Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Mr. Ashraf, Mrs. Ashraf aur Wow!!!!!....


Year 2017
After several years of marriage, Ravi tells Aruna a story of his college days, a story where truth and fiction merge.
It was that evening, after we returned from the party, as I stood lost in my god only knows thought in front of the sofa, she said, "Imran, why are you looking so lost?"
I shrugged, "Oh! It's nothing, dear."
She continued,"Tonight, throughout the party, you seemed as if you weren't quite there. What's wrong? You weren't like this before; you would be the life and soul of the party. Always the jokes and laughs; you would tell me stories and fool me all the time. What's happened to you, Imran?"
I remained silent, searching for words to quench her curiosity, she pressed, "You have been like this ever since the Banerjees moved in here. And every time we go out and meet the Banerjees, you come back and look more lost." Then she added, suspiciously,"And I can't help noticing you when you meet her - Chris."
"Oh! yaar! Don't start off on your wild suspicions again." This is irritating. "You know Chris and me are from the same college, she was in my batch, but that was years ago. We have never met in ten years since she got married. Or heard of each other, for that matter. It was quite a surprise when we met at the Super Market a couple of months ago. You have been inviting her to all the parties, introducing her to all our friends."
"She must have been beautiful ten years ago." she continued, as if she hadn't heard a word, combing her long hair.
"Yes, very beautiful." I had to accept that.
She gave me that special look. I am used to that glance now. Better sit on the sofa, leaning back, head resting on upturned palm, looking at the corner of the coffee-table, watching memories of Sewagram years slowly go by than be a subject of your wives intense scrutiny..
"And I fell in love with her!" She mimicked me.
This is it....out with it man... "Yes, I fell in love with her."
She stopped combing her hair, caught her breath. "No! Imran, how could you?"
For a fraction of moment I regretted having spoken that word it hurts anyone...everyone. Occasion is asking for it... now or never... so be it "We were young, she was beautiful, we shared a lot of common interests. Same batch, same class, same hometown, same taste in many things rare few from Kolkata who refrained from eating fish. I thought we were a perfect match. Made in Heaven!" but there lies the problem Heaven stands for “Swarg” or “Jannat”
I was quite amused now...she was not. She wanted to know more. How far had the affair progressed? Had we kept in touch? Why had kept it a secret and not told her this all these years? I am getting quiet good in reading unspoken words.
Slowly, I vomited everything... I could feel the lightness...spoke of our years in college, my solitude, her friendship, Our letter sharing, fight, break up, her heartthrob. Soon after college, she got placed in IBM had a serious crush again and before I could react, had married a cool Bengali Brahmin chap and made her parents proud so finally it was “Swarg” for her. Now, they both were working professional well adapted to Bangalore life, I had my own share of destiny to play with. We still managed to keep one thing between us alive blogging...
"Yes, I know that!" she said icily “you were officially selected servant to write her Biography”
My better half was an expert in spitting venom in given circumstances.
I know how little she was interested in "my books". The ones I chose to read, the ones we used to choose read and contemplate. That was another thing we shared a common love for abstract Literature.
she pouted and replied, a little defensively, "Well, if you stop picking up all those heavy stuff, and bring back some light reading, even I can read, you know."
I was about to open my mouth to add that I had recently picked up a magazine of short stories, but thought better of it. After all, I still had the magazine in the drawing-room right here; she would not have realized that, too. I don’t want her to read it, do I?
But what of my affair, she asked. What had happened, how had we split up? With the curiosity of a voyeur, she wanted to know all there was to know.
I laughed. "We were friends", it can’t be simpler. "I thought I was in love with her, but for a long time, I did not have the courage to say this to her. For many months, I had planned out the words and settings and dreamt up the endings."
I don’t remember when or how I proposed her for the first time just cant recollect, what I remember much later I used to propose her daily till she passed a new law that I am allowed to propose her only once in a week.
I also remember she had been taken aback initially. She had never thought of me as anything other than a college friend, someone with whom she could talk college if I attend lectures and carry her luggage when returning home during vacations. College to her was a place where she made friends, not lovers until her dream boy came. She could not see herself falling in love with anyone like me especially outside her religion, and she had her parents to consider. They could only be pleased if the guy is within Hindu religion, Bengali is better... Bengali Brahmin is the best and that’s what she got...The best... she deserved the best and got the best. It had all been agreed; there was no chance of change.
There really hadn't been anything much to say after that, I said after a long silence to break her expectation for hearing more on Chris. Though I and Chris had parted agreeing to remain friends, she seemed to be staying away from me, perhaps to ensure that her marriage stood in no risk of scandal. I cursed myself for being so late in acting, and - perhaps to avoid facing my own disappointment and failure - had also stayed away from her. Our friendship had withered in the few remaining months prior to her marriage, and when she finally got married; we both realized how false the promises of keeping in touch would be.
"So there you are!” I sighed, "Now you know everything. My dark secret. Your suspicions are justified. But there is nothing to worry about, dearest wife - it's all over and forgotten. I guess everyone has a similar story at some point of their life"
All this while I never looked at her at all, instead concentrated at a corner of the coffee-table, avoiding her looks. But I was aware of that expression altering slowly. Her expressions had changed, from the original anger and hurt and suspicion. She hadn't said a word after the initial interruptions, and had quietly listened to my every word.
When I looked at her. She was sitting with her jaw cupped in her palms, like a child to whom a story had been told, waiting for more. The original anger had been replaced by a glint of a smile in her eyes.
"Imran, thank you for telling me all this. I really have been a fool, thinking the worst of you. I'm sorry." She was trying hard to sound genuine.
"It's not your fault, dear; it's mine. I should have told you this before, but I had never thought about it till recently."
Suddenly, she laughed. "But this time, you didn't manage to fool me. I know where you got it from this time, Mr. Imran Ashraf."
Before I can protest, she admonished me, "Don't pretend this is true or that it is an original story you made up just now. I read a magazine you picked up; it has exactly this story, let me show you."
"If you write your Blogs as well as you related this, I'm sure I will read all your articles", she taunted me as she hunted the coffee-table for the magazine, found it, and flipped the pages for the story. "There!” she said triumphantly, producing a story called “Aur Woh".
"I know you have read this and are trying to fool me with this. It's about a woman who is suspicious of her husband, and how he pulls her leg with a story that he once had an affair. The College, the Brahmin husband - it's all there! Caught you this time, didn't I?"
"I almost believed you", she said, laughing. "If you had changed a few things, I might have. You really sounded so earnest. But you went too much by the book, Mr. Nautankibaaz."
I stopped protesting. Mocking my earlier ring of truth, I pointed at the coffee-table and announced, "The Truth is out there".
She laughed, "There! You are back to your normal madcap self, always telling a lie", and kissed me impulsively.
"And please don't tell that girl. She'll kill me.!", I added.
"Okay, you are forgiven! I won't tell her, I'll just tell her husband." She teased me
"No!! Please don't do that to me".
Happy, she continued to comb her hair. I, picked up the magazine, and quietly placed it on the bookshelf, among all my journals published anonymously.

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