Chapter 5 : We meet again!

"Yes Ms. Rahane, I'll be able to deliver it to you by 6 PM, right after the art class," I assure the over excited soon-to-be engaged woman, and hang up the phone with a smile on my face.

I stare at the simple peach colored Lehenga on the mannequin. I actually really like how that turned out. Divya Rahane is a fun and bubbly person, and I think this dress best defines her. It is not over the top, though it's not the conventional type people expect, it's simple at the same time vibrant and flirty, just like her. I want her to shine in her true form when she gets engaged to the man, she'll be spending the rest of her life with.

I think she'll love the Lehenga too, and the jewelry set I've picked out to go with it, is simply stunning.

I let out a dreamy sigh, I just love making these dresses, each one made uniquely for the wearer. Running a boutique might earn a lot of money, but I'd definitely not be able to put my heart and the essence of the wearer as much into my works. I love the work I'm doing, just the way I've been doing it. I just wish everyone, most importantly, my parents can see that.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts and start packing the dress neatly into the plastic bag. Once the whole package to be taken to Ms. Rahane's is done and set aside, I start prepping for today's art class.

Half an hour later, just as I'm about to gather all the things, and start for Vrindavan Vilas, one of the finest works of Vilas Groups, the magnificent twenty six blocks of apartment community, where my parents as well as my sister live, and also where I teach my art class, my office phone rings. Technically I don't have an office, in this case, it means my work phone, the phone with the number on my visiting card.

I pick it up on the fourth ring, "Hello! Dia Dutta here, how can I help you?" I ask. "Hello Dia! This is Rohan from 'The Magnum Life' magazine," the person on the other side replies.

Immediately a smile forms on my face, "Oh hi Rohan, how have you been? It's been a few weeks," I greet the old acquaintance. "I'm good Dia, thanks for asking, it's been a while, I agree. So, as you may have already guessed, I'm calling to ask if you have any new pieces we could publish on our september second edition. Our health column is empty, as our writer just left our company to join a 'better' one apparently," Rohan, who, as usual, couldn't help but gossip, says.

"I was working on one about gardening in city, and self produced food. It isn't exactly health column piece, but would that do?" I ask him, wanting to share with the world my recently discovered passion for gardening.

"I guess.. that'll have to do. Why don't you send the piece at the earliest and I'll see what I can do, and if you have any other pieces or ideas feel free to let me know," the assistant magazine editor says, before hanging up. Guess, that's one more thing to do this week.

~~~×~~~

"Okay kids, go home, draw and paint your favorite thing, or toy, or place and bring it back to the next class, and the best drawing will get a prize," I say, as kids disperse one by one with their parents.

After every last one of the kids has been picked up, I pick my own stuff, which included Divya Rahane's lehenga and head towards D-Block, passing through the pool area, waving at acquaintances, dodging children playing tag.

As the elevator doors opens, after one minute of me waiting patiently, I'm surprised to find Abhay Sharma inside the metal box. When he sees me, he stops short with one foot inside the elevator and the other outside, giving me a feeling of deja vu.

"We meet again!" Abhay says in an equally surprised voice. "I know right, first I see you in Y, then in V and now in D, are you omnipresent or something?" I ask getting into the elevator, as Abhay, to my surprise, also retreats inside.

I press the 12 button, and look at him expectantly. I'm not a fan of making the same mistakes twice. He gives me an amused smile, "no, I'm fine, my work here is done, I'm here to keep you company now," he says. Oh! "And, I'm not omnipresent either, I'm afraid. I was at the Y visiting a friend, at V visiting my brother's family and temporarily staying at, and as for D block, I came to check out a house I want to rent. We are merely meeting by good old coincidence" he explains.

"Oh, so you are moving to Mumbai? Where from?" I enquire, suddenly aware of how I didn't even know the guy's profession. Usually I'm good at meeting people and knowing about them.

"From Pune, actually. After getting my MD in neuroscience, I applied for a teaching and research position here at Mumbai, to be nearer to my brother's family , and luckily for me, I got the job. So, I'm house hunting now, but the houses in this community are way too big and pricy for a bachelor," he explains, relieving me of having to ask each question myself.

So, he's a smart professor, a family guy and isn't married. Okay then.

"If you are looking for a small and affordable home, try my apartment. I think I saw two to-let signs on the notice board yesterday. Here," I try to open my purse while balancing the huge plastic bag of the lehenga, but with no luck. Unfortunately I only have two hands and a lot more stuff than I could juggle. Seeing me struggle, Abhay gently takes the plastic bag from my hands, "thanks," I give him a smile.

After finding a piece of paper, which happened to be one of my cards, I write down my apartment address, "here, this is the address, it's close by, you can check out the houses there. The maintenance is good, people are friendly and it's very near to all the good places," I say, promoting my home.

"Sure, thank you, I'll swing by to check it out," he says with a smile of gratitude.

"No problem," I say and before an awkward silence could descend on us, the elevator doors open in floor twelve.

When I reach out my hand to retrieve my labor of love, he holds the bag away, "I've got this," he says and moves to get out of the elevator with me. Together we start walking towards flat 1209, with me leading the way.

"Not that I mind, but don't you have other important things to be doing doctor?" I ask, confused as to why he felt the need to keep me company, not that I didn't appreciate it.

"At the moment, I'm free, and after the dinner you served me and my niece the other day, helping you with a dress bag is the least I could do," he says with a smile.

Flat 1209, D-Block was buzzing with activity by the time we reached it. Papa jis and mama jis barking on the phone about orders gone wrong, bhai and bhayyas hanging flower garlands and lights, youthful girls huddled together, gossiping and giggling, the sweet aroma of a feast being prepared by mummy jis, mami jis and bhuas wafting through the air, while a typical dadi ji shouted complaints about not doing something properly.

Overall, it looked like a typical Indian home celebration. When one of the teenager noticed me and the man beside me carrying the dress bag, she let's out a gasp and soon every head is turned in our direction with excitement.

All the girls, six of them, come rushing towards me, "is that Divay didi's lehenga?" one of them asks. When I nod my approval, all hell breaks loose.

The girls let out a shriek, grab the dress from Abhay's hand and the next thing I know, I'm being dragged inside the house, and proded and fired questions at right and left. I manage to send an apologetic smile over my shoulder at Abhay, just before being thrown into the buzz of the festive activities.

~~~×~~~

Twenty minutes later, after having shown the soon-to-be fiance how to wear the dress, how to pair the jewellery and which make up would go well with it, and answering another million questions from a six year old to the eighty year old dadi, about dresses and makeup and shoes, and having been force fed mithais for making their gudiya a beautiful dress, I step out of 1209 with a mithai box in one hand and an envelope with my paycheck in the other, and let out a huge sigh. Wow! That was an energetic bunch.

When I look up, ready to head to the elevator, I am shocked beyond words to find Abhay leaning on a wall, typing on his phone.

"Abhay? What are you doing here?" I ask, still unable to imagine him waiting here for me for that long. He looks up from his phone, gives me a smile and puts his phone away, "waiting for you, of course, I didn't want to just leave, you know? It seemed rude," he explains bewildering me further and making me feel oddly guilty.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry, you could've left, I wouldn't have minded. Oh My! If I had known, I would've at least tried to get out sooner," I fret. "Hey, you don't have to apologize, I chose to wait, it's okay, shall we leave now?" he asks, giving me a reassuring smile.

I give back a half smile, still feeling uncomfortable for making him wait. We start towards the elevator, and once at the doors, we wait for the metal box to reach floor 12 from zero in an uncomfortable silence, at least it felt uncomfortable for me, Abhay seems completely at ease, his posture relaxed with his hands in his pockets.

"They liked the dress? Alu tells me you make dresses too. You are an art teacher, you are a chef, you are a designer, what else do you do?" he asks curiously.

"Well, I'm mainly a designer, that's what you'd find in my card. All the other things that I do, teaching art, cooking, baking, gardening, writing, are all the things that I enjoy doing as my hobbies, or when someone asks for it. I like trying different things, you know. Mastering an art gives me the best form of satisfaction, and I think every profession, every thing is a form of art, life is a form of art," I say, forgetting all about my previous discomfort. Talking about my passions and hobbies always makes me feel energized.

The elevator stops at floor 12 and opens with a ping, we silently enter the lift and this time, Abhay presses for the ground floor.

"Well, it's great that you love all those things, I for one, don't even have a proper hobby," he says, sounding regretful.

"Come on, you have just finished MD in neuroscience, I can understand you wouldn't have had much time to spend on hobbies, but you have a job now, and I'm sure we can find you a hobby in no time," I try to cheer him up, flashing him a bright smile.

He gives me a curious and amused smile, "we?" he asks. I frown in confusion for only a second before what I just said dawns on me. Oh! I just said 'we' would find him a hobby.

Well, it'd be good to help him, he seems like a nice guy. He's new to the city, I can help him out, show him around, help him meet people and make friends and all. Wouldn't that be a nice thing to do? Besides it's always good to make new friends.

"Well, since you are new to the city, I'll be your new friend. Would you like that?" I ask.

"Of course," he smiles back, and offers me his hand for a handshake, which I take, shaking on the new friendship.

We get off the elevator and start walking in a random direction along the walk track, a silent agreement between us that we'd be spending some time in each other's company. Well, I don't have anything planned out for today, and I never say no to good company. It's hard to find these days.

"So, why neuroscience? Why teaching and research? Why not a traditional doctor with a hospital and all?" I ask.

He is silent for a few seconds pondering over the question before answering, "well, if you are a traditional doctor, you help people, but if you are a good teacher, you help hundreds of those doctors, who help numerous lives. It's same for the research, if we researchers do the background work, the doctors get to do the front line work. I think a professor and researcher is like the foundation you know? Does that make sense? Anyway, I just think this will be more satisfying," he shrugs, downplaying what he just said.

"It makes perfect sense, what would the world be without great teachers right?" I assure him, with an encouraging smile.

It's silent for a few more seconds, the rustle of shrubs along the path, the chirps of birds, the sweet scent of floral plants carried by the wind keeping us company.

"As for neuroscience, I plan to carry my research on mental health. I just think that people don't take mental health seriously, especially in our country. I want to change that, I want people to understand the seriousness of mental illness, and take people facing mental health seriously and help them, understand them," he says, the mood turning serious. This is the first time I've seen Abhay serious.

I have a feeling that he is talking based on a personal experience. Whether his or some dear one's, I don't know and I don't want to pry. He seems truly serious and passionate about mental health though, and I have a feeling that he'd do great at his job. It's good to see people passionate about something.

That's when a brilliant idea strikes me. What he said is true though, people in our country do tend to neglect their mental health.

"Hey Abhay, how would you feel about helping me write an article on the 'importance of mental health'. You see I submit some pieces time to time to a lifestyle magazine," I say feeling oddly excited about working with him.

"Sure, that'd be great. I have a few things to say," he readily accepts, the excitement in his tone matching mine.

"You free, let's say, on thursday evening after the art class?" I ask.

"Yup, I'm free on thursday evening. I'll meet you after the class in the activities building?" he enquires.

"Perfect," I reply. It's going to be a great article!