6. Escape to Shailpur: First beat of love
“Paaji wake up. Hello…wakey wakey. Sirji good morning!”
I opened my eyes and saw a big bellied corpulent Sardar with thick black beard and red turban at top. I noticed that it’s already morning and that man probably was the truck driver.
“My name is Balvinder Chadda, she is my wife Parvinder Chadda and this is my truck ‘Jhat se chad ja’ (he laughs). Just joking,” said the beard man while his wife Parvinder served us the tea.
Aarti was standing with them. Perhaps she woke up much earlier than me. She apologized to Balvinder for our activity. “We are extremely sorry for all this trouble. Actually we were being followed by some hooligans, and in process to escape we found your truck as a hiding shell. We are very sorry for that…”
“No problem ji. I know, I mean I was hearing your conversations all night. I have understood everything. Love shuv fuss. Isn’t it?” asked Balvinder.
I was about to speak when Aarti stopped me in between and said, “Well yes, you guessed it right. Actually my name is Aarti Singh and he is my husband Avinash Singh.”
I coughed in between while taking a sip of tea and gave her a confusing look as if to ask her what’s going in your mind. But she herself looked confused. She shrugged her shoulders; maybe she herself didn’t know what she was doing. After the tea, we had a great talk and within just two cups of tea we developed a good friendship with each other. The Punjabi family further requested us to stay for the dinner that night.
We stayed at the guestroom provided by them that night. I did not waste a second and rushed to her to ask, “What are you doing? Why did you lie to them?”
“I am sorry about that but I could not take chances to disclose your identity. We cannot trust them. And sorry about that too….husband-wife one,” she explained. Perhaps I could understand that she was right and I didn’t know why I had started trusting her. At night, ladies served us the dinner.
“Well Avinash how is the food then?” asked Mrs. Chadda while I was busy in some thoughts. I replied out of hurry, “Its good…awesome...amazing really, especially the kheer, it’s magical. Truly Mrs. Chadda your hands are magical. This is the best food I ever ate in my life.” The ladies laughed at my answer, don’t ask me why.
“Avinash?... Aarti has made the kheer,” replied Mrs. Chadda as I coughed abruptly. I do not know why did that happened all time. I looked at her. Her eyes were low and she was smiling.
“But Avinash, didn’t you recognized the taste? After all she must have served you this kheer hundreds of time, didn’t she?” asked Mrs. Chadda.
Now she coughed abruptly this time. We both looked each other and I replied quickly, “Of course I did, ha ha…I was kidding. Actually she cooks so good that every time she cooks, it tastes new ha ha.”
I looked at her. She acknowledged the compliment by raising her eyebrow. And suddenly a quiet laughing Mr. Chadda participated the conversation, actually started a debate, “But you will have to agree that men are better cooks than women. What do you say Avinash?”
What could I say? I did not know even to boil water. I just nodded my head. And with that the prestige of women was on stake that who is a better cook- men or women. So, Mrs. Chadda on behalf of every woman challenged us to cook better food than them- herself and Aarti.
Aarti was smiling. Perhaps she may have figured out from my face that I know nothing of cooking. When ladies left, Mr. Chadda gave an adoring smile and said, “You know Avinash why did I challenge her for cooking. It’s because I know when she would find me confused with spices during cooking she would come furtively and add spices both in my dish and in my life. She never lets me feel down. And my dear Sardarji this special characteristic I have found in Aarti too, for you. You are a very lucky man I must say. She loves you a lot.”
His last words just stuck inside my ears. I did not know what relations we were tied in but slowly it was becoming stronger and special.
During talks with Balvinder I came to know more about Shailpur, the city we had jumped in. Aarti knew that this place could be a good hideout for us until things become normal in Saharabad. So she narrated some more stories to Chaddas. Later, few days after, Balvinder helped me get a small job in a transportation company he worked in. Soon Aarti too found a job of a nurse in a public hospital nearby. Our initial income was very low and we had to sometime improvise with whatever stuffs we had. Parvinder and his friends were kind enough to arrange us a low rent house and other household facilities. I still remember the house. It was smaller than the bathroom of the house we have today. But it was a lot peaceful place. A place where I would come at evening finishing my job and Aarti would be cooking that same ‘kheer’ which had now become special for me. And then friends would join us and we shared a good time. Sometimes I really regret that those days are gone. It gives me a nostalgic vibe whenever I remember those forbidden moments.
Outside the house, Aarti and me were husband and wife but inside a kind of trust existed between us and we both had a respect for it. Slowly and gradually, I was recovering from the depression leaving the past behind and tried to cherish the present. Yet sometimes in sleep shadows of bitter past would reflect as nightmares which used to abruptly wake me up from sleep; thrilled & shivering with fear. But then Aarti would come scurrying quickly with glass of water in her hand and her presence alone would remove all worries and tensions.
We were not husband-wife but the situation put us down into an equivalent relationship. Often when I stealthily used to see her combing her hairs in the mirror she would often catch me red handed. And then she would smile and her eyes would ask me “What?” The feeling used to be amorous; a romantic touch. I think I had started liking her only since then. In reply I would just move my head in negation saying ‘nothing’. But she perhaps already knew ‘What it was?’
One of the biggest change that I encountered in myself those days was that I had started getting mature enough than earlier. I mean earlier I was quite careless and lazy maybe coz I had everything at the tip of my hand. I just had to make a wish and Ammi used to fulfill it. But now I had started to take care of myself. In fact, the changes were so significant that I had started to wash my clothes myself, and prepare food (only preparing coffee to be honest) and similar things like that. Talking about the cooking part, once I had cooked the whole food but since then she never allowed me to cook anything after that. Don’t know why. The food tasted good. Only the fact was that it was watery and I had made a mess of the kitchen. Apart from that everything was just fine, I swear. Yes, she liked the coffee I used to make. And in fact after making 10-15 cups of ‘bad’ coffee one day she finally approved my coffee safe for drinking. And since then I was in charged the responsibility of making coffee for both of us.
Life was going great in Shailpur. I remember the day when I earned my first salary. It was a great feeling. Prior to tragedy I used to have millions in my account but when I touched those self-earned money it was a different touch. The fragrance of my sweat smelt from them. Guess what I did with the money. I purchased same bangles for her which she once had desired to have from a boutique. I was busy in buying veggies for the dinner when instantly I saw her gazing at those bangles from outside the boutique. Perhaps she would have wished to buy them but, of course, we did not have enough money to buy them then. But now I had the money and so it was the perfect gift for her. I happily went home and offered her the gift. After a sweet scold for buying so expensive gift she finally accepted it. In fact, I myself wore her the bangles in her soft hands. They looked great on her hands. And as a thanksgiving she gave me an adornment as a souvenir which her mother had gifted her as a token of luck & fortune.
Often we used to spend time talking each other. Many a time the topics would be very stupid. As the time elapsed our financial conditions improved and we could afford a better house by then. Sometimes we would celebrate even for no reason and sometimes quarrel again for no reason. We never had same opinion on the colour of the walls. She wanted pink. I liked red. But Pink? I mean seriously pink is so girly. No chance for pink walls. No. But that was the basic dispute because she hated red and I hated pink. Finally we settled for orange.
“What do you like most in the whole world?” she once asked me in an amusement fair we had come once with the Chaddas.
“Children” I replied.
“Children?” she curiously asked.
“Look there those children” I asked her pointing towards some children who had come to the fair with their parents. They were happy, joyful and above all worry free.
“Yeah… So what about them?” she asked.
“Look at them. Look at the way they live their life. A life full of joy and adventures. A life with no worry because mummy-daddy are there to look after everything. Sometimes I regret why did I grow up?” I said tittering at myself.
“Perhaps the best part of life I suppose. I too get nostalgic about my childhood…”she replied.
“Every time I feel bore or disappointed I come to see them. I talk to them; play with them sometimes. That may sound childish but you know their innocent smile and foolish activities; they just do magic and instantly the fatigue is gone” I replied looking at the children. She placed her hand on my hand and smiled as we lonely stayed close and relished the twilight.