“What plans for your birthday”; I asked.
“Nothing at all, you seem more excited than me”; she replied.
Yes, I wasn’t excited, I was looking forward to it actually. I had heard from her as to how She would earlier celebrate her birthdays before a storm almost pulled her down, it made her the laid-back soul that She was. She did love little surprises, but never let the amusement show on her face lest it would make her vulnerable all over again, I had gauged that. I had started knowing her, reading her a bit and the late night chats intrigued me to know more about her. I did know for a fact that She loved to read, and She loved red roses, perhaps the memories attached to it weren’t that sweet, but nonetheless there lied no harm in gifting her a bouquet.
I hadn’t planned anything special; nothing elaborate. The day before D day, I received a call from her, a rather unusual thing back then, we seldom used to talk on the phone. She was planning to take a day off, She hadn’t skipped office in a long while. While, I was on the way to my office, I changed my plans too, the Uber driver didn’t really like it when I changed the destination after almost reaching office, and his stern look said it all. A gentle ‘Please Bhaiya’ and a cigarette helped me in making it up to him.
I knew, I had to plan something now. “How about lunch?”; I asked her. She didn’t suspect anything unusual in me taking the day off too, I knew my plan was then sorted. I suggested a restaurant of my choice which served ethnic food She loved, She agreed initially but, She being She; her tantrums started in the next half an hour. Too far it was from her place, she had chores to do at home, go out shopping with her mom, it was too humid outside and what not, I can perhaps mention all the five hundred reasons She would give to twist a plan, arm-twist me rather into giving in. Her choice, her restaurant and her time, and all I could do was follow lead and agree, I’d happily agree all over again if She’d come back.
Lunch being sorted, I now had to get something which She had asked from me a few days earlier : Love Story by Erich Segal; another cab, another destination and off I went to the book store to get her the read She wanted, but how about some more? A couple of my preferred choices too: Dickens and Thomas Hardy. Books bought, lunch scene sorted and I, then headed straight to the restaurant where we had decided upon meeting. On my way, I asked the driver for a pen and scribbled: To, Jenny. With Love; on one of the pages of Love Story, Oliver’s or Jennifer’s? Who cared !! Mine, maybe.
She kept me waiting, nothing new it was, and by the time She arrived I could notice her from a distance, She always looked beautiful with her hairs untied. Lunch wasn’t as planned, She always had the knack of not eating stuff She would claim to love and crave for, early signs of how visits to eateries would be in the days to come. I did gift her the books, on her way back She sent me a text with the pic of my signature on the note that I had written. Jenny, She was. Segal’s and mine.
D day finally arrived, the wait had built up well, so well that I had planned to take another day off, but my manager had other plans, meetings and presentations were boring but waiting for the evening, with a budding excitement within could kill the boredom, to stay focused was difficult. I had to arrange for something again. How about roses? I knew, it would be a risk, it might trigger a flashback but then roses were just roses, as sweet and beautiful as She were. A quick call to a café made my life easy, a cake could be arranged for a meagre tip as well. I just couldn’t wait for the evening to arrive.
It did arrive, me logging out of office by 6pm and as I headed straight to the café, I had to pick up the bouquet of roses. A risk, a trial maybe, I kept my fingers crossed. And, the wait began, for her to drop in. She was surprised with the gift She received, I hadn’t anticipated such a reaction, and She was also gracious enough to click the first of the many selfies we would later go on to capture. She thanked me for the bouquet, her smile was happiness, She was happiness, still is.
My prospection of happiness she was, roses just being the route I took to light up that smile, perhaps I won’t in this life of mine will ever take this route for another person. She and the bouquet of roses, well; sweet things do complement each other, don’t they?
abhishek purkayastha 