Jeep & Bourbon Part 2 #CelebrateBlogging

  By the Team:

 Read the previous part of the story HERE

 Chapter 2: Touch- Me-Not

“You’re my superstar!” he’d said and I’d fallen for him almost instantly but then he flew away to the States never to return.

“Tara, you truly are worthy of your name” Shekhar had said, looking up from the script I’d written for our college drama. Sheku was the only guy who was as perfect as that ‘first love’ of my life. That winning smile, the glint in his eyes and the awe in his voice is etched in my memory, like it was yesterday.

Now he just sits there with that smile pasted on his face, come what may! To the extent that it now appears fake. How can anyone be so happy and contented with himself? Fifteen years of lolling about in those track pants and Tees, writing a stray article here and some web content there.  Sheku, Oh, Sheku! Today, you’re just a mere shadow of that man I’d married. Where’s that promising young writer with frizzy hair, that complete creative genius?

“Dreams? I don’t think there’s much left there!” I slide my fingers off Sheku’s bald pate.
“Look he keeps it so smooth and shiny. Everything just slides right off!” I hear myself saying, as I tickle his French beard. Those shots were one too many for me, I suppose. I can hear myself laughing too!

“BITCH!” Jennifer gurgles, picking up her camera once again. The flash tells me there’s going to be another awkward photograph of me and him. Try as we might, we haven’t been able to pose happily for a single picture together, in ages.   

“Jenny, just you wait!” I kick off my Pumps and begin chasing her around the coconut trees, like little school girls at play. Jenny in her shorts and Tee, with all those baubles bobbing about her neck, looks like one too. As we stop, gasping for breath, I cannot help but notice Cyrus ogling at Jennifer again, through his oversize spectacles.

“Why the hell did Sheku have to let this strange Parsi Bawa tag along with us? The chain smoker and the drunkard, a perfect match indeed!” I whisper to Jenny.  Jenny and I go way back, to the dorm days. I’m so happy that we have remained the best of friends despite my demanding career and her Photography keeping us apart for a year at stretch, this time.

I can say almost anything and everything that comes to my mind and I know Jenny will never mind. She will never judge me but how do I tell her that I know more about her American beau, much more than she could ever. 

I am brought back by Sheku’s voice.

“You’ve achieved your dreams and ambitions. I’m happy for you. You’ve blessed me with a beautiful Roohi.” he trails off.

Typically Sheku, making a feeble attempt at brushing off my rebuke with a sickeningly sweet response.

His words draw my eyes towards our little angel. Roohi is 9 now. Soon she will be celebrating her first double digit birthday. She loves ice-creams and frilly frocks and those expensive Barbie dolls. An animated 3D movie every Saturday at Inox is a must.

“What do you know, Sheku?” That’s exactly what I’ve slogged for. No regrets. My only regret is YOU!” I’ve almost barked it out aloud. I quickly gulp down yet another shot instead.

I let the cool sea breeze play with my hair. My head suddenly feels lighter than ever. Memories of giddy-headed sea-side escapades with Sheku, back in the days, come like tides. I am off, barefoot on the cool sands to the distant end of the beach, away from it all. The spray from the high waves wets the front of my white shirt and adds to the salty aftertaste of those shots, on my lips. I shut my eyes and opened my arms to the full moon in the open sky. A momentary respite.

“Expecting a miracle, are you Tara?” I’m becoming quite a soliloquist.

I suddenly catch a faint scent of Mimosa in the air and open my eyes to see a bunch of pretty lavender flowers being offered to me. 

“These look so other-worldly” I am cooing like a teenager and readily accepting them, while being increasingly aware of romance tingling my senses.

Held firmly by the elbow, I’m swirled around to come face- to- face with him.

“Oh! It’s you!” I exclaim, partly shocked, secretly thrilled.

“Freedom comes on quaint wings,

And yet fly, thou shalt not!”

 The baritone voice is waxing lyrical.

I reached up to wipe off the Jeep’s grease from his left cheek, as I peek over his shoulders to check if Jennifer would notice her boyfriend’s prolonged absence.

“I’m feeling adventurous!” I reply.

 

  

Continue reading..
 Chapter 3 : The Ignominy of Defeat by Rahul Prabhakar...

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