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dhruv, taare - means 'star' in hindi

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www . perfect jodi . com

Of best friends and buffoon brothers

In your dreams, I thought. Little did I know that my mother’s dreams were soon to come true.

“Mom?” I asked wearily, as I took my shoes off. “You do remember what you said in the morning, don’t you? That you would never, ever hurt me?” I asked, stressing on the ‘never, ever’.

Mum instantly looked so disheartened that I felt guilty. But in a moment, the look on her face disappeared and she said, “Of course, I remember, Aaliyah. I will never, ever hurt you,” she shuddered as she probably thought about all that blood. My mother and blood don’t mix too well, if you get my point. Her first reaction when I had declared that I was going to become a doctor was – What? Are you crazy? Why would anyone want to study about that disgusting red stuff?

Needless to say, this had only spurred me on in becoming a doctor. But that’s another story.

“This person is different,” she told me. “He seemed so polite and nice. I know that Nishant guy was horrible. But this man called us up, you know. It was so polite of him; he didn’t e-mail or anything. He called us.”

Someone tell me why that’s such a big deal?

Mom was looking at me apprehensively.

Oh ho. “So now Nishant is horrible. I seem to remember that just this morning, he was ‘nice boy’,” I said. “I’m sorry, mom, but nothing doing. I’m NOT going to meet anyone and that’s that.” I said in my best this-is-my-final-decision tone.

I saw her eyes well up with tears and – oh my God.

“Don’t cry, mom,” I said desperately, and I felt so horrible that I wanted to beat myself up. No hyperbole, honest.

What kind of person makes her own mother cry?

I needed to do something, I thought, and fast before the waterworks began. So I said the only thing that would work, “Okay. When and where?”

Miraculously, the tears disappeared and her eyes were all dry and bright again. “Great!” she said. “Tomorrow, 5, just after you leave from work. Barista. His name’s Avi.”

And mom walked away with a spring in her step. You would have thought she had just received a Nobel.

Wait a minute. Had I just been played for a fool?

And what kind of guy is named Avi?

Urgh! I needed help. I needed Vallari.

**********

“Jusht love Dominosh,” I mumbled through a mouthful of pepperoni pizza. Vallari always knows how to cheer me up.

“Coke,” I said, and she handed me a Coke.

I could get used to this.

“So?” she said. “Met any prospective husband?”

I swallowed. “Mom’s gone crazy,” I said. And I proceeded to narrate the entire day’s events to her. She listened, with her grey eyes trained on me throughout. See, now that’s what I like about Vallari. Even when she’s not really listening (which, I suspect, is most of the time), she always manages to ‘mm’ and ‘hm’ and ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ in the right places so the speaker (aka me) is gratified. I can drone on and on and pretend that she’s listening.

“Poor you,” said Vallari, in an appropriately serious and empathetic tone when I was done. Although, I suspect that the hasty cough coming from her was not really a cough. It was something much more sinister, like maybe, a laugh. But whatever. I have no one else who bears me.

“You’re supposed to give me the last slice,” said Vallari when I sneakily moved my hand towards the pizza box. Nooooo! Caught. Why does this always happen to me?

I must have been freaking Satan in my past birth or something.

“You’re fat,” I said bluntly. “You shouldn’t eat that much cheese.” I needed cheese! I was the one going through a trying period in life, not her!

Actually, Vallari is the exact ‘tall, slim and fair’ they put in required wives in the ‘Times of India’ matrimonial section. And plus, she has those really beautiful light grey eyes (here, any eyes which are not black are considered really unique and beautiful because nearly everyone has black eyes – example, me) and loooooong, straight hair that I would die for (I have this unmanageable, wavy black hair, which gets into knots exactly five seconds after I’ve combed it). And she doesn’t even take good care of it. I’ve actually seen her twisting and turning it into a rubberband so that those loooooooong strands break and drift to the ground and my heart breaks into two pi…Ahem. Moving on.

“Nice try,” said Val dryly. “But it’s not going to work.” And she picked up the pizza and stuffed it into her mouth while I watched enviously.

Sometimes, I really wonder why she is even my friend.

But then she let me finish the Coke, so I reconsidered the above line. Because of Vallari’s comfort therapy (and of course, pizza and coke), I was feeling much better when I finally went home.

“Hey, Sulbha,” I greeted our maid as I walked in. “Main aaj khana nahi khaungi kyonki maine already kha liya hai.” (I will not eat food today because I’ve already eaten)

“Where have you eaten?” said mum at once.

“Vallari’s place.”

“What have you eaten?”

Maybe I’m really in kindergarten, and this is just some mutated form of me. That must be why I’m being treated like a five year old.

“Pizza,” I said, not at all patiently. I had still not gotten over Mum’s wicked trickery.

“You shouldn’t eat all the time at her house.”

I didn’t answer; I think that must have been the millionth time she’s said it to me and she knows what I’m going to say – ‘She’s my best friend.’ I walked up to my room, taking the big, fat volume II of ‘Neurology for beginners’ up to my room. I had not yet decided in what I was going to do my post-graduation, but neurology seemed interesting. So that was what I was reading at the moment, on Dr. Krishna’s orders.

I entered my room, feeling nice and satisfied and on whole, good. Of course, as we have already seen, today was not my dad. So this good mood was ruined when I saw the shambles my room was in.

I’m sorry, the utter disaster it was.

I think, at this point, it may be mentioned, that I have a kind of OCD about all my stuff being properly arranged.

“DEVAM!” I screamed at the top of my voice.

No answer, except a mild “Be quiet, Aaliyah,” from Dad.

“Devam!” I went to his room, which needless to say, didn’t resemble a room at all. But that’s something else altogether.

“What?” he said, acting as if he didn’t know why he was yelling. But the guilty look in his eyes gave him away. Living with him for 16 long years has made me wise about certain facts about him. Certain embarrassing ones too – but I’d rather not say them at the present. I’ve just eaten.

“What do you mean, what?” I hissed. “What the hell have you done to my room?”

“It wasn’t me,” he said automatically.

Yeah right. “Shut up and admit your guilt, you…you…,” I couldn’t think of anything suitably derogatory to say so I trailed off.

He laughed.

Big mistake.

I jumped on him. “You rat nosed idiotic stupid pig!” I yelled so loudly that he winced.

“I wanted the new Harry Potter CD,” he said indignantly.

“And,” I said, punching him square in the stomach, “do you think-?”

“Ow,” I was cut off as he kicked me. “YOU MCP!” I yelled. “You buffoon. You lily-livered scavenger. You goddamn,” I said something very rude in Hindi.

“Aaliyah!” came a shocked voice from the living room.

I scratched him, he twisted my hand. I cried out and bit him, he pushed me to the floor. I –get this – spat on him, and he said, “Ew.”

“Ha!” I said, getting up. “I win.”

“No, you don’t,” Dev said, as he stuck a foot out under me and I went down again. Hard.

“You bloody -,” I started to say but Dev cut me off. “Don’t say it,” he warned.

I whispered it.

“Mom,” Dev complained instantly. “Aaliyah just called me-“ I clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Baby,” I teased. “You’re what, 16? What are you complaining to mom for? Take it like a man.” I really didn’t want Dev to tell Mum what I had called me. She would probably send me to Andaman and Nicobar Jail.

“Whatever,” he said, and stood up and dashed out of the room. Scaredy cat.

I inspected all the various wound on my body. Mentally, it felt really good. Physically, well, that was another story…

I read my ‘Neurology for beginners’ for a while and had fun convincing myself that Dev had ADHD, MPD and bipolar disorder. Then I went to sleep, but not before thinking about ways how I could get out of yesterday without making my mum angry or sad.

I found not even one.

*********

I woke up in the morning feeling understandably disgruntled and harried. I didn’t wish anyone, “Good Morning,” bad temperedly stuffed chips in my mouth, and left for work.

During lunch break, Dr. Krishna (who is usually oblivious) actually asked me, “Is everything all right, Aaliyah? I mean, you didn’t bungle up anything today.”

And well, that just made me even angrier, with the result that I was one scary woman when I schlepped to Barista at 4:45.

I entered the coffee shop, and the heavenly aroma of coffee raised my spirits a little. Only a little, mind you. I sighted Ria, the woman behind the counter who is my friend. Sorta. If gossiping together about the guys who enter the café gives you that relationship.

I mouthed a ‘Hi’ to her and looked around. The coffee shop was empty except one person.

The first thought that entered my head when I saw him was, “Well, maybe I can forgive mom.”

Because he was, to put it bluntly, hot. He had really, really nice black hair (yeah, I’m obsessed with hair too) which fell over his forehead and black eyes. Now, I know, every Indian has black eyes and hence, they are dull and boring, but this Indian’s –let me tell you – were not dull, neither were they boring. They were piercing and intense. And below the t-shirt he was wearing, I could totally figure out he had a well-toned body. And he was tall. Hell, he was even slim, if you could call him that.

Congratulate me, people. I have found the one I am going to marry.

Kidding. I’m not that superficial. But he certainly passed the ‘looks’ test.

Not that I have one.

He was speaking on his cell. I stared at him unabashedly. During the entire duration of his phone call (which lasted 9 minutes 45 seconds to be precise – Yes, I am really that pathetic), he yelled at at least four different people, didn’t even smile once, frowned a million times, said stuff like, “Well, I want perfection. And I’d better have it now,” and “Risk capital must be eroded” and “The risk associated with each investment changes with time, and must be monitored carefully” and other such gibberish.

Ugh. Why do the hot ones always turn out to be the exact opposite of expectations? I couldn’t marry a non-smiling, shouting, share-market guy. He would be such a bore.

He snapped his phone shut, and glanced around. He spotted me, and instantly a look came into his eyes. Eyes, which I’ve decided, are not that nice after all. They’re too small. Anyway, the look said ‘Ah-my-latest-transaction- is-here-and-let’s-get-this-over-with. He came over to me. “Oh, thank God,” he said. “I’ve found you. I thought you were late.”

Late? But we were supposed to meet at 5, right?

“Hey,” I said, and now I instantly felt embarrassed. What was I doing? I was inviting people to come and look at me and decide if they were going to marry me and vice versa? Just what was wrong with me?

“My mother forced me into this,” he said, and he seemed equally embarrassed. Well, good. I hope he suffers too.

“Mine too,” I said and then I had a brilliant idea. “I have an idea!” I exclaimed. “I can go home and say that you were ugly, and so I don’t want to marry you. There, that’s done.”

I was very proud of myself indeed so when he stared at me, I stared right back.

“What?” I said.

“I’m ugly?” he raised one eyebrow. I can’t do that – the last time I tried, Dad wanted to know if I’d sprained my eyebrow. I stopped trying to do it after that.

“Um,” I said, going red. Crap. What had I done? What if he was some big ego-person who killed all who insulted him? “No, of course not,” I saved myself. “You’re…you’re..beautiful.”

He looked even more bewildered, as if wondering whether that was a compliment or not.

I don’t even know myself.

“Well, okay,” he said, and his cell phone rang.

God.

“Well, aren’t you going to pick it up?” I asked.

“No,” he said curtly.

Ohkay. Whatever he says.

“So,” I said, trying to make conversation. “We’ll probably have to sit here for awhile and chat ‘cause mom will call up Ria – that’s the woman behind the counter – to ask for how much time I talked with you and stuff. And if it’s beneath her expectations, she will make me meet another retard who doesn’t smile at al…whoops. I mean, another re…,”

Hell. I can’t think of a nice word from ‘re’.

“Is that what you think of me?” he asked mildly, and even though he was as expressionless as ever, I think I saw a tinge of hurt in his eyes. Those beau- I mean, ugly eyes.

“Not at all,” I said, extra brightly. “I only meant that,” I couldn’t think of just what I meant and I desperately wished that someone would tap me from behind.

And well, surprise. It happened.

“Aaliyah?”

I turned; standing behind me was another guy. He looked sort of confused, and said vaguely, “I’m Avi.”

I paused in the middle of what I was about to say, which was ‘Thanks’.

Excuse me.

What did he just say?

To : brouhaha yahoo . com

From: taare starsrus . com

Meri priya Aaliyah (My dear Aaliyah),

My name is Dhruv Mehta. I think we could be good as partners. Here’s the link to my profile, (www . perfectjodi . com / profileid22345 )and as soon as you read it, we can meet up if you want. However, there are just a few things I would like to clarify.

You birthday is 12th April 1985. That adds up to 3. 3 implies the following:

Diseases: diseases related to blood, kidneys, lungs and liver; fits; acidity; indigestion; skin diseases

Unlucky professions: doctor; treasurer; chit funds manager; army; navy; poet; linguist; bank; endowments department

Lucky stone: Yellow Sapphire

Lucky dates: 3-12-21-30

Favorable dates: 6-9-15-18-24-27

Lucky days: Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday

Unfavorable months: February, June, September, and December

Therefore, you will understand that, if we are to marry, I shall be compelled to ask you to take the following steps:

Get a blood, kidney, lung and liver test every month. No drinking – your liver is particularly vulnerable.

Kindly change your profession.

Buy a yellow sapphire to wear every single day.

We will get married on the 12th only, since that date is both of ours lucky date.

We need a 12th that is a Friday.

We need a 12th Friday, occurring in March, April or November. (our common favourable months)

Further, I think you will like living with me. I have a telescope on my open terrace – we can watch stars all day.

Awaiting your reply,

Dhruv.

~ Ri