Attachments 2.

Chapter 17

With two large BBQ pizzas, a basket of garlic bread and tall glasses of chilled Pepsi, the three of us shared a casual conversation about how Nash wasted away her days in Mumbai, and subtly nagged about how the whole Ladakh trip was called off, at once. "But Chanch's safe, and that's more important", Nash shrugged, chomping on her fresh salad, and Vaish and I agreed with her, almost instantly. "But it would have been nice if we drove to Ladakh, you know; I need a cut-off from this shitty space", I exhaled and yawned, widely. "Every nook and corner of this big world has the potential to make you feel shitty, and drained out; be it Mumbai, Melbourne or Ladakh!", Nash rolled her eyes. "True, I am with Nash in this. Everything fascinates us for a moment of time, but once it starts growing old, we'll grow sick of it and we'll look at it as though it is a burden", Vaish sighed, shaking her head to the sides. "Life would have been much easier if we captured the art of looking at things, as I we're looking at it for the first time", Nash smiled, looking lost. "Pops always tells me that if I'm going to look at the world through the eyes of a child, then I would never run out of reasons to be happy. Witnessing the world through a child is not an unachievable task, you know; you can do it, with ease, to be honest. But when life happens...everything falls apart. I feel I'm a different person, right now", I shrugged. "Life happened, and it changed us drastically. Growing up is such a trap, I swear. I cannot believe that I was excited for this entrapment!", Nash rolled her eyes. "I never wanted to grow-up, you know. I had a great time at school, and a perfect childhood; I never wanted to let go of school", Vaish beamed. "School, honestly, was great! I still remember that my old best-friend had a huge crush on our school head-boy; he was in twelfth and we were in ninth grade. Whenever we had free periods, we would write anonymous love notes to him and send it to him! He never found out that it was us, and I bet the anonymousness of the notes are still haunting him!", Nash narrated, and giggled. "Really? Dude, what's his name?", I questioned. "Rezan. Rezan Siddiqui", Nash recalled, with a smile. "Was he good-looking?", Vaish slid to the edge of her chair. "He was the heartthrob of our school!", Nash simply said. "Oh la la! You know his full name, you say that he's a good looking boy; dude, you should catch up with him. Who knows, what if you reconnect and sparks start flying around?", I suggested, excitedly. "Are you mad? I'm sure he's married now, and probably has kids. And Rezan was my best-friend's crush, not mine!", Nash rolled her eyes. "Whatever! You were still in the same school, right? You should reconnect with him", I restated my point, with the same volumes of excitement. "No", Nash straightforwardly said. "Come on, Nash, for how long will you stay with the thought of Omar? He has moved on. It's time for you to move on, too, babe!", Vaish said. "I don't want to get into any relationship with Rezan. Are you girls mad? I don't even know him, personally; he was my school's head-boy, and we have never went past exchanging awkward smiles at each other. How will I find him? And even if I do, he won't even remember me. Stop it. Please!", Nash exclaimed, in sheer annoyance. "Facebook. Nash, Facebook! Dude, I was a hardcore fangirl, I have a PhD in stalking and tracking people down. I'll find out about Rezan right now, and you'll have to text him", Vaish took Nash's iPhone, and began her investigations, while Nash and I silently focused on finishing our food.

"Will someone bother letting us know about Yahya?", Nash asked, out of nowhere, with a teasing smile and looked up at the two of us; I glanced back at her, with a clueless expression. "Yahya?", I furrowed my eyebrows, holding my pizza inches away from my mouth. "Yes, Yahya", Nash shrugged, and looked at Vaish, smiling a little wider. My head snapped in Vaish's direction, whose face was flushed with blankness – or maybe, fear. "Yahya and I are good friends, Dityaa; he's a junior", Nash revealed an absolutely irrelevant piece of information, and I looked on. "Yahya happened to find out about Vaish, through my Facebook profile. So, one day, he told me that my friend – Vaish – is a good-looking and beautiful girl", Nash smiled. "Oh, wow!", I teased, nudging Vaish, who struggled to conceal her smile. "I didn't know about this, but one day I was in the library with Yahya – helping him solve a question – and...okay, you're not ready for this...", Nash built an air of suspense. "Nash, stop creating a scene", Vaish monotonously said. "...and, Vaish called him up. I didn't even know that they went that far, together!", Nash unveiled and my jaw touched the ground. "Oh my God", I gasped, covering my mouth, and looked at Vaish. "Stop making this a big deal, yaar. I just...he---we're just---oh---", Vaish fumbled. "We're just friends, yaar!", Nash and I stretched the words, in unison, and laughed hard. "Just friends? Or, "Just Friends"?", I teased and Vaish shot a death stare at me. "And you never told us about this? Wonderful", I pushed her. "Because if I told you I'm talking to Nash's friend, all of you would drag the story until our honeymoon", Vaish rolled her eyes. "Do you want us to? I mean, I've started planning your marriage in my head, already. Yahya weds Vaish. Perfect!", I announced. "Before Yahya weds Vaish, you'll have to attend Vaish's funeral. My family is so strict and specific with religion, cast and creed, and all that crap. If I tell them that I'm in love with a Muslim boy, they'll shoot me alive", Vaish rolled her eyes. "But you have feelings for him, don't you?", Nash titled her head to the side and Vaish took a moment to think; in her silence, we found our answer. "I do. I'm sure he does, too. But I'm not going to let anything come to the surface because it's unrealistic, anyways. Even if we land up together, we'll come together to split apart", Vaish breathed out, throwing her head back. "But you can try, Vaishi!", I kept my hand over hers. "Nothing will work out, Dityaa. My family would throw me out with him, for even having the thought of marrying a Muslim. Moreover, Yahya's a good person; I don't want to lose him, because of a relationship that has no destination, anyways. I cannot water a romantic relationship, but I can preserve our friendship, right? He's too precious to lose, trust me. Nash must know better! I don't want to give him false hopes, and break his heart", Vaish said. "But it's much better to make a mistake than keeping yourself in the dark. Vaish, what if, what if, your parents accept the two of you?", I tried to show her the brighter end, but she was beyond convinced that she'd be faced with the dead-end. "Nope. Not happening. Not in this life. Not in the next", she said, at once. "Anyways, Nash – Rezan Siddiqui. Colombo, Sri Lanka?", Vaish raised her brow, and Nash broke out into a nervous laugh. "I'll make a joke out of myself in front of him, if he doesn't remember me. Please, don't", I begged. "If he doesn't remember you, we'll block him; but if he does, we're sending him a marriage proposal. Text him, Vaish!", I encouraged. "No! Listen, I'll do it", Nash exclaimed, softly, and looked around at the crowded restaurant. "Hey Hottie, what's up?", Vaish pretended to text. "No, no, Vaish. How about – hey hottie, there's an empty space in my heart, do you want to walk in?", I joked. "Yuck!", Nash spat. "Sri Lankans are islanders, right? So, how about this – will you be the water that surrounds my island?", Vaish suggested, and we burst out laughing, hysterically, and high-fived each other. "You're so disgusting!", Nash huffed and snatched her phone from Vaish's hand, keeping it aside. "Text him, Nash", I ordered, and she narrowed her eyes, shaking her head to the sides. "You promised!", Vaish stated, and she focused on her salad. "Text him. Text him. Text him!", together, Vaish and I began chanting out loudly, banging our balled fists on the table, and everyone in the restaurant looked at our table. Nash turned white, as she shot a death stare at us. "Stop it. Fine. I'm doing it!", she said through her gritted teeth, and picked up her iPhone. "Happy?", she flashed her phone screen at us, showing us the message she sent, and Vaish and I smiled, at our victory.

An hour later, we parted ways and on my way to the railway station was when the thought of the monstrous biker flooded back at me; I was paralyzed, all over again, and I didn't want to move from where I stood. But I had to take the train back home, come may what. With all my heart, I sincerely prayed that I wouldn't bump into him, on the way.