Middle Class Love #Wattys2015

Are You Free Today?

I was going through some of the files in the archive. My boss was planning on sending me to Nigeria for a scoop on Boko Haram. Part of me was terrified but the journalist in me thirsted for a story to tell. Those dangerous ones at the expense of my life had always thrilled me. "Roshan, you are mad!" my father would always admonish me. "What if you get captured by some terrorist group?" my mother would rant. "Clangggg.." my brother would say with a smile on his face "Bro, that's the sound your head would make if it ever fell off your neck and hit the ground." I would give that irrelevant jerk one of my customary death stares.

Today, I was entertaining the idea of actually visiting Nigeria. the chances of getting into trouble were more but that never really mattered. If I were able to survive Syria, I think God wouldn't be unkind this time as well. I am keeping my fingers crossed on this one. Professionally, the scoop would mean a lot and personally, I could tick off Nigeria from the list of places I want to visit. It was a risky proposition and I was game for it.

The phone rang as I was flipping through the file. By the time I picked it up, three missed calls were on display and all of them were from Nikki. Placing the file on my desk, I was about to return the calls. The phone beeped, signalling a text message. It was from her!!

Nikki: Rosh, don't mean to disturb. Are you free this evening?

Me: Yes. Meet up for dinner?

Nikki: I've lost my appetite ,Rosh.

Me: Really? You on a low carb diet or something?

Nikki: Nope :) Its just the day. Can we meet for dessert?

Me; Sure. Baskin & Robbins?

Nikki: GREAT..I'll be there at 7.

Me: Looking forward to it ! ;)

That got me happy. The Boko Haram file had me feeling grim until then. I counted the hours to 7 PM and waited eagerly to see her.

7 PM finally came and I bolted like a happy child to a soccer match. B&R was just a few minutes away from my place. Nikki and I almost bumped into each other at the door. Muttering polite words of apology, we settled for the table near the glass wall of the shop.

"Ahhh" she sighed painfully. "What happened at work?" I asked her. "Oh, just ran into some nonsense." she said, unfolding a small yellow piece of paper and pressing it onto my palm. I read it and frowned in disgust "Sorry to ask, honey but who is the b###h who gave this to you?". She shook her head in exasperation and said "She's a colleague called Lakshmi: the official gossip girl of the office. Anyone who is better than her has either bribed the boss into promotion or appeased him sexually." I was disgusted by the thought of a grown woman behaving in such a crude fashion.

"So, what are you going to do about this?" I asked her. With a straight face she mentioned "Well, I'd lie low for a while, keep the note and then report her when things get worse." I slid my fingers under her palm and gripped her hand ever so slightly. She smiled and let me caress her hand. "So, what's happening at your workplace? Where are you going next?" she teased me. "You'd better pray for me. It's Nigeria this time." I warned. "Oh, be sure to take a selfie with the Boko Haramis!" she giggled. "Vijay is waiting for my head to fall off!" I remarked smilingly. She raised her eyebrows and pouted "That brother of yours is an ass." she said. I nodded in agreement. Intermittent bouts of conversation found their way to our dessert time. We were just happy to see each other after a great deal of time. Neither of us could believe that two months had passed quickly after the Cafe Pritchard dinner.