Her dark, long hair sprawled on the floor as she sat draped in a red sari waiting for a client. One more evening, one more forceful activity, and one more chance to curse at her own fate. She would often hold a blank expression, staring at the ceiling with her eyes wide open, as her client went about the business with nervous and periodic panting. The panting would come to an end shortly with the client exhibiting a smug expression as he hurried to put on his pants. She would lie there in bed, half-naked, and would think about the activity that had just transpired between the two. The man had got what he had paid for and looked largely content, while she, who was the major part of the act, was neither content nor unhappy. It meant nothing to her, just a routine activity, and as routine as a rickshaw driver pulling his rickshaw to earn his bread and butter.

The girl looked out of the window into the dark and gazed upon the city which had, by now, slowed down from the frenetic madness of the daytime. People barely walked along the street underneath the building and the only people she saw from her window were the drunks, staggering along. Only after a man spotted her standing by the window and insinuated something derogatory, she shuttered the window and came back to bed. The power outage was still on and the only light that lit the room was the one emanating from a little candle that stood on the table.

She sat beside the candle and started moving her hand across the flame, again and again, until the flame turned her index finger black. As she continued, the girl heard a knock on the door. She rose and welcomed a client, her first for the night. The guy looked flustered and nervous; while she was unaffected. In fact, today she was rather happy as this meant that she would have some earning today; that she wouldn’t have to worry about the rent which was due in a few days of time. Or about buying a Cappuccino coffee for her new friend, a guy who had approached her couple of weeks ago, and had already bought her quite a few coffee drinks. She was embarrassed that she had not been able to offer payments. Though nobody knew what she did in the evening to survive in the big city, she was surprised when a decent guy showed interest on her. She had been taken aback when he’d asked her for her name and a cell number. She had stayed silent for a while before finally mumbling. She blushed, thinking of the memory.

What had surprised her even more was when she saw the same guy standing beside the main gate of her college, a government one, the next day. That was the first time they had coffee together and ever since that day they would walk home

together; it became a routine, the only bright spot in her day. But, though she was happy, deep inside she felt remorse for all that she was hiding. But what else could she have done? She desperately wanted the walks to continue, to never end.

But, her lie ate her from the inside. Could love be based on anything but the absolute truth? And if he had feelings for her, wouldn’t he understand?

One morning, she made up her mind to speak the truth and face the consequences. It was going to be a tough call, but she had to do it.

But unable to tell him over that day’s coffee, she decided to text him instead.

What if he never showed up again at my college? What if he showed up only to break my heart? Or what if he said that it was OK and that they could start afresh? Such questions inundated her mind as she fumbled with the alphabets on the keypad, before pressing the ‘send’ button.

It was a Saturday and she paced her dark room the entire day hoping for a reply, a reply that could shatter her.

But no response came. Minutes turned into hours, hours into fresh new dawn.

The next day, as she walked to her school, her mind frothed with a million questions. But all of them dissipated when she saw him standing at the campus gate, just like the other days.

She wanted to run, but before she could turn, he waved his hand at her.

No outrage, no drama. What was going on?

“How was the class? Let’s have coffee at Durbar Marg today,” he said as she reached the gate. Did he forgive me; did the truth not bother him? She nodded. They walked for a few minutes and still she seemed frozen, lost in her own world.

“What is wrong? You look upset.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Then, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Did you not get my SMS yesterday?”

“No. You know about the network, you can never trust a text. What was in it anyway?”

The girl stood there, motionless. Then, as if by some primal instinct, she took his hands into hers, looked into his eyes, and asked, “Do you love me?”

”Of course, I love you. I have been meaning to tell you for weeks, but never quite mustered the courage.”

The girl said nothing for a while, then finally hugged him and started sobbing. “So, that was what you wrote in the text yesterday and the reason why you have been so upset today. The telecom nearly sabotaged our relationship,” he said.

“Nearly,” she muttered, as she hugged him even tighter.