"Arey Madam, if you were so concerned about it you should have given it to dry cleaners. What do you say Maan, bhaiyya." He replied calmly, without an ounce of fear or discomfort in his body language.
"Of course, Pintu."
She was exasperated at the new support system that joined their conversation, without a slight bit of hesitation whatsoever.
She raised her eyes and scoffed, "Excuse me, who are you to interfere. Can you stay away from this?".
"Madam, please talk to him with respect. He is a respected and very famous writer of our colony."
"And I don't give a damn. Just tell him to not talk in between."
"Madam..." before the presser could complete he was interrupted by the man. "Rehne de Pintu. Main hi chalta hoon." "Arey bhaiyya, aap"
She sighed heavily and rubbed her forehead. Despite her shouts and screams, nobody else was bothered about her burnt torn dress. She knew there was no point exhausting herself and wasting time in addition to the damage that was already done.
"Enough , from now on I'm never going to give any of my clothes to you for iron." She then looked at the man standing beside them. "And you, what's your name? What all great books have you written?"
The man fixed the collar of his kurta and grinned, "Maan and I write for Chanchal magazine."
She narrowed her brows and laughed snidely, "You write for Chanchal and call yourself a writer."
His grin soon dissipated as he spoke, "Excuse me, madam. A writer is a writer, no matter what he writes for. So please."
"Fine." She replied bluntly and walked away.
She murmured to herself as he unlocked the door of her room. It had been an exhausting day, she was late to work, skipped her lunch and in the evening when it was her time to relax, she was involved in a futile argument with somebody who didn't bother acknowledging his mistake. She sat on her couch and sighed while her eyes fell on the book she was reading these days. She was too tired to continue but she decided to pick it up, hoping it would lighten up her mood. As she laid her hands on it, her eyes fell on the magazine placed beside it. Chanchal. She had borrowed it from her landlady earlier this week to read a Mutton recipe. She checked the index and turned to page 9.
Kisse khamosh raaton ke (Stories of Silent Nights) - Maan, He writes weekly serials in this magazine? No wonder.
She skimmed through a few lines of the story to get the gist of the serial. This episode she was reading revolved around a girl who was upset about her dull sex life and came to her sister's home seeking some tips to spice it up. She narrowed her eyes as she further read the details of the problems as well as the tips. The colloquial language made it even more difficult for her to continue it further. She rolled her eyes. Why did I even think of giving it a shot? She closed the magazine and sighed heavily. It was an exhausting day, indeed.
The next morning, she made sure she started a few minutes before time. She didn't want to take any risk and reach late for two consecutive days, thus giving her boss a leeway to drop some lectures. As the lift gates opened, she saw him standing inside as he munched a bhutta (Roasted corn). She hesitantly joined the writer and waited for the lift to reach the ground floor as soon as possible.
"Madam, I'm sorry for whatever happened yesterday. Hope you are not upset about that."
She wished he didn't start a conversation in the little time they shared the lift.
The lift stopped in between and her landlady joined them. She smiled and wished her a good morning.
"Geet beta, can you please return the Chanchal magazine that you have borrowed from me?".
She awkwardly smiled at the mention, "Sure Aunty."
As soon as they reached the ground floor, her landlady walked towards the vegetable vendor while they both still traveled on the same path.
"So you read Chanchal, do you read my story as well?" His tone carrying a hint of curiosity.
"No. I don't read such stories."
"Such stories"...He raised his eyes and smirked. "So you have read them."
"Once. Only once. Because I had nothing better to do. I don't plan to continue reading them."
He smiled as he kept munching the corn. "Looks like you are not too pleased with the story. I did tell the editor that I would like to replace marriage with live in and the sister with a bestie, you know both of them coolly discussing their problems. But turned out, our target audience wasn't very comfortable with the concept of live in. Wish there was a way to please everybody." He sighed.
She frowned and looked at him, "You think I only cringed at the marriage part?" "Leave it, have a nice day. Bye." She shrugged off and called for a Rickshaw.
He laughed as he saw her walking away, Chal Maan beta, time to start working on another episode. Deadlines were never pleasing.
Jhanak
Shiv Shakti
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