Anmol Rana 1

Seven Days
Without You

Anmol Rana
2 Seven Days Without You Anmol Rana 3

First published in India 2013 by Frog Books

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To my wife
PRATIBHA
US Office:
Axis Corp, 7845 E Oakbrook Circle ‘Main tera sarmaaya hoon….
Madison, WI 53717 USA Jo bhi main ban paaya hoon…
Tumse hi...
Copyright © Anmol Rana Tumse hi…
Tumse hi….’
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4 Seven Days Without You Anmol Rana 5

About the Author

Anmol Rana, 35, was born in Dehradun, and completed his

education from Mussoorie and Dehradun. A Postgraduate in
science, he is currently working as a scientist in Defence Research
and Development Organization (DRDO), in Dehradun. His
native place is also Dehradun and he is settled there with his
wife, parents, and two kids.
He belongs to an orthodox Indian middle class family where
dreams are only restricted to sleep. He dared and turned his
dream into a reality. ‘Think Different’ – is the rule of his life,
even if it is thinking alone. A son, a husband and a father now,
he lives one portion of his life for himself as well. The portion
where he listens to only one voice – the voice of his heart. Right
and Wrong have no count there.
Writing was like a hidden treasure he discovered only recently.
But when discovered he invented himself into a completely new
person in the form of a writer. The English language scares him,
but call it an irony of the education system that he can write only
in English.
Slightly introvert by nature, he believes in understanding rather
than saying. A scientist by mind and a writer by heart, he loves
playing soccer and chess. Music comes naturally to him, and if
you were to believe his friends, they say that he is a far better
singer than a writer.
This is his first book, but not the last.
You can reach him at:
anmolrana.7dwy@gmail.com
http://www.facebook.com/SevenDaysWithoutYou
6 Seven Days Without You Anmol Rana 7

Acknowledgements

‘Om Namah Shivay – Jai Bhole Bhavani’ – My days begin and end of all my responsibilities, so that I could take care of this book.
with this. Thank you God for giving me the life I have. Just keep “Seven Days Without You” was impossible without you. My
bestowing your blessings. Rest I will manage. parents, for their unimaginable faith and their silent adoration
and expectation, that persuaded me to work hard. My sister
From its first draft to what it is now, this book has lived a life of
Sapna and her husband Amit, for just being there with me.
its own kind. This space is too small to mention all those who
Suhani and Aditya, my little angels, for always making me smile
have made this life beautiful and memorable. Those that are left,
in hardest of the times. And my entire family, for their love and
please pardon me.
support that has finally made me the one, who could write an
Samriti Gupta, my first reader who read the first finished draft acknowledgement.
of this book. Despite your hectic schedule you were always *** The views expressed in this book are author’s personal, and do
available to me. Thank you seems so small, but still, thank you. not in any form represent the views of the government of India.
Meenakshi Messy, for her valuable feedback that had helped All characters and incidences in this book are fictitious and any
in making the characters in the book more real and natural. resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.
Anupam Chattopadhyay, a friend then a colleague, for judging
the book on his own parameters.
My sincere thanks to all those who worked hard for making this
book viral over the internet even before its release. The list is
too long, but to name a few… Ashish Ahuja, Ritesh Sachdeva,
Swagat M Shah, Sanjiv Gupta, Saurabh Dobhal, Rahul Thakur,
Himani Goyal, Mayank Solanki, Shweta Semwal...
There are people who don’t need words to define themselves,
indeed their actions do it for them. I would like to thank Dr. A K
Gupta, outstanding scientist and Director IRDE, for his invisible
support. I am indebted to Dr. S. S. Negi, outstanding scientist
IRDE, for preaching to me the true meaning of humbleness and
humility. I am also grateful to Mr. B S Chauhan, senior scientist
IRDE and an example of a hard worker irrespective of age and
odds. My seniors, my colleagues and my friends out there, for
being with me when I needed them the most.
And lastly the people who made me what I am. They fed me
with love, care, inspiration and encouragement so that I could
turn my dream into a reality. Pratibha, my better half, who
taught me how a woman makes a man complete. She took care
8 Seven Days Without You Anmol Rana 9

Contents

1. Day 1 11
2. Day 2 60
3. Day 3 107
4. Day 4 159
5. Day 5 214
6. Day 6 267
7. Day 7 315
10 Seven Days Without You Anmol Rana 11

Day 1
2006, 29th November, Sunday
9:00 am
Dehradun

Disentangling from the cosy and snug folds of the quilt is no easy
task, if the morning is a winter morning in Dehradun. I lay packed
and frozen, until the sun sneaked through the uncovered parts of the
window and pulled my eyelashes apart. It was nine – as usual. Since
the day I had stepped out of college with my post-graduate degree,
my mornings began at this time only. Just a day post-college at home
taught me that sleeping is the easiest and the most natural way to
hide from – ‘What are you doing after college?’ People know that you are
doing nothing, still they catch up with you to hear ‘nothing’ from your
mouth and then dig you with consolations; again and again.

However, things never remain the same, says the rule of nature,
and I wasn’t as unlucky to be an exception. My big switch clicked
on the day I received my job confirmation letter – First job; Software
engineer; Delhi. The news spread like a jungle fire burning all
questions into ashes across the locality. In no time, the critics were
turned into supporters and the idle guy was transformed into the
ideal guy of the locality; all this in less than even one day. As ironical
as it may sound, yet change began at home, for papa had no problem
with my prolonged sleep thereafter. But not for very long.

The day with another change unpacked with this morning– the day
when my wakeup hours once again became the sore point in the
eyes of my home.
12 Seven Days Without You
“Vishwas…Vishu…Vishuuu…” papa rang the alarm of my name.
“Yes papa… I am awake…” I acknowledged quickly, avoiding him
actually. After so many days the wakeup call woke my surprise.
“Hurry up…Look at the time… At least today…” he gave hard
knocks on the door. Sleep knocked out, I opened the door.
“Good morning papa…”
“It’s no more morning! Get ready fast. You’ll get late,” he frowned,
sweetly, and left.
With the mixed bag of emotions that woke up with me, I once again
sprawled over the bed. Till a day back I was waiting for this day
more than anything else, but now when it actually stood before me,
my mood was gasping for that rip-roaring start. In fact, every tick
away from sleep made me volatile, and in no time the euphoria of
the first job was hazed with the mist of the dysphoria of separation
from home. After a bundle of sighs, I pulled my sleeves up to try
beginning the day as I had thought it to be.
Although bathing in winter is the shortest activity, that day I
washed myself for half an hour and as usual added some more
delay to the already running late schedule. It was almost every day
that I received shouting shots from ma and psycho stares from papa
for being late at breakfast. Today the air was different. Nobody
paid attention to my presence, or I should say to my few hours left
in the house. I sat at the dining table.
“Ma…” I called her. She didn’t reply. I went to the kitchen, but
she didn’t turn even when I was unavoidably close. “What’s wrong
ma? What happened?” I asked, gently holding her shoulders from
behind. “Papa said something to you…?” I whispered into her ears.
For a while, I forgot that it was something that rarely happened in
our house.
“No,” she muttered in a low voice. I turned her towards me. Her
wet eyes were raining emotions. With the next blink tears gushed
out from her eyes. I knew what had burdened her heart. Things
Anmol Rana 13
look really difficult when it comes to your parent’s emotions. I
had to battle against mine to stop water flowing out of my eyes.
“Ma please… Don’t do this,” I groaned, wiping her tears with my
fingers.
“If you cry it will only make me weak and nothing else. You always
dreamt of this. Didn’t you?” I said trying to hold the heaviness
sprouting in my heart. I knew if I went a little soft, things were
going to get worse.
“Why don’t you think that I will be home every weekend. Delhi
is not far. Whenever you call I’ll come running… Ok... And my
birthday… It’s only five days away. Has it ever happened that we
have not been together on my birthday?” my words pumped some
joy in to her eyes.
“Yes. Go finish your breakfast,” she kissed my forehead. I came
back to the dining table.
Papa was looking at me, as usual; but his eyes, very unusual. With
a smooth blink and a graceful smile on his face, he nodded his head
as if to say that I was his pride. That immortal smile was the best
award of my life.
“Whom would I shout at now?” Ma kept a pair of toast on the plate.
“Papa’s there…” I quipped. Papa was the first one to react with
a smile, then a guffaw. Ma and I joined him then. The burst of
laughter changed the course of emotions and we shifted to the main
issue of the day.
“Ok now, do it fast. You must catch the bus by twelve noon so that
you reach there before night. The route is very bad. Jams and all…”
papa said and turned back to his newspaper.
10:30 am
‘Ring Ring…’
14 Seven Days Without You
The phone buzzed. Papa looked at me, ma looked at him. He picked
the phone.
“Hello… Yeah… He is still here… Ok…Ok” - CUT. He placed the
receiver down and fixed his sight on me.
“She is coming,” he said to me. My lungs heaved a sigh out.
She meant Shailja…
Shailja’s father and my father were colleagues and close friends.
By default their wives also became great friends. And by double
default both families passed their friendship flag to their next
generation as well.
From the first day of school to the last day of college, Shailja’s only
subject of interest was I. Keeping an eye on me was like a part of her
curriculum – what I do… where I go ... whom I meet… This is how
she enjoyed her college life. In the evening, she would daily come
to my house and sit with ma talking about – what I did… where
I went… whom I met... This is how she enjoyed her after college
life. She never hesitated to add anything to make her reports spicy.
Quite obviously, any news about a guy couldn’t be interesting if
there isn’t a girl in it. Ma was great at mothering. She would put my
hand on her head and grumble – ‘Swear…! You won’t do it again!’
… ‘Again…! First let it be done once...’
Apart from her spying activities, she had one more weapon in her
armoury to suck my blood. Fully aware that I can’t stand the metal
fence across her upper jaw, she would tease me with her feigned
grins. She would do it, no matter how bad my mood was. And do
it a hundred times.
“WIRED TEETH WITCH…!” I would yell, but only inside.
Same colony, same school, same class, same college and even
same tutor; the only thing we never shared ‘same’ were our views.
Still the odds were on her side. She was ma’s favourite. And the
reason behind this bonding was Savitri – the most talked about
Anmol Rana 15
perfect bride, who had won million hearts through a daily soap
with the highest TRPs those days. Nobody noticed her when she
wore a bikini for a hair remover advertisement. Wearing a ten kg
sari turned the fortunes for her. I don’t remember the name of the
serial, but in my home it was referred as ‘Savitri wala natak’. I wish
the world was like that– Mother, father, brothers, sisters, uncles,
aunties, niece, nephew, sister-in-law, brother-in-law… everyone
lived under one roof and Savitri was the adhesive that held them
together with her true Indian culture and values.
I remember, once the power went off in between this ‘Savitri wala
natak’ and ma was fuming at the electricity department. I was left
in a state of shock when she asked me if I was capable of climbing
atop the electric pole and look for the fault. When I refused even my
teachers from school to college couldn’t manage an escape.
“What have those foolish people taught you…? You call yourself
educated…HUHHH…! Munni’s husband is better than you. GO…
And call him fast...” she yelled out. Munni was our maid and her husband
was an electrician. Just then Shailja landed in.
“What happened Aunty?” she asked curiously.
“This electricity! They always cut it at this time only. My serial…” ma
griped like a cry-baby.
“But aunty, there is electricity in our house and our line is also the same.
Have you checked the fuse of your electricity meter?” asked Shailja.
Ma turned to me. I was speechless. Shailja judged the situation well. Before
I did anything she brought the stool from the store room and hopped over
it, in front of the electricity meter.
“Mmmm…. Yes!” she exclaimed. “Your fuse has blown off. I mean this
main fuse,” she said, her eyes squinting at me. What’s a fuse other than a
wire joining two ends, but since I was standing there the half minute job
transformed into a highly exhausting and time consuming project.
“Vishu can I have a glass of water please. I’m really thirsty,” she said with
a heavy breath.
16 Seven Days Without You
The mischievous expression on her face was screeching that she was well
aware of the havoc a drop of water could cause there, but no damage would
match the satisfaction of seeing me standing like a waiter with a glass of
water at her service.
“Go… Bring water,” ma scowled at me. My heart groaned to mix rat’s
poison in the water, but who knew if the gaga girl asked me to drink it first.
A minute later, I was there with a glass of water. Ten minutes later I
requested ma if she could hold the glass and spare me to do something
useful for my life. She gawked at me to stand still and quiet. Shailja as
if waiting for that, plugged the fuse in the slot. In the other room the TV
started roaring. Shailja jumped off the stool and rushed to the TV room.
Ma followed her. I took the glass of water back into the kitchen.
That day was the beginning of a new era. Her movement into my house
became more frequent. Her closeness with my mother increased by
leaps and bounds, or maybe I had started to notice it then. From buying
vegetables to choosing mp3 CDs, ma took her advice in everything. She
would instigate ma to divulge all my stupidities, which she later used to
blackmail me in college. I was left choked with embarrassment when ma
divulged the saddest incident of my life to her, when on my way back from
school I couldn’t hold and pooped in my pants. Although I was a kid at the
time of that accident, Shailja added a few years to my age and threatened
me that if I tried to ignore her in college, she would tell that to all my
friends, especially the girls in the group.
In her presence, my home looked like a battlefield to me, where ma was
the commander-in-chief, Shailja was treated like an officer of equal rank,
papa was like a loyal soldier and I was like the man from the other side of
the border. Things became bad to worse with the entry of our new LCD.
LCDs were not a common sight in middle class homes a few years back.
We purchased it just before the football world cup and I was extremely
enthralled that I would be watching my favourite players in action on the
wall mounted LCD. The dam of patience broke when I missed a match of
my favourite team, just because the timings clashed with a documentary
film Shailja wanted to watch on Discovery channel. The theme of the
documentary was how polar bears deal with their hunger in dry seasons.
Anmol Rana 17
She said she feels close to nature while watching Discovery in LCD, our
LCD. Her reason had convinced ma so there was nobody to challenge her.
For one and a half hour, she didn’t loosen her grip on the remote.
“Vishu you should learn from polar bears. Have you ever noticed how
badly you shout at aunty when you are hungry?” she said shaking the
remote in front of my eyes. And then she showed me that upper jaw.
“WIRED TEETH WITCH…” I yelled, inside. Ma was sitting right next
to her. My helpless ass was blazed with anger. It was then I decided to
revolt. And I got my chance the very next day.
Ma and papa had gone to the market and were not expected to return
before the evening. I was alone in the house. With Shailja’s time of visit
clocking close I tightened my nerves to take on the task.
… ‘Come today and I’ll show you how to watch Discovery in LCD.’
‘Dingggggggg...’ The door bell rang. Her ruthlessness with our door bell
was just one of her several habits that burnt my blood. She would place her
finger on the switch and would not remove it until the door was opened
for her. I opened the door.
“Aunty... Aunty…” she started shouting from the door. My arms
stretched across to the door frames, I blocked her way in. She entered under
my arms. “Where’s Aunty? What’s she doing? Where is she?”
“Calm down. She is not here but I want to talk to you,” I said. She went
quiet. Without wasting a breath, I came to the point. “Shailja, I have been
noticing that…”
“What ..? What are you noticing ...?” she interrupted, her eyes scarily wide.
“Look, it’s getting tough for me just because of you. Don’t take it personally
but I need to say this that I …”
“I…? ... I what?” her eyes grew wider.
“Can’t you listen quietly?” I growled, but was annoyingly louder and the
loudness reached someone else’s ears too.
“What happened?” ma asked entering into the room. Her sudden entry
18 Seven Days Without You
took me by surprise.
“Ma…! Nothing… Nothing! I stammered in confusion.
“Shailja, what was he saying?” ma turned to her.
“Aunty he was saying that he is noticing me… it’s getting tough for
him… And... Aunty as he was about to say something…I… you came
in,” she replied, her voice weak and shaky.
Ma gazed at me furiously. In that situation, for a middleclass woman
who watches almost every Indian daily soap, what could an incomplete
sentence between a girl and a boy beginning with ‘I’ mean? Savitri and
her husband did that in every episode, at least ten times.
“What are you saying?” I squawked in self-defence.
“Didn’t you say all these things to me?” she grunted.
“I said, but I didn’t mean what you are trying to say...” I snarled
aggressively.
“Then what did you mean?” she stepped forward, arms akimbo. She knew
very well how to take advantage of being a girl. Ma stared at me hatefully.
She was now fully convinced that I would have done something if she
hadn’t come at the right time.
“Ma she is lying!” I grumbled to get ma on my side. After all she was my
mother. I thought so.
“SHUT UP…! Say sorry…” Ma roared in anger.
“Sorry.”
“To her.”
“No ma! She is a liar.”
“I said say sorry to her,” ma bullied me, her right fist clenched tightly. The
desperation in her voice was suggestive of a violent retaliation if I took one
more second to execute the dilemmatic option.
“Sorry.” Disgust bent my head down.
Anmol Rana 19
“It’s ok,” Shailja murmured, like a victor.
“Shailja, please don’t tell anybody about this,” ma grovelled
“Maaa…!” I groaned.
“No… No aunty! I can’t even think of doing anything that could hurt
you,” said Shailja.
“I wish I had a daughter like you,” ma hugged her.
“Am I not your daughter!?” she said, innocent than ever.
“Of course you are.”
“By the way aunty I came for that tomato chutney,” she recalled the purpose
of her visit only after making a ‘chutney’ of my image in my home.
“It’s in the refrigerator. Take as much as you want,” said ma. I guess it
was the price to keep the secret.
“Bye aunty,” she waved to ma, but her eyes sniped at me. “Bye...” She
sniggered and left.
For the following few days I became a villain in my own home. Whenever
Shailja came there, ma’s eyes were turned into a high alert vigilance
camera. She thought that I could take advantage of Shailja’s innocence. It
took me days to convince her that I had no other feelings for Shailja.
… So that’s my childhood friend Shailja and this was just one of the
demos of her friendship.
Back to 10:30 am
“Come on, she is your childhood friend. At least today you shouldn’t
be rude. You would rarely see her now,” papa said to me.
“I hope so.”
After a few minutes the door bell gave a buzz. “It’s Shailja. I’ll see,”
said Papa.
20 Seven Days Without You
“It’s not her. Have you forgotten how brutally she presses the switch?”
“Come in dear,” papa said to Shailja. She came in. She had something
in her hand wrapped in a polythene bag. “What’s this?” he asked.
“For aunty. Where is she?” she asked, amazingly low in volume.
“I’m here,” said ma from the kitchen. Shailja passed by ignoring
me completely. That was a historical moment of my life. What I
had strived for years happened on the day I wasn’t expecting it
at all. I went into the kitchen to keep my plate. She was standing
next to ma, but didn’t look like what she was actually known for.
Her terrifying talks were missing. She didn’t even throw her deadly
smile at me. I wondered if she was all well.
“Hi. How are you?” I asked.
“Fine…” she replied in a low voice. “ Going?”
“Ya…” I nodded. She gazed at me for a while, quiet and motionless.
Even her eyes that normally spoke more than her lips were dumb.
“When will you come back?” she asked me and again surprised me
with her tone showing traces of humbleness.
“Not decided yet. I’ll try to come at weekends or whenever ma
says,” I said looking at ma. There was a momentary silence between
us.
“Bye. Take care,” she said and without looking at me moved out of
the kitchen.
“Shailja, what happened daughter? Are you ok?” papa asked her.
Even he was shocked to see the changed Shailja of that day. She
didn’t stop. I came out of the kitchen with the cup of tea. She was
gone by then.
“You said something to her? She looked upset,” papa asked me.
“Na…”
“I think she is sad that you are going,” said ma. Papa nodded in
agreement. I couldn’t stop laughing.
Anmol Rana 21
“She wasn’t sad when I failed to score first division by three marks.
She was never sad in mocking me in my own home. She didn’t
feel any sadness calling me a loola on my face, when I fractured my
hand…. And today she is sad…! Can’t believe it.”
“What did she bring in that bag?” papa asked ma.
“It’s for you,” ma said to me.
“For me!?” I couldn’t hold my surprise because she had never gifted
me anything, except on my birthdays. And the gift was singing the
happy birthday jingle at one minute past twelve in the morning; or
midnight as I remember them.
“Let’s see what’s inside,” I picked it up. “Her quietness was itself a
huge gift,” I chuckled.
“She asked you to open it when you reach there,” said ma and
snatched it away from my hands.
“Come on! Just tell me what’s that? She would have told you
definitely,” I said, as I was more than eager to see the gift from the
Goddess of punishment.
“She didn’t tell me anything. What’s the hurry? Open it when you
reach Delhi,” replied ma and buried it into my bag.
11:00 am
“I’ll just remind Raju,” papa walked out of the room with his phone.
Delhi being only hundred and fifty miles from Dehradun was a
reason to cheer for all of us. The reason to worry was that I had
never been there before. Raju, my uncle and papa’s younger brother
was settled in Ghaziabad, a city bordering Delhi. The initial plan
was that papa would go with me, but his health had put the kibosh
on the whole idea. I would have only added an extra responsibility
if he had come with me. It was tough to convince them, but when
uncle said, ma and papa agreed.
22 Seven Days Without You
“Have you kept everything?” asked ma. In fact, she was asking that
since the last two days.
“Hmmm… I have kept everything, don’t worry,” I said.
Her anxiety about anything was a reason to worry because she was
a high blood pressure patient. Every other minute – Have you kept
the water bottle? Tooth brush? What will you eat on the way? How
many underwears you have? ... Her newest worry was a group of
racketeers that looted travellers by giving them poisonous biscuits.
Just then papa came back.
“You know, once I was coming from Delhi, a man came and sat
beside me…”
“I won’t eat anything from anybody. OK. I swear,” I wound up
the topic before he started the story that I had heard a hundred
times before. Every time the theme, the characters and the objective
remains the same. The only change is the place he was travelling to.
Last time when he told this story, he was coming from Lucknow,
this time Delhi.
“Shall we move now? It’s already eleven thirty,” I said and picked
my bags. Ma’s eyes turned wet again. Papa picked the scooter keys
and went out.
“Take care of yourself and call as soon as you reach there,” she said,
taking me into a passionate hug.
We came out of the house.
“Just a sec…” Papa said in heavy breaths. He was struggling hard
to get the scooter started. I don’t know how many times he tilted it
on its side to get the petrol drench every pore of the engine.
“I don’t know how many times I have told him to sell this scooter
and buy a new one, but who listens to me?” ma rumbled bitterly.
Papa didn’t dare raise his eyes. After a rapid fire of kicks the scooter
started with a cloud of grey smoke.
“Come fast!” Papa shouted; not because we were getting late, but
Anmol Rana 23
if we hadn’t put it on the road quickly, he had to repeat the entire
process in order to kick start it again.
Ma’s parents had gifted that scooter to papa in marriage. Scooter
then was like a Mercedes Benz today. He had special feelings and
many memories attached to it. This scooter always found a mention
whenever he talked about his youth.
11:50 am
We reached the bus stop bang on time. Papa got the ticket for me
with a bottle of water. There was no seat number on the ticket. I
adjusted my bag under the seat next to the rear door and took the
window seat. My rucksack occupied the aisle one. After about five
minutes the window glass started rattling with the noise of the
engine.
“Bye papa…”
“Bye son, take care of yourself,” his voice shook with emotions, as
he caressed my head with blessings.
Mothers have a tear bank to show their emotions, but there are
very few occasions that bring out the intense love a father carries in
his heart. That moment was one of them. I felt as if he transferred
his energies into me through his gentle touches. He stood there for
a while and then left.
I stretched myself to the two-thirds of the two-seater. The rest one-
third was occupied by my rucksack. It was uncivil but from an
intelligent traveller’s point of view, the idea was to enjoy the journey
without someone’s sleeping head hanging over my shoulders. As the
bus moved towards the out gate, people started flocking in. My body
automatically shrunk to the one-half of the seat, but the rucksack lay
as it was. The crowd pushed each other like animals to get into the bus.
Whenever there was an entry I felt the thrust because of the strategic
location of my seat. I was waiting for the replacement of my rucksack
and at the same time praying for none.
24 Seven Days Without You
“Please, can you hold a seat for me?” a jingling voice knocked my
ears. I turned my eyes outside the window. A young petite girl
failing to punch in from the rear door was walking alongside the
bus. “Please could you?” she begged, trying hard to keep with the
speed of the bus.
“Ya sure…! Don’t worry. You can sit next to me,” I said.
Excitement caught hold of my breath. There couldn’t have been any
better replacement for my rucksack. She was beautiful. I assured her
of her seat and my eyes followed her outside the bus. The bus had to
stop at the main exit gate for the out pass. That was her chance.
“This is your bag?” someone tapped my shoulder. I pulled my
attention inside. A guy, twice my size, was standing next to my seat
with my rucksack in his hands.
“Yes… But…” Before I completed he bumped my rucksack on my
lap and plonked his ass next to me. That was something really weird
and worth minding; keeping in mind that he was double my size.
“Brother, this seat is reserved. Someone is coming here,” I said to
him. He gazed me as if he would eat me alive. However, I couldn’t
have let that chance slip off my hands just because of someone’s
scary looks.
“What?” I said posing myself into a cold stare I had decided to
hold only till its first blink. However, it worked well before its
time. He stood up making faces and muttering something to
himself inside his mouth. I kept the rucksack back in its place
and peered out of the window to look out for her in the rabble
trying to poke into the bus. She was nowhere. A setback to my
upbeat eagerness, I plunged my head out of the window to
find her.
… ‘Bloody hell…! All have to go to Delhi today only and in this bus only…’
The bus stopped at the main gate. She was still nowhere around the
bus. I wasn’t even sure if she was still in the fight to catch the same
bus. In the next few seconds, the bus rolled out of the main gate, its
Anmol Rana 25
speed still chaseable.
… ‘DAMMIT…! Where are you?’
“Hi…” The same voice pierced into my concentration, but this time
from inside the bus. I pulled myself in hurriedly.
“Oh! Hi…” I exclaimed, surprised, happy and excited.
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” she smiled with gratitude. I
picked my rucksack. The ‘guy’ gave a piggy look.
“It’s perfectly all right,” I said. She took her seat.
“Terrible crowd!” she shook her head frustratingly.
“I thought you couldn’t make it.”
“When I had a seat booked in advance, how could I have missed
it!” she said smiling with a mix of smugness for herself and
thankfulness for me. I smiled back.
“So… Delhi?” I asked.
“Ya. And you?”
“Ghaziabad…. But from tomorrow Delhi.”
“Actually I am also going to Ghaziabad. I have a friend there. We
will go to Delhi in her car,” she said. I gazed at her expectedly. “…
But today only,” she grinned.
“Ok,” I turned my gaze off.
The coincidental link failing to bridge the gap, the next few minutes
passed in silence. However, my general knowledge kept on urging
me that it was not the time to keep my lips sealed. Experienced only
in watching other guys doing so, I knew girls could be easily driven
by witty talks. I had practically seen the ugliest of the guys walking
away with the cutest of the girls in college, just because he knew
thousands of love poems.
… ‘Just talk dude… Anything… But TALK.’
“Very long journey…” I started. She nodded without changing her
26 Seven Days Without You
view. I didn’t give up. “Minimum seven hours. Isn’t it?” I knocked
her lull again, and again she only nodded in the same manner.
Suddenly, something struck her and she pulled out her bag beneath
her seat.
“Really very hectic,” she said, her hands groping something inside
her bag. I noticed her quietly. She dug a potato chips packet out of
her bag and then finally looked at me. “Chips?”
“Thanks…” I picked one wafer. “Onion flavour! I also like this
flavour,” I said to get more friendly on the basis of the same taste.
“Actually I like tomato flavour, but it wasn’t there so I got this one.”
“Ok.”
“Have more…”
“No thanks.”
“But you said you like this flavour.”
“Yeah… But… My stomach is full. I just had my lunch.”
“Ok.”
“You live in Delhi?” I asked.
“No,” she said. Silence followed.
“Then?”
“Dehradun,” she said. Silence followed.
“I am also from Dehradun,” I said.
Although same place could have given a talk-base emphatically
bigger than the same taste, I muted my tongue for two reasons.
One – My overzealousness had begun to strain my behaviour;
Two – I couldn’t let her think that I was trying too much.
Meanwhile, she took out her mobile and a pair of headphones
from her purse. It felt as if my favour in her eyes was only worth
one thanks and one potato wafer; both of which I had already
received. I turned my face away. As the time of silence stretched
Anmol Rana 27
between us, my ego emerged out and sat over my tongue.
… ‘What’s your name?’ I was dying to ask.
…‘Why should only I start?’ This stopped me.
After few minutes …
“What’s your name …?” she asked. My ego dissolved into my
saliva, her initiation aroused my hormones into elation.
“Vishwas. You can call me Vishu,” I said.
“I’m Nishika.”
“Nishika… Nice name.”
“Thanks,” she acknowledged my compliment with a pretty smile.
“Music is good time pass,” I said looking at her headphones.
“Yeah,”
“But when you are alone,” I said sarcastically. She laughed and
placed the headphones back into her purse. It was positive, but
before the positivism showed its effect another hormonal change
sprinted into my nerves; not so ecstatic this time.
My raptures were burnt into ashes when I saw the ‘guy’ staring at
her like a hungry dog. While she was completely unaware of him, I
was now like over-aware. Even when he noticed that I had caught
him, he didn’t divert his eyeballs off her. The sparkle of lust in his
eyes drove me into a sulk. My major worry was the disgust Nishika
would go through if she knew that two dirty eyes were spying on
her everything. I took a quick peek of her dress to check if it showed
something that it shouldn’t. She was perfectly shielded for a wintry
day. I let out a sigh of ignorance and turned my attention back to
her.
“So Nishika, what do you do? Student or working somewhere?”
“I am working as a Research Fellow in the university. And you…?”
“I would be working as a software engineer in Delhi.”
28 Seven Days Without You
“Would be…?”
“Ya, day after tomorrow.”
“First job?”
“Hmmm...”
“Software engineers are highly paid…”
… ‘Highly thrown out also.’
“Really...?” I smiled smugly.
“Hmm... My cousin is also a software engineer. He worked in
Bangalore for two years. Now in America …. Forty lakhs per
annum…!”
“And what about Research Fellows…? Aren’t they highly paid?”
“It’s a government job,” she said with a slight wince.
12:30 pm
Shame seemed to be his enemy. Every other minute I clashed my
sight with his, but failed to change his direction. I knew he was
just settling the score and I guess he knew that it was the best way.
Annoyed but helpless, I did everything to get my mind off him.
When my discomfort crossed the limits of my endurance I decided
to share my load.
“Nishika…” I whispered into her ears. By then I had earned the
right to bring my lips close to her body.
“Hmm…” She turned to me.
“You’d feel embarrassed, but I think you should know that..., a
fellow is staring at you since you sat here.”
“That tall one, blue collars, pierced ear...” she said looking straight
into my eyes.
Anmol Rana 29
Like a slap on my face, her words jerked my head towards him
and for the first time I noticed that his one ear was pierced and his
white shirt had a blue collar. I was gaping at him, he was staring
at her and she was looking at me. The triangular scene had three
different emotions at three different ends–shock, lust and harmony.
Woken up from half an hour of sleep, I couldn’t stop myself seeking
a justification for what I felt I was completely insane.
“You knew that?” I gave a disappointing groan.
“Ya…” She said as if it was daily bread for her.
“But you didn’t tell me!”
“You didn’t ask.”
“You don’t have any problem with that?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“What why? It’s normal.”
“Normal…? I don’t believe this...!” I grunted. “A guy is staring at
you badly and you say it’s normal!”
“... Arey baba... I travel so much that now I have become used to
all these things. Time has taught me that you should not take
unnecessary tensions for those who are nobody to you. You should
be bothered about what you want, not what others want,” she said
contorting her face into a consoling expression, as if it was my
trouble.
A wave of disagreement running inside me, I gazed at her quietly.
Her philosophy that a girl shouldn’t mind being leered at, like a
porn movie, just because she travels frequently didn’t ram down
my throat. In fact, my view was that frequent travelling should
have taught her to teach a lesson to such guys. However, difference
in thinking didn’t mean that I had started hating her. The great
moral lesson was that when you have just begun liking a girl, you
30 Seven Days Without You
start seeing things from her eyes. The preaching silence broke the
bridge of communication for a while and both of us got busy with
our own minds.
… ‘She is right. You cannot change all. Better change yourself.’
The enlightenment sidelined every theory I had grown up with and
persuaded me to only focus on ‘what I want’. I gave a squint look at
her. The chips packet like an LOC between our thighs, she was busy
with her wafers. Then my knowledge filled eyes took a glimpse of
the ‘guy’. He passed a mischievous smile, as if he knew that she had
no problem with him. How could have a worldly smile affected an
enlightened mind! I ignored him one more time. This time it was
easier.
12:45 pm
The bus had entered into the most picturesque stretch of the
journey. At the boundary of Dehradun, around twenty miles of
snaky road made a splendid scenery of the dense forests across the
hills descending into plain fields. The unsullied moist breeze of the
jungle and the magnificent expanse of verdure, for a while I forgot
the scene beside me. Crafted by nature, the panoramic view of the
splotchy patterns formed by the sun rays filtering through the trees
didn’t let my eyes wander anywhere else.
“Can I take the window seat please?” she intervened into my calm.
“Ya… Why not…? Sure.” We changed our seats. I thought she
was also an admirer of natural beauty. One more similarity simply
meant one more chance.
“I love this stretch. Hills, jungles, greenery… Really marvellous,”
I said delightfully.
“These hilly roads…! I just hate this...” she said wrinkling annoyance
across her face. Her stony look repulsed me into silence and with
the next blink my enlightenment was shattered into pieces like
Anmol Rana 31
broken glass.
… ‘BULLSHIT! Whatever I say, she just speaks the opposite.”
Bruised with her anti-attitude, I changed my posture, view and mind.
The worst part of the story was that every time something happened
I don’t know why my eyes were automatically launched towards the
‘guy’. He was still smiling, but its meaning disgustedly changed now.
On the other hand, the girl actually responsible for the chaos inside
me sat amazingly calm and quiet, as if now I was also ‘nobody’ to her.
Wondering if she was purposefully behaving like an antonym to me
I decided not to make a mock of myself anymore. I closed my eyes,
controlled my breathing and let my muscles loose. Slowly, the soporific
effects of the road began seizing my glum and exhausted inside. The
next few minutes of solace sprouted sleep under my eyelids. But before
it spread into my nerves…
“Aeee… Madam…!” Someone cried out, behind us. The frightening
rumble opened my eyes. What I saw woke my senses.
Her butt raised to my chest, Nishika was hanging half outside the
window. A continuous gush, she was throwing up like a broken
sewer line. Within seconds, the bus was engulfed in the aroma of
rotten tomatoes. Passengers sitting behind us seemed to have been
splashed by a few drops of her vomit. I posed a look of sorry on
her behalf, but the back benchers gaped at me as if I was the one
responsible for the mishap. It was then I realized that unknowingly
I had become an eyesore due to my closeness with the madam. I
turned my attention to her.
“Nishika take some water,” I gave my water bottle to her. She
gargled and sat back. “You ok? … Drink some water. You’ll feel
better,” I compelled.
“No... Please… My head… It’s spinning…!” She pleaded. I thought
practically. Only water could have compensated for the loss of
water. She kept on saying no, but I emptied half of the bottle into
her mouth. She propped her head against the front seat and went
quiet. But just after a minute or so with a quick jerk she popped her
32 Seven Days Without You
head out of the window. The back sitters were prepared this time.
There were no complaints, only wicked looks.
“Nishika…” I picked my water bottle again.
“I told you don’t give me water. It happened because of you,” she
groused, a shitty look burning over her face.
“But I thought…”
“Can’t you think something good for yourself,” she flicked her
head arrogantly and turned her face away from me.
That was the first moment, when I was struck with a feeling of dislike
for her. Her boorish behaviour poked my self-respect. The ‘guy’ once
again grinning at me made it more miserable. I turned my conscience
numb to her presence and dropped myself into a state of coma.
… ‘No girl… No guy… NOBODY.’
‘Let’s follow her strategy only. She’s also ‘nobody’ to you.’
1:30 pm
Silence began formatting my memory. Slowly peace began flowing
in. I sat with a mind that whatever happens I won’t open my eyes,
but then something intruded into my loneliness and forced me
to undo my decision. Grasped in sleep, Nishika’s head propped
against my left shoulder.
The more I inclined away, the more she fell over me. Mind said
– Jerk her off, stay away! Heart said – She is exhausted, help her.
Swinging between the two, I held myself in an awkward angle, till
the call of mind was overridden by the voice of heart. I reverted back
to my original posture. My values, not my intentions, persuaded
me to help her in this way too. But soon, I realized that this time the
rewards of the help had started to reap in automatically with the
help itself. Her warm perfumed hypnotic breath sneaked into my
jacket and brushed my chest to a mystique sensation. With a slight
change in the angle of my neck, they fell in the reach of my nostrils.
Anmol Rana 33
In just two three breaths, my self-respect was healed and thereafter
every breath gave a doze of new life to my dying feelings for her.
The pulses of sensuous tingles from her lustrous hair touching
my bare neck encouraged me. My values now backed with my
intentions, I froze myself into that posture.
Out of hills, the bus was now cruising over a straight line of the
highway. With every passing second the ride got smoother and
more sleep friendly. It was now more than half an hour that neither
of us had moved an inch out of our postures. Soon my shoulder
grew signs of strain due to its fixed and unnaturally stiff pose. In
the next few minutes, it felt as if her head was a solid ball of iron
hanging over my shoulder. Mystique sensations now unendurable
tortures, my aching shoulder grieved for relief and a change of
posture. The process required me to touch her head. So I did it.
“Huuuhh…! What are you doing…?” she jerked herself off, as if
not my fingers but a high-tension electric wire had poked in her
head. Spooked with her expressions, I wondered if by mistake I
had touched something I shouldn’t have. When sure that I didn’t, I
came to defending myself earnestly.
“My shoulder was hurting,” I said.
“You touched me!” she scoffed.
“I had to! How could have I adjusted myself otherwise?” I groaned.
She gazed at me with a puzzled frown.
“You were sleeping. Your head was over my shoulder since the last
half an hour. I didn’t disturb you. But now it was straining…. So….”
I explained. She shrunk her eyebrows trying to recall how and when
she fell asleep. I kept on explaining. Finally she was convinced that my
touch was a helping hand and not a seductive fondling.
“I am really sorry. Because of me….” She placed her hand over my
shoulder.
“It’s ok,” I smiled. And after a long gap, she smiled back. We started
talking.
34 Seven Days Without You
With two favours making a strong case for me, now there seemed
more synonyms than the antonyms. Now I was using my effort
only in talking, not in making topics. She was doing it for me.
3:30 pm
After crossing tens of cuisines along the highway the driver
stopped at the ‘Bhima da Dhaba’. It sounded more like a health club
rather than a place to eat. A loudspeaker pegged over a tree at one
corner shrieked out a fifteen minutes refreshment break message.
We stepped out of the bus.
“Where is the ladies’ toilet..?” Nishika asked me. Most firsts of
my life found their origin on that day. This question was one of
them.
“How would I know about the ladies toilet when I don’t know
where the gent’s is!” I said scrolling my eyes in all directions for a
toilet signboard.
“Ok, I’ll find myself,” she said and we departed in our search for
toilets.
The place was surrounded with sugarcane fields. Instead of wasting
time in the search operation I stepped towards the fields. When I
returned Nishika was already there.
“So what will you have?” she asked me with the menu in her hands.
I sat quiet, as I could only see ‘MENU’ of the menu. “I am a pure
vegetarian but I don’t mind eating with non-veg on the table,” she
fixed something and turned the menu towards me. The hatred for
non vegetarians was quite evident in her eyes. I grasped what she
wanted to say, but lying for the sake of impressing a girl didn’t
seem right to me.
“I love non-veg, but I mind eating it with pure vegetarians. Order
by your choice, anything.”
“Sandwich and tea, ok with you?” she asked. I nodded a yes. She
Anmol Rana 35
kept the menu down. I raised my head for the waiter.
“Waiter… Waiter...” I called one, but on his way to our table he
turned to a call from the other table. With only fifteen minutes
in hand, waiting for a waiter seemed a bad idea. “I’ll go and get
myself,” I said to her.
“Wait,” she stopped me. I sat down. She wandered her eyes for a
while and then raised her hand.
The next moment...
“Yes madam,” the same waiter was standing in front of us.
“Two sandwiches and two teas.”
“Two sandwiches, two teas… Ok madam.”
“Make it cheese sandwich…” I edited the order to add cheese into
the sandwich and my presence into his mind. He turned to me.
“Cheese, OK! Don’t forget,” I said.
“Hmmm...” He shook his head and left. Nishika smiled smugly.
“I don’t understand why some guys respond to a girl’s call so fast. Sick.”
“Why did you?” she backfired. For once there was a complete blank
inside me. I gathered my wits fast.
“It was a help. I would have done the same for anybody.”
“Really?” she gazed into my eyes questioning the veracity of my
words. I didn’t blink.
“Ya,” I said confidently, but with the next breath I repented that if I
had said no, my job would have become easier.
“And you would have also strained your shoulder for anybody’s
comfort?” Rhetorically, she gave me one more chance to compensate
for the previous error. I knew what she wanted to hear, and also that
if I said that there would be no turning back then. She was looking at
me, still waiting for my reply. Slightly nervous now, I gulped it once.
My ‘No’ slipped into my stomach with it.
36 Seven Days Without You Anmol Rana 37

“Yes.” amazingly didn’t slurp a decibel out of it - something impossible

for me. I chose to wait for sometime rather than ending with a
… ‘SHIT …!’
scorched tongue in the attempt to that noiseless show-off.
“Tell me more about yourself,” she broke the gaze and changed
“Everything that you wanted to know about me,” I said and picked
the topic.
my sandwich. If she wasn’t there I would have crammed it into my
“What else? You know everything now? Vishwas... 24... Dehradun… mouth and chewed it like a dinosaur, but her delicate table manners
Only son….” raised my standards too.

“Only son?” “Age, younger than you… Home, Dehradun... Work, Dehradun...
And not only girl,” she smirked. I couldn’t control my laughter.
“Yeah... Only son.”
“You have a brother?” I asked with a small decent bite on my
“OK... And?”
sandwich.
“And Software engineer in Delhi... After two days.”
“No. We are three sisters. But I miss having a brother.”
“And?”
“Ok.”
“And...”
“Do you have a sister?”
…‘And single.’
“No. I told you I’m the only son.”
“Your package, salary?” she asked when I lulled for a while.
“Only son can have a sister.”
The questioned lulled me even more. I could have simply bluffed
“Only child… Ok now?” I said, and from my side finished that scary
out an impressive heavyweight amount, but again my heart
topic right there. She followed me. We finished our snacks talking
interrupted and said that only truth should be the catalyst between
about everything else other than that brother-sister gap. A base
us.
prepared and a sense of trust developed, I decided to now go one
“I have calculated, after all the deductions and tax I’ll get around step ahead in that still a formal friendly relationship. Although I
thirty thousand in hand.” didn’t plan a strategy for my job, I had one in my mind now.

“Thirty thousand starting is good!” Her face blossomed out with …‘First Take her number…’
excitement. With that reaction I also felt great about myself. The
“Nishika…”
number raised my self-esteem bar by thirty times.
“Bill...” The waiter hung the bill into my line of sight to Nishika.
“Two cheese sandwiches and two teas?” the waiter confirmed
The white paper stood like a wall between me and her. I snatched
before placing the tray on the table.
it from his hand.
“Your turn now. I know only your name,” I said to maintain the
“I’ll pay,” she said and picked her purse.
rhythm.
“Don’t worry. I’ll give you a chance to pay,” I signalled her to hold
“What else you want to know?” She took a sip from her cup and