2014-07-14

An Orkut Love Story: Chapter 14

Day 14: This post for the novella 'An Orkut Love Story' is written as part of the Ultimate Blog Challenge for July 2014

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Chapter 14:

Swagata is coming to Mumbai! WoW! I tell her, it should make front news on Times of India and the glossies. Arnab would be saying, “When! India Wants to Know!
Madam slams me, telling that I have become a maven of sorts making lame jokes that doesn’t make her laugh. “Your jokes compete with each other in a rat race of sorts so that which one takes the pie for the most horrible tag.”
I dunno whether her home coming should make me happy or sad, the heart is not beating at pulsating rate. “Any time. Take a guess, if you wanna,” she laughs on the phone. I am befuddled and it is sending me into a sort of hibernation after losing battle striving to convince her to announce the big date. I am done with coaxing her and going into a state of hyper activity cum anxiety. Finally, I accept defeat and abandon, after trying all form of tricks in the book-cutting her phone and telling that I am not gonna speak to her ever again.
“Hello! It’s girls who try those tricks. You will not be able to hoodwink me into letting the cat out of the bag. What do you understand when I say it’s a surprise.”
WoW! What a way to surprise someone, I mean not just any Tom, Dick or Harry, but the man she spends her nights with..doesn’t matter if it’s on sms, phone or Orkut. I believe I am her boyfriend. Weird surprise. I am so done with the excitement and let her come when she feels like. “After all, you are not the Queen of England?, I tell her.
“And, you are Prince Harry.”
“Ok, if you don’t wanna. Kaun rok raha hai (Who is stopping you?). As it is Mumbai doesn’t belong to my Dad or forefathers.
“O-K-A-Y!!! You are pissed off…listen! I will come anytime during this month. Surpriseeeee,” She blushes as if reciting some poem.
“Ok! That I got it… the surprise thingy.”


I am getting addicted to the FIFA Game on computer and been deprived of sleep for the past three weeks,  furiously hitting on the key board to score goals. The addiction has been a boon: I am in a state of decoupling with Swagata and enjoying my personal space, playing games. I have shunned lovey-dovey sms-es, flirting on phone and posting scraps on each other’s Orkut wall.
The phone is buzzing and 10 missed calls are flashed from an unknown Mumbai number. I pick it up and an unknown female voice coyly says, “Hi.” I gently reply, “May I know whose that?”
“What a loser you are? Swagata!!! I’m in the city.”


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