I was sitting on the bench of the tea stall with Piku and Raja. Generally, I don’t take tea; coffee is what I like the most. But this time, back home, I said yes to Piku’s “come, let’s have a cup of tea.” I was wearing a black long kurta (shirt), a grey jeans and my slippers. Piku was in yellow T shirt and Raja was as usual in un-tucked shirt and a trouser. It was about to rain. Since morning, it had rained a lot before and at that time, rain, my GF, was having a rest and was preparing for her next shower. We sat and Piku heralded, “Bishu, 3 teas.”

Bishu, the 12 year old guy grinned and nodded.

I looked at the guy, a thin one, with a vest that ONCE UPON A TIME used to be white in colour and a black half pant. Bishu was preparing the tea while the shop owner, Rishi was sitting idle by the cash box. Bishu’s spoon was moving faster into the glasses and the noise was accompanying this voice in which he was copying the nasal tone of the popular Hindi song “tera tera tera suroor!”

Raja was looking at the girls around and Piku was busier in checking out the afternoon news paper. There was no crowd in the tea stall except three of us. Once we all used to come and some 15 friends together, we used to have a blast. (Blast at a tea stall! Yeah, you read it rightly.)

Bishu came and put glasses in our hands and sat by the chair.

Piku lit up a Gold Flake cigarette and raised one at Raja’s direction. He knew that I had quit, so didn’t bother to offer me one. Piku started smoking and I had a sip in the sweet tea.

Bishu was observing me closely, I said, “What?”

Bishu opened his teeth and said, “Are you new to this place?”

I frowned, “No.”

Bishu, “I know Pikuda and Rajada. But have never seen you.”

Piku said, “He doesn’t stay here.”

Bishu was surprised, said, “Why?”

Piku said, “He works in Delhi.”

Bishu asked, “Dilli? Where is Dilli? In Pakistan?”

I said, “No, in India.”

Bishu went on asking, “Why are you in Delhi?”

Raja accompanied, “He works there.”

Bishu laughed aloud. The laughter made me irritated. I feel very uncomfortable when people laugh at me on my face. Why was this little creature laughing at me? I asked, “Why are you laughing?”

Bishu controlled laughter and said, “Nothing. So are your parents also in Dilli?”

Piku said, “No, there are at Chitra.” (Chitra is the name of my village.)

Bishu again asked, “So your parents are in Chitra and you are in Dilli? Why?”

I was clueless about the reason this chap was again and again surprisingly asking me the same question, but I didn’t know why Piku was entertaining him. He generally frowns and stops this type of persons. I again said, “Because I work there.”

Bishu again asked, “But why do you work in Dilli?”

I said, “Because there is no such work here. But, you stop now ok?”

Bishu didn’t stop; she kept on swinging his small legs from the chair and asked, “So you could do any kind of work which is here.”

This was too much, now this little creature will do the career counseling for me or what? I said, “stop.”

He grinned and said, “You are irritated for me asking you these questions?”

Now it was tough for me to say Yes, so I said NO…..

Then he happily went on asking, “you don’t feel bad staying at Dilli? Your parents and friends are here only!”

I said, “I do.”

He asked, “Then?”

I changed the topic, “So where are you parents?”

As soon as I asked the question, Piku and Raja looked up at me with some weird expression and Bishu looked down at his feet. I said, “What?”

Bishu looked up and said, “Nothing. My parents are dead.”

An ‘OH’ came out my vocal chord, which betrayed me to sound rightly sympathetic; perhaps I was too surprised to be sympathetic.

Bishu smiled (forced a smile) and said, “Road accident.”

Raja softly said, “He has one brother and a sister. Younger to him.”

Bishu smiled with a pride and said, “They are going to school. Minu, my sister tops in the primary school and Bholu, my brother came 3^rd this time.”

I said, “Wow! That’s really nice.”

Bishu stood up, put his right arm on his chest and said, “I support them.”

Piku and Raja’s tea had finished and mine one had turned cold…. Anyway, I don’t like tea. So it was ok. We all got up. We were coming back and one question was ringing into my ears, “Why are you Dilli?” the rebuke was clear.

I asked, “Was Bishu a student?”

Piku sighed, “He used to come 2^nd in class 6. Then his parents died … and…….”

In front of there was a gush of cool air….. Rain was about to come…. And I was looking at the sky.

 

 

THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY, I CALLED PIKU. BISHU IS A PART OF WINGS NOW. THOSE WHO DON'T KNOW ABOUT WINGS..... WELL, IT'S A NAME OF A DREAM. ALL I CAN SAY HERE IS BISHU DOESN'T HAVE TO WORK ANYMORE, HE IS GOING TO SCHOOL AGAIN.........

It was the 1^st year of graduation. Antashree used to sit on the front benches. She was a girl of glow, a glow that was far different and aloof from the crowd. There was no scarcity of beautiful girls in my college, that too in English honurs department. But Antashree was different. A fair complexion, long hair, big eyes, soft skin, gentle perfume, always books in hands and black bracelet in left wrist, it was she with a rare smile. Her smile was never on her lips, always in eyes. Perhaps, people, who mean smiling, are economical about exposing it.

I was the atypical last bencher, always silent. Sometimes Deb, sometimes Priyanka, sometimes Arpita, sometimes Bhashkar used to come and sit by me, but my silence used to torture them and they used to fly away soon. I used to enjoy the silence within, perhaps because I was new in the polished Kolkata crowd, a typical village-guy. I never created any news among rest of my class mates in the 1^st year.

That day it was raining heavily. Mission guys decided that they will not go to college. But I decided to go, less because of college, more because of rain. Rain is my love. I went to college fully wet, entered into the classroom, saw that there were only two more people, Antashree and Arpita, two typical studious attendance freaks. Arpita used to talk to me, she said, “Man, you are completely wet!”

I smiled and went to the last bench, sat, brought my handkerchief out and started drying my hair. The class used to start at 11, it was 11.20, and still, there was no professor, obvious that they also didn’t come. I was sitting quietly looking at the rain through the big window. I heard Arpita saying, “I don’t think any professor will come. I go to canteen. Are you guys coming?”

I heard Antashree softly saying, “No, I don’t like canteen.” Arpita knew the answer from my side; the question wasn’t for me at all, so she said “Okies” and went out.

Through the window I saw a crow wetting her in rain sitting on the bent shoulder of the lamp post. I was looking at the crow and was feeling jealous of her. We humans are so scared of nature’s beauty, if the originality drives our artificial world away! That’s why we build home, walls, borders, roofs, umbrellas, raincoats, shades and all such protections. I was jealous of that roofless crow sitting under the roof.

By instinct, I brought my pencils and papers out and started sketching the wideness of heart of that crow…… I don’t know how long it took me, but the portrayal was nice indeed and I named it COURAGE!

As I brought a deep air out and brought my head up, I felt that gentle perfume, turned back and it was Antashree still gazing at the paper. She looked at me and I saw those eyes were motionless, calm, cool, and icy. Surprised, I didn’t know what to do! Should I smile? Frown? Arch? Pause? Grin? Say? Or be mute? Before I could choose any of these, Antashree turned back and went to her seat.

I was clueless again! She acted as if she was trying to say, “Whatever!”

Inside me, someone spoke, “What?

Her turned face perhaps saying, “Who are you? I don’t know you! Why shall I talk?”

And with open mouth I was silently saying, “Hey look, it’s me, me who sketched just now, and u like it. Come on, appreciate it.”

Perhaps she was saying, “No, it was not you. That person didn’t even realise that I was there behind him for 40 mins. He is gone now.”

I couldn’t think much, so I went out, smoked and went off, I mean went back to mission under the rain. From next day, I observed that Antashree started to sit on the last bench, by the opposite side of mine and she used to observe me closely. While professors used to teach, she used to arch her neck and constantly look at me. I, in disguise of scratching the neck, used to put eyes at that direction and saw that she was gazing at me, never taking the eyes away even when our eyes met. Confused, it was me who used to take the eyes away.

Sometimes, professors used to scold her, then friends’ taunting, some professors made her stand and used to ask irritating questions, friends used to frown their faces and grin, pass comments… I felt bad, but she was unmoved. Sometimes while facing those questions, tears streamed down her eyes; but the lips never moved to utter anything out.

Everyone gradually got used to it, except her and me. She kept on gazing and I kept on feeling miserable. One day, I faced her in the library and asked her directly, “I’m no Brad Pitt, what do you see in me?” Such a stupid question came out of me! She didn’t answer, moved ahead. The next day, while the last class ended, she came to me and handed over a small piece of paper. It was this….

Aniruddh,

Don’t fight with yourself so much. You are not the one you pose to be. I wish I could observe the fight for few more days.

Antashree.

After that she stopped coming to college, everyone forgot her gradually. None had her no, she was none’s friend. Perhaps she changed the college, or perhaps……. ……. Miserable me, I still don’t have any clue!!

Old garden, new gardeners! This was something that I was thinking about while coming to Kolkata back from my village through the local train. It was 9 am in the morning and it was raining like crazy. Rain is one of my GFs; so to please her I took the place just by the railway gate and I was happy as the air and raindrops were touching my face.

It was not at all bright; too dark I must say. The dark cloud had taken an oath that it will not let the bright sun bestow its heated anger on earth. Happily I was standing the gate. It happens with me that at each morning, I find a song inside me…. that day also it was there in me……. “Uff Maa…… Brishti” by Cactus. I knew that this song will be there with me whole day. So inside me, someone was humming the song in the right note.

After 3 stations, a rush of office goers flooded the train. I saw many busy faces with utmost hurry pushing and pulling everyone around to make their own spaces inside the train. Once I was a part of it, and the same tradition is still on. The train moved on. People took their own places. I saw in front of me there was a group; daily passengers form a nice group always. This group was of four people; a young boy of my age with specs on, two 30+ young men with ample evidence that the age and hair (on head) have a paradoxical relationship and a man in his 40s by the door.

The moment they took their places, they started shouting. Though I belong to the same place, still was unable to party them. The reason was obvious. So I thought of observing them.

One of the two men in his 30s loudly said, “I love rain. What do you think Manik?”

Manik, the guy of my age with specs said, “Subhasda, if rain continues, I will not be able to meet Simmi.”

This Subhasda and one of his 30 counterpart burst into laughter; Shubhas said, “Love is dangerous, my son. This Ratan was in love also… isn’t it Ratan?”

Ratan, the other 30 fellow blushed and said, “Childishness.”

While these three were laughing and shouting, the man in his 40 was silent and was gazing at the rain outside. I was damn sure that he was one among this group, but was really reluctant to involve himself in this chit chat.

Subhas again shouted, “He Manik, Gaan dhar (Let’s sing).”

Manik started, “Pagla haowa, badol dine, pagol amar mon jege othe” (My crazy heart wakes up with the crazy breeze in this rainy day), a famous song by Rabindranath Tagore. The chorus was on by these three people and the other man was still unmoved. While the song finished, Manik silently said something in the ears of Subhas, and Subhas said, “There’s only one way.”

Subhas started singing, “Khela….. Mone ar asenako Khela” (Play… can’t remember the play anymore), a song that I had never heard. The song was very melodious and I was liking it. It reached the mid-note which had a high pitch. The chorus sang, “Kheaaaaaaalaaaa….. oooooooo…. khelaaaaaaaa”.

Suddenly, the man in his 40, turned and said, “Shut up!”

Subhas revealed his teeth and said with a requesting tone, “How was this note Biplobda? Please tell us.”

Biplob, the quiet most member gazed at the rain again and started, “Kheeeelaaaaaaaa …… oooooooo… kheeelllaaaaaa”  I had not heard the song before, but it touched my heart instantly, it touched the perfect melody, Biplob was singing and singing. Subhas winked at Manik (Perhaps indicating, see, this is the way.)

The Khela song was talking about the long lost childhood plays and how we miss them now. When the song ended, Biplob started another song; another heart felt melody.

He sang 4 songs in total and never looked inside the train in between.

Meanwhile we reached Howrah, the final station. Everyone got down; I put my hand on Manik’s shoulder and asked, “Whose songs are those?”

Manik looked at me, then he looked at Biplob and said, “Biplobda had written and given music to these; haa…… his dreams never came true.” Manik pushed off with a practiced smile.

I looked at Biplob, hurriedly looking at the wrist watch and accelerating his speed, amidst the busy crowd, gradually getting lost in them……. A singing bird being lost in the crowd; must be having many mouths at his home… singing is a crazy fantasy there.

Khela….. Mone ar asenako Khela” (Play… can’t remember the play anymore).

 

Hey Guys! Needless to say that I'm Back! It was great 7 days at home......................................... Thanks for your love! Do you want me to share the experiences of this trip? Do let me know! EnjoY!!!

Shila was her name, the most irritating girl to most of the Ramakrishna Mission guys. She was a girl in her early 12, with lots of questions in her mind, and more on her tongue. She was black colour personified, thin shape personified, malnutrition personified and Question Bank personified. In the afternoon, when all the boys used to check out the roaming girls around the play ground, Shila would come jumping and with an exhibition of all possible teeth, will keep on asking question after questions.

“Ramuda, do you like red colour?”

“Why?” Ramu with clear irritation.

“You are wearing a red T Shirt.” With the belief that she had made an intelligent logic.

“You are black, so do you like black colour?” mocking Ramu.

Shila would look down at the ground and pluck the grass through leg-nails. But after a while she would again look up and say, “Basuda, do you like rain?”

“Be silent.” reserved Basu.

“Tell me na Basuda, do you like rain? I love rain.” Shila with smile.

“Go and ask your mummy….. In which hour was this bug born yaar?” Basu with an irritation that was meant to create laughter in others, so everyone laughed and Shila sighed.

Shila hardly used to ask me anything. I don’t know why, she was never curious to know things from me.

But another irritating matter with Shila was that she used to take most of the flowers away in the early dawns. So the guys used to get fewer flowers for the temple and used to be threatened by the Monks.

At that time, it was my turn. We used to be given 15days’ duty per month. Guys used to gather flowers, make garlands, wash the temple, cut the fruits, wash the temple utensils etc. And at that time it was my turn to gather flowers and make the garlands for the Gods in the temple.

On the 1^st dawn, I got up at 5am and when I reached the garden, I saw that there were very few flowers left, categorically insufficient to make 6 garlands. I had to manage it through lot of space in between the flowers to give a long look to the garlands.

The same thing followed the next dawn.

But at the next dawn, I got up at 4.30am, wore my dhoti and went to the garden. There I saw Shila, plucking the flowers in a hurry and putting them on her frock, held up by her left hand, making it a bucket. I shouted, “Hey!”

She looked up and started running. I ran after her. As the gate was closed, she had to cross the wall; but by the time she could do that, I caught her; she wanted to break me free, but in that process, all flowers from her frock fell down on the grass. I left her, looked down, when I looked up, she was looking at me, anger was there in her eyes. I said, “If you take all the flowers away, what will we be left with? What do you do with these?”

She didn’t say anything, stoop down, picked them up and went away. As those flowers had touched the ground, they would anyway be none of my use, so I went into the garden for fresh flower. It was enough of flowers for me.

The next morning also I woke up at 4.30 and by the time I reached the garden, I was left with not a single flower…. Not a single one. I was so frustrated and had to face a solid thrash from the monks on my callous late waking up. A roaring anger was inside me. I thought of seeing the end of it.

The next day I woke up at 4am and was ready by 4.15. While I reached the garden, it was dark, yet, in dim light I could see all the flowers intact. Suddenly, I thought of not plucking them up then, rather waiting for her. By 4.25, Shila arrived. By the time she could reach the first flower, I seized her from behind; with all anger in my eyes I asked, “Now? Now where will you go? Come with me, I’ll take you to the monks. They will give you a solid thrashing you little thief.”

Shila started crying with shouts, still I dragged her long; but somehow I thought of not taking her to the monks and so warned and left her with loads of threats. She ran way. I was happy. Finally, I managed to teach a lesson to this little monster.

After that, each morning, all the flowers were intact, and the case was so that even if I used to get up at 6, I could get all the flowers intact. My friends congratulated me for this achievement and I also felt good. But I couldn’t see Shila for long, not even in the afternoons. Somehow everyone forgot about her.

After some 2 months, I saw Shila after the Morning Prayer, standing by the temple; thinner than before and even darker and pale. I reached her, she looked at me; I tried to smile, but quit the idea as her eyes were so still at me. I asked her, “Where were you these days? I’ve not seen you for long.”

She said a pranam to the Gods in the temple and turned back. But before she could walk away, I held her and asked the same question with a more polite tone. She looked at me with fixed eyes and said, “I was ill. I was in the hospital.”

“Why dear?” I don’t know why I was feeling very sad for this little black girl.

“You want to know? Really?” she asked with a rebuke in her tone. I nodded my head in positive. And then she said, “I used to take those flowers for my grandpa. He was always sick on the bed. I used to put all those flowers on his bed as he used to love that. My mother used to abuse him a lot. But I love him a lot.”

“Then?”

“Then? Then you stopped me from taking the flowers to him and after 2 weeks……..”

“What? What after 2 weeks?......”

“He died.”

I left her and stood still. She broke into tears. After a while, she looked up, wiped her tears and said, “I know everyone hates me; but my grandpa used to say that I’m an ANGEL.”

There was I standing, silent, watching this little girl walking away by the temple… temple, inside which there are Gods with flowers all over them.

NEWS: ANIRUDDH IS GOING BACK TO HIS HOME, BENGAL.... SO YUP..... I MEAN, GOD BLESS YOU ALL AND DO ENJOY!! THIS TIME ALSO BY GENERAL COMPARTMENT, SO DO EXPECT FEW MORE TRAIN-ENTRIES........ SHALL BE BACK AFTER A WEEK..... CM'ON FRIENDS, WISH ME A SAFE AND NICE JOURNEY AT LEAST!!!!! LOL...... ENJOY.... GOD BLESS YOU ALL!!!!

Life offers you so strange situations! Isn’t it?

Kolkata metro had just started about a month ago. Smoking was (is) not allowed inside, so Shnehangshu finished it out and we entered into the station. Everything was (is) computerised; we took the ticket and came down to the main platform. It was polished enough. Nice music was on, people with nice dresses around, wearing nice smile and soothing calmness.  

I mean I was very happy and all; but I didn’t know what was wrong with my friend Snehangshu; his facial expression was showing that he was irritated. He was not looking at my face (leave my face, it’s always dull), he was not even looking at the beautiful girls’ faces around.

I asked, “By what time is the show?” (3^rd Person is cool ice breaker.)

“You’ve been movies in Nandan for last two years. You don’t know that?” (Seriously out of mood I see, so I looked down.)

But how long I can see my own old damn shoes? So I looked up and after checking out 4-5 beautiful faces, I again looked Snehangshu. (Still irritated.)

“What’s wrong with you?” I dared to ask.

He stared at me and looked away. I sighed. (No Hope.)

“You can tell me if you want to.” I tried to sound grave.

“What? What shall I tell you?” (No Hope again.)

“Something is bothering you.” I still didn’t leave the hope.

“Yes, bothering; you are bothering me.” I can’t believe Snehangshu, my closest friend saying that to me. He is a mysterious guy, a great poet and a complex human being. None can guess what is inside his apparently calm eyes. I used to feel helpless when couldn’t understand him, and now I was feeling more helpless when I knew that he was sad but I was clueless about the reason.

“Ok, I’m bothering you. Fine, but please tell me what is wrong.” I pleaded almost.

“I hate you, I hate this city, I hate this platform, I hate myself, and I hate this life.” he was serious and loud.

“What the fuck?” I was dumb enough to ask him.

“Yes, I’m fucked up with this life” he shouted almost, many heads turned towards us.

“Shhhh” I hushed.

“Why the fuck should I be quiet? And why the fuck should I shout? God, I just this…” he was shouting and was going nearer to the electronic tracks! Something uncanny struck me and I was alarmed, “Hey, what are you doing? Come here?”

Snehangshu was coolly looking at the tracks and he was almost the edge of the platform. I rushed and pulled him from behind, slapped him and shouted, “Are you crazy?”

He looked at me with some unknown expression and slapped me back. When I turned my head back, he was again at the edge; I ran, pulled him back and kicked him on his thigh. People started shouting. He looked up and kicked me back. While I was touching him, it was warm and he was desperate to loose me off and reach the edge of the platform.

I shouted, “Snehangshu, for God’s sake! Listen to me.”

He was pushing me, kicking me and shouting, “Fuck you and fuck your God. Am fucked up with this sucking life.”

I don’t know what all I shouted, but I was shouting at the top of my voice and pulling me constantly. We were literally fighting. We realised that there was a circle of crowd around us and they also were shouting out of surprise and fear.

I was holding two hands of Snehangshu and dragging him towards me.

“Leave meeeeeeee” he roared.

“No Please, please listen to me…..” I was holding him with all power of my body.

“Leave me you dog.”

“No” I was desperately pulling him. My God, what is wrong with my friend? He wants to die, suicide? The words were roaming inside me and I was scared at each moment. Why does he want to die? What’s wrong? Suddenly, I guessed something and …. And …. Yes, I left his hands.

I stood at my place breathing heavily and he was breathing heavily at his place.

“What?” He asked with lots of air inside.

I said, “What? You want to die? Go and die.”

“Dhat. The mood is gone yaar. Why did you stop me? Now I don’t want to die.” He was smiling.

I sat on the platform and started laughing. He also was laughing. I looked up at the faces of the people around me. gentlemen, officemen, ladies, kids, old, students, young girls, boys…. All samples were there… fear on each face!! And that fear was turning out as surprise and soon it would be hatred.

But we were not able to stop laughter, I was laughing so loud that I laid back holding my belly, on the platform itself.

But I got up immediately, and I looked at the faces around again. That was pure hatred and clearly indicating, “What the fuck?”…….

The prank master Snehangshu came nearer to me on his knees and took my already torn book pocket off my shirt, and said, “Now looking good!” We started laughing again.

After this, the train took 2 minutes to arrive at the station and in those two minutes we heard the coded adjectives of our life time from (the disheartened) people around. While people were decorating two demons of us with those adjectives, we were doing only one thing, ………………….SmilinG.

I was sitting by the holy river Ganges (Ganga is how we call her), the afternoon wind was touching my face and I was looking at the layers of water having the golden hue on them. Boats were sailing slowly; little kids were diving into the river, swimming against the tides. I don’t know what I was thinking, perhaps was not thinking anything, just looking at the beauty in that afternoon. I always love rivers, more than sea; I don’t know how or why… But I believe a river is more humanly than a sea. Sea is a Superman, too vast, too broad, too huge, but a river has life, flow, stagnation, limit, vastness, and moreover, it’s too closely knit to people’s lives.  A wishing, smiling, fighting woman.

Suddenly, I heard few footsteps behind me. I didn’t look back as I knew that eventually those feet would bring few figures in front of me, so why did I need to look back?

I saw that a guy of 24+ and a girl perhaps of 22+ appeared. The guy was wearing a jeans and a T shirt, so was the attire of the girl. The girl kept her hand bag by her right side and sat beside the guy but with a gap of 1 foot between each other. 

Now that was weird.

I mean there were many other mingling couples around, but why the hell these two had a gap between themselves. That was so irritating for me. I was feeling like holding them and fixing them closely. But as usual, I was sitting motionlessly only.  

They were silent. Silence was sounding good, but the gap was indicating that silence was not speaking about internalised words, rather externalised indifference. That’s unfair. I mean the river was nice, the afternoon was nice, the breeze was nice, but this gapping silence was like a piece of meat suck at the back of teeth, for which you send your tongue but fail to get rid of. I was so helpless.

All of a sudden, the guy pressed his teeth and uttered, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”  (Thanks that you said something, but please put the ‘FUCK’ away.)

The girl stared back and sighed back. Her chin was stiff I could see.

“I’m asking a question!” the guy roared. (Try a lower tone dude!)

“Nothing” she said it so quickly that I could guess that she was hushing Everything.

“Then why are you silent?” (Good point.)

“Coz I’ve nothing to say.” Her eyes were at the river.

“Why are doing this me Rimi?” the guy pleaded. (Ok, Rimi is her name, that’s as crisp as the girl was.)

“Don’t make me cry.” (Please don’t cry.)

“Please say. Please” the guy held her hands. He had to aside down to breeze the 1 foot gap.

The girl looked at him and moved nearer to him. She put her head on his chest and I could feel that she was sobbing as her body was moving. I felt unwanted there. Why do girls cry? I feel so helpless.

Typical escapist inside me whispered, “Aniruddh, she has her man with her. You are not required. Move up.” Still I could not move up, I don’t know why.

The girl sat back and wiped the tears from her eyes. Man, she was so nice, an angel with an aura.

“Tell me dear, what’s wrong…. Please tell me dear… please?” the guy was empathetic (not sympathetic.)

The girl was looking at the river again.

Then she turned towards the guy and said, “You will not understand.”

“I will, I will dear, please say…. I love you, if I don’t understand you, who will? Please tell me.” the guy was begging. (Honestly speaking, I also was begging “I also will understand, please say.”)  

The girl sniffed and uttered with a sigh, “Perhaps, Ron will die.” (God, that’s sad.)

“What?” the guy yelled.

“I knew you will not understand.” I girl looked away. (“Yes, he is reacting weird. By the way who is Ron? Why is he dying? Who is he to you Rimi?” sympathetic me.)

“No, I’ll not understand. For Ron all these…. SHIT!” the guy was furious.

“Rahul, I love Ron.” The girl was defending her tears.

“All this for your neighbor’s dog!!!! Damn!” the guy shouted. (“Dog! All this for a dog? That too of neighbor? Damn” I shouted inside. )

I got up. It was more than enough for me……….

I walked back, shook my head, Uff.. enough of it… then I heard another burst of tears!!

This time I didn’t even bother to look back.