It was a few days into January when Amulya got a call from home.

“Hi Amma” she greeted her mother, her mother smiled back at her.

“Amu, how are you?” she asked looking at her daughter through the phone screen.

Amulya laughed at the sideways image of her mother on the laptop screen and told her mother to turn her phone. After a few failed attempts, she managed to see the now upright image.

She laughed more as she heard her mother grumble about how annoying this technology is.

“I got a job at the hospital ma” she said proudly, “I’ll start working next week. I’m still under training, but ill mange to get a permanent job within a few months, if I do well”  

“Why do you need a job so badly?” her mother asked in their mother tongue, “You shouldn’t stress about it. You should come back home. Keshav is rich enough to take care of both of you, without you having to work” she said.

“Ma, it’s not about the money. It’s about being able to work. Help people and not having to ask my god damn husband for money for every little thing I want to buy” she snapped at her mother, anger taking over her voice.

They had this conversation so many times. Amulya has always dreamt about being a doctor. And now she got to be one, her mother is telling her to quit and become a housewife.

“I knew sending you to London was a bad idea. You are spoilt you aren’t even listening to me now” her mother said sternly.

“Mum, I have listened to you all my life. But now it’s my turn. I am making a life for myself. And don’t you dare stop me from trying to be happy. I don’t love Keshav; You decided he is good to be my husband. I can’t marry someone I don’t love, Ma”

“And now you are disrespecting me, Amulya” she said angrily, shifting to English “Learn to speak properly to your mother and call me when you do” with that her screen blanked back to the home page, where she can see a reflection of herself. Her face wet with the tears.

Why couldn’t her mother understand what she wanted? She worked so hard to get where she is now. She was not going to let some old customs spoil it.
She then made up her mind, and decided it was time to call Keshav.

“Hey...” she heard the hesitant tone on phone. She knew Keshav had her number, but he was hesitant because she never called.

Keshav manages a few hotel chains in Mumbai. She only saw him once when they came to her house to talk about the wedding. It was when Amulya was preparing for her specialisation. She didn’t agree to the wedding because she wanted to study more and surprisingly Keshav was okay with it. He even managed to convince her parents to let her go finish her education before the wedding.

He was a good guy. He texted her sometimes, telling her random stuff. They talked over text a few times over the years. But somehow she felt him just like an obligation than a partner. She felt like she had to love him. But she couldn’t.

“Is it a bad time? I can call you back” she said into the phone.

“No, no. it’s not a bad time” the line was silent. “What’s the matter, Amulya? You never call” he whispered after a minute, his voice barely audible, as if he knew what was going to happen.

She almost felt bad and wanted to lie.
Almost

“It... I...” she hesitated not knowing how to reply.

“It’s about the wedding isn’t it?” he asked, knowing she wasn’t going to talk.

“Yes” she whispered.

“You don’t want to get married”

“I’m sorry, I promised but, I am just starting in life, I have a job now. My dream job. I can’t let it all go now and come back home to be a house wife”

“I know, Amu” he said her nickname “You can never love me”

“Keshav–"

“Let me finish. You cannot love me and neither can I. The only reason I said yes to this marriage is to make my parents happy. We cannot be happy if we get married. I didn’t want to break your heart by telling you this, but now I know you feel the same” he took a deep breath. “Hope we can stay in touch. I couldn’t lose a person like you. And I’ll call you father and call this off. Don’t worry I won’t push you under the bus” he laughed.

“I’m so glad you understood. And of course we can be friends, you still have to show me around Mumbai” they laughed together.

After she cut the call, Amu felt somewhat better. But her mother’s words still upset her. She knew that woman loved her to death, but she couldn’t get how she won’t support her dreams.

She opened her phone; just to distract herself and found the same app she downloaded a few days ago. She opened it to see a few messages. Most of them asking for a quick meet up, all except for one. She clicked on his profile.

Ricky Walt It said.

He was 30, did his masters in Kingston University.

A writer, teetotaller, and loves to travel. It’s all simple. But what caught her eye was the poem under it.

Read a hundred books                                and read a few more                                    Travel a hundred countries                        and travel a few more                                  Love a hundred percent                              and love some more

It was beautiful. She read the poem one more time and then read what’s under it.

Looking to write a story, Will you be my muse?

She was intrigued. If sober her was feeling that, what would the drunk her feel?

The same but a few more times stronger.

She opened the messages section, and saw their conversation, which wasn’t limited to just two messages.

I would love to be your Muse. If you know what i mean.

And the text was accompanied by two wink faces. she grimaced reading the text.

He has replied her a few days back.

I don’t know what you mean
but
I would love to hear your story.

She doesn’t know what made her do this, but she quickly texted a reply. 

I’m a doctor. And I just broke up with my fiancé of three years.

~*~

08.04.20