Story: Invitation

"Ok fine. It is done. I'll come to your home tomorrow," she said so easily.

There are very few friends of mine who have made their way to my home. I ain't mean; but I don’t like bringing them home.

I fell in a crisis when she expressed her willingness to come to my home on phone. It would have been rude, so I couldn’t say "Don’t come!" After two times of flopped plan to meet, it seems she got my home only to 'date'.

Next day the sun came up as usual and the clock was turning the way it always did. But it was not just another day. I hadn’t yet revealed that a she-friend of mine is coming home. Looking at my unnatural nervousness since the time I wake up, mom asked, "What has happened to you, babu?" I thought the time is ripe to pull the curtain. "Mom, I don’t know what happens to me when my friend is coming home", I said is a childish tone. I've thought she'll understand my psychology. But to my dismay, she said,

"You're acting as if a minister is coming to visit you."

"This very attitude of yours doesn’t allow me to invite my friends home," I said with my eyebrows raised.

She simply smiled at my reply and asked to finish the breakfast 'without being nervous'. She seems to be knowing what was going inside me then. After all, she is a mother.

*****************************

She gave me a missed call signaling she was approaching my home. I came out to veranda and waited for her arrival.

Finally a scooty stopped right in front of the gate. There she was; I recognized her when she put off her helmet.

I rushed downstairs and opened the gate myself. She parked her vehicle at the side. I started to introduce, "This is our doggy Jangey…. my little Bhanji… Didi… dear sis… mom and dad." She greeted "Namaste" to everyone. After knowing my psychology, everyone in the home was behaving affably. She was willing to talk to my dad and mom. But I didn't want her to interact further. So I took her upstairs to our so called living room.

I knew the room wasn't swept for two days. But it wasn't looking dirty as it always used to. I made her sit on the chair and told her to get herself engaged with my photos in my laptop until I make a cup of tea. I remembered, the keypad of my old laptop had already worn out and works occasionally. Leaving everything for god, I came downstairs to the kitchen.

Didi seeming to be co-operative asked me, "Shall I make tea?"

I replied, "Nope! I'll make it myself."

With all my good efforts I started making tea. Although a bottle of milk is brought everyday in our home, only black tea is prepared in our kitchen. I made a 'special' black tea, adding all the ingredients that I had known would enhance the flavor of tea. But sh*t! There were no cups in usable condition. I've to pour the tea in glasses made of steel.

With well-arranged few biscuits and two glasses of tea on a 'plate', I entered the living room. She had already finished watching the photos. I offered the tea. She took a slurp. I asked,

"How's it?"

"Umm…good… In fact BEST! Did you prepared by your own?"

"Of course! with my own hand."

She simply smiled at my reply.

Silence engulfed the environment for sometimes. I was doing my best to hide that I wasn't feeling awkward. She was again going through my photo album as if she was searching 'something'.

I asked her, "Haven't you finished yet?", in a formal mode.

"Yup! Almost."

She caught the glass again and took it to her lips. One more slurp and turned to me,

"How's life going?"

"Ah! as usual," I answered.

The conversation went so formal that I even forgot that I used to address her with third class pronoun 'Tah' in phone and in online chatting. It seems life in real world is much more difficult and formal than that of virtual world of facebook.

She took the last slurp of tea and said, "It’s time to leave." It had hardly been half-an-hour since she had arrived. But I didn't dare to stop her.

I expressed my gratitude for coming. She gave her killer smile and said, "Thanks for the invitation."

She bid goodbye to my mom and dad. Mom uttered, "Do come again, dear."

I opened the gate. She started her scooty and disappeared in the crowd.

I breathed the ecstatic air of relief. My little Bhanji was playing at the corridor. I kissed her on her cheeks, probably in triumph of making the invitation a success.