"But what will you take for her?” Nitin
asked me. He seemed almost as anxious
as I was on this occasion. Okay, so
that’s what friends were for… but right
now he was not helping me at all.What would I take for her?
The instant answer was “Myself” but
I thought it was safer not to say
anything. Nitin was the earnest type
and he would not like me making light
of the situation. The situation? My
planning to propose to Richa. Big
momentous occasion on the cards. All
planned by the small guy.Did I say ‘small’? I didn’t feel that
small. I felt like I owned the world.
After all, Richa was almost mine, so to
speak. And who wouldn’t be happy
with a girl like that. She was everything I wanted in someone I was
willing to spend the rest of my life with.
She was fun, witty, charming and the
best part was she understood me. Well,
over the last couple of months, I too
was faintly beginning to understand
her. Nitin’s verdict of Richa being a
'good girl' notwithstanding, I knew
there were many times when I could
have torn my gelled hair in despair
trying to figure out what was it she
wanted to say when she clammed up
and said, “Nothing”.
There were times when all she
wanted to do was tell me about her
day. Which was fine as long as she did
not ask me about mine. I mean work
was work, what else did one say about
it. Then there was a time when she
picked up a bottle of bubble liquid
from a man selling balloons on the
road. “Grow up”, I told her laughing,
yet somewhat embarrassed. People on
the street were staring at us, though
they were all smiling indulgently at her.
“ Why should I?” was her quick
rejoinder. I had, as usual, no answer
to that as a bubble settled on my nose.
But over time, I think I can
understand her. No, maybe
I understand myself better. I had not
told Richa, but across several issues of
Reader’s Digest, I had been getting
insights into relationships. And into
our relationship. I now know for a fact
that we are definitely different.I know
that I need to lend her a listening ear
time and again. She simply wants to be
heard. And I have told her that I really
do not need to share every office issue
with her.
I know that when she gives me
space to have my night out with the
boys, she is expecting that one-minute
phone call to say that I still think of
her. Easier said than done when you are in the middle of a heated football discussion, but I can do it now.
“So what are you going to
get her” interjected Nitin into
my thoughts. “Do you know what
I suggest?” I smiled. I didn’t want to
know. This momentous occasion would
be ours. Richa’s and mine. I was going
to propose to her. The setting would be
perfect. And I was going to take a
bottle of bubble liquid for her.
