A love for bubbles

“But what will you take for her?” Nitin asked me.
He seemed almost as anxious as I was on this occasion. Okay, so that’s what friends were for… but right now he was not helping me at all.

What would I take for her? The instant answer was “Myself” but I thought it was safer not to say anything. Nitin was the earnest type and he would not like me making light of the situation. The situation? My planning to propose to Richa. Big momentous occasion on the cards. All planned by the small guy.

Did I say ‘small’? I didn’t feel that small. I felt like I owned the world. After all, Richa was almost mine, so to speak. And who wouldn’t be happy with a girl like that. She was everything I wanted in someone I was willing to spend the rest of my life with. She was fun, witty, charming and the best part was she understood me.

Well, over the last couple of months, I too was faintly beginning to understand her. Nitin’s verdict of Richa being a “good girl” notwithstanding, I knew there were many times when I could have torn my gelled hair in despair trying to figure out what was it she wanted to say when she clammed up and said, “Nothing”.

There were times when all she wanted to do was tell me about her day. Which was fine as long as she did not ask me about mine. I mean work was work, what else did one say about it? Then there was a time when she picked up a bottle of bubble liquid from a man selling balloons on the road. “Grow up”, I told her laughing, yet somewhat embarrassed. People on the streets were staring at us, though they were all smiling indulgently at her. “Why should I?” was her quick rejoinder. I had, as usual, no answer to that as a bubble settled on my nose.

But over time, I think I can understand her. No, maybe I understand myself better. I know for a fact that we are definitely different. And understanding that itself is a big step. I know that I need to lend her a listening ear time and again. She simply just wants to be heard. And I have told her that I really do not need to share every office issue with her.

I know that when she gives me space to have my night out with the boys, she is expecting that one-minute phone call to say that I still think of her. Easier said than done when you are in the middle of a heated football discussion, but I can do it now.

“So what are you going to get her” Nitin interjected into my thoughts. “Do you know what I suggest?”
I smiled. I didn’t want to know.
This momentous occasion would be ours. Richa’s and mine. I was going to propose to her. The setting would be perfect. And I was going to take a bottle of bubble liquid for her.

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