RAABTA

“What are you really scared of?” Ajabdeh sighed as she eyed the Therapist in her mundane beige attire, clicking on the edge of her pen. The all-white office had always been a safe space to vent for the teenager still dealing with her traumas. “Of making mistakes.” “Everyone makes mistakes, right?” The woman raised her eyebrows. Ajabdeh nodded. “And losing people.” She looked uneasy. “We have gone through this numerous times, Ajabdeh.” She put her pen down and leaned in. “You can’t push people away because you fear losing them. You lose them anyway, then.” Ajabdeh inhaled. “But he … this friend… his world is very different from mine… we don’t have anything in common.” “You just told me you felt a connection.” “Yes, and it was a stupid thought. He did not feel so.” She shook her head. “Did your… friend say so himself?” Ajabdeh looked up at the question. How could she tell the woman that she thought he was imagining someone else while in bed with her? Was that why he said her name aloud? ...

Ajabdeh had walked out of the office and checked her watch. It was late, and the financial year-end was tough. She felt stiff in her neck and shoulders and wanted to go home. The thought of home made her smile. She looked up as the cars moved across the busy roads, and she waited at the signal for them to stop. She looked up and she could spot him on the other side of the road, waving at her with a smile. The shirt she had bought him on their last anniversary looked good on him. She waited for the signal to turn red before she ran across the road, almost into his arms. “What are you doing here?” She asked, surprised. “I thought you would be home.” “I knew you would get off work late, so I thought of surprising you.” He smiled sheepishly, “How was your day?” He held her hand as they started walking down the empty pavement. “Tiring, yours?” She asked eagerly. “Well, I am getting a promotion next month, and we can look at the cars.” He shrugged.  “We don’t need a car.” She frowned. “T...

Pratap woke up in the hotel room only when the sun was up in the sky and scratched his head, looking around. The hangover was still throbbing in his head as he winced his eyes a little at the drapes that they had not pulled the previous night. He looked around the room, at his clothes on the floor and picked up the pair of underwear from the headboard. He did not even remember that he put it there. He looked around and realised he was alone. That was a first. Usually, he would leave a sleeping beauty behind with a note. His eyes immediately fell on the bedside table, where a napkin was placed under his phone. He checked the time first. 7 A.M. “The night was great! Didn’t wake you up. G2G.” It was written in the same lipstick she wore. The napkin smelled of her. He smiled a little, satisfied perhaps with the validation of his performance and walked to the washroom. As he splashed cold water on his face, memories of the night came back to him. She was experienced. Aloof yet not whimsical...

Ajabdeh walked into the banquet hall of the Star Hotel feeling a little conscious. She had spent almost two months' savings on this wedding of her childhood friend and neighbour Asha, and yet she looked clearly out of place in the circle. She adjusted the gown a little, clutched her purse for dear life and forced a smile as a familiar face approached her and asked about her father’s absence. Ever since she remembered coming to these events to keep up an appearance, he had refrained from the pretension, making her an expert at making excuses for him. Sometimes Ajabdeh felt uneasy at how her father had blended into the downcast life, befriending the judgmental neighbours and even having an occasional chat with the milkman or watchman. She could not picture him doing that if they had been of wealth. The little she saw of her grandparents, she remembered, they kept an aura of elegance around them that was oddly missing in her father and his lifestyle. Had they been… Ajabdeh inhaled, pr...