Small Talk
I sat on the corner where the road disappeared into dust, on the milestone that declared my destination to be still a good 150 kms away. My old and faithful car spat fumes at the bend. It was such a hot afternoon. I could see waves of heat rising from the road behind me. Up ahead was only dirt. My canteen was empty and my lips parched. Hating my decision to come, all I could do was pray that some idiont would drive to this god forsaken road.
But god ain’t my friend and so I sat. Waiting. I dont know how long it was. I am sure my watch didn’t work. It couldn’t have been twenty mintues since my car broke down. It just couldn’t have been. It seemed like several hours before I heard the rant of a car somewhere. Almost as if my feet had grown wings, I ran towards the road, flailing my arms like a lunatic just to flag the car down. I didn’t have to try very hard.
Apparently the driver had seen my red beauty down the road. A beautiful CRV stood in front of me. I rapped on the window and it rolled down oh so slowly. I froze. It was Him. Of all the people in the world… it had to be him.
“Parichay?”
“Hey. Can I give you a ride?”
“Huh… Yeah… I was going to…”
“I know where you are going Neha.”
I didn’t reply. Of course he knew.
I went to my car and pulled out the duffel bag and my purse and joined him at the front seat, throwing my luggage in the rear, atop his own mess.
“She called you, didn’t she?” I said without taking his eyes off the road.
“Yeah.” He kept it simple.
“How is Priya?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
I waited for him to add to it. But he remained mum. I decided to shut up. If he wanted to talk, I would let him take the pains to initiate a conversation. In any case, I sucked at small talk.
He remained quite. And I didn’t bother to speak. The 150 Km took us hours. If the longest awkward silence could be measured, it would be 150 Km long.
We finally reached Phillaur. The train station came into view and old memories came flooding back. The mustrad fields and my cousin’s red tractor. The ice cold canal water and the sweltering heat that could never warm it. It was good to be back. Taking in a lungfull of unadulterated air, I got off his car. I saw him looking at me but didn’t take notice.
Pankaj Maamu was standing at the threshold and hugged me with moist eyes. Amit was further inside. Everyone was quiet.
“It seems as if Jhaiji has been hanging on just to see you Neha. You should hurry.”
I hurried inside. Her shrivelled body lay on the old cot. She was barely breathing and had trouble recognizing me when I sat beside her and took her shrunken hand in mine.
She tried to speak, but no words came out. A small tear rolled down and she went limp. I looked behind me. Parichay stood consoling Amit. Pankaj Maamu and Rahul Bhaiya stood in the doorway crying. I got up and went out. It had still not dawned on me. She was gone. She was no more. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around to gaze into Parichay’s calm face.
“She told me everything Neha. Why didn’t you ever tell me? I have always loved you. I waited so long for you. I left Priya as soon as I found out.”
The tears finally came. Damn I always sucked at small talk.
- Neha
Tags: punjab, phillaur, love, anxiety, travel, road trip, Honda CRV, small talk
Neha says:
Phillaur is my native village and falls in the district Jalandhar of Punjab. Maamu in Hindi is mother’s brother and bhaiya is elder brother of your own. In Punjab, grandparents are called Jhaiji Bauji, Bauji being grandfather and Jhaiji being grandmother.
Punjab’s villages are the richest and most hospitable villages in all of India. Punjabi’s (natives of Punjab) are known to be the most jovial and happy go lucky people. They believe in living life kingsize and are a banker’s nightmare. They are a hardworking race and are usually hot blooded. Punjabi’s are also known for their lust of life. Punjabis are also known to be big braggarts.
I used to call my maternal great grandmother Jhaiji. She passed away 3 years ago.
December 11th, 2005 at 01:09 pm
Isaiah says:
A red SUV, a dirt road, a boy and a girl. Thrilling!
December 11th, 2005 at 08:47 pm
K. says:
ok I dont get this story. who told Parichay and what?
December 11th, 2005 at 09:30 pm
Neha says:
its actually a pathetic attempt at writing a short story. Jhaiji tells Parichay before dying that Neha loved him since childhood.
December 12th, 2005 at 01:46 pm
Chetali says:
Neha….i have only 1 word to say for this….BEAUTIFUL……:smile:
December 12th, 2005 at 01:49 pm
Neha says:
Thanks chetali. Ishan. Read carefully. The CRV was not red.
December 12th, 2005 at 02:07 pm
anirudh says:
hey neha is parichay still with ya or with ur best frnd that u told in da blog before? well u know wat i was thrilled after reading this that u finaly got ur guy but this 3 yr old thig is buggin me……anywes feelin happy now for ya n i don no y !
December 12th, 2005 at 05:42 pm
Isaiah says:
well something was red and i cudn’t get what? so i decided it better be CRV.
December 12th, 2005 at 08:59 pm
K. says:
idiot it was _her_ car which was red.
December 13th, 2005 at 01:54 am
Neha says:
Thanks anirudh. this story is fictitious. Parichay happens to be a name i like. I however dont know of anyone by that name. 3 years thing… hmmm. No that guy is still married to my best friend. And Im not really looking for love anymore. Ishan, i agree the story was a little vague and in some respects even pathetic, but really that was very clear.
December 13th, 2005 at 10:56 am
anirudh says:
no ways was it pathetic neha……..the real magic of these stories is that u feel like this is actually ahppening in front of you and blieve me i felt the same but may be it needed more editing…..well thats what i think………n it dosen matter……cheers !
December 13th, 2005 at 11:04 pm
Isaiah says:
Well neha i cudn’t agree with u more.
December 15th, 2005 at 10:26 am
madhavi says:
nice…quite a storyteller i say!!!
December 21st, 2005 at 02:26 pm
Neha says:
Thanks maddy!
December 22nd, 2005 at 01:07 pm