Words

               

Words are so immortal, you can't know what’s in store

One word from someone’s all it takes to fall in love once more

Radhika Mehrotra heaved a sigh of relief as she gazed at the woman sitting  on the other side of the mirror. It was blissful to finally have some time with herself. She was getting married in the next one hour and just about everybody in her humongous family had felt compelled to come and individually dole out their ardent blessings along with generous doses of unwanted family planning ‘gyaan’. She feverishly played with her earrings as she tried to calm herself down.

 Wedding in the next one hour meant that she was now officially entitled to freak out with the tension, she could indulge herself with some melodramatic emotional speeches, create a complete nuisance of herself, stay glued to her mirror, demand that just about everybody be at her beck and call, drool over her dress, crib about the flowers, fret over the jewellery, scream for the make up and generally enjoy dishing out nothing short of gigantic bridal tantrums. But surprisingly she wasn't feeling like doing any of this— in fact, she wasn't really sure what she was feeling right now.

As she gazed at the mirror, in that one moment she saw the last three years of her life flash by. It had been a traumatizing three years since her first husband had died. Back then, at 25 it had seemed as if her whole world had come crashing down. People leave but memories  their memories continue to live and  these memories seemed to be the only companion since three long years.

 It was perhaps a year back that she had met someone. Friends had introduced him to her  as a handsome overqualified bachelor and now, a year later, she, was introducing him to her friends as her fiancé.

It was difficult— extremely difficult to describe her fiancé. And even more so to describe what she felt for him. Though he would never admit it, she knew it had been a severe case of love at first sight for him. But with her, though she definitely liked him, she wasn’t even sure if she was in love and somewhere, she thought he knew that. As she fidgeted with her bangles, she recollected so many things, she recalled her fiancé’s face when she had accepted his proposal, recalled how happy her family had been with her decision, recalled the words he had said to convey what she meant to him and now each and every one of those words was weighing her down. Hardly any time left for her wedding and she wasn't sure if she was ready for marriage. She just couldn't bear to break her fiance's heart…..he was too nice to deserve that.

So  preoccupied was she with her thoughts that she didn't even realise that she had started silently crying. As she frantically tried to wipe the treacherous tears which attempted to spoil her make up, her train of thoughts was interrupted by a soft beeping of her phone.

She feverishly grabbed her phone and stared blankly at the name shining softly on top of her Whatsapp list. The tears just wouldn't stop falling and now she didn't even try to curb them.

Raghav

Are you ready?

Radhika (after a pause, shakily)

Yea

Raghav

No you’re not.

Radhika (Now speedily)

Of course I am. In fact I was just seeing myself in the mirror.

Raghav

I don’t think you’re going to be ready till you have seen my wedding gift. Open your dressing table drawer.

Radhika (smiling ruefully)

Is it so small it fit into a drawer? ;) Just joking

Raghav

I have nothing bigger than my heart and too bad, I’ve already given it away :p

Smiling slightly now, she kept her phone aside and slowly opened the drawer. It took her some time to realise that the only additional object inside was the thinnest envelope she had ever seen, neatly stacked at the right corner. She carefully removed it and sceptically eyed it. It ridiculously reminded her of a telephone bill and she stupidly wondered if this was Raghav's idea of romantically informing her how much they had chatted online. After fingering it for a little while, she decided to give way to her curiosity and opened it. There was a most beautiful off-white paper inside completely crammed with Raghav's familiar messy scrawl. For the first time that entire day she felt like laughing as she opened her first love letter.

To the woman I'm waiting to call my wife,

Just to inform you— I've NEVER written a love letter before, but then, I have never really been in love before Radhika. Though I will never admit, you know I've loved you ever since I saw you and though you will never admit, I know it might not be the same for you.

30 minutes before our wedding, there’s something I want to ask you and before you answer me, just remember that I will always love you no matter what your answer is.

Is it really possible to rekindle a fire?

To recreate a spark, to nurse a new desire?

Is it really true that the smile you wore last season

Can be worn yet again but now for another reason?

Can someone make you laugh every moment, every mile

At a time when you had felt that you could not even smile?

Can someone slowly become, such an important part

Of your life when, till yesterday, someone else ruled your heart?

Does someone spoil you so much that he treats you like a queen?

Do someone’s words mean so much that you blush like a silly teen?

Do you reread those messages I keep sending all while?

Do your fingers race the keyboard, do you reply with a smile?

The blush that seems to lately adorn your pretty cheek

Is it Lakme's secret, or my compliment last week?

By nature I'm so calm, it’s something I admire

But you spare one smile for someone else, my heart is set afire

Has no one ever told you, how pretty you look in green?

My heartbeat runs a marathon, I feel like a silly teen.

Is it truly possible for me to be a part

Not just of your surname but also of your heart?

Today in our wedding you will gently say “I do”

Tomorrow, day after, ever, will you say I Love You?

Is it really possible that your heart just wants to soar?

Does it finally believe that it can fall in love once more?

Love can be so gentle love can be so wild

Love makes you a woman, love makes you a child

Love is so romantic, love lifts me to the skies

I fall in love a million times

When you look into my eyes.

Radhika……if I am the reason you can agree with even one of these lines…….marry me and I will never let you regret it. I'm waiting for your reply Ms. Mehrotra

Yours always

Raghav

She didn't know how many times she read that letter at that moment. She only knew she read it till she no longer needed to as the words remained etched in her mind. Before her tears could make a royal mess of the most precious paper in her life, she hastily placed it back on the dressing table and grabbed  her phone. Smiling widely at the screen she replied back

There is no way you can escape the marriage now Mr. Raghav Khanna. Be prepared to spoil me for the rest of your life  :*

P.S. Be on time

Special P.S. Now that I know what a good poet you are, I expect this gift every anniversary ;)

Smiling to herself, she placed the phone back and frantically gazed at the clock. Still five minutes before she needed to leave for the venue. That could only mean that she was still officially entitled to freak out with the tension, she could still indulge herself with some melodramatic emotional speeches, create a complete nuisance of herself upto the wedding, stay glued to her mirror, demand that just about everybody be at her beck and call, drool over her dress, crib about the flowers, fret over the jewellery, scream for the make up and generally enjoy dishing out nothing short of gigantic bridal tantrum and there was no way she was going to be wasting any of these privileges now. After all, she was a bride who just couldn't wait to get married!!!

A little piece of paper, written specially to be read

The world just sees few ardent words, she sees his heart instead.

                                                                                        

Was I Ever Alone?

Where was the beginning and where was the end?

No sign of an enemy, no sign of a friend.

My eyes saw the view till earth and sky blended

A road stood waiting, a path that never ended.

The sun was ablaze and the silence was still

My heart nursed a fear that my mind wished to kill.

A lone steady traveller, my life was a ride

Road led to road, and stride led to stride.

But the great sea of sand that mocked me with glee

The Great African Sahara that urged me to flee.

T’was a journey I dreaded in the depths of my heart

I saw a morbid end even before I could start.

I prayed to the skies, I looked at the ground

I walked with my shadow, which by midday had drowned.

My gait was so slow, my thoughts were so fast

My footsteps imprinted a journey so vast.

The horizon was endless, the terrain unknown

My fears were so many, and I was alone.

Four days had just passed, each day seemed a year

I thought I had come far, but the end didn’t seem near.

The weather so scathing, my actions so mild

No forest, no animals, but this was the wild.

The sandstorms did roar and the howling winds moan

Not a creature in sight, and I was alone.

A fortnight flew by, as I crawled along

My morale so weak, my fears so strong.

No companion to talk to, no words to express

I felt like a pawn in a great game of chess.

A feast was awaited, of my flesh and bone

The vultures were hovering, and I was alone.

The vast golden desert, an ocean of sand

No sign of the living on this arid land.

On the twentieth day, when my throat was so dry

I saw an oasis, a sight for a sore eye.

I walked to the spot, it vanished from zone

The mirages were countless and I was alone.

On the thirtieth day, a month had gone by

Perceptions had changed, to live was to die.

My eyes were so tired, my mind was so dead

I didn’t see immediately where my footsteps had led.

My homeland stood waiting, the sight made me moan

The end of my journey that I had walked alone.

‘Tis twelve long years since that arduous ordeal

Time is a miracle, can kill and can heal.

Yet oft, when I’m idle and relive the past

A small lurking doubt is persistently cast.

A doubt that awoke me night after night

It urged me to see things in a different new light.

In a desert where no creature, no life was alive

How was it possible that I did survive?

When death just kept pouncing, how did I escape?

With each lucky chance, my journey took shape.

A divine power had come to my aid

Someone had blessed me when I had not even prayed.

Was no one with me, had I really walked alone?

A fool would say yes, but my mind had long known

That every moment when my heart had felt scared

When my hopes were shattered, when my fears were flared,

Someone stood standing behind me all while

And gently guided me mile after mile.

The more I think, the more I see

The truth that had so far deluded me.

Someone had silently walked with me there

Someone had helped me when help seemed so rare.

So obvious in hindsight, how could I have not known

That God had walked with me, I WAS NEVER ALONE.

Yin Yang

The skies were calm, the waters were still

The sun was ablaze, and the silence was shrill;

 A boatman stood waiting at the edge of the shore

As the Zen Tao sisters meandered to the fore.

“Where to, my dear ladies?” enquired the man

“The Great Land of Shanghai” said the maiden called Yang

The boatman consented, the Tao sisters bowed

And lounged in the ferry the three made a crowd

“How long is the ride?” enquired sweet Yin                                    

“Quite long when alone, quite short with your kin”

“How large is the city?” enquired her twin

“A speck from afar, a giant within”

                                                                                                         

“Oh how many questions, how many a doubt!!”

“Let’s picture what Shanghai is really about”

“Oh Yin, they have buildings that talk to the skies”

“Sweet Yan, they have shanties that cater to flies”

“Dear Yin, there are cars so swanky and grand

That adorn those roads in that beautiful land”

“Oh Yan those roads are terribly plain

How big is the car, how small is the lane.”

 

“The weather is pleasant, the people are nice”

“The people are mean, the weather plays dice”

“Dear Yin, I’ve heard that the rich are so rich

Their dresses flash diamonds in every little stitch”

“Oh Yan the rich are few and far between

With poverty flooding the wealth has no sheen.”

“The port is so famous, the ships are so vast”

“Infamous my dear, let your hopes not be cast”

“They boast of hotels that look like a dream”

“When dreams turn nightmares, hope you don’t scream!!”

“Oh Yin, the ladies are pretty and fair!!”                

“Prettier than me?? They can’t even dare!!”

“My dear sweet ladies, pray spare a swift glance                          

Catch a glimpse of your guesses, and bask in a trance          

For before you the golden shore that you see

Is Shanghai that graces the Great Yangtze.”

“Oh Yin I expected a fairly pretty land

But a paradise awaits me, so sleek and so grand”

“Oh Yang I expected a frigid town

              

So right was my judgement, my hopes are too down”

The boat brushed the sands with a gentle low tide

The ladies alighted and paid for the ride

The boatman stood watching as the Tao sisters trudged  

To a land they didn’t know but had already judged

The boatman laughed and said to the skies

This is life at its best, the lows and the highs

Predictions are true, they always will be

 Since we see everything as we wish them to be

Our opinions are merely our thoughts in disguise

For beauty lies in the beholders eyes

Life is a book, the words are the same

It’s the way it is read that changes the game

It’s not what’s without but what is within

That makes some of us Yang and some of us Yin

A journey of a thousand miles, the Great Lao Tzu sang

Life is an outlook Life is Yin-Yang.

Frosty Spectacles

One mark. One second. One word.

And my whole world had come crashing down.

It was one of the finest April evenings the city had seen. An unusually pleasant fog had settled itself comfortably that gave everybody the rare treat of experiencing a wintry evening in the last few days of spring. An exotic foliage had suddenly sprung up all around…or perhaps I had just never noticed it before. There was a slight nip in the air which seemed to gently kiss my flushed cheeks. The weather had brought along an inherent dampness due to which my spectacles had turned foggy. Everything was appearing blurred but I didn’t care…..I liked it…..I liked this lack of clarity which seemed to be blocking out a world I didn’t want to see….and how I truly wished I could block my mind that easily.

I couldn’t read the paper that my fingers were clutching but I didn’t need to. The words inked on it had been etched in my mind permanently. A single tear strolled down my cheeks.......then another…..and yet another. I was finally beginning to absorb the conversation that had occurred between the Dean and me earlier that afternoon. After winning the Management Scholarship for two years in a row, this was the first time I had lost…… lost by a criminally painful gap of one mark…….lost by a such a fine difference in an otherwise amazing score……and lost to one of my oldest contemporaries of all time…..Siddharth Kundra.

I had worked extremely hard to achieve that coveted hattrick, the scholarship had even been a necessity to a certain extent and amongst the several reasons I was providing myself as to why that prize was so precious, a small voice in my heart was whispering that it was not my hattrick but my pride that had been shattered. It was painful enough that I had lost to a man I had never got along with, but even more so when the Dean had told me that he had found Siddharth an exceptionally unique personality.

As I had acquired a respectable second place in the coveted examination merit list, I had had the privilege of veto power in the committee and I could opt to either keep the PR section exclusively to myself or delegate it to Siddharth and consequently work under him. I heard the distant church bells chiming away signalling that it was 6 pm. I realised slowly that I had been sitting on this bench for more than four hours. Collecting myself together, I brushed off the treacherous tears meandering down my cheeks and shoved my certificate into my bag. I had to think fast. There was no way I was going to work under Siddharth and therefore I had to inform him of my decision by today itself.

Siddharth was one of the few people on the campus whose number did not feature on my mobile which most painfully meant that I would have to meet him in person. I didn’t even have the excuse of not knowing where he would be as I was aware that he spent his Fridays in the cosy cafeteria just outside the campus. I reluctantly started trudging along the neatly gravelled path. Being a woman of many words, I had never imagined being in a situation where a simple conversation could seem so dreadful. Wounded pride is an overwhelming emotion and sometimes emotions tide over us so stormily that any amount of reasoning fails to ebb the waves they create. My footsteps involuntarily slowed down as I saw the familiar outline of the café.

As I opened the heavy wood panelled door leading inside, I was hit by the most blaring music that seemed to completely tear apart the silence that was residing outside. There was a tantalisingly pulsating life within that tiny room. The weekend being round the corner, most families had leisurely lounged in early to enjoy a lazy dinner. The jazz band on the dais was contributing majorly to the “happening” reputation of the café. A young group of hippies were entertaining an entire section at the far corner while a fanatic football fan club was glued right next to the colossal TV screen near the bar. Drinks were being offered on the house because “It was fiiiiiinally Friday” and the owner was clearly beginning to regret the offer. The electric liveliness within those four walls was contagious though I was in no mood of being plagued by it.

I searchingly zoomed my gaze across the lounge hoping to catch a glimpse of Siddharth and I finally found him sitting at the end near the jazz band. As I decided to approach him I suddenly came to a halt in my tracks. I realised that he had come with his entire family to the café and there was obviously a stupendous celebration going on as he was popping the bubbly of an extravagant champagne bottle. I chided myself for not expecting this. I should have known that Siddharth would naturally be celebrating his big night lavishly. A couple that obviously looked like his parents were seated next to him. A lady and a man, possibly some relations of his were also a part of the gathering and a young woman was seated right next to Siddharth. She caught my attention immediately as she was exceptionally beautiful. She closely resembled Siddharth, and her face was exuding a resplendent radiance. She had a lovely smile and though she was mingling with everyone, her attention was mostly focussed on Siddharth who seemed to be entertaining the whole group with some ridiculously funny joke. I didn’t move forward partly because I felt it would be rude to intrude and majorly because I didn’t want to.

I tried to catch Siddharth’s attention, when he looked in my direction. He appeared slightly surprised to see me but immediately excused himself and walked towards me. I inhaled deeply and tried to keep calm as the moment I had been dreading had finally come.

“Kritika!!” said Siddharth,  approaching me as I made no move to come forward.

“Hi” I said formally and then managed to force out perhaps the most difficult sentence I had ever strung together, “I….ummm….I wanted to congratulate you on winning the scholarship” I said gracefully as I flashed a slightly contrite smile.

He surprisingly returned my gesture most warmly. “Thank you so much .... congratulations to you too….considering your amazing score, you almost won too” he said smiling.

Perhaps it was the warmth or his smile or simply the maturity with which he spoke, but I suddenly felt more comfortable as I replied, “Thanks Siddharth” and continued smiling ruefully, “But a winner is a winner……no matter what.”

He simply smiled in reply while I tried to analyse how to tell him about my decision of keeping the PR to myself. I decided that since he was being gracious enough to speak so well, I should tell him in a slightly diplomatic fashion. To change the topic temporarily I commented casually, “So your family seems to be really happy”

Siddharth started laughing and said “Oh they are!!...we all are!!”

“Of course!...They must be so proud of you today” I said smiling genuinely this time.

Siddharth had been gazing at his table but on hearing my remark he immediately looked at me. After a very slight pause he said, “Actually I haven’t told them yet….”

“You haven’t told your family that you won?” I asked him incredulously

“No….” he said shortly

Now curiosity had got the better of me. Looking at him confusedly I asked him, “So what are you all celebrating?”

Siddharth seemed to be considering his reply. I looked at him questioningly. At last he spoke quietly, “It’s a big day for my sister. She learnt how to write the alphabet today.”

Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t this. I reflexively looked at the beautiful woman seated at the table. She was almost Siddharth’s age….almost my age….her eyes were shining as her mother patted her fondly.....I slowly noticed that her face had a blissfully dreamy expression and that she wasn’t eating herself but was being fed by her father. I slowly absorbed Siddharth’s words as he defiantly faced me. He must have inferred that I didn’t know what to say so he continued, “We were all looking forward to this day you know……and she has been working really hard and…..”

“Your sister is really beautiful” I said suddenly cutting him short. I realised how difficult it must have been for him to talk about his sister to me.

He smiled at me and said proudly, “Yes, she is a very pretty lady…..she is my twin sister you know” and then continued, “So….you wished to talk about something in particular?”

“Yes” I said steadily coming to the point. I suddenly felt completely calm as I commented, “I just wanted to say that I would really like to work under you if you are willing to handle the PR section.”

He seemed extremely surprised as he responded, “Wow!!! I thought we were going to have an argument on this topic in the near future!”

I laughed as I replied, “Of course we are!! But arguments are even better when they become discussions”

Siddharth’s face broke into a huge smile as he replied, “Much as I hate to admit this, I agree with you”

“So you haven’t told your parents you aced the exam because your sister learnt the alphabet today” I said. It was not an enquiry neither was it a taunt….it was just a simple statement to which he replied simply.

“I did ace my exam Kritika…..but she is the winner today” and grinning widely, he continued, “and as you said……a winner is a winner…no matter what”

I remembered the Dean’s words as I faced Siddharth. I then said something that I had never dreamt I would and surprisingly I felt no reluctance in admitting it to him, and to myself.

“You deserved that scholarship Siddharth……because you won it while helping your sister to prepare for an even bigger examination” I said simply as I prepared to make a move.

He merely smiled in reply and remarked, “That’s big of you Kritika.”

“Enjoy! And my best wishes to your sister” I said smiling and made my way to the entrance. As I reached the door, I turned back and looked at the family. The pretty girl was again engaging her brother’s attention, the parents were laughing, a cake was being cut, a toast was being dedicated, songs were being sung, and a smile was playing on everybody’s lips.

Once outside, I removed my frosty specs and cleaned them. Trudging down the lane again, I enjoyed the summer breeze, I felt the colour rise up my cheeks, I smiled at nothing in particular, and I was just so happy that it was fiiiiiinally Friday.

In life, each one of us have reasons to be sad and reasons to be happy. It is just the outlook we possess that decides the ratio. There are so many smiles being flashed around us which hide an immense amount of sadness……because such personalities are brave enough to look beyond their problems. Why should we cling onto one weak reason for being sad when life is showering us with countless reasons to be happy? Till today I had always regretted what I didn’t have but most sadly, I had never been able to appreciate the magnitude of what was already mine. I had forgotten that there were so many excuses for me to enjoy a beautiful evening, forgotten to value the bonanza of comforts I had been offered by life, and most crucially I had forgotten that at the end of the day, the only way I could be happy was by deciding to.

Frosty spectacles can only blur your vision, not your perspective.

Twenty minutes ago, I thought my life had changed.

Twenty minutes hence I think my attitude had changed.

-----------X-------------

NEWSPAPER TALKIES

“A picture speaks a thousand words….BUT….sometimes you need those thousand words to create your own picture.”

A thunderous applause boomed across the colossal room as Chaitanya Libas delivered the opening lines of his standard speech for the hundredth time before a brand new audience. I feverishly tried to stop yawning and look genuinely interested in what was going on. Though  it was an undisputed fact that Libas deserved the bestselling Author of The Year award, I think I deserved the Nobel Prize for endurance for bearing up with him. It took a very brave and valiant person to have the courage to become Chaitanya Libas’ PR.

The social gathering in question was the incredulously hyped press conference that Libas had called for to promote his latest book. All the major news channels and newspapers had generously sent a whole envoy of reporters to cover the event. The audience belonged to the extremely uber intellectual category. Abiding by the unwritten rule, all representatives had donned Khadi ensembles. Fake smiles, atrocious gossips,refreshments were gushing in,the press was going wild, Libas had already reached an ultimate high without even touching a drop of liquor, the audience was clapping, critics were wailing, the noise was jarring, the AC was not working, temperatures and tempers were shooting up, and I was  slowly beginning to go insane.

I was stealthily slipping out of the room to catch a breath of fresh air when, despite all the laws of probability in Physics, Libas caught my eye and signalled me towards him. Resigning myself to my fate, I slouched back towards him. Grinning scarily at the cameras, Libas whispered furiously,“Why haven’t we started yet?”

“Times Today representative has yet to come Libas….and just by the by, they informed me yesterday since most of their reporters are covering the Khanna’s wedding party, they might not be able to spare the usual team we get….so…..I think we will have to make do with just about anyone…” I trailed off unsurely.

“This is what happens when I am doomed with people like you heading my PR….I decide to promote my pet project and the whole world seems to be in the way because you don’t know your job!!” As Libas ranted on about my possible role in all the misfortunes that had occurred in his life, I switched off and started with my latest hobby of mentally reciting the alphabet, a divine cure to prevent insanity.

I finally got fed up with his thesis on my appalling lack of any good qualities and cut him short “Libas,  you don’t worry at all, I will just look into the matter, we are starting in the next five minutes and that’s a promise…” and before he could say anything I rushed towards the nearest exit in the room. As I was making my way towards the entrance, I accidently bumped into someone. Adjusting myself, I turned to apologise to that person and what I saw made me almost swoon.

A young girl, almost my age was adjusting her thick old fashioned spectacles as I looked her up and down. She was dressed in a simple suit with the most jazzy border. Her hairstyle was going to give Libas a fit, there wasn’t a patch of Khadi on her dress and her shoes had been the rage during my grandmother’s youth. She had wiry brown hair and a milky complexion. Her teeth were impeccable but her lipstick was horrible. 

Though I had no reason to, I suddenly felt very nervous. Before I could introduce myself, she spoke. She had a soft but clear voice.

“Avantika Kaladri. Times Today”

“Yea I know” I said dazedly as I tried to absorb her presence and continued,“Umm….you have been assigned the first row?”

“First row middle seat” she said grinning at me.

I imagined Libas gaping at this lady as she sat right in the centre of all his Khadi clad chamchas.  I gulped and tried to smile at her and said,“I’m Radhika Singh…..Libas’ PR…..The thing is uhhh…..he wasn’t expecting you to…”

“Oh I know”, said Avantika cutting me short and grinning widely she stated, “Trust me, he couldn’t have got a better replacement” and before I could say anything she walked past me into the room. Predicting that I was going to be sacked in the next few hours I frantically tried to approach Libas. By the time I reached everyone had arrived as all the reserved seats were occupied.  As usual Libas had gone beyond my expectations……standing right in the centre of the dais he was staring at the woman as though she were the last remaining dinosaur on earth.

 I discreetly walked onto the stage and whispered to Libas,

“I didn’t know she was going to be the replacement, else I ……………”

Libas whispered furiously,

“Just look at the view. A beautiful ocean of Khadi and then right in the middle of all that elegance sits a woman who has got a dressing sense worse than yours!!”

“Look we can’t help that now”

“You go and tell the press to begin the conference and after that you can go find another job.”This was one of Libas’ favourite dialogue and my long term fantasy. He kept telling me to go find a new job every now and then.

I quickly signalled the press to begin and went and settled down near the refreshments counter in order to watch the fun. For the first ten minutes Libas gave a lecture  on how he treated all the women in his life like Goddesses which made me want to fling my bag at him. As I was stuffing myself with the paneer tikkas kept nearby, the Q&A session began. 

The India Times representative was the first one to question :

“Mr. Libas the title of your book has so much depth…does it have anything to do with your past?”

Libas put on a mourning face and fat drops of glycerine tears splashed on his cheeks as he informed the curious audience that he had apparently been in love with some princess but she had not understood what he was worth. I knew when they would telecast this some highly melodramatic song would play in the background.

Followed by National Herald representative’s question : “Can we expect  any romantic novel from you in the future?”

“Yes of couuurse. I am a very romantic person by nature….” I nearly threw up my coffee at this.

Finally the mike was handed over to Ms Kaladri.

“Mr. Libas do you actually implement the message of equality that you have portrayed in your book?” she asked him clearly.

There was a strenuous moment where I felt that Libas was going to refuse answering her…..but as usual he went beyond my expectations.

“Madame ji……which newspaper are you representing?” he asked her cockily

“Times Today”

He effused one of his fake laughs and said, “Have you ever bothered to read your own newspaper?” 

I almost fell out of my chair when he said that. He had obviously forgotten that he was sitting in a press conference. I tried to signal him to keep quiet but he was too busy arguing.

“I’m afraid not”, said Avantika mildly.

“Then please do…..you will see that last week itself I had an exclusive interview with your Editor on this subject.”

“But you spoke on the modern woman’s sense of style and clothing”

“And I forgot to mention that they should adhere to the proper dress code when they attend formal events” 

This was getting too much. I immediately rose and headed towards Libas to stop him but was stopped by the cameraman who said laughingly “The fun has just begun and you want to stop it!!!”

“It won’t be remotely funny in a few minutes’ time I said wryly.

“My apologies”, said Avantika coolly.

Libas sniffed moodily and said, “And please update yourself with the latest news and dressing fashions ma’am”

“I will, thank you” said Avantika timidly

“And please start reading the Headlines at least….I feature in most of them these days”

“I will thank you”

“And one last request pleeeeaaase……I’m sure you haven’t read any of my books….please enlighten yourself and become wiser Ma’am.”

“I will, thank you”

As the Q&A session continued I went to Avantika and whispered, “I am extremely sorry on my client’s behalf…he doesn’t….”

“That is absolutely fine” she said grinning at me, “I really admire guts you know and your boss seems to be blessed with a generous amount”

“Oh he is actually quite sober” I said as Libas screamed at another reporter in the background, “Today is a big day for him so…”

“So on his big day he makes others feel small?” enquired Avantika politely.

I didn’t know what to say to that. Much as I agreed with her, it was my job to make Libas look like a hero though he he was going out of his way to bag the role of the villain. Just as I was going to say something it was announced that there would be a break of five minutes and the Q&A session would resume. The news reporters rose and started leaving so that the new batch could come in for the next session. I immediately rushed to Libas. Sipping his tea noisily he cackled,

“I think I handled the whole event beautifully despite being surrounded by people like you and that soul sister of yours”

“Libas, that was a press conference!!!! How could you speak like that?’’

“Press conferences are held so that people can speak!! I never expected your common sense to be as bad your nail paint!”

“Libas this is not a joke!” I said frantically and continued, “I don’t think I will be able to do anything this time”

“What have you been doing all this time anyway?”

“You should have kept in mind that she might be reviewing your book”

Finishing his coffee he looked at me and laughed, “That lady does not even read the headlines of her own newspaper, let alone my books”

“That’s because she doesn’t need to read the Headlines!!!”

“Really??? And why is that?”

“Because she is the new Editor of Times Today”

I had finally caught Libas’ attention as he now stared at me blankly. I continued,

“I thought you knew that! It had been announced yesterday itself……I was completely shocked to see her but I have heard she is known for making these surprise visits!!”

Before Libas could say anything, Avantika Kaladri walked to us and grinned at Libas. He immediately rose and tried to smile pathetically,

“I’m so sorry ma’am.  I never knew you were the new Editor”

Avantika replied,  “Just by the way, I have read all your books and I wanted to say that your vocabulary is as good as your language is bad”

“I’m so sorry ma’am”

“And just by the way again, please keep yourself updated on latest news and current affairs’’

“I’m just sooo sorry ma’am”

“And one last by the way Sir”

“What ma’am”

Collecting her purse and adjusting her spectacles she looked squarely at Libas and said, “Tomorrow I will read the Headlines but I advise you not to do so” 

Winking at the author impishly, the woman of honour strode out of the room flaunting her jazzy dress, playing with her wiry hair, and riding high in her grandmother’s shoes.

She had rightly proved that, “A person can make you feel superior by their consent but they can make you feel inferior only by your consent”