Part-Time Devdaas... Read Online Free PDF

to play a song for me, and her handkerchief with which she had wiped a gaudy lipstick she tried at a shop (I had stolen it from her). There was a bag containing twenty-one gifts and a note with each one of them for my twenty-first birthday. It had a miniature whiskey bottle and a note “what I can do to you, she can’t;” a pack of condoms and a note “I know you won’t need it but just in case to be safe;” a t-shirt that said “sold to the young lady besides me;” and a pair of biking gloves with a note “till the time I learn to ride”.
    I stopped looking at it.
    It brought Hrida back to me. I could clearly relive my days with her. Her eyes which could read my thoughts, her enticing smile that left me with a whirlwind inside me, her kisses which made me feel loved, her warm hugs that made me feel wanted, her smell that made me long for her, feeling of her fingers gripping my hand, her touch that made me feel alive, It all came back. I had to stop. I hurriedly dumped everything in the box. It had been three years since I had broken up with her and I was still holding on to these things which only brought me pain. I had asked her to leave me forever. But I couldn’t accept the fact that I had to live the next forty odd years of my life without her. I had to forget her. In a fit of rage I took the box to the dry area, threw in a crumpled newspaper, cracked the seal of the whiskey bottle and emptied half of it into the box and set it on fire. I watched every single thing burn. Tears started rolling down my face when I saw flames beginning to engulf a photo of us, first my side of the photograph and then gradually Hrida’s face disappeared in fire. I broke down. i t was the first time since the break up that I had cried. I gulped the remaining whiskey and threw the bottle in. I stood by it, crying for the fifty-six or so minutes that it burnt. But not anymore, I promised myself. In the past three years, I had scourged myself enough out of guilt. I had hurt too many lives in my pursuit of self-destruction. I had kicked away all the people who loved me. I didn’t know how long I would live or who I’d live with, but I decided I was going to be happy.

    I typed a number on my cell and stared at it. After musing for about twenty minutes, I dialled the number. When you behave like a jerk it, takes time to accept it, and it takes even more time to say sorry if you don’t have enough guts in you. It took me two years to accept it, but I wasn’t going to waste any more time to apologize. The caller tune at the other end died when no one answered. I waited for a moment and dialled again, a hideous voice again screamed at me to copy the caller tune later continuing to a song.
    “Hello?” finally someone picked up, “Hello?” the voice said. I kept quiet.
    “Hello?”
    “Is it okay if I say sorry over the phone?” I said.
    “Poncho?” Raghu said.
    “How have you been man?” I said with a choked voice. There was a long pause.
    “Happy birthday!” he said, his voice strained. “Where are you?”
    “Below your office. Leave right now, we are going for lunch,” I said commandingly. “I mean, can you leave right now?” I said correcting my tone.
    He began to laugh.
    Raghu had been working with his dad at his construction firm after completing his engineering. I took a chance and found him there. Raunak Uncle had a dream that one day Raghu and I would run his company, but as I said, I had hurt too many people.
    I got out of the car as I saw him walk out of the lobby. Formal wear, leather shoes, gelled hair and a paunch. He had changed a lot. We hugged tightly and he even kissed me. If you want to feel what actual love is, hug someone who has really missed you and you’ll know. He gave me a hearty punch in my stomach. I almost fell down with the impact.
    “ Bhenchod !” he said “How are you?”
    “Less of a jerk than the last time we met,” I smiled trying to conceal the pain.
    “I missed you, man,” he