'Why thirty? We agreed on twenty-five I set in your auto. I pay only Rs 20 everyday. I can pay Rs 5 extra, that too because I am running late for work. That is all I have,' I almost screamed at the auto wallah who was in no mood to leave the golden opportunity of further spoiling my already spoilt morning. He seemed to have sensed that I was late for something. He asked me for Rs 25 instead of the usual twenty, and when I paid him the same at the end of my ride, he asked for more.
'There was so much traffic, bhaiya ji,' his response was quick and well-rehearsed. He is smiled at me, putting all his teeth and part of his gums on display. I asumed that the motive behind this act was to earn some extra bucks early in the morning. If he card for my opinion, I would have advised him not to open his mouth in a way that showed his tobacco-stained teeth, in public places or he could be jailed terrorizing people with his fangs. His teeth were definitely more than the required number, packed and clustered in his regular size jaw, overlapping each other. I quickly took my eyes of his mouth to stop the uncalled-for scrutiny and started searching my pockets to see if I had my more cash on me.
I was running very late for work that day, which was also my first day of working with my new manager. I wondered if I was going to be able to retain my job after creating such a bad impression with my delayed entry at the office. It was an open secret that my new manager was a strict guy. He loved taking disciplinary actions so much that they could even be described as his work hobby. I feared that I would be kicked out my job, without much discussion, only a few days before I had a chance to use my newly delivered debit card for the first time. Surviving in a consulting for a firm was tough for a fresher, toughter if you can you knew nothing and were always late. I belonged to the second category of course. My name is Ronnie D., and I am not a musician; though I wished to be one when I was five years old.
Well, actually, my name is Ronak Dhodi. After years of being teased because of my traditional-surrounding name, I changed it to Ronnie during college because I wanted to make friends and appear cool. Honesty, neither of the two happened. In fact, most of my life I have had only two very good friends. Both of them are the people I have spent most of my life with-my cousins. But I shall talk about them later.
So, I searched frantically and found note a single penny in the back pockets of my trousers, and it turned out that the front pockets were not a peney Richer than their counterparts either. However, I did manage to scoop out two Rs 2 coins from the secret pocket in my wallet, the pocket which was really a hole between the lining and the outside flap. This made it Rs 4. One more was needed. Hoping to find at least a lone rupee coin hiding somewhere in my bag, I unchipped it to put my poverty on this display right outside the metro station. Other than my laptop and metro card, there was littled else I could find.
'I do not have more money,' I told the auto driver one last time, straightening my shoulder.
He looked it my palm with the two shiny coin in it. 'Then I will take rupees 4more,' he declared shamelessly. With no other option in sight,I handed over my only assets to him to get him off my bag.
'This day is the worst day in the history of all the bad days I have bad in my life,' I mambled to myself, climbing up the deserted stairs. No, the metro station was not deserted, it was full of commuters just like any other day but most commuters preferred the escalators over the stairs. Hence, I was amongst the few climbing up the stairs. I reached the automated doors at the entry, and put my hand in my pocket to pull out my metro card. Nothing. Where is it? I wondered, and panicking I frantically searched in my bag, then my bag pockets, front pockets, and even the shirt pocket where I never put anything. It was not on me. Where is it? I rememberd seeing it a little while ago thought hard to remember where it could be.
'Shit!' I exclaimed, trying to recall the last time I'd seen it. Then I remembered that I had seen it outside that station when I'd opened my bag for the wretched auto wallah. 'It must have fallen out of my bag then. I will never find it now,' I despaired, and dashed down the stairs. Dropping something in Delhi and hoping to find it second latter is too much wishful thinking I'd lost the card loaded with Rs 130.75. If I ever caught even a glimpse of it in my lifetime, it would be a miracle.
Worried and scared, I fractically searched for the card on the stairs and then on the footpath. It was where to be seen.
'Shit, shit shit!' I knew saying it thrice made nothing right, yet three times the usual shit was the only way to describe my situation at that point-struck outside a metro station, penniless and late for work.
I turned around, contemplating a walk back home. It was going to be a very time -consuming and tiring affair but as they say- desperate times need desperate measures.I live close to 3 km away from the metro station, and I am not an athlete, nor was I back then. But a poor man should walk. I told myself, and look ed back at the stairs with a small ray of still flickering in my heart.
The deserted stairs were not deserted any more; a girl sat on the second step with her head bowed down. She was talking to someone over the phone. Her lovely long hair fell over her delicate soldiers, and I was unable to see her face which was buried under her lustrous hair. I was standing only four or five steps away from her, and I noticed and that she had rings on almost all her fingers and I recognized one of them-the gold ring on her index finger with a green sapphire in it. Her fair, delicate hands were busy untanging imaginary knots in her shiny hair. Dressed in the white kurta and salwar, she was lost in her conversation, unaware and unfazed that her blue dupatta, beautifully spread on the last stair, was sweeping the dusty path to the stairs. I was going to be late for work and was most definitely going to lose my job, but I froze when I saw her. Her hair, her posture,the way her hands moved, made me skip more than a few heartbeats. I knew her. Unintentionally, my eyes wandered over her sheer dupatta through which her feet in golden juttis(footwear) were visible.
In my head a, Shahrukh Khan song was about to be played in the background, and I was inches away from drifting into a dream song and bursting into a dance sequences when suddenly I spotted it, under her dupatta-my metro card! well, it was a metro card and could have been mine or someone else's. But as long as it had enough money on it to take me to my destination, I did not care whose card it was. 'Excuse me, I said, walking towards the girl who sat there like she owned the station. She raised her head. Her dark-brown hair half covered her face. She transferred her mobile phone to her left hand and gently Swept aware her mane from her face with her fingers. Our eyes met, and within a flash of a moment it was 2015 again.
'Adira?' her name fell out of my mouth abruptly, and she looked at me as if I were a psychopathic stalker.