The Girl With Yellow Lights
Read Part-1 here: The Girl in Pink Sweater
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January 3, 2016
Mumbai
I'm sitting here in the boring room
It's just another rainy Sunday afternoon
I'm wasting my timeI got nothing to doI'm hanging aroundI'm waiting for youBut nothing ever happens and I wonder...
This New Year I had come up with a great resolution: No regrets, ever!
Being home alone in Mumbai, not doing anything, sucks. So I started going through my phone contacts. It's time to meet some people. I don't want to waste holidays. I came across 'the girl in pink sweater'. Oh, my god! It has been over a year since I met her.
"But after that awkward train journey will it be alright to call her?” I questioned my thought.
"Let's give it a try", said my solitude.
*ring ring* Please don't pick up. Please. Don't.
She finally answered my call. I mustered the courage to say hello. The voice on the other side was still beautiful. I introduced myself again (I, obviously, had to. I was calling her for the first time after that train journey). I asked her if she is free today because it's a great day to catch up with people. She was busy actually but agreed to meet. She said she'll figure out something.
Afternoon, after lunch
A friend had come over and we were just chilling in my empty room. Lying on the floor and getting senti on our college days. I texted her, as a reminder, whether she has figured something out or not. Otherwise, I will have to take the burden of planning the evening.
Got a reply after an hour.
*Hey I have to head out for work around 6.
you can come over if you like.*
I was about to reply when my friend shouted "It will take you an hour to reach her place. Don't worry, I'll drop you. You call her right now"
So again I mustered the courage, again, and called her. I said I like the idea of coming over but where to exactly. She then sent me her address. We were on our way.
It usually takes 30-40 minutes to reach her area from my place. So that just gives me 20-30 minutes to spend with her. Before I could say anything, "Stop your calculations", my friend exclaimed. We took out the car. Started navigation. And the damn traffic! Moreover, the driver had no idea about the route.
Sunday evening everybody wants to enjoy a ride in the beautiful city. We were still struggling with the shortest route while we passed by Haji Ali. It was almost 5pm and the sunset near horizon looked mesmerizing. We stopped there for a while. I was just about to click a picture when I saw her text.
*hey, do you drink?*
"We're taking the Sea Link", my friend made that clear after glancing at the message.
Vehicles are not supposed to stop on the bridge but they can always be slowed down. And trust me when I say this, the scene was exotic at that time.
(I clicked this)
*Yes, when in good company :)*, I replied trying to sound cool.
*I've got some whiskey. Do you like whiskey?*, she replied back.
*On the rocks it is then*, I loved whiskey.
*Alrighty :)*
We managed to reach the other end of the bridge, away from the rush. Those wide roads, they gave me hope. I should buy something, maybe chocolates, I thought to myself. "Bhaiya, stop at a bakery shop if you come across one", I told the driver. I bought chocolate pastries.
Mumbai Suburbs are very congested. Small housing complexes squeezed together. Her address mentioned a park as a landmark. And no one near that bakery shop had ever heard of the park. I was getting frustrated. Not much time left. It was almost quarter to 6. I called her.
"Hey.. umm.. I'm kinda lost. Guide me."
"Where are you?"
"Near Citibank"
"Oh, that's close. If you're facing the bank entrance, follow the alley on your left. You'll reach the park. Turn left and voila".
"That was precise. Cool. I'll be there in 5"
I looked at my friend. I thanked him for the lift. He abused me in return. I told him not to leave for the next 5 minutes, I might come back soon. He abused me more.
"You dare chicken out", he warned.
5:50 pm @ her apartment
*ding dong* Please don't open. Please. Don't.
I was shit nervous. How should I greet her?
"Nice fancy door-bell. Oh, that's a really strong metal door. With a Godrej Lock. Wait, what if she has a dog? Dogs hate me. I hate them too. Don't get paranoid you idiot", I was murmuring, anxiously. So many thoughts at a time.
Focus. Focus!
I could hear the latches moving. There goes the first door. Now it's just the metallic one.
(It's common for flats in Mumbai to have two doors. Wood and Steel)
I saw her.
She looked beautiful. Hair left open. White T-shirt and denim. And yeah, no pink sweater.
"Hey, happy new year. This is for you", I handed over the pastries.
"Hey thank you so much. Come on in"
Her flat was neat. There was one long horizontal window facing the garden with a platform on the inner side occupied by small pillows. It reminded me of those side lower berths in trains. I wanted to sit there with her and enjoy the evening. But she had better plans. She kept the pastries on the platform, I took off my shoes and we headed towards her room. The floor was cold. En route she gave a little tour of the flat. Her flatmates' rooms, kitchen, washroom, tiles, colourful bulbs, The Beatles poster and finally her room.
"I should start maintaining my room like this. One less scolding from my mother", I thought to myself. Mattress on the floor, bean bag near the wall, dressing table on one side, full wall wardrobe, books, more books, posters and windows shut.
Interesting.
"Wow! Cozy room"
"Thanks, I too love my room. Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back."
"Shit! This is a bad situation; Where should I sit, mattress or bean bag?", I was tensed. I didn't want my choice of seat to imply anything.
I heard her footsteps marching into the room. Come on dude decide, fast. It doesn't matter.
"What happened?", she asked.
"Nothing I was just admiring your room", I said while resorting to the bean bag.
She came and sat on the edge of the bed. I should have sat on the bed too. I cursed myself but the damage had been done.
Her room had the best setting. Fancy dim lights, soothing background music and humid Mumbai weather. Things were going well, she was talking to me.
"Keep the conversation interesting", I kept reminding myself.
We went through sharing some personal information, again, just to bring back the embarrassing previous encounter. I guess she enjoyed pulling my leg every now and then. Since she had to head out for work in some time, she frequently kept checking her phone. I, on the other hand, was staring at her walls looking for some radioactive spider who could just bite me and give me superpowers. All in vain.
"Dongri to Dubai: Six Decades of the Mumbai Mafia", I read out loud but slow enough to catch her attention. "Oh, you're an avid reader", trying my best to get her off from the phone.
"Yes, I love books"
"Nice", I said while keeping my phone on the floor.
"Wait, how did that happen?” she exclaimed.
(My phone's screen broke last year and the cracks have only increased since then. I use it as a conversation starter. Whenever I go out or meet new people it gives me footage. I don't ask for it. I'm broke so I could never get it fixed. Plus it works like a charm. Always.)
"It's nothing. Just another slim phone that keeps falling down. Nokia zindabad", I felt proud.
"Hahaha I too had a phone like that some weeks back but couldn't bear with it any longer"
"Oho, I pity you hahaha", followed some cheering moments.
"I need to use your washroom", I got up and started heading out of the room.
"It's right there", She called me back.
I turned around and she opened her secret closet.
"You have a secret closet", I exclaimed.
"Yes, this way to Narnia", She smiled.
"I'm coming for you White Witch", We both giggled.
6:30 pm, Post Washroom
I came out and sat on the mattress. I was sitting there facing her, looking through her classy frame into the deep brown eyes. She smiled while clearing her hair off her face, setting them properly so they don't block her sight again.
I looked down and saw a bottle of Chivas Regal-18 single malt whiskey, ice, water bottle and 2 wine glasses. I looked at the bottle and then I looked at her. I did this twice. Someone is really prepared.
“Waaoow. This must have cost you a fortune?” I exclaimed.
“Naah. My dad gets gifts and he doesn't drink. So...” she winked.
Without wasting much time I lifted the glasses. She popped open the cork and let the alcohol flow.
“Oye bass! This is too much for a peg”, I tried to stop her.
“Oh, I'm sorry. I'm an amateur. I seldom drink. I don't even like the taste.”
“Then why do you drink?” I asked.
“I love the 'tipsy' feeling”, she smiled while filing the rest of her glass with water. I followed with CHEERS!
We had some interesting conversations after that. We poured some more pegs. I made sure they were light this time. Alcohol makes you talk. And we talked for hours. We talked about our school lives, college experiences, her flat mates, previous flat mates, her hectic work life, love life and what not.
She studied history, then advertising and is fluent in 3 foreign languages. And now she is taking up a course in geography. Amazing. She had it all planned out. She freelanced for some time; been living alone in Mumbai for more than a year, paying her own bills. I know it's not simple as it looks but she had a life and I really appreciated that.
Let’s not talk about me.
It got dark in some time so she suggested we turn off the tubelight and plug in the yellow lights.
It was all Yellow! The lights brought a different glow to her face.
(And it was all yellow)
As I was near the switch board I increased the fan speed too.
*gharrrr gharrrr gharrrr*, the fan made noises. I turned down the speed.
“Hey you're an electrical engineer, right? Why does this happen?” she asked.
WHAT THE FUCK! I felt like I'm in a viva again. I was tensed. I could not think of anything. Electrical machines have haunted me for a very long time now. I was laughing at my fate inside. But on the outside I was calm. There is one thing that I've become good at...'beating around the bush'.
“So, domestic fans have single phase induction motors...and...” I blabbered shit like a pro for 2-3 minutes. I think she bought it. Well, even if she didn’t, it was really nice of her not to embarrass me.
*Phew! Bach gaya*
I changed the topic, quick like a bullet.
“Do you know how to ask for beer in Danish?” I asked.
“No”
“Yay vil geh-neh heh en url!”, and we both burst out laughing.
“You can order-in a beer if you want”, she said.
“Do you want one?”
“No I don’t like beer. I can bear scotch/whisky because I like the high. But I never liked beer.”
“WHAT? HOW CAN SOMEONE NOT LIKE BEER?” I almost shouted. The glass fell off my hand (not really).
“Easy there boy, I know it’s an acquired taste. It’s not like I haven’t tried, I just didn’t like it”, she shrugged.
*ding dong*
One of her flat mate had come back home. She is either a fashion designer/photographer or singer, I don’t remember. She came in said hello and headed straight to her room for a nap.
9pm, after her friend went for a nap
“You know, my flat mate once kept a puppy and…”
“Wait… What? There is a dog in here? I don’t like dogs”, I panicked.
“WHAT? HOW CAN SOMEONE NOT LIKE DOGS?”
“I don’t mind dogs, but they keep giving me these terrifying looks. They also bark sometimes. Please tell me your friend doesn’t have a puppy in her room”
“Hahahaha no. But don’t worry I’ll keep you safe”, she said comforting me. “Do you want to eat something?”
“I’m not that hungry. Hey let’s eat the cake I brought”, I suggested.
We headed out of the room, after a long time. It felt like we were in there for a century, I didn’t even realize it was 9pm.
We sat beside the garden-facing-window, eating that cake. Feeling content.
I got up, phone (check), wallet (check), watch (check). Time to go home :(
“Hey I think I should leave now. You have work to do and I've wasted your entire evening”, I said while wearing shoes.
“Nah it’s alright. It was an evening well spent. I really enjoyed your company”, she said.
I bent forward to hug her. I’m glad she understood the gesture. I felt her hair between my fingers, soft as silk.
"Pull away your hand slowly, girls are very possessive about their hair", I reminded myself.
Well now, I don’t know whether I’ll ever meet her again. With lives changing at every step it gets difficult to be in touch with old friends let alone new ones.
But I hope she remembers me for those awkward and great times we spent. I hope she remembers me, for everything.
And I hope she give me a chance to write a part-3 to this story.
Until then, see you around folks!
