Ah! “Hey! If I am not wrong, you are Nihal. Right?”
“Yes.”
“But can I know who are you and how do you know me?” he queried with surprise on his face.
I’d met Nihal again on the bus on the way to my classes. Was this sheer coincidence? I wondered. Two people longing to meet each other never meet. Here I was meeting a known stranger again in a city teeming with millions. Routine is probably the reason.
“No Buddy, you don’t know me, but I’ve heard your conversation of your unturned meet with Muskan. You were sharing it with your friend couple of days ago in the same bus. I posted your story in my blog. Hope you won’t mind.”
He paused for a minute; perhaps sizing me up.
“No. It’s ok. But can I know how, when and where this happened? Nihal asked. I explained to him all that was there to explain.
In the end asked I said to him, “Nihal if you don’t mind can you please tell me what happened finally. Did you both meet up or not? As I got off the bus midway through your conversation that day I am unaware about what happened next.”
“Sure my friend,” Nihal replied. He seemed eager to share his story with me. In this city choking with people, it’s not only money or power or fame that many people are after.
An ear is what many desire. A patient listener; someone who listens to you. A person who laughs at your jokes, curses your boss, and asks you how your day was! Muskan was Nihal’s ear. In this crowded city bus I was the ear.
“Actually I left the city shortly after that, and lost touch with Muskan except for our technological connection known as telecom. Earlier we were connected by phone, but now things have changed and we talk once in a while. Though I am thankful to Muskan; she used to frequently call me. I might have called her a couple of times. Every one has their problems,” he sighed.
“Hope all’s well between you,” I asked, my voice mirroring my genuine concern.
“Yes. Maybe,” he said with a sarcastic tone.
“Does distance make the heart grow fonder?” he asked me.
“Well…”
“Out of sight is out of mind,” he replied cutting me off before I could reply.
“Chuck it,” I said (so that he won’t feel hurt).
“Sometimes Muskan says that we can meet in December, but I don’t think that would be possible. Time is plotting against us. It doesn’t want us to meet. I am sure something or the other will pop up to prevent us from meeting. Maybe Bush will find Osama. Or Musharraf will do the bhangara with Manmohan Singh!” he said in a tone which bordered on mischief and helplessness.
At this point of time, I recalled a friend’s wording that 'Be careful what you wish for, for it might just come true!' Sometimes an unturned meet is a blessing...not in disguise... Nihal continued, “I think I’ve always viewed friendship from my point of view and I might be wrong. So now I don’t have any grudges against Muskan and I let the things to move on.”
I thanked Nihal for sharing his story with me and also invited him to my blog. I hope he lands here and I hope Muskan also reads this, and probably our platform can help them to meet in person at least once. Also, I am sure that if they do meet up then I along with you all will be blessed to bring together two people defeating time in the process.
I get off the bus in the sweltering heat. The bus melts into the distance in a cloud of dust. I see a familiar hand waving good bye. I wave back. Strange are the ways of destiny!
NOTE: Thanks to Amit - Who helped in Editing and formitting of this part too.