All is fair in love and war Chapter 11

Summer of 1995

Ranchi

Just a couple of days after that fateful invitation over a cup of coffee, Ashmi received a phone call. Akhil’s voice resonated on the other end.

 Hi, how are you?’ Akhil’s voice boomed from the ear phone.

 Good,’ she whispered, so that no one could hear her.

‘Today is my birthday,’ he said without a prelude.

 ‘Happy Birthday!’ she said.

 ‘I want to meet you,’ he was trying the best to keep the conversation flowing.

 ‘Why me? Go and celebrate it with your friends,’ she said though she knew that he wanted to spend time with her.

‘You’re my friend too. Will you come for my party?’ he said.

‘I would love to but I hardly know you and Ma would not permit,’ she spoke.

‘You are scared of your mother,’ he provoked.

‘No, I am not, but I respect her,’ she defended.

‘No, you are lying, you’re afraid of her,’ he bullied. It was a different matter that even he was scared of her.

 ‘Okay I am,’ she acceded

‘Hey! Don’t be disheartened. I was joking. I want to meet you at your place,’ he had a plan in place.

‘What will I tell Ma?’ she asked worriedly.

‘Nothing, but the truth,’ he got philosophical.

‘I will try.’ she said and knew that it would be a really difficult task.

When the line went dead, Ashmi realized that she was too bored and all she wanted in the summer of 1995 was a bit of adventure and nothing more. Talking to Akhil, meeting him was not the plan on which her life was charted out. She was deviating, but the thrill of having some adventure was too much to refuse. Akhil’s smooth voice sounded music to her ears and she talked to her mother.

‘Ma, the boys who came that day, want to come today to meet me,’ she said without any preface. ‘Why?’ asked senior Mrs Mishra without even looking at her.

‘Today is Akhil’s birthday and he wants to come and meet me,’ she persisted.

‘But, why?’ senior Mrs Mishra insisted.

 ‘He is throwing a party and has invited me over, but I refused,’ she said.

‘Good you did that, interjected her mother. Now?’ senior Mrs Mishra wanted to know details.

‘He said, he’ll come just for half an hour. What do you say?’ she sought permission.

 I don’t like this,’ senior Mrs Mishra closed the discussion.

‘I will ask him not to come. But, I don’t have his phone number,’ she was lying now.

‘Your father is going to be furious when he learns this. This is trespassing limits. ‘This guy has put me in trouble. What do I do? Okay! Let him come,’ senior Mrs Mishra agreed after detailing the pros and cons of the whole thing.

‘Sumit, grab your bike and get some sweets,’ senior Mrs Mishra was planning ahead now.

‘What for?’ her ten-year-old brother asked though he had just heard the details.

 ‘He is coming to celebrate his birthday and we must offer him sweets. You go to Lakshmi sweets and ask him to sell the freshest ones. If you don’t he’ll always try to dispense his stale stuff to people. And, his sweets are expensive too!’ senior Mrs Mishra exclaimed.

 Inwardly, Ashmi cringed. Her mother’s budget was always measly and they tried to make delicacies at home because this would pinch pennies. Pinching pennies had been part and parcel of their lives and they have been doing it as far she could remember. Her father was a banker and he lived in Gumla. His postings used to be at strange places and long before it was decided that he would move to these strange places all by himself and his wife and children would be stationed at Ranchi. Before Gumla, her father was in Gola. Strange names and weird places, kids has concluded long back and were happy with their parents’ decision.

Akhil zoomed on his bike to go to Deepak’s place. And in five minutes flat he reached his house. ‘Deepak, come out,’ yelled Akhil, as he parked his bike in front of his gate. ‘Why so much of rush?’ he asked while ironing his trousers. ‘You forgot, today is my birthday,’ Akhil said. ‘Have you gone bonkers? It’s June and your birthday is in November,’ Deepak refreshed his memory.

‘Today is my birthday and we are going to Ashmi’s place,’ he said with a tone of finality.

‘Your new-found love is going to put us in big trouble. You saw her mother that day. Still, you want to go and meet her,’ Deepak expressed his thoughts about senior Mrs Mishra.

‘You are scared now,’ Akhil challenged.

‘No, I am being reasonable,’ he countered. ‘Do you really love her?’ Deepak wanted a confession.

‘I don’t know, but I am terribly attracted towards her and I want to spend more and more time with her,’ he confessed which seemed to touch a chord in Deepak’s heart.

The clock was showing 6.30 and it was still day. Deepak and Akhil strode on the motorcycle and raced to reach Ashmi’s home. They stopped by near the local confectioner to get packed hot gulab jamuns.  Electricity  had gone at her place and they had to settle for candle light. Why the fuss over candle light dinners?

 Ashmi wished him and her brother grinned from ear to ear. He was amused at the whole scenario. It had never happened before. It only happened in movies. ‘But why two men, when there is one girl,’ he thought.  Ashmi’s mother could gauge her daughter’s increased leanings towards Akhil and sat down to interview him. 

Questions began---

Senior Mrs Mishra Q What’s your name?

Akhil Singh A: Akhil Singh

Q: What’s your dad’s name?

A: Shri Raj Bahadur Singh

Q: That means!—

A: We are Khastriyas.

A pregnant pause lingered for a while before senior Mrs Mishra said an okay.

 Q: We are Brahmins and we are conservative (a question framed as an answer).

A: Yes, I do. Deepak is also Brahmin.

Q: How many brothers and sisters you have?

       A: I have an elder sister.

Q: What does your dad do?

A: He retired from Bihar Administrative Services.

Q: Where do you live?

A:  I live in Ashoknagar.

Q: You live in your own house or rented?

A: We have two houses. Both are own.

 ‘Ma, he has come to spend his birthday with us,’ Ashmi said interrupting the interview..

‘A very happy birthday beta,’ senior Mrs Mishra managed to speak.

Deepak could sense that Akhil’s visits were not welcome and so could Akhil, but he chose to ignore. Ashmi served them hot gulab jamuns and some pakodas to go with it. The candlelight snacks with questionnaire were too much to digest and the boys beat a hasty retreat.

 ‘Akhil sounds like a good boy, which was a euphemism for a well-settled family but they are Khastriyas,’ said senior Mrs Mishra while cleaning the plates. 

‘What is he doing?’ senior Mrs Mishra asked her daughter.

‘He is studying MBA’, she spoke from her limited knowledge.

‘How elder is he to you?’ senior Mrs Mishra wouldn’t give up on digging information so fast.

‘You didn’t ask,’ said Ashmi with sarcasm

‘ Oh! I would have, but then you interjected. But, what’s the use? They are Kshatriyas. If you are having any hopes, you better drop them altogether,’ senior Mrs Mishra said.

‘Ma, each time you insist to invite him and then you are after my life. Will you please stop this?’ she begged.

Next day Ashmi got ready early, at 10 am, which is quite early when you are vacationing and particularly when you live in Ranchi. Ranchi had been a laid back town then, where there was very little to do. At the most you could go to Firayalal and have softy, which is an ice-cream in cone and there was just one flavour, vanilla. People like Ashmi would go and do, window shopping there and then buy the real stuff at Shastri Market. In those days there was one more shopping complex called G.L Church Complex. Hence, if you are vacationing and are not even in love, so that you could kill some time day dreaming, it’s a good idea to get dressed late, so that you have whiled away at least half of the day just doing the basics. But, Ashmi got ready and went to meet her friend with whom she had studied in the school. Her parents had set up small shops and rented them out. In one of the shops a bookstore was set and Ashmi loved visiting it. The guy who manned the store had big pool like eyes and an expression that was forever forlorn. His dejected outlook towards life reflected in his collection of books and Ashmi didn’t particularly like that, but he had a decent taste when it came to greeting cards. Those were the days when girls and boys expressed their emotions in words through cards and wrote long mushy letters in floral writing pads. She picked a card where a little girl was holding a bouquet of flowers in her hands to send to Akhil. The image was in black and white and it appealed to Ashmi’s sensibilities. She couldn’t carry the card just like that and had to pick a book from the morbid collection and carefully smuggled the card inside.

Now, the big question was the address? She didn’t want Akhil to have any thoughts, but still she wished to send him the birthday card. Her heart knew that she was treading the forbidden path of love, and this road was not for her. ‘May be I am bored and I need some fun,’ reasoned her mind.

Love intoxicates and more so if you’re a complete novice in this craft. And this was the case with Akhil and Ashmi. They both knew that they were fa-a-l-l-i-n-g in love and there was no way they could do a thing about it. When no one was around, she dialed the number that she had scribbled on her notebook the other day. Akhil was on the another line. She recognized his voice.

 ‘What’s your address?’ she asked immediately.

‘Why?’ he said.

‘ I need to send you something,’ she spoke.’

‘ Jot it down,’ he said.

 She did and wrote With Love, To You, From Me on the birthday card in her most flowery handwriting. In the evening, on the pretext of evening walk she posted the card to an address that was less than five kilometers away from her home.

The real problem began the next day as to how Akhil would get the card. Had the postman dropped it at home, his budding love would have scorched in his mother’s anger. Good boys didn’t love and marry because the girls who loved were loose kinds and they would always hook mama’s boys, believed Akhil’s mother. There was no courier service, where you could figure out the branch office address and instruct them to keep the mail there, so you could go and personally collect it.

‘How are you going to circumvent the postman?’ enquired Deepak

‘I just don’t know,’ murmured Akhil.

‘Let me try to find a way for you,’ Deepak seemed to have a plan.

‘Let’s go and have a smoke,’ he said. Akhil was irritated at his plan, but he complied reluctantly.

‘Ganesh, what time does the postman come?’ Deepak asked the paanwaala.

‘The postman is an old man and he comes around 3 pm,’ Ganesh answered feeling important at the same time.

‘So you stay on the road and the moment you see the man in khaki pedaling his cycle, stop him and collect your mail,’ Deepak shared the plan.

Akhil agreed.  Post lunch, Akhil had been standing at Ganesh’s stall to sight the postman. Exactly at 3 pm he sighted the old man and asked for his mail.

 Why are you asking for it here?’ queried the old man.

‘There is an important letter for me,’ he said.

‘LOOVE Letter?’ he demanded.

‘Yes,’ Akhil said.

 The man fumbled in his brown bag that had many moons ago saw its prime and pulled out envelopes belonging to Ashok Nagar. Akhil threw cursory glances at the mail and recognized his mauve coloured birthday card instantly.

‘This is mine,’ he said and picked it from the pile.

‘Then take it,’ said the old man in a voice that had faded with years of tobacco use.

Akhil bought a packet of Red and White cigarettes from the paanwala to bribe the old man. Next time, when there is anything, with my name, please leave it with Ganesh.

‘Sure,’ he whispered and grabbed it. Good thing young people fall in love!

With card in hand Akhil sat on his motorcycle to hunt some solitude to read it and re-read it. ‘What has Ashmi written?’ He carefully opened the card and the beautiful girl with a bouquet of flowers struck him. Inside it was written, ‘ with love, to you, from me,’ which was quite unusual. There were no fancy endearments, but somehow that card struck a chord in his heart