~ Bhumika's diary entires ~
                    
*17th February, 10:02 p.m.

My mother used to bother me about maintaining a diary. Now, I’m doing it. What changed? I met someone. He.

Today, I saw a black cat before going to work. It had these little whiskers and looked cute. I also got that bonus I was craving for a long time. A good day to start a diary; don’t you think, mom?

*21st February, 6:30 a.m.

I don’t like how my name sounds. It’s early in the morning, but hey, I’m entitled to my thoughts. Bhumika! My mother always told me that a part of it means earth.

“You are supposed to be bearing. Why is it so hard to talk to you?” my mother would say, giggling.

She’s right. I make everything hard. Like right now, I deny myself the pleasure of early morning sleep. What if I cried all night? I don’t want to sleep. I can leave for work in two hours. Yay!

*1st March, 12:12 p.m.

I went to dinner with a guy my father set me up with. Ramesh! Rakesh! Something. He talked a lot. And he earns less than me. Boom! A flaw!

*3rd March, 8:43 p.m.

My Vespa didn’t start, so Mohit dropped me at my apartment. He was silent all the way. I’ve never been that silent in my entire life. He’s . . . something.

*5th March, 2:16 p.m.

My father took me out for lunch. Surprisingly, we had a good time. He was smiling a lot. I didn’t guess I’d get to like my birthday.

*5th March, 6:00 p.m.

Mohit gave me a bouquet and a mixer. I remember telling him that mine was broken like a week ago. This guy has the memory of an elephant.

*5th March, 11:59 p.m.

Mohit gifted me a condom. This is freaking hilarious. It’s nothing wrong though. In fact, it’s an inside joke born in our canteen. I can’t stop laughing. My fingers are trembling. He’s unbelievable.

*8th March, 2:00 a.m.

I got my periods. Everything HURTS.

*11th March, 12:11 a.m.

My father sent me a picture of someone again. I can’t wait to reject him.

*14th March, 7:01 p.m.

Mohit and I went to watch a movie. We took the metro. He likes the metro. We shared earphones, leaning on the wall of the metro, and listened to Taylor Swift.

I don’t want to jinx it by telling what my emotions are today.

I think I need to vomit. That chicken burger didn’t accept me.

*16th March, 8:48 p.m.

Sagar is irritating. He was shy at first but didn’t stop talking later. He is everything my father wants in a guy. Well, I don’t expect him to be immune to my screening. If not today, I’d find something wrong the next time. Oh yes, we’re meeting again. He wants us to get close before the wedding. Who does he think he is?

*18th March, 4:23 p.m.

Mohit came over to my place.
We watched a Disney movie.
He stood by the door before leaving and said, “Yes.”
I said, “No.”
He said, “Yes.”
I shook my head.
He leaned over, pulled me by my waist, and kissed me.
I am swooning. My first kiss. Yay!

*19th March, 9:26 p.m.

What’s wrong with this Sagar guy? He’s like glue. He’s getting on my nerves. Yesterday, he called to meet. I agreed but stepped in dog poop midway. So I went back, saying I wasn’t feeling well. He wanted to come to see me, but I respectfully declined. And I called Mohit. We cuddled all afternoon.

*20th March, 4:05 p.m.

Fuck!

*22nd March, 8:01 a.m.

Fuck!

*25th March, 6:32 p.m.

My father sent me the engagement date. Mohit glared at me for so long. He never glares at me. I’d do the same thing if I’m in his place. I wish I’m rich enough to buy a building and burn it down.

*1st June, 11:09 p.m.

The photographer killed me psychologically. He is THE worst person I ever met in my life. Sagar cracked a few jokes to lighten my mood. I always thought I’d write more about my engagement. But here it is: I’m exhausted.

*3rd June, 8:15 a.m.

Mohit called at four a.m. and we talked. Both of us were crying. I realized I’m crying the most.

*5th June, 11:56 a.m.

I’m losing interest in writing this diary. It’s not helping. My mother’s wrong. She was dead. She left me alone. And she’s wrong. There, I said it.

*2nd July, 3:39 a.m.

Mohit called me. He said: Be ready. He wants us to elope on the day of the wedding. Now that I know what I know about my father, I said: “Heck yeah!” The idea is pumping up my adrenaline.

*4th July, 7:45 p.m.

Mohit is late, and Sagar has found me. He’s cool with me running away. We’re faking the reception.

*5th July, 1:12 a.m.

Sagar yelled at me. He never yelled at me before. I’m outside, sitting near the ladder. Mohit isn’t lifting my calls. Maybe, he met with an accident. I’m scared, guilty and a lot of other fucking things.

There are a lot of mosquitoes here.

                                   * * *

Sagar wakes from a deep slumber. He hasn’t slept like that in days, and his pillow is wet.

He opens his eyes and Sakuni is bending over, calling him. Sagar couldn’t hear his voice. He thought, how cool would it be if he lost a sense while sleeping?

“Your bride’s been caught eloping,” Sakuni says.

Sagar is bracing for impact, training himself to act surprised, but he’s shocked. What does he mean by ‘caught’? Who found her? She can’t even elope quietly.

“Where is she?” He gets down from the bed, which is already covered in shirts, sarees and flowers.

“No one knows for now. Your parents and her father are talking to her.” Sakuni’s voice is almost like a whisper.

“Alright, let’s go.” This is his moment. He has to talk to them, try to make them less angry.

As Sagar is sliding his feet into his chappal, Sakuni leans in. “Also, we’re going to talk about why you kept this a secret from me.”

“What did I do?”

“Come on, get out of the room.” Sakuni is still whispering. “You are in your night pants and you’re crying. Don’t act surprised. I figured it out. Come on, we’ll talk about your punishment as we walk.”

“I thought walking there was already a punishment.”

Sakuni pats him on the back. “Not my wedding. Not my problem.”

They pass a room where the guests are sleeping. Sagar steals a glimpse inside; blankets are spread around; kids are stacked in a corner. He smiles at their postures.

Sagar’s chappal makes a slapping sound as he gets down the stairs. No one would believe he’s the groom by the looks of him. His hair’s messy, his t-shirt has wrinkles and his eyes are bright red. He’s not trying anymore.

Both of them step into the semi-darkness of blue and white and wander further back. Sagar remembers the way.

Still, the view bothers him. His parents stand in front of Bhumika; his father stands behind his mother, who’s already trembling with anger.

Behind the bride is her father, explaining to her in-laws.

“Have you lost your mind?” His mother’s voice is out of bounds. “You should have the common sense to tell us beforehand. You’re not dumb. You are educated. You know the ways of the world.”

“Bhumika, what are you doing to my pride? Don’t you have any consideration for what our family goes through for this?” Her father picks up. “Can I show my face to anyone around?”

“Yes, that’s not cool, Bhumika.” Sakuni enters the conversation.

Bhumika is silent, taking those words. She’s changed into pyjamas, but her neck still has the jewellery and her hands are tingling with bangles. She’s prettier.

Sagar can tell she’s at the brink of crying. She clutches her bag tighter with her fingers. Of course, she’s tried to run again. Why did he expect his speech to work?

“Why are you numb? Say something.” Her father yells, and her shoulders shiver.

“You are supposed to be the apple of his eye, Bhumika,” Sakuni says. “But you are being nothing but chilli in his eyes.”

“What does that even mean?” Sagar’s mother asks, her face red. “I hoped you were saying something important.”

Sagar’s father holds Sakuni and drags him back. Then he whispers, “Until this is over, you don’t talk. You don’t smile. You don’t move. Or your aunt will cut your guts out.”

“Nice reference, by the way.” Sagar shows thumbs-up and Sakuni hides his smile. He needs his guts.

“Sagar, Sagar, can you believe this?” His mother comes back to the topic. “This girl. . .”

“I know.”

Everyone falls silent. His mother’s glaring and it can cut through the diamonds.

“What do you mean, you know?” His father asks.

“She doesn’t want this wedding,” Sagar replies nonchalantly.

Bhumika looks at him, her teary eyes carrying a shock.

He’s ready to face them. He’s just repeating it to himself.

“How long since you knew?”

Sagar drops his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “Since before the reception.”

“So, are you okay with it?” This is Bhumi’s father.

He purses his lips and shakes his head.

“Then why are you supporting her?” Her father sounds tired. The words barely left his mouth.

“I’m not,” Sagar tells them. “I’m not supporting her. I’m as angry as you are. I want to go home and tell everyone about her. I want to gossip about her unsteady character and get satisfaction out of it.” His words are like a blow to her father, who’s struggling to stand. “I’m even ready to take the money back if she offers. But all these actions felt easier compared to living with someone like her.”

“Why are you saying this?” His mother asks. “You loved that girl. You were the one . . .”

“Ma, it doesn’t matter anymore. She doesn’t like me. Do you guys assume we can corner her into marrying me? That I wouldn’t remember I got her because she’s caught eloping? We’re supposed to share a life. Not this memory that she has no choice.”

“But all of this—” His father’s voice breaks.    

“I know, dad. It went kind of over the hill,” Sagar smiles, squeezing his father’s shoulder.

He did it. He completed the conversation without crying. A part of him is dancing.

“Um, guys,” Sakuni calls.

“What did I tell you?” Sagar’s father hisses at him.

“But you need to see this.” He points his finger above.

Everyone lifts their heads and sees their guests standing by the first floor window rails, watching them. They aren't moving and just gazing at them.

“Any chance that an apocalypse broke out? And turned them into Zombies?” Sagar asks.

“If they became Zombies, that’d be a lot less scary.” His father answers.

“My god.” Bhumika’s father stoops, holding his heart. “What are we going to tell them?”

She leaves the bag and grabs her father, shivering.

“We have to tell them the truth,” says Sagar’s mother.

Sagar hit rock bottom. His mind is blaring with alarms for step two: facing the relatives. He’s not ready for this.

Sakuni says, “The ladder is still here. We all can elope together.”

A silence.

Then Sagar’s father breaks into a mild giggle. Few seconds pass and his mother joins. She’s holding her husband as she laughs.

But Sagar is quiet, basking in his thoughts. He knows this laughter is helpless. It’s just a balm on the spreading wound.

“We can tell one of my necklaces is missing,” Bhumika says. Her hands are still around her father. “And that we’re discussing what to do.”

Bhumika’s eyes were on the ladder when she said it—that damn brown ladder.

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