As my 'Mataji-pitaji' were also waiting for my arrival, taking a deep long breathe, keeping my cell with the 'most important net page loading over it' aside somewhere over the bed I took my shoes off! and directly set off for their room.
Looking at the silent atmosphere of the room, at first I worried that, is 'pitaji' again came home dead drunk? Yes,
unfortunately 'pitaji' had lived his alcoholic days which at a certain extent was fully successful in ruining my childhood happiness.
But I was way too wrong, taking my guess into consideration. I stepped in the room, with my both eyes just eager to make an eye contact with "pitaji's" eyes to check for their colour. Finding them cloudy white, I had a huge sigh of relax twice in that day.
Turning my eyes over to 'mataji' gave me a mixture of emotional, aggressive,questionable, etc. etc., eyes expressions to which I always made fun of her by saying, "Haye! Meri Sri devi jaisi amma!!"and every time she burst out in shyness and soft laughter.
To break that cramational silence of the room I greeted them and gave them the whole day report of school and coaching both, to which no one paid attention! Not even 'Mataji'.
Empowering the hearing strength of my ears I stood statued for a while and started listening to whatever was being played in that room that time in a 'little-low than normal' sound. That time I felt as if I was 'not wanted' in the room, as the reason was justified for 'pitaji'. But 'Mataji'??? hell noo!!! The pin drop silence atmosphere of the room was the result of the climax of the close encounter taking place between CSK and RCB in our very own cricket tournament IPL.
Over which 'pitaji' had placed a huge bet on loosing team (yes, 'pitaji is flooded with all of the now-a-days spoiled
boys activities). Realising the proper value of the time, giving the appropriate responce to the 'hotness' of the room, making up my face and styling my hairs again, I requested 'Mataji' to send something to my room to eat and came back to my room.
Getting back in my previous postion, I sat back on the bed. Not finding it much comfortable. Holding the mobile gently in my hands I lied down in the sleeping position over bed. I opened the screen lock, and was just in love by seeing
whatever was being displayed there.
Obviously 'Chetna's profile page!! Her profile was designed very beautifully.
With her cover photo being a "some attitude caption" pic and a so beautiful, so preety, and so attractive profile picture.
I was fully flattered After watching the Dp, as I was in love with the face already. In an attitude stuffed and graceful pose of sitting over a sofa with one leg crossing over the other, she was there in her Dp.
Without wasting much of the time, I clicked on the 'Add Friend' option and finally send her the friend request with millions of excited chromosomes
running through my mind. I was feeling as if I had successfully executed the most difficult job of my entire life and my parents will be proud of me. Which was nothing but again an even more intense misconception.
I was so relaxed and so free that I can't even express it in making the proper use of words. At that time, looking at her profile page especially at her Dp was the most emotionally attached job for me. I was looking at her Dp and was swirling and taking turns on my bed, like a typical 'Hindi' movie actress after falling in love :p.
Controlling my exaggerated excitement, I stood up and sat back on the bed hiding my mobile display from someone's view
who may enter in room without knocking or my permission. With a long smile on my face I started scrolling down to query about her "about's". Starting from name to e-mail was quiet boring as it was carrying all the 'general-already known to me' information. But, then came the most interesting thing.
The 'Likes' and 'my quotes' thing. Not caring for whatever was written down there in that 'interesting' part of her profile, I moved on to the part of 'interested in'. Obviously for which I had an answer with me in mind. But just for surity I checked, and was even more confirmed by reading 'men'. Without being asked, I said to myself,
"Beta, bando mein interest hai..!!!
Kuch Ho sakta hai tera."
Suddenly the door (actually, I am confused which door it is,front or back? as my room is in the midway of home. Consider it front.) opens making a scratching sound by getting in contact with floor. 'Mataji' entered with her one hand holding a glass of milk and other hand carrying some biscuits in a bowl. Looking at which I said,
"Stop giving me milk yaar, I am not a kid anymore"
To which she replied very politely,
"Beta, if you don't drink milk then how will you be able to concentrate on your study?"
Without arguing much I took the glass and bowl because I don't want her reaction to switch from polite to aggressive and wordings from "Beta" to,
"Drink, if you want to drink or throw it away in drain. But, don't argue with me",within a fraction of seconds. I started drinking that 'concentration-booster' and in all of a sudden 'Mataji' asked, what are you doing in your mobile and smiling continuously by looking at it??
I was so excited that I was too eager to tell her the truth. But, then I memorized my past (yes, before having a crush on 'Cheta' I was in an unfaithful relationship for 4 months when I was in 10th). And started thinking about the 'most unexpected conditions and behaviors' that I had been through when 'Pitaji' came to know about my first relation. That 'unforgettable questionnaire', those pipe impressions on thigh, nights without food, days without not stepping out of the home, and many more of those judgements for my last sin stopped me from doing so.
Hesitatingly, I replied,
"nothing much, friends message".
In the reply of which she gave me a long lecture whose summary was, 'she don't want me to get indulge again in all that girl and love stuff as I should focus on my studies' and went off the room. With very shamefull and in a Romeo mood, as I was doing just opposite to my parents expectations I closed my mobile to the home screen and keeping it over the bed I came out of the room.
