Attachments

Chapter 22

We hit the roads and aimlessly drove around the empty roads of Mumbai with the volume of his car-radio turned all the way up. He owned an extremely soft and romantic playlist – which contradicted the jarringly loud playlist on my phone – but it was calming and beautiful; everything's makes you feel good when you're slightly tipsy. Everything, but a car that's racing at the speed of 120 kilometers per hour on the empty roads; it twisted my insides and made me feel extremely sick and suffocated because the speed forced my spinning world to spin quicker. With the cold air from the AC smashing my face and the high speed spinning my world, I was on the verge of throwing up and dirtying Darshan's car.

"Listen stop the car, I feel sick", I eventually blurted out the truth to Darshan, when I couldn't control how I felt. "It's probably because of the AC", Darshan – the Doctor, without an MBBS degree – diagnosed and lowered the AC's intensity. "The fuck, shut this down!", I muttered under my breath and turned off the radio in annoyance. "Hey!", Darshan exclaimed, with his eyes narrowed, and shot a look at me. Having Arijit Singh sing about peace and pain, when all I wanted to do was throw up, didn't go hand in hand at all! "Darshan, stop the car. I cannot stay in any longer", I said, rubbing the side of my neck, uncomfortably. "Maybe you need fresh air. I'll roll the window down for you", Darshan suggested, searching for a button, and that was exactly when my nerves snapped. "HOW HARD IS IT TO STOP THE DAMN CAR?", I questioned, completely pissed, and Darshan's head snapped in my direction. "Just stop the freaking car. I want to throw up. Where do I throw up? On your head?", I said, and it took him less than ten seconds to halt the car in the corner of the road. "You should have told me", Darshan whimpered, and I pushed the car-door open, without bothering to listen to him. I hopped out of the car, and stood a distance away from it, attempting to bring myself to throw up but I couldn't; it was that feeling of wanting to throw up, but being unable to do so and I hated that feeling to death! I walked back to the car, and slid into the passenger's seat, breathing deeply and calmly. "Is this one way of dramatizing and escalating a simple situation?", Darshan questioned, unbuckling his seatbelt and lazily sat back on the driver's seat. "I swear, I'll vomit on you if you talk too much", I said, jokingly, and he chuckled.

We coexisted in silence for a long while in his car, and stared at the empty path that opened before our tired eyes; shimmery stars on the canvas-like night sky, a necklace of bright lights on the road and warm air seeping inside the car, through the window that was rolled down – it was simply perfect. The tiredness, stress and feeling of sickness faded away, slowly, and it was one relaxing and natural detoxing process. "I don't mind spending Friday nights with you, if it's going to be this calming. I'd put anything at stake for this", I lightly said. "I know better ways to calm down in Mumbai; there are better places than that roadside food-stall and much better things to do than listening to the loud music which literally splits your head. Isn't Mr. Joshua enough, that you're looking for more reasons to have a headache?", Darshan reached out for the car-radio, and turned it on. "So, you admit that Mr. Joshua is a headache?", I tried to put the words into his mouth. "Can we not talk about him? I'm getting a headache", Darshan teased, and we shared a soft laugh. Darshan took a loud breath in, and slowly slid down on the driver's seat, as Arijit Singh's soothing voice began filling the car, again.

I turned my head in his direction to catch a glimpse of him; with his head thrown back and eyes kept shut, he listened to the songs, tapping the tip of his fingers against the steering wheel. I couldn't help but notice his long and curly lashes, and the messiness in his hair; he looked different that night, and it was the kind of different that effortlessly drew me towards him. Sitting still, he somehow managed to create chaos in me. I wasn't on my deathbed, nor was I struggling to survive, but midst the air of silence, the moments we shared together beautifully flashed before my eyes and Arijit Singh wasn't going any good; the softness in his voice and meaning in his romantic song easily encouraged me to dip my toes in the sea of romantic feelings for Darshan. I was far from calling it 'love', but what I felt for him was much more than simple feelings; my feelings did something to my heart, something beyond my own understanding. I dragged my eyes away from him, when my iPhone vibrated loudly, disturbing the whole romantic atmosphere that was created in the car...one-sidedly. It was a message from Nash on WhatsApp, which read, 'Dityaa? Are you on your way back home? Vaish said you haven't reached yet! Get out of your office if you're still working, before I come and complain tomorrow'. It was more of a threat than a message.