Strangely, she kept mum all the way, just signaling to show me the way. I supposed she was shy from our little encounter in the pub. Half an hour later, I reached an empty street with some old buildings on either side that looked like they would tumble down the moment a strong force of wind would graze their bricks. Aarusha asked me to halt the bike in a corner. She stepped down slowly and turned her smiling face towards me.
“Thanks,” she said and gave me a small burning peck on the cheek.
“Ummm… my pleasure. Aaru, c… can I call you sometime?” I asked nervously, hoping she would give me her cell number.
But she just laughed and ran to the opposite end of the road, into one of the old chawl-like colonies. I waited for her to appear again so that I could make out the building she would enter and squinted hard in the darkness but I did not see her again. Cursing the broken streetlights in the vicinity, I hopped onto the bike. Not once did I feel inebriated by the five liquor shots but as I neared my home, I was starting to feel a different kind of intoxication.
Five minutes after entering home, I found myself scrambling to offer tahajjud prayers and for the first time, I was not praying after being coerced or just to showcase that I was. As my forehead touched the ground, my body relaxed and I felt a pleasant comfort ease through my heart. The moment I finished turning my head to my left, I cupped my palms together for the first time in my life, the way I had seen my father do.
“Oh Allah, make her mine,” I said and soon plonked down on the bed to call it the best night of my life.
The moment I awoke, her smiling face resurfaced, her delicate laughter rang a melodious tune in my ears. I wondered then for the use of a morning alarm, her thoughts would suffice for me; I was quite sure about that.
I knew this was foolish as I knew the girl just from a couple of hours of spending time with her but I could not stop myself from thinking about the fact that she was from my caste and that could make matters easier at home. Continuing the same train of thoughts, I was waiting for Ammi to call me for breakfast, when the phone rang.
“Rascal, where were you last night?” I asked standing up from the bed and walking to the window.
“Don't you think you're the wrong guy asking that, buddy?” Jigar said in a bitter note.
“Huh? Dude, I waited for you for half an hour near the parking area of the club. I called up a zillion times but you didn't even bother to answer once. You might have been slouched out in your room yet you have the guts to tell me that I am the wrong guy to ask that?” I shouted.
“Hold on a sec, buddy. It was not you who was waiting for me in the parking lot for half an hour but the other way round. It wasn't you who called me a zillion times but I, who frantically kept trying your number, forty-one times to be precise and you blissfully kept ignoring my calls. It wasn't me who was slouched out but…” Jigar sounded angry and I knew he wasn't the kind who lost their temper easily. I was sure he was not kidding this time.
“Was there a second parking there?” I enquired, going soft.
“Running Water has just one small parking area in front. There's nothing else outside,” Jigar replied.
“Right. I was there on the pavement,” I said with confidence.
“Were you invisible? I was waiting for you since 11 at night and after half an hour or so, I gave up and went in as it started to rain,” Jigar said.
“B… but Jigar, I was there. If you don't trust me, then come home and check the stag stamp on my palm…” I said, shifting the phone to my other hand. The next instant, I backtracked towards my bed, not trusting myself to stand.
“Salim? Hello? Salim, you there? What happened? The Running Water stamp has a flowing stream with STAG PASS written between the two waves,” Jigar described the same sign that was on my palm till last night.
“There's no stamp,” I whispered.
“Of course, they have a stamp of two waves…”
“Dude, there is not a patch of ink on my hand!”
“I knew it. You might have drunk gallons of beer and then headed to some stray bar taking it for one of the most rocking places here,” Jigar reasoned.
“I wasn't drunk. At least… at least until I entered the pub,” I was trying to convince myself more than my friend.
“Hang on,” I tried again. “You're talking about the same pub with dark blue walls on the outside, colourful Greek letters written all over in black and it has a dome shaped entry door. The bouncers at the entrance wear black leather jackets while standing on a red carpet. On the opposite side, there is a paan-beedi shop and the parking…”
“Yes, yes… paan-beedi shop? Fuck you! It is a high profile area, no paan-beedi shops there. On the opposite side, there are three huge commercial towers,” Jigar said.