Plumeria and Pony

I was waiting in the hall while she was changing her clothes to go to the concert. I had been waiting there for 10 minutes, and I couldn’t trust the traffic in Bangalore since we had to travel from Banashankari to Phoenix Market City. Arya was still rummaging through her wardrobe when she called me. I went to look at her.

She was wearing a white tee and beige pants, which surprisingly went well with her dusky tone. I asked her, “I said we should wear red, right? That’s why I’m in red and black today.” She replied, “I just felt too cute in this,” and winked at me. It had been a month since we got married, and she still knew how to catch me off guard with her antics. I said, “I’m not going to change my mind, and I’ll be waiting. You better wear something that matches me—remember, you lost the bet.” She told me to wait for a while and pushed me out. Who asked her to bet on CSK vs RCB?

After a while, she called me again. Now she was in a deep red tee and black jeans. Her cream purse complemented her outfit very well. She hadn’t done much with her makeup, but she smelled of Plumeria frangipani and had her hair in a ponytail. Overall, she looked hot. Hella hot. I said, “Told you so…” She made a kissy face. My face turned red. I gasped and said, “Love you.” She asked, “What?” I quickly corrected myself, “I love it.” She sighed, disappointed that I still hadn’t said I love her. That was the tease I did to her, and I found it cute.

It was a typical arranged marriage, where she hated the idea of marriage at first. But after a few individual meetings with her, she eventually agreed, despite her friends’ and family’s suggestions to reconsider. Luckily, I was comfortable communicating with her. I wasn’t sure if I could have been the same if I weren’t with her. I didn’t know exactly what ran through her mind, but I thought I could roughly read her emotions—though she still surprised me sometimes, and I was fine with that.

I asked her for the car keys, and she said we were traveling by local transport. I asked why, and she replied with a smirk on her face, “You lost a bet too, buddy.” I couldn’t say no to that because I knew I had lost the bet—I blamed RR for that.

So, we boarded the metro from Banashankari to the station near the mall where the concert was being held. We were lucky enough to find seats on the train, but we had to sit opposite each other. I could see random people looking at her with awe. I called her and said, “Told you so…” She asked, “What?” I replied, “That you look too cute in red.”

She said, “Oh, thanks to you! Are you okay with people looking at me?” I said, “As long as you’re fine with it. I mean, you look too good and isn’t it my right to show these people, ‘That’s my wife, you suckers’?”

She laughed and said, “Are you high?” I replied, “Of course, on you.” We giggled in silence amidst the loud announcements at the metro station.

Luckily, we reached the destination half an hour before the event was supposed to start, but it looked like it had been postponed by an hour. We both felt it would be better to have dinner then, so we headed to the fourth floor where they had many restaurants. She said she’d get the food, and I waited at a two-seater table. 

Then, a couple of middle-aged women came towards me and, thinking I was alone, asked me to move to a four-seater table where three of the seats were already taken. I tried to tell her that I wasn’t alone, but she didn’t seem to understand. She gave me a puzzled look. I tried calling Arya, but she had given me her phone, so I couldn’t reach her while she was getting the food. I smelled Plumeria and sensed she was coming. Within a few seconds, she came from behind and said, “Sorry, ma’am, this table is taken.”

The woman asked with a concerned, or rather an annoyed, look, “Is he mute?” Arya responded, “Why is that a concern to you? I don’t see how we’re related.” The woman said, “I’m so sorry,” and murmured, “for you.” Arya was angry, and before she could say anything, I grabbed her hand. She looked at me with guilt in her eyes and said, “I’m sorry for leaving this bracelet here.”

Well, yes, we called each other using a special bracelet she had gifted me during our engagement. It was meant for long-distance communication, but for us, it became our main way of calling each other. She was the perfect sun to my moon, and I relied on her so much that it hurt me. I was still not sure how she was okay with me.

As these thoughts slowly started to take over, she pushed a piece of French fry into my mouth. She said, “All I want you to use at this moment are your lungs to breathe and your hands and mouth to eat.” I slowly started eating and continued looking at her. She continued eating her fries with one hand while holding my right hand with the other. I called her attention to it by showing her our joined hands. She quickly let go with a sheepish smile, thinking about how she had been telling me to eat while still holding my hand.

In the Concert Hall

With our own thoughts running through our minds, we entered the auditorium where the concert was about to start. We took our seats. I was staring at her while she was looking at the setlist, which reminded me of 3 months ago when the bet started. I had bet on the dress she’d wear if RCB won against CSK in the last match. She bet they’d lose in the eliminator. She bet that I should accompany her anywhere she goes in her own way. 

It had all been in a chat when we were just engaged, and now here I was, clueless about what was happening as the lights started to come up, and people began looking at the center stage where a guy in his late 20s started speaking. It seemed like he was welcoming the audience. I started clapping along with the crowd, blending in whenever others clapped.

After a few minutes, the guy welcomed the artists to the stage and said—or maybe roared—something that made everyone’s mouths go wide open, likely screaming. I tried to do the same, but all I could manage was some air escaping with the faint smell of tomato ketchup.

He took a couple of minutes to build up enough hype (maybe). She looked excited, and she looked cute. Meanwhile, I was on an emotional rollercoaster—feeling attraction, curiosity, regret, and confusion all within the last three hours, and this time, I wasn’t alone. I still wasn’t sure what was going on in my mind. She looked at me and asked, “What happened to you?” I said, “Nothing, why?” She replied, “You’re trying to mingle with the crowd, which you generally don’t do, plus you seem kind of down after the restaurant fiasco.” As she was saying all this, I interrupted and asked, “Why did you say yes?”

She asked, “Why are you asking that now?” I pleaded, “Please, just answer.” She joked, “Maybe because you earn well.” I responded, “Don’t joke.” Then she said, “If you think it’s because I have sympathy for you, just throw that idea in the bin. The way you built conversations in our chats, and how you behaved around people, made me want to stick with you and be the Betal to the Vikram you are.”

Suddenly, she looked at the artists. It seemed like they had noticed us talking and got curious. One of them asked, “There’s no noise here, but you two are speaking in silence.” I mean, 24 years of being mute was good enough for me to understand based on lip reading. She replied, “Just normal husband-wife stuff.” He then said, “Now I’m curious,” and asked her to elaborate.

She explained the last couple of dialogues we had, and now he was genuinely curious. He took my side and asked, “Are you okay with confessing here? I mean, come on, what’s a better place than a music concert to confess?” I gestured a thank you to the artist, and he responded, “You’re welcome.” It looked like he knew a bit of sign language. The artist handed her a mic to speak. Arya asked the person on the other side to hold it for her so she could confess to me as well. A kid helped her by holding the mic with both hands.

She cleared her throat before beginning and then said, “You bring peace and stability to my life—the kind of peace a mother gives to her injured child, the kind of stability like a dad holding the bicycle for his daughter.”

She continued, “I know you won’t accept it, but you’re that kind of person. People just don’t understand you. Even I’m not sure how much I can understand or know you, but I’m sure that I won’t regret this quest of getting to know you.”

I had no words to say. It felt like she had just altered a few words and expressed exactly how I felt. Maybe that’s why we were together—curious about each other and enjoying that curiosity. People started to clap, and some were left with their mouths wide open. The artist took another mic and said, “Maybe he’s feeling the same.”

I might have been shy, but I blew a flying kiss to the artist for conveying my feelings to the audience. He laughed and said, “If you’re going to give anything, better give it to your wife.” We both smiled, and I think the people there did too.

He continued, “Okay then, done with the quarrel and confessions. But why a concert?” Arya answered, “Totally based on chits.” I think people laughed a bit. The artist was taken aback and said, “Thanks to that piece of paper, I just earned an extra 15 thousand bucks.” He finally drew everyone’s attention back to him. He then dedicated a song, saying, “For the couple in the third row.”

Seriously, never had I ever heard her call my name or known how my name actually sounded when she says it. All I could see was her smiling, singing something like “Ay Hairathe Aashiqui,” her favorite song. I could see it in her eyes—the same eyes I fell for, the same eyes that understands what I am trying to say. Those eyes glowed in the dim lighting of the auditorium. Thanks to those singers for performing her favorite songs. Still, I didn’t know how they sounded. I wasn’t even looking at the artists, just at her. She looked at me, asking, ‘What?’

Conclusion

Without a word, I leaned in and kissed her, feeling the soft warmth of her lips against mine. As we kissed, my left hand went towards her ponytail and had a good grip of her head. The smell of plumeria made me not want to stop this anytime soon. She closed her eyes and gently reached for my right hand, her fingers brushing against my palm. 

In that moment, she could feel my hand. Understanding my unspoken words, she tightened her grip on my hand and continued to kiss me, and pulled my back towards her, pouring all her love into that tender embrace.

All I could say, and I said, was I Love You.