The Girl - II

"<SHE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED> wants to be friends on Facebook."

He mentally read the sentence aloud to himself- thrice- feeling neurons & electric impulses racing back and forth between vital organs in a strange, unparalleled sensation of achievement. Even before he could submit the argument to his cold judgment, he saw the cursor move- click- 'Confirm'. Her charming smile projected from her serene face- the display picture, which now seemed to converse with him. She, just like every other girl, looked even more beautiful in .jpg format...

That was within 48 hours after the walk. Within 72, mobile numbers had been exchanged. The latter had been a struggle, but he was happy he'd advanced. Yet, he had no idea how to use the two to get what he wanted. Perhaps he wasn't sure about that. For him, 'the girl' had always been one secret within a mystery wrapped in an enigma- fundamentally un-unravelable.

So one fine October morning, when his cell at the desk started buzzing, he wasn't quite sure he wasn't dreaming. No name. But the 10 digit mobile no. was one he had long before committed to memory. He was half awake, strewn with his 2 dishevelled roommates on 3 beds misaligned in a dingy, dilapidated hostel room.

Pupils dilated, limbs stretched, joints flexed and senses revived, almost in reflex, as he fast-booted all his systems from sleep mode. Then twice-lubricating his parched morning throat, he brought the most beautiful communication device ever made, close to his ears-

'Hello?!'

'Heiyy, you up?' Ears betrayed him, as he found himself unable to figure out whether the salutation was a ‘hey’ or a ‘hi’.

‘Yeah of course, what up?’, he started, collecting himself on the bed, senses racing back to reality at over 100 rpm and pulse catching up pretty fast. 

‘You free this afternoon?’ she sounded her-casual-self. The statement registered a spurt in brain waves- trick question?

‘Eh... yeah, what happened?’ he replied, lower than normal on reaction time.

‘Yaar, can you meet me at Badi at 2?’ she pleaded, with such a characteristic charm, he thought, only she possessed in her voice, making it impossible for a mortal with a functioning organ beneath his ribs to say ‘No’. In his case, however, the verb in the sentence was enough to make him comfortably numb.

‘Sure...’ he managed, struggling to complete the sentence. Words, as often, eluded him.

‘Thanks a LOT yaar’, he heard. This time his ears did not miss the profound emphasis on the word ‘lot’. He felt a part of him melt.

‘OK. See you, byyeee.’ 

By the last word, he was a lost cause.

‘Bye...’ he wasn’t sure he’d said it before the disconnection beeps.

Now, had it been a text message, atleast 7 ‘E’s would have followed the ‘Y’. The girl was amazingly adept at appending emoticons to words over phone. It had taken her just 25 seconds to wake him up from absolute unconscious. On an ordinary day, that would have been 16 minutes of waiting outside a stinking, unsanitary hostel toilet. This, sure as hell, wasn’t a dream! He glanced around to confirm that none of his roommates was eavesdropping. No, nobody in their sane mind wakes up at 7 AM on a Sunday!

He leaped out of the bed as if possessed by a spirit, made his way across the available floor area littered with biscuit and namkeen wrappers from last night, and pulled the window. Dazzled by the brightness, he let the mid October breeze brush his hair and the warmth of the early morning sun irradiate his skin cells.

‘This is going to be one fine day!’ he mumbled under his breath as he put on his bathroom slippers, grabbed the plastic bottle of the hand-wash and kick-started the most awesome Sunday morning in a long time.

He would soon find out why not...

The Girl - III