back one last time. When he didn’t and was out of her sight, she returned to her car. As she sat in the driver’s seat she felt this urge to rush through the terminal gates and hug Hari and not let him go.
Just, just bury my head in your chest and cry a little.
She drove quietly to her apartment feeling lonely. Very lonely indeed! She suddenly realized that this strange man, the man whom she loved to hate, and hated that she loved so much, was the only one she had in her life. Who else was there? She had stupidly fought with her mother. And Simi? Simi was a
bachchi
; she didn’t even figure into the equation.
When she got home Tia didn’t even turn on any lights. She went to her closet and got out a jewelry box. When she opened it, tears started rolling down her eyes and the memories came flooding into her mind. Inside the box was a simple wedding ring. Hari had given her the ring two years back. She picked it up and brought it close to her eyes. It had a very, very small — extremely tiny — diamond on it. Tia remembered, like the flashback in a movie, how Hari had proposed to her and why.
Two years ago
Hari and Tia, who had been going steady for four years, were at the famous Formosa Cafe on Santa Monica Boulevard. Black and white headshots of Hollywood celebrities adorned the walls. The place was packed with rockers, struggling musicians and wannabe actors. It was a small but loud bar, and tonight it was mostly packed with tattooed bikers. Tia hated hangouts like these.
‘Hari, why can’t we go to a quiet, fine dining restaurant?’
Hari was rocking his head to the music. He leaned forward and cupped his ear as if to say ‘I can’t hear you!’
Tia shouted, ‘It’s too crowded and too loud here.’
Hari smiled. ‘Yeah, this is the shit, babes.’
‘Yeah, shit it is,’ Tia said angrily. ‘No two ways about that!’
Just then a chick in a biker jacket bumped into Tia’s arm.
The biker chick threw Tia a peace sign. Tia managed a smile.
‘I have to use the restroom. Please
mere saath chal, na
?’ She wanted Hari to accompany her to the toilets.
Hari didn’t want to go.
‘Really? You want me to accompany you to the loo?’ Hari was drunk.
The toilets were at the end of a small passageway that was even darker and grungier than the seating area. Hari brought her to the door of the Ladies. He stopped and tried to be funny.
‘As much as I want to see strange women pee, you know I can’t come inside with you.’
Tia looked at him as if to say ‘Ha, ha, very funny!’ and went into the toilets.
Hari looked around, leaned on the wall and took out a small gold ring from his jeans pocket. It was an engagement ring. He had bought it a week ago, but even after having multiple opportunities to propose to Tia, he kept chickening out. Tonight he was drunk and horny enough to go ahead with it. It was Wednesday and he wanted to drink enough to be able sit through another Bollywood film before they made love. He was hoping that with a ring on her finger Tia would agree to skip the movie altogether.
The ring had a bit of lint on it. He blew it off, wiped the ring on his jeans, and held it behind his back. When Tia returned he held her shoulders and looked into her eyes. She had no idea what was coming. He smiled at her. But with Hari propped against the wall Tia was right in the middle of the passageway. The traffic of people was heavy and people kept bumping into her.
‘Tia Galhotra,
shaadee kharoghi mere shaath
?’ Hari earnestly proposed in his American accent. But it came across as funny rather than the genuine impression he had hoped for by asking her to marry him in Hindi.
Before she could react someone bumped into Tia again and her face landed in Hari’s chest. She was so enamored by the proposal that she quickly recoiled; she didn’t want to miss out on any of this, in spite of Hari’s dubious choice of venue.
But Tia being Tia, she had to react in a predictable way.
‘
Really
? This
Just, just bury my head in your chest and cry a little.
She drove quietly to her apartment feeling lonely. Very lonely indeed! She suddenly realized that this strange man, the man whom she loved to hate, and hated that she loved so much, was the only one she had in her life. Who else was there? She had stupidly fought with her mother. And Simi? Simi was a
bachchi
; she didn’t even figure into the equation.
When she got home Tia didn’t even turn on any lights. She went to her closet and got out a jewelry box. When she opened it, tears started rolling down her eyes and the memories came flooding into her mind. Inside the box was a simple wedding ring. Hari had given her the ring two years back. She picked it up and brought it close to her eyes. It had a very, very small — extremely tiny — diamond on it. Tia remembered, like the flashback in a movie, how Hari had proposed to her and why.
Two years ago
Hari and Tia, who had been going steady for four years, were at the famous Formosa Cafe on Santa Monica Boulevard. Black and white headshots of Hollywood celebrities adorned the walls. The place was packed with rockers, struggling musicians and wannabe actors. It was a small but loud bar, and tonight it was mostly packed with tattooed bikers. Tia hated hangouts like these.
‘Hari, why can’t we go to a quiet, fine dining restaurant?’
Hari was rocking his head to the music. He leaned forward and cupped his ear as if to say ‘I can’t hear you!’
Tia shouted, ‘It’s too crowded and too loud here.’
Hari smiled. ‘Yeah, this is the shit, babes.’
‘Yeah, shit it is,’ Tia said angrily. ‘No two ways about that!’
Just then a chick in a biker jacket bumped into Tia’s arm.
The biker chick threw Tia a peace sign. Tia managed a smile.
‘I have to use the restroom. Please
mere saath chal, na
?’ She wanted Hari to accompany her to the toilets.
Hari didn’t want to go.
‘Really? You want me to accompany you to the loo?’ Hari was drunk.
The toilets were at the end of a small passageway that was even darker and grungier than the seating area. Hari brought her to the door of the Ladies. He stopped and tried to be funny.
‘As much as I want to see strange women pee, you know I can’t come inside with you.’
Tia looked at him as if to say ‘Ha, ha, very funny!’ and went into the toilets.
Hari looked around, leaned on the wall and took out a small gold ring from his jeans pocket. It was an engagement ring. He had bought it a week ago, but even after having multiple opportunities to propose to Tia, he kept chickening out. Tonight he was drunk and horny enough to go ahead with it. It was Wednesday and he wanted to drink enough to be able sit through another Bollywood film before they made love. He was hoping that with a ring on her finger Tia would agree to skip the movie altogether.
The ring had a bit of lint on it. He blew it off, wiped the ring on his jeans, and held it behind his back. When Tia returned he held her shoulders and looked into her eyes. She had no idea what was coming. He smiled at her. But with Hari propped against the wall Tia was right in the middle of the passageway. The traffic of people was heavy and people kept bumping into her.
‘Tia Galhotra,
shaadee kharoghi mere shaath
?’ Hari earnestly proposed in his American accent. But it came across as funny rather than the genuine impression he had hoped for by asking her to marry him in Hindi.
Before she could react someone bumped into Tia again and her face landed in Hari’s chest. She was so enamored by the proposal that she quickly recoiled; she didn’t want to miss out on any of this, in spite of Hari’s dubious choice of venue.
But Tia being Tia, she had to react in a predictable way.
‘
Really
? This
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