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Cabir

I reshuffled the clothes in the washer, balancing the load for an optimum performance first thing in the morning. I stocked it to the brim with my unwashed garments that I had grabbed off the rolling chair in my room back home. I mean, really, who doesn't? I pushed the 'Start' button that didn't move the rotor. Maybe there were too many clothes!

Pamela knocked once on the door but didn't bother waiting for my reply before making her way in. It wasn't until I pushed four different buttons and finally resorted to giving the reception a ring that I spotted her. To be honest, I did jump back at first. The least she could've done was asked before invading our space, but I figured she was that kind of a girl anyway, always trying to have things the way she liked! So perfect for Manik, honestly!

She made herself comfortable on the single bed in my room, which was actually Louis', who was in the shower. Blindly, in need of some help from women who knew what they were doing in their lives, hopefully, I sought her advice. "Hey, do you know how to get this washer to run?"

But she, running her fingers on the satin sheets, gave me a cursory look, to which I had to raise my eyebrows. What? "I was wondering, what exactly is the issue between Manik and you?"

Surprising how all of a sudden, she came up with that question! It wouldn't be totally naïve of me to pick on the hint that she was trying on Manik. Was she aware of Diyah, who still existed in Manik's life? I gently dodged the topic with, "Ah, it's a long story, hun!" and pulled my phone out of the pocket, to find a WhatsApp message.

*Cabir... is Manik with you?*

Though it was an unknown number, it didn't take me long to recognise who it belonged to. I was in two minds, whether to be honest with her or to let her be and leave it to Manik to decide what he wanted to do with her. I knew for a fact that whatever happened between the two of them didn't end well enough; she definitely needed him, she deserved that.

"Cabir... hey!" Not in a million years would I forget that voice. My blood shivered in my veins. I quickly turned around, sucking in a sharp breath. He was grinning wide. "Surprised to see me?"

It was hard to tell if I was dreaming or not. All my life, I had been waiting for that one chance to confront him, demand some answers, but all of a sudden, I had nothing to say. Somewhere, along those years, he became an unsolicited part of my life though he once meant the whole world to me.

Ironically, we were in the same corridor we used to sneak peeks of each other from, the floor where his office room was and where my classroom used to be. Back then, we had more to share than a longing stare.

I cleared my throat distinctly, earning a reminiscing whiff from him. "Actually, yes. If my memory is still intact, I last remember you blocking me everywhere." My smile was faker than the Kardashians'.

He discreetly chuckled, a laugh I once yearned to hear. "You haven't changed one bit, Cabir."

"Neither, Raghav," I said with a soft smile embracing my warm, chapped lips. His name still rung some old memories. His hand raised to rub his nose when I happened to notice the shiny band on his left ring finger. Something inside my chest hit rock bottom. "Who's the lucky one? Or should I say, woman?" My gibe didn't earn an expected reaction from him.

With an interminable smile, he closed in against me, patting my back in complacency. "Let's catch up. Come." I bit my lower lip, holding the painful lump within my throat while accompanying without a choice.

Being on the receiving end of such brutal emotional torture, my heart slightly wavered in her favour. As a friend, I should've been taking Manik's side and let him do the honours by passing the information along, but I knew he wouldn't give a shit. Nevertheless, she meant nothing to me to be worrying over her.

I didn't realise Pamela had struck me with a "Huh? Tell me?"

I needed to make a quick run! Man, this girl is nosey as hell! My eyes fixated on my phone. "Fuck, my charger's in Alex's bag!" It was her turn to raise her brows at me. I shrugged before making an exit. Outside his door, I pondered before typing. 

*Yes, and we're in Mumbai.*

"Manik, it's..." He stumbled upon something firm before it landed flat on his desk. I tried to peer through, but he was a ninja at it. Suspicious, hmm... "What's that?"

He spun around in his chair, grinning widely–that was so unlike him. "Hubby, I don't have to tell you everything!"

"I need a break from your bullshit, please." My voice was exasperated, as sapped as I was while consistently finding ways to outwit him. Somewhere, he felt the need to reconnect too, the way things used to be. A lot had changed since high-school; neither of us was fans of that. 

He pulled his leg rest out beside him for me, eying me to have a seat which I gave in to. "So... What's up? Tell me."

Manik had two sides: the one everyone knew him as–the aggressive, pushy and stubborn man and the complacent, unconditionally supporting yet lonely child–that only those who put up with his darkness would come across. It always bothered me how insensitive he had become with time. The hope that in some buried crevice of his soul, the little angel in him still thrived always put me on the spot, feeling vulnerable.

I paused for a moment before heaving a deep sigh. "It's Diyah, please speak to her, Manik." I made sure I said the last part of the sentence while looking him in the eye. "You don't know what it's like to never know why things ended in the first place," I whispered, my eyes turning red with fear, with rage, and with the subtle pang of pain that never managed to cease.

He studied my expressions in a somewhat tense manner. It was rare to see us revealing our real emotions to each other, in fact, once in a blue moon, such things happened. We were always at each other's necks that this implicit bond we shared appeared unnatural. He didn't know how to put his voice through.

"Marriage... yaar," he slapped his thighs, slightly disappointed at something. "...it's... you know how it is." Maybe I did, perhaps I didn't... that was one part of my memory I could never get back. Maybe that's why it hurt more–that nobody ever thought I deserved answers.

"Tell her that." His lost eyes that were pleading to be heard met mine. "Please."

"Okay." He mumbled hastily while looking away. His leg trembled up and down in a fidgety motion.

"I met Raghav today." His head flicked up, a little surprised and a little concerned. As my thoughts drifted back to the incidents from that afternoon, I sniggered to myself. "He's... doing great; he has a wife, a little boy..."

"But you're not..." His pointer was directed at me. "...doing okay." He sniffed while rubbing the bottom of his nose with his pointer finger. He wasn't looking straight at me, but he knew me better than I thought he did. The silence between us was tense, like pulled strings that could be cut with scissors. He muttered, "I will talk to her, I promise," while abruptly standing up. He clearly didn't know what else to do, to make our circumstances more favourable. Manik Malhotra's promises: could I trust them? 

I took another deep breath before rising as well. "Listen, I'm making a call, haan, to the reception." I sat on his bed that was near the phone and dialled a number quickly as I noticed Manik from the corner of my eye clutching his phone. He was probably wondering what to say to her. He was actually keeping his word, I smiled. 

"Yeah hi, I'm calling from 703. The washer is not working." "A water plug at the back? Oh." "Left, or right?" I heard him snicker, which cast him another evil eye. "Okay, I'll see. Thanks." Manik was pressing a growing smile, until he no longer could hold it within, and burst into hysterics on the bed.

"What is so funny, Mr.?"

"Cabir Dhawan..." he pointed at me, still unable to open his eyes at his outburst. "...the greatest lyricist I've ever known... doesn't know how to turn on a water tap!" He slapped his thighs while cracking up loudly. I was nothing less than annoyed.

I raised my leg to kick him on the knee, but that didn't stop him. "Laugh louder, scumbag, next I'll throw you in the washer!" Manik just lost it, as he'd fallen onto the bed by then, covering his face with both hands chuckling to himself, while inhaling deeply in between. The laughter subdued, and when I finally looked at his braced self, he was withdrawing his hands but lost somewhere else. His eyes drifted to the ceiling, that appeared so much higher when we were laying so low. 

"Tell me something..." He raised his arm behind him, adjusting before cupping his head with it. I waited. "Is it cheesy to bump into the same person so many different times, or is it just coincidence?" Did he really want me to share my thoughts? Wow! How could I not throw I my two cents?

"Coincidence is just an excuse people make, misunderstanding the universe's ways to show what's right for them." He patiently listened to me, which was surprising as well. Manik Malhotra was a bundle of surprises only, but what shocked me more was that he was letting himself absorb the material as well. Not once otherwise would he have respected my opinions otherwise.

I heard loud thuds in hindsight, unaware of when I'd drifted off from reality too. "Wow! Loud claps, haan!" He initiated the action very dramatically, making impressive faces with sarcasm coated all over. Obviously, I was a little quick to judge.

I took the opportunity to peer into the action he was caught on when I burst into his room. I pressed my flat palm into the mattress, while slightly reclining on my arm. "By the way... what was that you were reading? A book?"

He straightened up, coughing loudly, which was my cue that the old Manik Malhotra was back. "Tick-tock, the break's over. Out. Now." His finger flicked in a dismissive motion, directing me to the door. I stood up, but not before rolling my eyes evidently enough for him to see.

"Fuck off."

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I grabbed a few tissues, humming to myself to mask the sucking noises in the background. It wasn't entirely my fault that I was always stuck in uncomfortable situations, but that crazy dude acted otherwise so much attitude? Forget it, Amma used to say such people were just not worth pondering upon. I came here to not miss out on the fun, but not once did I encounter fun this night.

For a girl like me, raised in a small town where everyone knew everyone else, all the kids went to the same school, our friends' parents were like our own, we included everyone in our 'unofficial' friend group–all this exclusivity, and hyped fun was new and quite quickly I seemed to dislike it. Never in my life could I imagine having access to alcohol, forget free and unlimited amounts!

I should go back to Navya and Aryamann.

They were dancing right where I last saw them, giggling to each other while grooving unrhythmically to the beats. I think Aryamann and Navya are a thing too, which makes me the awkward, unwanted third-wheel. I should've just stayed home and worked on my assignment instead, to be honest. This whole evening is such an unnecessary commotion, so much for FOMO.

"Nandini, where were you? Come."

"I'm going to leave, actually. I feel a little sick." I wasn't lying, but Navya looked so guilty. After all, she was the one who coaxed me into being there, promising me a good time that I was clearly not having. She grasped my hand in hers.

"Hey, we're sorry, we didn't realise you're new here, please don't go? I'll really feel bad." She palmed the centre of her chest while frowning.

"No, really, my clothes are wet as well."

Navya's eyes darted somewhere behind me, and then she nudged Aryamann. "Arya dude, Harshad." As she got diverted, I turned around to associate the name with a face. It had become a habit for me, and the best way for me to remember people.

He nudged her. "You should go!" Navya waited for a second before she fled behind the guy, leaving Aryamann and me alone. Sensing my cluelessness, he mentioned, "She has this huge crush on that guy, he's an Arts senior."

"Oh, nice." I eyed the floor uncomfortably. He and I didn't speak often, it was either him and Navya or Navya and me who engaged in conversations with each other. I got the vibe that he possibly didn't like me being part of their 'group'. "So this crush thing happens here a lot, huh?"

His eyebrows flicked up. "Doesn't it everywhere?"

"Not in my old school..." Mainly because all our families were tight, and if anyone got to know about a relationship, the news would spread like fire, and the consequences were deadly. Still, there were a couple of people who took the risk, but when things ended really badly, it wrecked up a lot of bonds.

He gawked at me like I was an alien from another planet. "Oh." Oops... here comes awkwardness, again.

"I'll... be back." I mumbled to myself, shifting on my feet until I was far far away from him; and that 'far away' was actually the estate's backyard, I reckon. It was the only part in the 'party hall' plan that didn't have a single ray of light, except moonlight that remained a saviour for people like me.

There was a staircase made of cobblestone a couple of metres away from me, leading down to a white-stone fountain situated in the middle of a lush green yard of grass and little jasmine shrubs. The scent of jasmine reminded me of home when Appa would surprise her with some wreaths after their long days at work. Ammamma still ensures their room smells like jasmine, it brings about serenity in the house.

A person was sitting on the stairs with his back slouched on the first step. I took a stride closer, only to notice a sudden spark of fire–which made me jump back–in the darkness of the rest of the night. It narrowed in on his chiselled contours, for a millisecond, before he covered the flame with his palms. He looked so perfectly crafted by the angels above–it was a sin for me to be in awe with him.

"You smoke?" His leather jacket rustled over his stained shirt, hinting to me that he was trying to decipher who I was and what I had to do with him. As soon as he registered that, his eyes would've peered at his brain if he rolled them anymore. He withdrew the paper tube with two fingers, and scrutinised at my figure: up, down, and dragged his eyes up again.

"Oh, so now we're on talking terms, huh? And who exactly gets to choose? YOU?" He was then on his feet, head to head with me–or should I say chest to face with me. He blew a cunning whiff of that toxic smoke in the air I breathed. I tightened my jaws and diffused the cloud promptly before inhaling again. The smirk on him faded.

To my surprise, he spent a solid minute, just looking at me. It was hard for me to say where he was looking at, but when the whites of his eyes occasionally glistened with the trespassing of Mr Moon, he was tearing into my soul with that gaze. I didn't dare flinch; in fact, I admired the attention I never otherwise received. His hand then waved in the air, "Go back to your boyfriend," while that penetrating stare broke down.

I felt almost violated. No boy ever looked at me that way, forget disregarding me with such passion. "Who boyfriend?" Then it occurred to me, that he might be referring to Abhi... or maybe Aryamann. "He isn't my boyfriend. Besides, what's your problem?" I rolled my eyes and turned away, not even expecting a reply until I was pulled suddenly with an intensity.

My face was then against his chest, and I tipped my head over to look at his still figure that was a whole foot taller than me. His eyes shone bright, but behind them, I could see some anguish. That intimacy, of being able to read into him, sent a chill breeze down my spine. I wanted to withdraw, but I couldn't. Something was holding me back, holding me to him, not a physical force but an emotion, a feeling more than anything else.

"You... and your attitude towards me." He actually paid enough attention to my words to retort. His forehead swept mine, and I felt a sense of relief, though it was nothing of that like. Hints of the cigar were still clinging to him, but I wasn't as repelled anymore. A part of me was smitten, another wanted to step away: the feeling was new and confusing. I felt like I was taken into another world. I was sure we lasted that way for longer than I could count.

"Expectations always shatter us, don't they?" He uttered softly, and that moment of conflict flew away. I flapped my eyes open when he decided to part ways. "Leave, leave now." It was a command–stern like one, but it didn't come off any louder than a murmur.

"And who is to decide that? YOU?" It took every bit in me to not lose my temper in front of him. I effortlessly surrendered to my sentiments, in general. I didn't expect him to like me, but I did expect something, for he was my first glimpse at humanising attraction. Like he said, expectations fail our illusions. I didn't even know his name, how could he possess the power to inflict pain on me? Yet he could also point exactly what I was feeling: a shatter–without me mentioning it to him.

That tension, the need to seek answers, and the mystery behind the unspoken bond we shared–whether it was mutual dislike or something more–hooked me onto him, ever since.

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This is my favourite chapter so far.