The Choices That Make Us – Part 2 – The Act
Before reading this I would really really like to mention Pixie who ummmm motivated me to put this up today. I don’t think I would have written otherwise. Also to Raji who bore my incessant questions. since it was my first time attempting something like this.
If you still have not read Part 1, What are you waiting for.
Mohit had never expected to see her again. Not after the way things ended between them. She held the door open to invite him in; it was as if she was expecting him.
As he walked in, he said, “Ummm. So Twisha is…”
But Ria cut him off with a curt, “Yes.”
The silence that hung between them made Mohit uncomfortable. Ria on the other hand seemed at ease.
“I did not leave much to be said,” he thought. As he looked around the interior of the house, he noted that nothing much had changed except for the addition of the laptop and a few other gadgets. He spotted the guitar lying in the same old corner. He smiled remembering.
Mohit was struggling hard that month. With the bills due soon, he needed a job. He was working as an assistant to a music director, but with no films in their kitty, Mohit was forced to search for odd jobs. He did do a few jingles and his tunes were appreciated, but he was stuck in a rut and needed some inspiration. Struggling to come up with anything at all, he got up and looked out of the balcony. He saw Sharma Uncle and Ria. He rushed out of the house and next door, the source of his happiness and his inspiration was back from her trip.
“Aunty, is Ria back?” he asked as he walked in to the Sharma’s household and picked up the guitar.
“Don’t touch that! How many times have I told you not to touch it?” Ria said, walking in, “How difficult is it to get yours while coming here?”
“As if you play well,” he retorted.
Mr and Mrs Sharma just smiled. They knew these kids would just continue to bicker. It was strange for them to imagine that they would be married soon.
“I am so much better than you and you know it.”
Mohit took out his diary and asked her, “Any new tunes this time?”
“Yeah, but I don’t get why you write them down. I always remember them, all of mine and all of yours.”
She took the guitar and began playing a tune. “I have to remember so many other things”, he said, noting down the tune. Soon it was lunch time and they had to cut short their jam session.
Mohit’s days were all about looking for jobs in the morning and jam sessions with Ria in the evenings. Ria began to sense his frustration. She did not know how to pacify him. His ambition was to become the best composer in town. After his parents’ accident, his ambition had only become stronger. She had seen him struggle for it every single day. For her, music was just fun. For him, it was who he was and who he wanted to be. No one knew that better than her. She knew she was second to his ambition and had accepted that.
Mohit and Ria were having one of their jam sessions that evening. Mohit was rather quiet, and Ria was trying to figure out why.
“So what is keeping you quiet?” she chided him trying to get him out of his melancholy mood. She saw that he was still lost in his own thoughts.
“What is it, Mohit? Why so quiet?”
Mohit just looked at her.
“Ria, they turned my jingles down. You are right. I suck! And now I am out of ideas. If I don’t give them a set by tomorrow, I am out of the project. I have already borrowed from you for the bills this month.”
“Mohit, money will come. If not today, it’ll come tomorrow. You will get that contract for the jingles. The Mohit I know and love would not give up, I know you will get something by tomorrow. Mohit, you are the best. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You are music, it is within you. You will come up with something, I know.”
Mohit was still unconvinced, but looking at Ria’s concerned face, he smiled and hugged her tightly. Ria did not leave him that night. As they sat talking of their life together and their future, there was a glimmer of hope in Ria’s heart, when she thought that she had become as important to him as his music.
The next morning, when Mohit woke up, he saw that Ria had already left. He wondered for a minute, and then realised she must have gone to take the milk. If he was unsure about how much they loved each other, last night was the proof he needed to know that they were meant be. As he was making his black coffee, he started leafing through the tunes in his diary. A tune caught his eye and he started playing it. As he was playing it, realisation dawned on him and he hurriedly got dressed and went to the studio.
Ria waited for Mohit to come back. He had left in a hurry in the morning and he had not got in touch with her all day. After the happenings of the previous night, she had not expected that from him. Of course, she had left without telling him too, but she needed to get the milk and he knew that. He did not come back that night nor did he come back for the entire week. Ria was panicking. She did not want to believe the worst, but she had to begin to accept that something might have gone wrong.
It had been a very hectic week for Mohit. He had recorded the song and it had been approved. The deadline to go on air was looming, so they had to take it into production to send it to all radio stations. He was very happy that finally he was taking a step in the right direction. He knew Ria would not mind, and that she would wait for him patiently. He was in a hurry to get home, to Ria and listen to the jingle for that was being aired for the first time on the radio. If only the traffic would have moved faster.
It was their favourite radio show at five in the evening. Ria thought about how Mohit had always wanted his tunes to be played on that show. The jingle that was playing sounded oddly familiar to her. She turned up the volume and realised that was her tune, one of the many Mohit put in his diary. The door opened and Mohit walked in. Ria had been crying, the radio was on and he had missed the reveal.
Ria turned to face him “How could you?”
The sound of the door being opened brought Mohit back to the present. He saw Ria walk in with a young girl he knew, from all the pictures that were up on the walls of the house, was Twisha.
Continued in Part 3