The Birthday Call

It is just like usual, isn’t it? I lie back on my bed, my room-mate asks me, “Dude, you would sleep now or would you sit back writing your novel thing? You know, I could turn off the lights”.

But, then, it’s not like always, it’s not usual. “Leave it on. I have a call to make tonight.”

It’s not unusual for me to stay up late in the night or to ask him to keep the lights on, but, I don’t make many calls, I don’t usually go about calling up someone. Eerie fact it is, but, I prefer texting. No, not that Indian legacy –  “I don’t have the balance, bro”. It’s just that I don’t like to hear voices. They intimidate me.

“Are you fine, mate?”, he asks, seemingly worried. It may have occurred to him that it must have been some good old friend’s birthday for which I intended to call up and wish. But, then, he knew the fact – I didn’t have a friend. Not one. Yeah, but, he knew about one person I would like to call up that late. That’s why he was worried, seemingly.

“Yeah, I am fine.”, I smiled to cover up the crevices my torn-apart soul had. It was that one person I never desired to call. It was that one person I called up the most.

It was that one person who never received my calls or replied my texts. It was her.

He went to his bed, with earphones plugged in, watching the latest serial from the ‘White Collar’ series. I shut the books which were open for the sake of my semester exams, which were going the way no one would wish it to go. I picked up my phone and checked for the time. It said – 11.45 pm, 12 May, 2013.

This date has always stuck with me. You know, she has never called me to any of her birthdays. But, her birthday has always been the date I felt like celebrating my birthday on. Because, there was still time for the minute hand to drag itself to the digits ’12’, my mind chose to drift away to past.

Past – 8 years, down the line. Almost like, Diana Ross’ Baby Love. Now, you would walk up to me and say, “So, dude, you love her?” and I would reply, “No, mate, I worship her.” So, inquisitive you would again ask, “So, did you tell her?” and I would say – “No.”

I never said her a word all these years, let no one know all these years. And, then, one fine day, I meet her, after some 6 years and I feel it’s the time I should let her know. Let her know that her every birthday has been my birthday for years now. Every year, I wish out into the blank – ‘Happy birthday’ – on this day. But, then, after that one fine day, she again stops talking to me and it transcends back to as it was all the way, all the while.

I was not sure, if she would pick up my call. I was not sure, if she would hit the green button on her phone when she saw my name or just, would ignore it. I didn’t know if she would again call me melodramatic for all that I have been thinking, I have been feeling. I didn’t know, if she would smile, when I wish her.

‘Trrrrriing!’ – And, all out of a sudden, my phone starts screaming the alarm tone, it was 11.57 pm. Time to call. Like, Barney Stinson taught me – 3 minutes before time or 3 minutes later, but, it’s gotta’ be three.

The phone rings. She doesn’t pick up. I call again. She doesn’t pick up. I call one last time. She doesn’t pick up.

I call from my other number, which she didn’t know. She picks it up. “Hello, who is this?”

“Happy Birthday.” I cut the call.

I laugh at myself, almost mocking my sentiments. I die a little, but, then, breathing was never my thing. I lie back on my bed, the lights out now. My room-mate looks at me. He knows what just happened. “You alright, dude?”, he enquires.

“Yeah, just like usual.”, I smile to cover up. He knows it all, but, then, he won’t ask why I was lying. As I said, he knew it all.

I close my eyes to open them to where my peace lies. I murmur a silent wish into the blackness – Happy Birthday. I wish you knew. I wish you knew how much this just-another-pain-in-the-neck-birthday-wish-call mattered to me. I wish you knew how much I love you.

True it is – people would pick up a call from a stranger, but, then, they would avoid one from someone they know. True it is – just loving never matters, being loved back matters more.

Just like usual it is, isn’t it?