LOVE STORY

                                     "MY NEWSPAPERWALA"

He looked at her, shifting his body with the minimum pressure least to wake her up. She had been sleeping for the last two hours of the journey. Her head rested in his left shoulder. Her right hand wrapped around his left hand while her other rested in his chest recklessly. He looked at her again and a faint smile escaped his lips. He thought about the sudden twist that his fate had gambled. Uncertain and exposed.

Madamji, Newspaper.A young woman stood frowning at him. Her little round eyes  reflected fire. Her lips twisted insanely and hands position in the hips. He felt a surprise shiver run through his spine although it was an early summer morning. He had cycled the whole morning delivering newspapers in every home of the “Shanti Niwas Society . He was sweating Profusely yet he felt a sudden coldness tickle his body. This is paranormal, he wondered.

You’re late. Controlled scream but with enough ire fuming with each breathe. A woman in her mid-twenties.  Red pants and blue top. She had an attractive figure. And to adore that beautifully molded body, she was blessed with an equally beautiful face. Little curls escaped her neatly tucked hair. A li’l mole in her upper lip only added to her serene beauty.

Why are you late ? He heard a more angrier voice. He felt slighty irritated.

You are late by five minutes, she hissed dangerously. Hands position in her hips. Lips twisted more insanely and her face redder than ever She reminded him of the tomatoes he was to buy the other day. He chuckled slyly at his own humour.

I’m sorry Madamji, he whispered stunned at his own meek response. He had never felt so vulnerable infront of anyone all his life. He ridiculed the very thought of being a weakling. Yet he had been humiliated by this very woman who stood infront of him. Hands in the hips. Lips twisted. She murmmered something inaudible. 

That was the first he had met her.
That arrogant and  pampered “Madamji”.
He had despised her that very moment. He sweared at her secretly.

He looked at her again. She lay asleep quietly.
He looked out of the window in the distant horizon. He could see the sun slowly rising to a new day.
A new day.
We’ll be out of the city in an hour or so, he thought.

Dad’s fixed my marriage, Madamji said as she looked into his eyes. He could see little soft moist welling up in her eyes. They were red and swollen. She had been crying. He felt the urge to hold her and wipe her tears away. Kiss her red swollen eyes and soothe them with his  breathe. He wanted to caress her. His beloved.

But he held himself back reluctantly, pretending not to hear her. He desperately fought back his own miserable tears. But perhaps his heart was not a good  imposter as his mind was. She smiled nervously as she saw little drops tripping down his face too. So, You love me. Don’t you ? She teased him in her child like tone. Tell me, Newspaperwalla. She blushed as her eyes gleamed  with a strange happiness. 

The bus took a sharp turn left towards the dusty road uphills. It would be a matter of time when they would be out of the city. She had decided to go visit her maternal’s uncle in the Village and stay there till they could figure out a solution to resolve what they had dare to. She had given him the most irrational reply when he had tried to confront her strategy. Lesser known people, less trouble , she had said calmly. Handling a situation with practiced calmness was her one of many demand assets that her profession required during panic hours.

He look towards the empty balcony, sheer disappointment clearly visible in his face. Piles of “The Hindu”  lay untouched at the corner of her door. He remembered their last encounter. She was avoiding him like he was some uninvited stranger. He felt restless, as fresh ire rush through his veins.

Dad’s coming to take me home next weekend. The marriage due next month, she  tried to sound composed but failed poorly. He could not look into her eyes. He knew she was crying. He could feel the pain ripping his heart. But he remained quiet. Rigid and expressionless.

Will you say something, she screamed unable to  bear the pain of silence. He remained numb, reassuring himself not to cry as he valiantly fought the tears that threatened to betray him. She had her gazed fixed at him. Perhaps she was looking for the love that she desperately hoped to find in his eyes for her. But all she could see was the shamed face of a coward. That had been the last nail in the coffin.

She murmmered something in her deep sleep. He could see tears dropping down her eyes. Don’t leave me, he heard her between her sobs. He hold her tightly and kissed her forehead. She grinned joyously as she seemed to recognise his touch. He held her closer and closed his eyes too. He could feel his eyelids getting heavy. Maybe sleep was coming to him finally.

Which room ? He asked the lady who stood at the reception.

Who sir ? She seemed bewildered and flummoxed.

Madamji, he whispered between his breathes as be tried to suck in as much air as his lungs could hold. The mad running had exasperated him. His lungs felt dehydrated. He felt feeble and his legs trembled under his own body. He was sweating profusely. He felt like he might rinch any time.

Madamji ? Who ? The lady at the reception asked astonished. 

He felt at loss of words as he realised that he did not even knew her name. He slapped hard an imaginary slap upon himself angrily. He started to look around frantically as if he was searching for some clue. Then, he saw her at the far corner at the wall. That beautiful face with that little mole in her upper lip. She seemed to smile at him lovingly. He imagined her black round eyes  teasing him softly. Tell me you love me , Newspaperwalla.

I do, Madamji. He whispered softly.

She ? The lady at the reception asked him unsure , still wondering.

She opened her eyes. She felt a little nauseac. Perhaps the ride, she thought. She looked at the man who sat next to her. He had a handsome face. Well shaved and groomed neatly. He wore a faint smile. He had hold her hand in his, even in his sleep. Never leave me, she had told him. She felt watery sweat between their hands. But she did not care, as long as he would hold her. She always knew, she loved him. He was different Unlike any other man she had known all these years.

She had been startled to find him by her bedside when she had woken up. He was asleep but he had her hand woven around his in a tender grip. He was murmuring something in his sleep. 

I love you, Madamji.
She smiled. Her heart bet wildly. She could feel sudden rush of warm blood in her cheekbones. Was she blushing ? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that, she  felt complete.

He completed her.

She smiled again as she felt her eyes closing slowly.

He has been by your bedside for the last two days Shimi. The lady who had come to attend her said softly. He would not leave your room even when we assure him that you were out of danger. He would thank us but politely refused to leave your side.

He really loves you, Dr. Meera said.
She could feel her cheekbones changing colour. She felt a sudden nervousness grip her. Yes, she was blushing. She tried hard to put up a straight face to conceal her mixed feelings. Dr.Meera was laughing loudly.

It is okay to accept things and come to terms with yourself sometimes, She  managed to speak between her laughter. You don’t need to  pretend all the time. Shimi frowned at hearing these words. But, Dr.Meera seemed to be speaking sense. She smiled sheepishly.

And don’t act so brave the next time. You almost succeeded in killing yourself.
Do you realize how much blood you had lost. You could have experience nervous breakdown. One more seizure attack and you would have sustained severe brain damages. You knew that, didn’t you ? Dr. Meera voice sounded angry yet concerned at the same time. 

she nodded apologetically. She knew she had been ridiculous. She knew the risk she had  invited upon herself . She was a doctor, after all. But against all odds, she was a woman. Wasn’t she ? A mere woman who had dare to love a man whom she desired. She knew that a deep cut in her right wrist could kill her. But was that not she had wanted ? After all he had refused to accept his love for her. She could not live with the pain of marrying some other man. That very thought suffocated her. She would have died anyway. So why not choose the death herself ?

She was her only man. And always would remain. Her “Newspaperwalla”.

He opened his eyes. She smiled at him. She could feel hear cheekbones turn red .

Had a good sleep ? She teased him lovingly.
He twitched her left hand playfully. She flinched in pain. The wound had not healed completely. His devilish grin changed into a guilty face. He had not intended to hurt her. I’m sorry Madamji, he blurted apologetically. She could still feel the pain tinge her but more than that she appreciated his unselfish love for her. She smiled a weak smile. She kissed his forehead.

My name is Shimi, she whispered in his ear.

He grinned sheepishly. His cheekbones turning red. He was blushing. She found that to be attractive. He was her’s only. My Newspaperwalla, she whispered softly.

Pratik.

She looked at him clueless.

My name, Madamji. I mean… Shimi. He blushed even more. Suddenly she realised. She did not knew his name either.
They both looked at each other. A nervous smile across their faces. Than they burst out in a laughter.

__END__

                                                                                                                  SOURCE BY-DUMI

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