she remembered was coming home and crying until she had been exhausted and fallen to sleep. 

            She cleaned up all the blood on the floor. She had to think of disposing the body, but not now. She would wait for another night when she could hide in the dark. She wound his heavy body in bed sheets and kicked it under the bed. She went to  wash herself. 

                                    

             She saw her image in the mirror. Suddenly she was Neha, stabbing at herself, hating herself. The sad, victimized Neha. 

     She smiled. She had Samir to take care of now.