Together

09

Sumedh's POV

After spending somewhat fifteen minutes in the balcony, speaking to a bua of hers, Mallika finds her way into the living room. She lets out an exasperated sigh, as if she has somehow managed to survive a deadly battle. To her surprise, Mallika finds me sitting cross-legged on the couch, with an elbow pressed against my lap and one side of my face encased in the hollow of my palm. Staring right at the wall infront, I try to maintain a grim countenance.

"Oye? What happened?" she asks, sounding curious to know the reason behind the frown adorning my face. Of course Mallika is expecting an explicit answer from me, but all she receives is a silent treatment. I don't even cast an eye on her, trying hard to behave as if I'm sitting unaccompanied in the room.

"Either you've lost your eyesight and hearing or I've become Mr. India," she says, surely irked by the fact that I'm taking no notice of her.

"Will you just let me know why you're suddenly sitting like a fused bulb?" she asks. From the corner of my eye, I observe Mallika as she stands afar with her arms crossed over her chest. She's going to be really mad at me if I continue avoiding her like this, but right now I'm vexed, extremely vexed. At this very moment, there's nothing that can distract me from the anger boiling up inside me at a temperature unknown. Heck, I don't even know what's my boiling point.

"Sumedh," she shouts all of a sudden, making me shudder slightly. "I know you're watching me from the corner of that beguiling eye of yours. I'm asking for one last time, what's wrong?"

I'm asking for one last time.

That's a quite detrimental warning, and I know what's the next thing that she is going to do. A part of me pities the plastic jar of biscuits placed on the shelf close to her. Right now the jar and the biscuits are sitting on the shelf in peace, but they're absolutely unaware of the earthquake that's about to hit them.

"Damn it," she sighs in annoyance, hitting her hand hard against the shelf and within a second, the jar of biscuits is in her grip. In the twinkling of an eye, the jar lands safely in my hands after flying across the room with a velocity that would scare the shit out of an airplane.

While I was swimming in the pool of my thoughts, Mallika had taken hold of an empty Bisleri bottle which I can see now coming closer and closer to me, and even before I can make an attempt to catch it, the bottle falls down after hitting my chest.

For the whole world, she's just a calm and composed person; but there's this angry bird inside the calm Mallika Singh, who wants to throw literally anything and everything when frustrated.

Satisfied with the fact that the bottle successfully hit me, Mallika gives me a you-deserve-it look and now there is a broad grin plastered on her face, asserting her victory in a war I didn't know we were fighting. The innocence that reflects in her smile makes me look at her in awe. I might not know what's my boiling point, but I'm well aware that my melting point is nothing but this little khargosh's face lit up with a smile.

No, Sumedh, no. You have to control your emotions boy! You need to be a sakht launda right now, just concentrate on your anger and the cause of it.

"I don't want to talk to you right now," I state clearly and avert my eyes.

"But why? Atleast tell me the reason."

"Just don't talk to me. Go away," I say.

"Fine! You just sit here aloof," Mallika says and walks toward the kitchen.

A few minutes later, she returns back, firmly holding a plate on which a chocolate pastry is kept. Mallika has brought a chocolate pastry for me? Wow? But, how?