You, Me and Elvis Presley - Part I

   

Best pic of lovers in rain, though this story is based in Cal

This sunday when i woke, i started scribbling something. I read lot of fiction books and here comes my fictional story.

Its raining cats and dogs and I am wearing my red heels with my black dress, holding my umbrella. I can see a guy just standing two feet away staring at me, he is not any usual american, you get to know, he has dark hair, probably he is an asian and then giving a stare back thinking that well all Indian men are like this staring at women is a habit. And when I give a second stare I realise its a familiar face. Here in rain, in America, in Cal an Indian. You finally smile, you have recognized me and you start walking towards me. Whenever any such situation comes in my life, I turn filmi and I recall the hindi filmi dialogue “ well this had to happen , after all we are meeting”. You were there infornt of me, years had passed that smile was same You walked in the same style with that smile and i mange to smile back. All Indians help other Indians in an unknown country. So i asked how are you, what are you doing here? I didnt wanted to say its a pleasant surprise. Because it was no more a plesant surprise seeing you when i least expect. And I am no more that single girl who could say that. And then we have met again and again in different countries in similar situations. You raised your hands in excitement to hug me, I hesitate but then I hug you back a small one. Last time I has hugged you when you outside Russell Square Tube Station, you were so surprised, you took a step back.  And in Delhi I was so taken a back that I almost didnt react when you hugged me at the Thai restaurant.
But its a common situation when you see a known face in an unknown country.The rain was getting heavy and you were still smiling, I invite you for a coffee because we Indians believe in hospiatality. You are still smiling and you dont have words, by mistake my red heels step on your blue shoes and instead of saying something you start singing Elvis: “Don't step on my blue suede shoes”. Very funny, you know when to add humour . I can see you are still checking me out, My heels , my bag, my dress , my umbrella. But this is still better because in India I have caught you staring at wrong places. Remembering this I smile and this brings back all the memories of you, over the years we have shared, in different countries.

We walk to the coffee shop down the road, i try sharing my umbrella with you and you are still smiling rubbing your nose with the sleeves of your shirt, you did the same thing in London when it was freezing cold and you had a running nose, you didnt had a tissue and you wiped your nose with your overcoat. I am smiling thinking why again we meet, or yet again we meet, this story has lot of twists and turns but then suddenly I look at the sparkling diamond on my finger. And the smile turns down, whats happening i think to myself but i have certain ethics, i would have never turned down any Indian in this foreign land and after all i know you. It brings back the memories of the night in Delhi and the promise I made to myself to not meet you again in my life. But this story sure has something because this is the zillionth time I am meeting you, after regretting 9 out of 10 times. Anyway now that I have invited you for coffee I can ask you whats happening in your life and what brings you to Cal.

I keep my umbrella at the enterance of the coffee shop, walking in my red heels on the slippery floor and suddenly I slip, Thank God you were walking behind me and you caught my hand. This time we are not intentionally holding hands, the our story is making us hold hands. In Delhi we got drunk just to act drunkards to hold hands . You pull a chair for me and ask me to sit, still holding my hand, you have held it so tight that the diamond on my finger is hurting, reminding me some thing. I sit and try releasing my hand. I think we have grown over the years because now the feeling of you holding my hand is not the same. You come and sit across the table and to end the formal air between us I cant stop myself and ask you... Itni Tameez kahan se aagaye (Where did you get these manners from). You smile and reply I was always like this , you never took me seriously. I look away pretending to call the girl behind the counter. And i think to myself if you were always like this then why did i not ever see the good side of you. Forget it I smile realizing to myself though I knew you were like this i had accepted it and it was fine with me. The coffe shop's CD player is playing Elvis again: Don't Be Cruel. I smile Elvis , you and me, we have a strong connection.

You place the order for two Capcuinno, and one blue berry muffin. I look upto you and think to myself are you thinking of sharing the muffin like before. I sweetly smile and ask for a chocolate one. You remembered even after years that we ate blueberry muffin. Do you remember the first time we met in that flight from Mumbai to Delhi, Oh God that same smile of yours and I offered you my half eaten muffin and you accepted. We were strangers then. But even that time there was something between us. But again you did exactly what I expected smile and shrugged your shoulder , I knew you wanted to say the usual lines, do whatever you feel like or your wish. SO i finally ask you “ What brings you to Cal” and ofcorse I am not expecting the answer 'you' but for the first time when you gave that 'our' look in my eyes as if saying 'you', you smiled and said holiday.For the first time I didnt have any questions for you, unlike in London I showered you so many questions within 10 minutes after we met, that you were so taken a back. That time I went a little overboard went on to ask everything which I shouldn't have but that time we were kids, mean young and and I was a girl some what in Love with you wanting to know about whats going on in your life and is there a girl in your life. Our coffee arrived and we had our muffins seperately, gone those timings when we use to share taxis,muffins, beer and room.

When last time I met you in Delhi I was quiet, i had grown over the pain and accepted the way you are. This time you were different, you were quiet, you just kept staring me I dont know what you wanted to say and when I raised my eyebrows making an expression , you looked under the table. I was sitting with my legs wide open, i quickly bought my legs together, its you and I dont have to be formal, but thankfully you were looking at my heels and then you asked me “heels!”, how do you walk? I know what you meant, I never wore heels in Delhi except when I went out partying with you, I wanted to look taller and then also a reason for me to fall here and there or hold your hands. I replied saying This is Cal....

I finally asked you what are you doing here and you without hesitiation replied 'a girl' , now this came as a shock to me, i could feel my cheeks and ears turning red in jealousy and I knew even my face showed it. Even after years when I have nothing why am i feeling this jealeousy and at the same moment I had a sip from my coffee and when I bought the cup to my lips i could see my fingers on the cup and on that one finger that diamond ring. This ring bought me back and I thought how does it matter to me.