FF Name - "Accidentally In Love"
FF Writer -Ehsaas
*Remember - This story is from Riddhima's Perspective* (Most Of The Time)
Chapter 2.1,
An Encounter With "Atul's Gang."
New Delhi. It has changed since I saw it last, it has thickened, blackened, erupted like a pollinating pod. he straight, sparse lines that used to make up the contours in the distance are gone. They are shattered into fragments, twisted into flyovers, contorted into high-rises, billboards, pounding masses of people. The building are taller and leaner, the slums have gained weight, the colours are vivid whirls and splatters, grimier and shinier all at once. It comes at me with a new snarl and an odd odour, this old new city, it pelts me with its heat, it lashes across my face; it makes me dizzy. I close my eyes against the burning yellows and blinding reds outside my taxi window, settle back against the burning vinyl seat.
Atul had asked me to reach the 'adda.' Reaching there, the 'adda' turned out to be a dull basketball court near a small caf. It is a hot, bustling place, I find, shaded indifferently by thin-armed trees.
'Hey, new girl.'
I turn to the voice, find a guy strolling up to join me. I know this guy. I have seen him before.I'm pretty good at faces.
'Heard You're from America' he looks down at me; I see the sneer that gleams in his eyes. 'tell us about yourself.'
I tell him there's not much to tell.
'Really? A C-O-O-L girl like you?'
'I'm not so cool.'
'Then would you say you're H-O-T-T?'
I keep on him, my level gaze, but feel the game face start to shrivel all the same. 'What do you want to know?' I ask.
'Are you a virgin?'
'Shut Up, Ammy,' Atul says
'He's just teasing,' A girl says, maybe she's Anjie, that Atul used to talk about. 'Stop ragging her, Ammy.'
'Why? She's from America. She can handle it.'
He's right, I think. These things used to be easy. It used to be easy to handle guys like him...
'Just sing us a song,' A girl says, 'and lets get it over with.'
'Get what over with?' I ask
'The tradition. You're new; you sing for us.'
'I'm sorry, I don't sing'
'Then dance.'
'I don't dance either.'
'So no answers, no singing and no dancing,' Ammy smirks. 'What can you do, Miss America?'
'She can play basketball,' I hear Atul say.
'Atul-'
'Basketball?' Ammy says 'How tall are you? Three feet, four?'
'She's five feet eight,' Atul says. 'And I'll bet she can give you a run for your money.'
'Atul, no-'
But Atul is already pulling out a wallet from his pocket. 'Ten bucks says Riddhima takes Ammy's trip,' he says
'Atul-'
'Make it twenty she doesn't.'
'Thirty says she gets three in a row.'
'Stop It!'
But its too late. Ammy is already walking back dribbling a basketball;he passes it to me with a smirking, 'So show us, Miss Five Feet Eight.'
I consider letting it go. I really don't have to prove anything to Atul's crowd, do I?
'Come on, Ridzi,' I hear Atul say. 'Show him. You can do it.'
I walk over the court behind Ammy; I have no choice. I'll have to follow through, good or bad, this one time at least. Damn Atul, but it's not really his fault, I suppose. I should have warned him. I should have told him that I no longer... that it is just the game face...
The familiar thrust against my fingers as I dribble the ball sends a forgotten rush up through my arm. I send the ball sailing clean through the basket. It feels good, despite everything. 'Lucky Fluke' I hear Ammy say.
I take a deep breath, land the shot.
'Not Bad,' I hear Ammy say. 'How about a three-pointer then?'
'I'm done.'
'Why? didn't they teach you how to land three-pointers in America?'
I take the ball from him. I shouldn't, I know. But something else has taken over me now - an old recklessness, a dangerous little riff of forgotten exhilaration. One last time, I tell myself. Just to shut him up. I step back behind the three-pointer line, dribble the ball, raise it in front of my face. Focus, focus.....
I freeze. What the blazes am I doing here? How did I ever find my way back t a basketball court? I have t pull the plug. Right now, before I get sucked in, before I start to drown all over again.
I take a deep breath , aim for the three feet of air in front of the basket. It's a perfect shot. I misses the basket by exact three feet.
'Aww...poor baby missed it.' he said in a pitying voice. Biting his head off was the best action i could do right now.
'Riddhima Gupta.' I say, not giving heed to his Aww's
'Armaan Mallik' the voice ringed inside my head like a buzzer of a quiz show. Armaan - the night manager! But what the hell was wrong with him?
'The night manager, right?'
'So right!' he said coming closer, dribbling the ball.
'A great change by the night.' I taunt, my voice shaking. His eyes matched the ones of those vampires - hungry, longing for blood. I start backing off and he continued coming forward.
I don't know what, but something made me stop. The werewolf inside me was awake. It asked me to face him. He came closer, and closer and even more closer, we must be almost 5 inches away.
'I know.' he whispers, and threw the ball in the air and bravo ! It's a perfect basket. He backed off, giving his dimpled smile. I could now recognize 'the' Armaan Mallik I last saw.
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Love,
Ehsaas 😃 Edited by GEhsaas - 14 years ago
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