Can't Cook A Love Story by Amit Tiwari

Author:Amit Tiwari [Tiwari, Amit]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mobilism
Publisher: Srishti Publishers & Distributors
Published: 2012-12-31T18:30:00+00:00

We reached home safely. Only one examination was left- BCECE-the entrance examination for medical colleges in Bihar. We had a gap of about a month and tried level best to remain in the study mode.

Calling her over phone had been comparatively easier, though I was scared of the telephone operator who used to forward the calls to her house from Kroorsingh’s office. ‘She might hear our talks.’ Ruchi once said me, I remember.

CBSE-PMT results were out by then. None of us including Leena and Jaya could get through. I could hear Ruchi cry over the phone but could not consulate her. Neither was I equipped with ideas, nor was even I in a state to do so. For me no Medicals had only one synonym, which was- ‘Forget Ruchi’.

Leena’s mother lived nearby. She was there at our house that day.

‘This result was pre declared. It was bound to happen. They never went there to study but doing stupid things. Those girls there……. Forget it.’ Her expressions showed her hatred for these girls. It was like blaming the opposition after losing the elections.

Situation was turning grave. I wanted to meet Ruchi at any cost and shared my feelings with her. Of course I had a way out. A visit to her place could do it for me. Ruchi suggested me to come with a book, the reason for me being there.

Sharp at nine at left my house for her’s. It was a 30 minutes travel by shared Auto. I moved inside a colony at Dhansar as guided by Ruchi but could not find their house in the first half an hour.

I could manage their quarter only after consulting a paan kiosk. Of course he knew the address of his regular customer.

I opened the gate and moved inside, crossing the garden at the onset. ‘Mr. R.S.P Singh’ was written quite bold. Recapitulating the full name I wondered how his teacher would have managed while taking roll calls. ‘Ravi………… Shankar………. Prasad………. Singh!!!!!!!!!!!!Yes Ma’am. Quite possible two or three students to reply on the same name as well.

Soon my eyes concentrated on a dark metallic board with some Urdu verse engraved on it. I wondered I have landed at a wrong place, but I had knocked the door by then.

The door opened almost instantly as if someone was just kept in duty for that purpose. It was Ruchi’s mother. I had a sigh of relief.

‘What Happened?’

‘No, actually I was wondering about this board in Urdu.’ I replied.

‘Your uncle’s friend has gifted it. Says, it brings good luck.’ She described. ‘Come in.’ She added.

I could see Ruchi adjusting her skirt getting down of her bed. It was a stereotype 3 BHK quarter as we also had. A nice 21 inches color TV was placed on the top of a stand custom made for that purpose only. A movable air cooler was positioned at an angle to cater to all the persons sitting in the living room. The honey colored sofa set suited well with the walls distempered with a cheddar cheese shade.

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