I was that happy after a very long time. I guess, rather, I was this happy for the first time. You know, that feeling, the feeling of longing for someone, To wait for someone, To think of someone. You always have it for your Mom & Dad, your Siblings. But for someone off-new, who has turned special to you, is quite a bit different. Especially if you think she's a crush, and you are giving her a try, make her your girlfriend.
'my!’, as I called her, her full name was kritika nish menon, too sexy of a kind, heavy enough to put a first trot impression, even without seeing her. Long hairs, rum eyes, her sexy mole below her collar tips, figure made to make a killing for, She was as if packaged for testing mirrors in manufacturing. The mirror finds any fault, reject it. ’Tested OK' mirrors. She was good enough to turn-on anyone, leave me alone. And biggest of all, her talks. I could have lived without them. Until she started talking to me, and after that, it was me in to listen to her perennially. I even thought of time-machines & tape-recorders so as to keep myself up with her always. If there was infatuation, this was greatest of all. She was killing me, literally.
This was her night posting in a very long time, and that is what was making me very happy, this kind of happy. It meant 12 hours of freedom, our togetherness, in those misty nights, with the possibility of anything happening. Not that I was so inclined for sex, a kiss or an intimate hug could not have started anytime better, if I was to make sure she took me seriously, or at least for a longer run. When you are in a real love, sex is definitely not the first thing which springs up your mind, it’s the longing otherwise.
'Hey what’s up? You Busy?’, spranged her message.
'nope. Kind of just lazying around. Am having my hay days at ENT. no work almost.', I replied.
Damn,Hell. Why the fuck was I not speaking straight! Let's meet up. But it's brain which acts alot when heart is warranted to.
'So, howz your casualty? Hope you not that busy.', I thronged back.
With a damsel as hot as her on postings, there were bound to be casualties at any hospital of world I wondered.
'No, it’s kind of heavy. All these Saturday night boozers are up here with broken legs & puked-up heads. Kind of irritating. Plus the CMO is too busy issuing DDs, his way of minting money at best. So, I kind of alone to handle all this.’, She replied.
'Fucking bullshit asshole CMO!', I wanted to yell. But for my internship completion certificate I couldn't have done so. How the hell can he make a soft like silk, beauty of a soul, to be my full-time-girlfriend-in-sometime work around alone in that shit, with those shitheads! I mean chivalry dude.But then, DDs were the answer.
DDs, as drunken driving certificates, the way of making moolah in govt. hospitals if you are a Casualty Medical Officer, CMO. What happens is that all roadies, who even happened to have just rubbed alcohol on their lips, are caught up by the traffic police on Saturday & Friday nights & without questioning brought to govt. hospitals, to issue them up with certification of being drunkard by doctor on duty, so as to enable them produce all in penal courts. So big deal? Out of this, they blackmail money off these if-not-innocent-then-not-so-culprit-either beings, ranging anywhere from 1000 to 5000 bucks of which a part, say 10%,goes to doctor, as he issues a +ve certificate irrespective of whether the person infront of him is drunk or not. This way, the traffic managers manage to fill their own pockets, for their part of booze on Sunday nights, when they don't catch even biggest of revelers, and the doctors too, when their duty was to prevent others from doing the same. Here was Indian Penal Code & it's enforcement at best.
‘Shall I join in? I mean I can help if it’s going that heavy.’, I texted.
Help my foot; I just wanted to be with her, trying to get her hand in mine. My motive so strong, or say my infatuation so tempting, that I was ready to work for her, when all I do is try bunk work at my own postings. A high, that’s what I was in that time. Without even smacking!
‘I seriously hope you could’ve. But this bugging CMO, he keeping an eye over my every move! He won’t even allow me to go for a cup of coffee, leave aside asking permission for someone else to come & assist me here, that too a boy. Conservative fanatic high on corruption. Bloody Hypocrite!’
Girls sound astoundingly so sexy when they use such bad words. Bloody Hypocrite. I wanted to smash his head infront of CCTP’s patrol vehicle.
‘OK then, try having fun with that bugger!’, I punched in loosing hope too fast.
‘Hey, Can’t we meet up for dinner? I mean am kind of alone & have no company by night to eat. So thought if you could just come. By 1030 or so. I have got home made stuff. ’
It was fantastic, & fanatic enough, to bring me back to my keypads, and life. But for my brain infront of my heart, ‘Is that CMO gonna accompany you too?’
‘Stop rubbishing Rohan! That smelly sock is not my dad to accompany me everywhere. You have a bad sense of joke!’
I died for the smiley which tailed the message. If I could have only seen her wink in person. I was lost.
‘By the way, do you keep awake till then? I mean 1030 will be late I guess. No need if that’s gonna disturb you hero!’, her next message said.
Hell No! 1030 night by any standards was just an evening for any hostelite on campus. My life was probably more nocturnal than even the scariest of vampire bats on earth.
‘Ya, it’s a bit late. But you are alone na, I will better give you some company, or rather take some as well. Am also bit bored you know.’, I wrote, following all that with a smiling smiley.
‘So sweet of you, thanks my handsome. Meet you at basket ball court then. I will give you a missed call before I start. Bye for now.’
My ‘handsome’, and more importantly ‘My’ handsome. I read that message some 20 fucking times in order to cool down the steroids, which were pumping down & only down my body, as if the upper part was non-existent…
(TO BE CONTINUED IN CASE I HAPPEN TO WRITE ONE…)
