Closed Encounters
All work and no blog make Amit a mull boy. Mulling I have been, since a long time. Why do some people seem like I have known them for ages? And why are there still some people I could never break the ice with? There is mysticism in the way we just miss each other every time. I sign in and the other signs out.

A fraction of a second—that’s all.

A number far away is forever engaged, because every time I tried, the other was trying to call mine and it was engaged too.

I climb up the stairs to get to my abode and as soon as I lock the door, I hear behind me stilettos clobbering all their way to fading nothingness.

And the time arrived. Not the time. A time.

“What’s your name?” Oh, you have asked it—haven’t you? In the stairs? No lights. 10.00 pm. As if she can see you.
“Sorry?” She waited.

Say Egjhaaktly, in true Javed Jaffstyle! No. Not that! Ask her again!
“What’s your good name?”
What prejudice! Why should it always be good? Why don’t you ask her rotten name?
“***ita”
What? Am I hearing things?
“***ita?” Maybe it’s just so many hours in front of the screen. But I am not seeing things—I am hearing them!
“Yeah, ***ita!”
Oh! It really is that!
“I am Amit!”
Give her that Twinkling molars grin.
Don’t!
No worries, she can’t see—it’s so dark.
Don’t.
Go on Mahn!
Don’t you dare!
* Flash! *
“Oh!” she fumbled as if she remembered something, “Hi!”

Customary—like the way I dropped a piece of nickel in the aluminum bowl in the morning. Bland—like a bite of daily lunch and the first bite tasting like the last. Monotonous—like the evening bubblegum that you started chewing for breakfast.

I don’t remember hearing

“Cut! Cut! Pack up! Waah Sir! What a shot! Aap Toh Chha Gaye!”,

But I did find myself typing frantically at the keyboard and Ustad’s voice making my hallucinations come true. What melody! What composition! Wonderful!

Can you guess the name above? I bet you can't do that in a million years!
And, well, can you guess who is the Ustad I am referring to? That's an easy one for music lovers.

In a moment of frenzy, I pick up my phone, thumb the keypad, and put it to the ear.
Beeeeeeep beeeeeeep beeeeeeep. Engaged—forever.

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