Missing G

Somehow, I still have no idea how, the General's wife is off my mind today. At least, she doesn't haunt me the way she used to for the last couple of weeks. It's not just because I'm out of town. [I am in Bangalore now for an important meeting. And you probably know how boring meetings can be after sometime.] It's also because I started thinking a lot about G, all of a sudden. She just popped out of no where, into my mind again, like a summer rain, as she always did. I don't know where she's now. G got married and went to Delhi with her husband. K told me she's now the mother of two beautiful daughters. [K was in Delhi, on a Central Government Project that never got completed]

The number of calls dropped till they never happened, after her marriage. Emails shortened from lengthy paragraphs to short sentences to words to absolutely nothing. She just disappeared from my life just as she came.

I never thought I'll be writing about G. [In fact, I was tossing a coin an hour ago to decide if I should be writing. And it always gave me the wrong side of the coin. But I have decided to write, come what may. I write because I know G's not going to hate me if I write about us. She may probably add a little more to what I wrote if she comes across what I wrote] I am not writing this to figure out what was happening between us. We knew what was happening between us. We were having fun. We were just two people who were open about the way we felt. We kinda believed that heated arguments, silly fights, a lot of laughter, a lot of passion make life worth living. We believed in life as it comes.

I'm not insecure about the fact that she's not calling me anymore. [I usually am a person who's likely to feel insecure in situations like this] I'm not angry with her that I don't know what's happening with her. I'm not angry with her for the fact that I ain't a part of her life anymore. I miss her and I'm pretty sure she misses me.

We met through a common friend. There was nothing unusual about that meeting. Just a 'HI' and some words exchanged. I liked the way she looked.[I always have this thing for girls who are a little plump, with the right kind of curves at right places.]

One fine morning we found ourselves exchanging numbers. And G was the first to hit things out with a hot SMS. Then it was raining SMS and Calls. Most of the time we argued over silly things. I loved to do that. It made sense to talk to her. It was always straightforward. It was never melodramatic. [We hated melodramas]

After a few weeks, we found ourselves in a rickshaw, an evening. And without realizing it I had her hand in mine, as we were laughing and talking. Or was it she who had my hands in hers? Whatever, we were holding hands like we were lovers. It was a cold evening, somewhere in July.

And I'm pretty sure I was not thinking of what could go wrong., as I always did. I was not looking for a punch line, consciously. G had a way of not making me conscious, bothered about what could go wrong. She laughed for the silly things I said, her ringing, pinning laughter, making me feel like I'm the smartest material available on earth.

It was getting darker and it was drizzling. The driver stopped the rickshaw to refuel from his petrol can. He went to the back of the rickshaw to fill the tank. The side covers of the rickshaw were down. We were alone in the vehicle. I could feel G slowly pushing my hand between her thighs. She was feeling cold. [No, it was just between her thighs , not where you think it was] I didn't misunderstand the gesture. She pressed her legs together and shuddered as though it was cold.

We were talking so animatedly till now, talking and laughing. Now, there was a silence. With my hand between her thighs, and me all excited but doing nothing to calm myself down, we were just sitting there. G slowly leaned on to my shoulder and whispered into my ear: 'Were we so fast?"

"No!" was all I could say, and I meant it. It felt like we knew each other for a long time and we were doing the kind of thighs we were doing for ages. In fact, we met some three weeks back. And here we were like two naughty kids running away into the bush for mischief. That's how some people are. You know them right from day one. I kissed on her forehead involuntarily. My hands were still between her thighs, the softness of her skin through the cotton cloth she wore, as the driver came back. We resumed our talk, trying to be as animated as possible. In seconds we were happy we were fooling the driver. I cupped her thighs. She pressed my hands in reply. The rickshaw pulled on. It started raining heavily.