Mehenga Tohfa - Part 4

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First Person P.O.V (Male)

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7:45 am|Monday|On call

Mishti ❤️: Hello?

Chashmish 🤓 : Hello *pants*

Mishti ❤️ : Aap sasein kyu bhar rahe ho? Aur na hi aapka 7'o clock good morning aaya?  (Why are you panting? And I didn't receive your good morning today?)

Chashmish 🤓 : Kyuki me late hu. And Good morning wifey. (Because I'm late today.)

Mishti ❤️ : *smiles* Good morning pati dev. Aur late kyu hai aap?  (Good morning Hubby. And why are you late?)

Chashmish 🤓 : *dries hair* Kyuki I ate out late night and came late too ... Shit yaar ye button tuta hai. 2 minute ruko.  (Shit the button is broken. Wait for 2 minutes please.)

Mishti ❤️ : *after 2 min* Ho Gaya?  (Is it done?)

Chasmish 🤓 : Han g. Bolo. *Wears shirt*  (Yes. Tell me what you wanted to speak.)

Mishti ❤️ : Kuchh nahi aap bolo. *giggles*  (Nothing, you tell.)

Chashmish 🤓 : *smiles* Fir to aap ye btao Mishti ki kab aa rahi hai aap ghar?  (Then please tell Mishti when are you planning to come back?)

Mishti ❤️ : *fake gasps* Itni jaldi thak gaye?  (You got tired so early.)

Chashmish 🤓: *pauses and says seriously* Shayad...  (Maybe...)

Mishti ❤️ : Hmm. *Silent for a few seconds* Me bolti hu papa ko parso ki tickets karne ke liye.  (Ok. I'll tell dad to book the tickets.)

Chashmish 🤓 : Nahi me kar dunga. I'll send the details.  (No , I'll book them.)

Mishti ❤️ : *softly* Koi nahi Mukul ji papa kar denge.  (It's Ok Mukul ji , Papa will book them.)

Chashmish 🤓 : *stern voice* Mishti, rehne do me kar dunga.  (Mishti , let it be I'll do it.)

'He didn't want her to depend on someone in his presence be it her father. These minute things often took form of taunts. Maybe she was aware of what he felt.'

Mishti ❤️ : Okay.

Chashmish 🤓 : Hmm. Dhyaan rakhna. Ttyl. *kisses*  (Yes. Take care.)

Mishti ❤️ : *grins widely* Ji. Bye.

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First Person P.O.V. (Female)

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After 2 days

I am currently sitting in a cab , dressed in a dark green off shoulder dress and eagerly awaiting to step inside my 'home'. It is so strange right, one day you are unmarried , happy and content with your parents and the life you have created and suddenly a prince charming sweeps you off your feet and now you don't want to be away from him for too long. These ten days felt like an eternity, I am feeling parched of that Chashmish's affection.

That 5"9' human took my heart away 2 years ago. Yes, I am aware of my love for him and at times it gets so overwhelming that I want to shout it from the top of a cliff. But haven't yet confessed it to him. I didn't want him to take to his heels.

I have known Mukul ji since forever. Our fathers are fast friends. Encountering each other on events was inevitable. We have seen each other grow up , but never had a single close interaction. We are two unalike people. He has always kept to himself. He has had no friendly ties among our social circle, but I know he has his school friends who are still together. He is everything I asked for in my silent prayers.

I still remember the day I fell first and fell hard. 2 years ago , on the day of Diwali , I was dressed in a cream coloured lehanga and was marching outside to see the rangoli pattern in his Delhi home. That's when I heard him , giggling like a baby on a phone call. He was adorned in a navy blue kurta folded at sleeves accompanied with white mojri and those black rimmed spectacles, which make him look so hot.

I had never seen him so carefree in events. He was always so stiff, ready like a soldier waiting for a verbal harsh blow which was a common sight I hated. Some people needed to understand that he is a human and not a bullock to be whipped to follow your command.

Earlier, I had a crush on his bravery to achieve what he wanted. That day, I had a crush on his laugh. And the very same day, I fell in love with his eyes. Those hazel eyes which were locked on me when his mother introduced us as I was away in Bangalore for job and didn't attend these fests for 3 years. But he was closed off, always.

I am slightly aware that being compared with 'Miss perfectionist' irked him. But he carried himself with such nonchalance since 8th grade that people thought of him to be a brat. The younger prodigal son , who didn't accomplish his father's wish. They were wrong for they couldn't see him the way I did.

No, I wasn't a perfectionist. Yes I was an extrovert, loved to talk and make friends , liked to help people and had done some academic achievements in life. But I had those imperfections which I had accepted and moulded in a way that people were always deceived. People had the choice to be how they wanted or sometimes , no choice in the way they are made. Why not let them figure life by themselves? Why always be behind them, cribbing to change?

He is an introvert, that's his choice and he is brave enough to own it. I had hidden my 'love' discreetly for more than an year for I always thought that this handsome man must be committed to some woman. But the day I became aware of his parents' 'bride hunt' for him , I was baffled. If this was the case , then I should have wooed him. But knowing him , he would not even glance my way.

So, I sought the way of getting arranged to him. I talked to my parents. They were delighted to talk to his parents about it. They had always admired his endeavours to achieve success in life from scratch without his parents support, not like his brother. But the day I had our first private talk on the terrace, I was aware of the depth that man carried. He is like closed book yet to be read and I have tried hard to unravel some of him. His question of 'why I was choosing him' carried the vulnerability I saw for the first time.

In these past 5 months, I came to know a lot about him from those sighs to little habits. I wanted to know him and I do. His likes dislikes , habits and probably the insecurity buried deep in his heart. The validation he seeks at times , those bitter remarks at life and even a barrier which stopped him to delve into this relationship fully. I know it was going to take time to get into deeper depths , but was he aware of this too?

Two hours laters, juggling through Delhi's traffic, I am climbing the two stories with a suitcase and an extra duffle bag. Huffing a bit, I keep the luggage outside the wooden door and shuffle my purse to reach for the keys. I feel a sudden strangeness I can't fathom. Entering the key , I turn the door knob and I am met with an enigmatic sight which made me step outside the threshold and double check the falt number. "Ye kiske Ghar me ghus gayi me?" ("Whose house have I barged in?") I wonder out loud.

I gawk at '203' written on the white number plate. "Ghar to mera hi hai. Fir ye sab?" ("The house's mine. Then all of this?") I wonder but get back inside apprehensively. The floor of the small corridor leading to the living room is lined with red roses along with small candle lamps. I can't see further inside. I am already retrieving my phone from my purse to dial the man who must be working in office. 'He was responsible for this house in my absence. Me kuchh dino ke liye bahar kya gayi, he gave the flat to his friends to arrange romantic dates for themselves. No way. Hadd hoti hai. Ye koi tareeka hai.' ('I was out for a few days as he gave the flat to his friends for their enjoyment. That's not the way.) Continuously muttering these words , I speed dial 'Chashmish'.

He doesn't pick up my call , but I hear the familiar ringtone from inside the apartment. 'Aayein?' Being confused , I keep the bags by the door, close it and remove my flats to not crush theses petals.  Walking inside, I am met with a spectacular sight which makes me gasp. There in the middle of our living room is set up a white fort with balloon and fairy lights decorating the same. There is even a table set up with a bouquet and some chocolates.

But what makes my heart beat fast, is the 'M&M' letters and the man who stands there looking strikingly handsome in black pants and white shirt. His top two buttons are undone, sleeves folded and hands crossed on his chest. Those regular black spectates cover his eyes and he's biting his lip and tapping his feet , clearly with nervousness. Composing myself to not swoon over him and jump his bones, I blurt the words in a high pitched tone ,"Ye sab kya hai?" ("What's all of this?")

Hearing my words , his face falls. Maybe the words were harsh. But I walk towards the table, pick up the chocolate box and my mouth hangs open. "Why in the world would you buy the Swiss chocolate box of 3000 INR?" Still with my back to him, I continue, "Ye sab hai kya? Are you serious... Itna kharcha? Vo balloons dekh kar lag rha ki kisi ki 3 b'day parties organise ho Jaye. Aur ye itne saare flowers? Aap kya poora bageecha khod laye ho? And these lights ... God ... Hum metropolitan city me reh rahe hai Mukul ji ... The bill." ("What is all of this? Are you serious ... The expenses? These may balloons can be used in three b'day parties. And these many flowers? Have you plucked the whole garden? And these lights ... God ... We're living in a metropolitan city Mukul ji ... The bill.") Saying this I turn around.

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Women 🤷

But being one , I can say , 'Please look at the expenses.' 🤧 Rs.3000 would get us such a lovely meal for full family.