My Little Writing Project - Chapter Three

For information on the project,  click My Little Writing Project.
For previous chapters, click - Prologue, Chapter One, and Chapter Two. 

Happy Reading... 

‘How do you know if he really likes you or if he is just not that into you?’

16^th May

Priya threw her bag on the mattress, “I don’t know what to do!”

Mukti jumped up from the floor where she was sprawled across with the laptop placed precariously on her knees. Realizing it was only Priya, she exclaimed, “God Priya! You startled me. I gave you my house key for emergencies, you know.”

Priya strolled towards the kitchenette, “I know. This is an emergency visit only,” she came out with a bottle of water.

“Who is it today?” Mukti asked in a bored voice. She knew Priya too well to know that the latter only asked for her advice when she had some guy problem. It was a pattern with her and she was used to Priya’s tantrums concerning the matters of the heart.

“Ravi! That idiot! He has turned my life upside down! One day he is interested, the next day he is not. I don’t know what to do? How to react? And yesterday, he was flirting, pretty shamelessly I might add, with that new intern!!”

She took a sip from the bottle and stared at Mukti who was busy at her laptop, “Are you even listening?”

“Uh… huh… go on, what happened then?” replied Mukti without looking up.

Priya started walking towards her, “Then he took me in his arms and kissed me in front of the entire office.”

“Wow… that’s nice… then?” Mukti answered absentmindedly.

Priya tip-toed slowly and reached behind Mukti. She saw what she had been expecting all along, Facebook was open on Mukti’s laptop and she was checking some random girl’s photos.                                                                                                                               

“MUKTI!! YOU ARE ON FACEBOOK AGAIN?!” yelled Priya, from behind, in Mukti’s ear.

“OH shit!!” Mukti got startled and dropped the laptop that was already balanced delicately on her knees. 

 “What the hell is wrong with you Priya? I have gone deaf in one ear!” She then looked at the laptop, lying on the floor, which had switched off after the fall.

“And look what you have done?” she said gesturing at the laptop. “I was working on the article, it’s due today and I had not even saved it yet! I will have to start all over again! Damn it Priya… what is seriously wrong with you?” she bent down to pick up the laptop and tried to turn it on.

“What is wrong with me?! What the hell is wrong with you? You were not working on the article, you were not working on the novel, you were not even listening to me! You, as usual, were logged onto Facebook! You are addicted to that damn thing, I am telling you… you need medication… you need professional help!” Priya bottled the cap and slammed it on the dresser, the lone piece of furniture in Mukti’s house.

“Oh God, here we go again!” Mukti looked at Priya rolling her eyes, “Look at the pot calling the kettle black.”

“What do you mean? I am not addicted to social networking sites?” Priya replied, a little confused with Mukti’s insinuation.

“You might not be addicted to Facebook, but we both know you are addicted to something,” Mukti who was busy trying to revive her laptop missed the hurt on Priya’s face.

“First of all, I am not addicted to anything and second, even if I am, it doesn’t affect my career.”

 “Oh! Stop over-reacting, will you! I was just taking a little break. I have been working since early morning. I get tired looking at words all day,” Mukti punched furiously at the power on button of the laptop, “Why?” she pressed the button, “Isn’t…” she pressed the button again, “it starting!” Punch, punch, punch.

“Whatever! Do whatever you feel like. I am done telling you what to do!” said Priya and walked out.

Mukti finally looked up to see Priya’s retreating figure and the door slamming shut. She started murmuring to herself while pressing the power on key furiously and banging the laptop with her other hand from all directions.

Sometimes I don’t understand her. She is just too wound up. She needs to loosen up a bit. Now what was she saying, office, Ravi, kiss… God knows! She doesn’t appreciate anything… she is drawing a nice salary, doesn’t have to worry about savings and still she is always complaining. Look at me, this freelance work-from-home thing is so unpredictable. One day I have loads of work and the next day I have nothing! But does she ever listen… NO! She just knows how to go on and on and on about her life and the fucking novel. I am trying, aren’t I? But who can tell that to her? She just comes and blows me and goes away. And she has such bad timing, whenever I decide to take a break; she miraculously appears by my side! I have got to take back the extra key from her. Now she has gone ahead and broken my laptop. I don’t even want to think about where I will get the money if I have to give it in for repairs.

The laptop finally started and she heaved a huge sigh of relief. She folded her hands, looked up and mouthed, “Thank you God.” She opened the word document with her half-finished article and started referring to her notes to figure out how much had been lost.

“Damn it! Everything since morning has gone!”

Well, no point crying over split milk. Let me get started again on the stupid article about kitchen designs… if Priya had to write about such rubbish topics then she would understand!

Mukti had just begun to type when the phone rang. She picked up the phone, quite delightfully, glad to postpone working for another couple of minutes, “Hello?”

“Hey Mukti. What’s up? How are you?” said a female voice.

“Sonali?” asked Mukti tentatively and looked back at the phone screen.

“Who else would call you?!” Sonali laughed.

“Whose number are you calling from?” Mukti asked, confused.

“A friend’s. My phone is getting charged in the other room. So, what’s happening? What are you up to?”

“What friend? Where are you?” Mukti asked suspiciously.

“At a good friend’s place and he is someone you don’t know. Okay, if your interrogation is over, mom,” Sonali teased, “Can I ask you something? Actually I called you because I need advice,” She added hurriedly.

“What happened to you now?” Mukti drawled.

“I met this guy…” Sonali began.

“Whoa! Stop right there,” Mukti cut in, “I don’t want to know. Between you and Priya, I just don’t want to know.”      

“Between Priya and I? What? Do we like the same guy?”Sonali asked faking innocence.

“I hope not! Honestly though, I don't want to know because I know what you are going to say,” Mukti said matter-of-factly.

“Really? Is that so?”Sonali asked incredulously.

“Yes. In the last five years I have come to know you pretty well. So, I know you are going to either sing his praises, or analyze his every move and conversation, or what really happens most of the time-- you are going to whine because he has not been returning your calls after a night of passionate love-making.”

Sonali laughed, “If I was not in such a good mood, I would have been quite offended by that statement.”

“So, number one it is then. Praises?”

“Mukti he is so wonderful.” Sonali, as if on cue, whispered in the receiver.

“Why are you whispering,” Mukti sat up a little straighter, “Don’t tell me you are with him right now?”

“Yes. I am at his house.” Sonali replied nonchalantly, “And before you make any assumptions, let me tell you we are just hanging out.”

“So, you haven't… ?”

“No, not yet. I have just met him.”

Mukti could hear mischief bubbling in Sonali’s playful and flirty voice.

“When has that discouraged you before?” Mukti said before she could stop herself.

“What? Are you calling me a slut?!”

“You know what I mean. You are the one who keeps saying that when you love someone, they have an absolute right on your body, mind and soul which means you need to share everything with the guy, and by everything I mean everything.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, you are my best friend and I love you and care about you and I can’t see you get hurt time and time again. You can’t see it but you have this cycle… More often than not, you sleep with every guy you date.  Although I have nothing against pre-marital sex, I do have a problem with what comes next.”

“And what is that? Please enlighten me.”

“Well, one sleepover later you create these fantasies about moving in with him and wedding arrangements and picking out baby names, while all the time he is making plans to move on to another woman.”

“Okay, that might have happened once. Or maybe twice…” Sonali walked out to the other room so that her companion couldn’t hear the conversation.

“Five! That has happened five times in the last two years.”

“Come on Mukti, don’t be so negative. You are killing my hope, sister! All girls meet indecent guys, but that doesn't mean you stop believing in love. You have to kiss a lot of frogs for your Prince Charming and I have a feeling he is the one, my prince! This one is different, I can feel it.” She was positively gushing trying to explain herself to Mukti.

“You say that every time but inevitably, he turns out to be like the last one – a frog, and bolts as soon as you mention anything about the future.”

“Will you at least listen to me?!” Sonali whined.

Mukti gave in, “Fine. Go ahead.”

“Okay, so I met him online--”

“Wait.” Mukti interrupted her again, “You met a guy online? What are you? 15?! I don’t even want to hear the rest of it. Please dump him.”

“Oh ho! Will you stop reacting like my mother all the time! I met him on your Facebook… he is from IIM Lucknow. I have checked out his profile and he doesn’t seem like a creep.”

IIM Lucknow? I am online on Facebook all the fucking time and she is meeting guys from IIM L! What have I done wrong God?! Why can’t I meet someone from IIM L? Why does it have to be Sonali?

Mukti composed herself and said, “So what?! Being in IIML doesn’t guarantee that he is not a creep?”

“I am willing to take that chance. Mukti, he is so sweet. I think I am in--”

“Don’t even say that!” Mukti cut her off again, “You are not in love with him, alright?”

“But I am.” Sonali said dreamily, “This whole thing is so romantic. You won’t believe how we met.”

“You just told me, you met on Facebook.”

“No, actually he was a guest on the flight from Mumbai to Delhi. You know it’s so funny, I had become an air hostess to see the world but I never thought I would find my Mr. Right on a flight.”

“Can you come to the point please? He was on a same flight you were working on. Then?”

“So, he saw me in the flight; I don’t even remember serving him. He noted down my name from my badge and found me on Facebook and sent me a request. I accepted and we started chatting. Then after a few weeks, we met for a cup of coffee…”

“Hold it right there, you have been chatting for a few weeks?! You never told me then, why are you telling me now?” Mukti was irritated. She didn’t like being told these things in the past tense. She immediately opened her Facebook window, which she generally kept minimized, and went to Sonali’s profile. She checked her recently added friends and found a guy. She remembered seeing his profile a couple of weeks earlier and was meaning to ask Sonali about him but it somehow slipped her mind.

Kshitij Thakur. IIM Lucknow. Not bad. He is a little thin, but nothing a fat pay check can’t correct.

“Because I knew you would get upset and give me a moral lecture and most of all, I told you now because I need a favor…” Priya was saying.

“I thought what you wanted was advice?” Mukti added sarcastically while browsing through Kshitij’s profile on Facebook again. She checked out his photos and saw that he was the athletic type. He had posted many pictures of himself indulging in various adventurous activities with his many guy friends.

“Well… he has asked me to accompany him on an out-of-station trip to Goa, so I was wondering if you would like to come along…?” she asked tentatively.

“What will I do there while you two are canoodling together? I have no intention, or any kind of inclination whatsoever, in witnessing your PDA, thank you very much,” Mukti replied, minimizing the Facebook window. She had seen enough to conclude that the guy was good-looking, well-dressed and, after reading some of his posts, not an imbecile either. He was a distinct departure from the kind of guys Sonali had dated in the past.

“We are not going alone. His friends are also coming with us. So I thought that maybe you and Priya can come too. See this way, you won’t be alone on the vacation and we all can have a nice little break! We have been talking since forever about going out somewhere together.”

Hmm….Goa does sound tempting. But--Realization hit her, “I don’t have any money to go out. I am broke.” It took all her strength to mutter those words out loud.

“Oh… uh, you can take some from me and give it back later, whenever you have it.”

“That’s ok… you know I don’t like taking money from anyone.” Then, to hide her embarrassment she added hastily, “And also, even if I had it I would not go. You shouldn’t either. It doesn’t sound safe. I mean, this guy will be with all his friends. God knows, what they can do? Don’t you watch the TV? So much crap happens all the time… you have got to be careful.”

“I think you watch too much TV. Nothing will go wrong. Trust me. These are educated, MBA graduates working at MNCs! They are not illiterate unemployed youths! You worry too much. Anyway, if you don’t want to come, that’s okay, I’ll ask Priya. You take care, bye,” and she hung up.

Girls!! Now where was I? Yeah kitchen designs. She typed a few letters when I think I should talk to Priya. She picked up the phone and called her up.

“Yes,” said Priya in a cool and indifferent voice from the other side.

“I am sorry. Tell me what happened?” Mukti asked.

“Maybe you can find out about it on Facebook when I update my status!”

“I am saying I am sorry. Now please tell me what happened? I remember vaguely something about Ravi, some kiss and your office? What happened? Did he kiss you in your office?”

“How I wish… But no. He was flirting with that new marketing intern that has joined. I really don’t understand him. One day, he is all caring and the next day he just sees through me to that Miss Chandni! I think there is something seriously wrong with me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you. Maybe he was acting all sweet and caring because you guys work together. Maybe he just thinks of you as a friend?” Mukti continued in a softer tone “Whenever a guy, especially the one you like, says two nice words to you that doesn’t mean he has fallen for you. Don’t you remember that movie? ‘He Is Just Not That into You’… in that movie, they also show that when a guy genuinely likes you, he will make the effort to be with you. Guys don’t play silly mind games… at least mature guys don’t. I think, at the risk of sounding absolutely cheesy, he is just not that into you. I am sorry but that’s the truth.”                                                                                                              

“What if he is just flirting with that intern to get my attention? To make me jealous?” Priya asked hopefully.

“Priya, guys don’t do that. And even if they did… do you seriously want to be with a guy who in his late twenties is playing such childish games? If he is actually doing all this, he is such a baby! You should definitely stay away from him then!”

“I guess you are right,” she said in a resigned tone. “So, what are you doing?” Priya asked trying to change the topic.

“I was just talking to Sonali. She is going to call you--”

“About the Goa trip. I know. She texted me about it two minutes back and I have refused. I don’t have the time to take a break and go to Goa… especially to see her joined together at the hip with another random guy. I am sure, we will be privy to that show right here in Delhi. I don’t think she should go either but I know there is no point in telling her.”

“Yeah well, that’s Sonali. I have to go. I will talk to you later. I have to rewrite that assignment, which thanks to you, has been erased.”

“If you think I am going to apologize for that, forget it! You deserved it for slacking off during work hours.” She said jovially and hung up.

Mukti got back to work. It took her almost two hours to finish the article and sent it. After shutting off the laptop, she went and made Maggi for herself. She stood by the window and had a forkful of noodles. Her apartment was in a posh lane in Saket. She loved the view, especially in the mornings. The kids would be laughing and stomping their way to school. The men would be driving off to work. The women would be seeing off their kids and husbands. The street dogs would be running around barking. The maids would be reporting for work. The newspapermen and the milkmen would be cycling around delivering their respective goods. Doorbells would be ringing, birds would be chirping. In the mornings, the street itself felt alive and pulsating with the cacophony of sounds. She took another forkful. She could see a huge Gulmohar tree in the veranda of the house right across the street from her. It was in full bloom and the ground below was littered with red flowers that had fallen from its branches.

It was three in the afternoon and not the favorite time of the day for her. All was silent. It was a sleepy afternoon. The wind had stopped rustling the leaves. The birds had stopped chirping. A dog was lying lazily on the ground in the shade of the tree as if lifeless. The street looked and felt dead. She pictured all the housewives and the kids lying on their beds with the ACs on full blast taking their afternoon naps after consuming a hearty lunch. She had another forkful of her noodles and looked up at her rusty creaking fan. She smiled sarcastically. Such is life. She took out her phone and clicked a picture of the blooming tree with the sleeping dog underneath it. She posted it on Facebook with the caption – ‘Sleepy dog, sleepy street and sleepy me’ and waited for the likes and comments to pour in. She finished her lunch and washed the utensils.

She sat down to work on her novel. She opened the word file and stared at it…long and hard. No thought, no idea, no words came to her mind… she was blank. She shut down the laptop angrily. She stood up and went towards the wall of pictures. It always calmed her down. She looked at the photograph that had Priya and Sonali, hugging each other.

Why don’t these girls understand? There is Sonali who has fallen head over heels in love with someone she has met online and then there is Priya who is in the hopes that the guy who is openly flirting with someone else might be doing that to make her jealous! Or maybe I am too skeptical? Maybe Mr. IIML is a nice guy who genuinely likes Sonali and wants to spend some quality time with her and maybe, just maybe, Priya is right as well and Ravi is just acting like that to get her attention which he did manage to get. So, mission accomplished. But my point of view can be correct too, right? Or am I just a cynic?

She remembered the last time she was with a guy around six months previously, but that was not serious enough. After two months she had realized that he was not meant for her. She hated to admit it but she absolutely loathed the fact that he couldn’t speak in English!

I am not a superficial bitch. It’s just embarrassing that in today’s day and age, he can’t speak two sentences in English! How could I ever have been serious about him when every time he spoke, I cringed!

Mukti realized that it had been long since she was serious about a guy.

Too long, in fact.

Her last serious relationship, if you can call it that, was almost a decade back. After that she had dated guys, but no one made her feel the way Sagar used to.

 I will not think about him. She thought resolutely.

A ping on her phone informed her that she had got a notification on Facebook. She smiled and checked her phone.

My Little Writing Project - Chapter Two

Presenting chapter Two of My Little Writing Project. 

For Chapter One, click here.

For Prologue, click here

‘Why do female bosses act like such a b***h while dealing with their fellow female subordinates? No concept of gender solidarity, I tell you!’ 
13^th May 2012

“She what?!” said Priya, turning the page, “What did she do? What happened to her?”

She looked at Mukti.

“Huh?” Mukti glanced up from her laptop at Priya. A tall, dusky girl with an enviable hourglass figure and doe-shaped black eyes lined with a generous dose of kajal was staring back at her. Mukti couldn’t help but frown at her best friend who was meticulously dressed at two in the afternoon on a Sunday.

“Why are you so dressed up on a Sunday?”

“Don’t change the topic,” responded Priya with mix of irritation and exasperation, “What happened to Amita, Mukti? In your novel? She looked around and then what? What did she see?”

“Oh… that! I don’t know yet. I haven’t had the time to think about it. I have been busy,” replied Mukti and got back to Facebook-ing, “You know Reena is getting married?”

“Facebook-ing is not being busy! And no, I did not. Who’s Reena by the way?!”

Mukti looked up once again, “That girl from school, in commerce. She sent me a wedding invite on Facebook. Apparently that’s the ‘in’ thing nowadays. Anyway, I was working on submitting articles for that new website I told you about. This is just a break from all the work I have been doing.”

Priya shut the screen of the laptop and looked at her childhood friend. When it came down to the two of them, she was the sensible one while Mukti, without a doubt, was the ‘drama queen’ who exaggerated everything. Priya was of the opinion that Mukti had verbal diarrhea that made her prone to give needless advice. However, heeding advice was not something Mukti believed in or was even good at.

Mukti was lounging on her mattress wearing her usual faded pair of denims and a sleeveless kurti. Her dark brown hair was hanging loose and some strands were falling over her almond-shaped eyes. She started absent-mindedly chewing one of her nails. Priya could see annoyance written all over her oval face that still bore traces of puppy fat.

“What is this Mukti? This website thing was supposed to be a transitional job. You took it up so that you could have some income while you worked on your novel. And now look at you. You Facebook and tweet all the time and do these articles for some stupid websites that pay you peanuts. I don’t want you to settle for something way below your talents. This is the nth novel you have started and left in the middle. I—”

 “I know that,” Mukti cut her off, “I know all of it. You don’t have to keep rubbing it in my face every time. Nobody asked you to read the unfinished novel. I am trying, okay. It’s not as easy as punching in numbers. It’s a creative process. It takes time. I can’t just get up and write anything.”

“But you are not even trying! This is such sub-standard stuff. I mean look at the names of the characters, Amita and Smita?! You need to give it some serious thought but you are online all the time. Just start taking it seriously otherwise—”

“Otherwise what? You are threatening me?!” Mukti asked with amusement.

“Oh forget it! Nobody can tell you anything,” Priya said angrily and turned her back on her.

Mukti took a long breath to calm herself down, “I am sorry.”

Priya turned slowly, “What did you say?”

Mukti smiled, “I said I am sorry. I know you are right. I would start taking it seriously. I promise.”

“This is your dream you know. I won’t get anything out of it.” A hint of a smile appeared on Priya’s lips as she added, “I’ll just be the best friend of a Booker prize winning author.”

“Ha! Let’s not jump ahead of ourselves. I don’t have a book yet leave alone a Book-er prize.”

“And if you keep writing stuff like this,” Priya threw the papers in a dustbin, “you won’t get a book or a Booker for that matter. This one about Amita and Smita was bad. Pathetic, in fact… and the name of the town? Wonderland?! You might as well have named the protagonist Alice!”

“Well, I almost did!” Mukti giggled but one look at Priya and she sobered down, “I know. I was just busy writing about the website and this was just so you wouldn’t pester me for a couple of days, but I guess it didn’t work, huh?!”

“No, it did not. I, once again, say please start thinking about your life seriously.”

Mukti nodded.

“Don’t nod your head like a schoolgirl. You make me feel like your teacher sometimes.”

“Okay, okay enough grilling for one day. You tell me what’s up with you? Where are you off to?” Mukti got up from her makeshift bed and went into the kitchen to get coffee.

"My boss has to go to the salon to get her mani-pedi so I am stuck making a presentation on her behalf on a Sunday. And the best part is that I am not even supposed to be present at the meeting when she will give the presentation. That…” she stopped herself.

“…Bitch? She is just like one of my previous bosses. You remember that editor?” Mukti put down the tray on the floor and sat down cross-legged.

“Oh yeah. I remember how she used to keep all the gifts the PR people used to send for you.” Priya sat down on the mattress and picked up a coffee mug.

“That’s nothing. She used to treat me like her personal slave! I was supposed to get her a cup of coffee every morning! I had joined that magazine to see my name in print and she turned me into an errand girl. I did manage to get a few bylines and believe me it was such a high to know that people actually read what I wrote. But, those highs were so few and far between and not worth all the drama that came with it. Most of the time, I was just collating data, matching pictures or chasing the PR agencies for information,” Mukti took a sip of her coffee and added rolling her eyes, “When I was not running errands for my mistress that is.”

“You still had it easy. At least she did her job. My boss makes me do all her work and when it is time for a promotion, she responds and I quote—you still need to act like a team-player. I mean, when it’s time for appreciation, she will go ahead and take all the credit for something that I had done but when there is any complaint, she will push me under the bus. And I let her do that. What more of a team player can I be?”

“You know you should just quit. She is so horrible to you. It's better than being miserable all the time.”

“If I could, I would have done that in a heartbeat but you know I can’t. I have to pay off my education loan,” Priya responded finishing off her coffee, “Everyone doesn't have the luxury of working from home, you know.”

“You call this luxury?! I barely have any money left after paying the rent and shopping for groceries.”

 “But at least you are your own boss and you could always ask your parents for help. You can pay them back later when you make it big in the literary world.”

“I don’t want to,” Mukti shrugged, “I want to do this on my own. I begged them to let me stay behind when they moved. I can't just tell them now that I am broke and I need help,” she added shaking her head, “I just can't.”

“You are crazy. They are your parents. They will understand.”

“Whatever. I don't want to talk about this. I am not asking my family for help… ever. Period.”

Priya’s phone beeped. She started rummaging around in her bag to figure out where her phone was. She finally found it and as she took it out, a half-used tube of a fairness cream tumbled out. Priya didn’t notice it as she was busy reading the text. However, Mukti did spot the tube. She picked it up and sighed audibly, “You are still using it?”

“What?” Priya turned to look at Mukti. She saw the tube in her hand and her eyes opened wide. She snatched it from Mukti’s hand and stuffed it back inside her bag.

“It works,” she said, a little defensively.

“No. It doesn't. You need to stop using these fairness creams. They do more harm than good.”

“Fine. I will stop using them when you delete your Facebook account. You have your guilty pleasures, I have mine.”

Before Mukti could even respond, Priya was up on her feet.

“Anyway, I have to go. That was a text from ‘Her Bitchiness’. She was asking about the presentation. Let me go and finish it,” she picked up her bag and walked towards the door, “you take care. Stop Facebooking and write better. I will call you soon. Bye.” With a little wave, Priya left.

Mukti got up and washed the coffee mugs. She cleared the kitchen, came out and settled herself comfortably on the floor. Mukti was living as a paying guest in Delhi in a cozy one bedroom studio apartment. Located in the posh locality of Saket, her apartment was technically part of a bigger one where a Bengali family resided. Mr. Ghosh, her landlord, owned the whole floor. He had converted two apartments into one and had cordoned off a room with a small storage area that he gave out on lease. That's where Mukti lived. She got her privacy, the rent wasn’t too much, and her family got the satisfaction that their daughter was in safe hands. It was situated on the first floor and faced eastwards. She had been woken up many a times from a drunken stupor after a gossip-filled, girls’ night-in, by the sunlight streaming in from the lone window. Mukti had turned the storage area into a kitchenette, separated from the rest of the room by a small dresser. She never had anything in the kitchen cabinets except endless supply of Maggi and coffee.

The apartment was furnished sparsely with just a dresser, a gas stove, a small fridge, an even smaller TV and a mattress. In one corner of the room, Mukti had created a library of sorts. She had lovingly stacked all the books, her only real indulgence, into neat little piles. For Mukti, the corner was nothing short of a hideaway—a gateway to a world of immense possibilities, of great romances, of mysterious adventures. When the real world didn’t make sense, she would step into this alternate one. For her, reading was voyeuristic. When she read something, she felt like she was taking a peek into the writer's mind, she was taking a glimpse into someone else's soul. She believed that when you read you take something from the words, the thoughts of the writer. It adds to your personality. You form new opinions, you experience new things. It broadens your world view. For her, reading and writing were intricately linked. Be it a small post, a short story or a novel... the writer bares oneself to strangers for them to scrutinize, understand or criticize. When one writes anything, one, inadvertently, pours a tiny portion of one’s soul into the piece. In addition to words; a writer’s thoughts, ideas, and opinions also flow out from the deep recesses of the mind to the paper. According to her, when you write you give something of yours and when you read, you gain a part from someone else. You can say, for her, reading helped to replenish oneself. And she needed this ‘refilling’ constantly. For this reason, the book corner and by extension her books were her priced possessions. All the books rendered the apartment with a musty smell that Mukti loved, but her friends didn’t. They had tried everything… getting scented candles, potpourri, and even tried to convince Mukti to give away her ever-growing stack of books, but nothing seemed to work. The apartment always smelled like an old library and Mukti loved that. She hoped that soon enough she would add another name to the pile—her own. Mukti didn’t own a bed yet. She had a mattress where she slept and spent most of her time. The walls were essentially bare and were painted a subtle off-white except for one. Mukti, on her own, had painted one wall a vibrant burgundy and covered it with pictures of her friends and family. Whenever she felt lonely or depressed, she would look at the photographs of her loved one, some candid captures and many posed ones. The picture wall offered her the much-needed solace, she often craved.

Her parents had recently moved in with her brother. Her father was retired and her brother had got a job in Bangalore. Mukti, at the time of the transfer, was in love with her job as a copywriter and with a certain someone else. She didn’t want to leave either of the two, and after much persuasions and tears and fights, she had managed to convince her parents that she can take care of herself. Now after nine months, the job was gone and so was the guy!

She smiled at the memory of her ex-boyfriend.

He couldn't even utter two sentences in English. He was such a moron, but such a cute moron he was!

She was just about to open her laptop when her phone rang. She looked at the phone's screen. It was Sonali.

“Hey,” she said.

“What's up? What are you doing? Want to go shopping? We can grab some lunch before. We can ask Priya too,” Sonali rushed off without even pausing for breath.

Sonali was standing in the balcony of her sixth-floor flat in gurgaon that she shared with two other air-hostesses. Her apartment was fully furnished with all the latest gadgets to boot. Blown-up photographs of Sonali adorned almost every wall of her room. Sonali was the perfect example of a natural beauty. Tall and slender, she looked breathtaking without even trying and she knew that. Her peaches-and-cream complexion complemented her jet black hair that she had cropped stylishly short. She was dressed in a comfortable worn-out lounge pants and a spaghetti top.

“Oh… Priya was just here. She is at work finishing some presentation.”

“She is working on a Sunday?” Sonali asked incredulously.

“Yes. So am I… And so do you most of the time.”

“Yes, I know but this Sunday I am free. Why are you guys working?” She whined. Mukti could sense the faux disappointment in her voice.

“Priya has to make a presentation for her boss and I have to start working on my novel.”

“Priya’s boss is such a bitch! She is always troubling her. Why doesn’t she just leave? I remember once she had told me that she wants to join an NGO.” Sonali wandered inside and flopped down on her massive bed.

"She used to say that in school too. But, now she has got quite used to her big fat paycheck and who can blame her for that! Plus she has to pay off her education loans. And if she quits her job who will buy all those fairness creams.”

Sonali started laughing, “I know. It's like a drug for her. I can’t believe she applies them three times a day! She is so smart but when it comes to her appearance she is one paranoid lady. I was shocked when I saw her bag at your house. Remember how we were watching DDLJ couple of months back and I accidentally knocked it over and everything came spilling out. It’s not a handbag; it’s a ‘Fair and Lovely’ booth!”

 “True. I think she doesn’t need them but would she listen to me? No! She can be so stubborn at times.”

“Honestly, when you told me about her addiction in college, I never believed that someone could have this kind of a secret fetish. But when I met her I realized what you meant. I think she has very low self-esteem, don’t you?”

Mukti nodded along.

 “I think she is kind of a paradox. She is so focused and smart in her professional life and such a mess in her personal. She was the one who gave me the idea to work from home but when it comes to her personal life, she makes horrible decisions. That’s where we come in the picture. We are her voice of reason for all matters of the heart.”

“By we, you mean you, right? You are the self-proclaimed agony aunt of the group. What did they call you in college? The self-styled love guru,” Sonali burst out laughing.

“Okay okay. That’s enough" Mukti tried to change the topic, "By the way, when is your next flight?”

“Still a couple of days away,” she replied. Then remembering why she had called in the first place, she asked Mukti, “Why are you working on a weekend? You don’t have a stuffy boss breathing down your neck.”

“I have. Her name is Priya,” she smiled.

“I want to go shopping,” Sonali whined again.

Mukti didn’t want to admit to Sonali that she was broke and had no money for shopping. It was just the second week of the month and she had already spent all her money on rent and groceries. She was waiting for her next pay that was due in a couple of days from a small freelancing project.

She stalled, “You know what the best decision of my life was? Leaving my job.”

“Which one?” Sonali drawled on bored checking out her manicure, “The editorial one or the call centre one? Or the events one? Oh and what was that last one? Hmm…” she added, “Copywriting? And why are we suddenly talking about your jobs?”

“That’s not funny. I meant the last one. If I hadn’t left it when I did, I would not have had the time to write my novel.”

“Yes. I still don't understand why do you suddenly realize that, but I agree it was the best decision of your life. Now let us celebrate that decision by some shopping and some nice food. What do you say? My treat.”

“No, thanks. I’ll pass. I have to work.”

“You can be such a bore.” Sonali said.

 “You can be such a baby!”

“Yeah well, you can be such an old lady—Oh  got a call waiting. Ciao.” With that she hung up without waiting for a response.

Mukti shook her head and smiled. Sonali was always like this, a little impetuous with a devil-may-care attitude. Mukti attributed this to her upbringing. Sonali had had a very protective childhood. Being the only sister of three elder brothers, she was pampered to the core. Her brothers strove to fulfill her every wish even before she uttered it. She was the one who had the latest gadgets, fashionable designer wear and branded accessories in her burgeoning closet… Mostly gifts from her family or from her very many boyfriends. Mukti, at times, envied Sonali’s extravagant lifestyle but she knew Sonali had a kind and generous heart, and was ever-willing to share her spoils. Sonali played the part of a flaky bimbo to the T. In reality, she was anything but. Men were always falling hopelessly in love with her beauty-with-no-brains act and she enjoyed twirling them around her little finger. Both of them had been college classmates. Mukti had learned early on in their friendship that the persona of a dumb blonde that Sonali portrayed was just a facade to make her life a little easier but the truth was that she was a smart and clever woman who kept everyone around her fooled.

As always, catching this train of thought, Mukti stepped into the world of her dreams and took a walk amidst her past memories. With a blank document open on her laptop, she thought about her first meeting with Sonali in the college campus. She remembered how huge her campus was… Nice and big and spacious.

 With all those secret passageways and doors that opened to weird-shaped classrooms.

She chuckled at the memory. She had always thought it looked like a castle from one of the fantasy books.

Like Hogwarts from Harry Potter.

She liked Harry Potter.

I LOVE Harry Potter.

She was amazed with the imagination of J.K. Rowling. She wished she could write like her too.  Write a best-selling novel one day. Write. Novel. Focus Mukti! Come back to reality.

It had been almost nine months and Mukti had not yet finished even three chapters to send for a review. It was not that she didn’t devote time to it…she did, plenty. But, that time was always interspersed with some daydreaming, some chats, some Facebooking, some Twitter, some TV, some food etc. which meant that she had numerous manuscripts just lying around waiting to be completed. There were some about romance, some comic capers, some thrillers and some murder mysteries, but all had the same fate—no ending.

I will finish the first three chapters of this novel and send it for review, by this weekend. The weekend still has four more days to go. Let me check my Facebook page.

And she logged on.