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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/531862-A-Romantic-Interlude
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Relationship · #531862
Short story set in India, with its attendant attitudes towards office-based relationships.
A ROMANTIC INTERLUDE



Hari and Sheila had been at it for the last six months. It was a no-declaration policy where both parties had silently sworn to themselves not to reveal to the other their love for each other. What pleasure they derived from such an arrangement was more than anyone, let alone I, could decipher!

Their mutual attraction must have begun in the office where they both worked in adjoining rooms as software programmers. My own presence at the office was rather episodic, as I was called in only to set right some or the other electrical problem.

“ Robin”, the boss would say to me, “ could you come up today? The light above my table has blown, and I need you to replace it!”... Or, “ Hell, Rob”, the Manager would call, “ all the corridor lights are on the blink, like...can you come pronto?”

I think you get the picture, right?

So, yours truly was a silent presence in the office on at least half of all working days, and made it a point to observe the things going on around him. Not that I am a man who likes to poke his not inconsiderable nose into the private affairs of people, but it was difficult not to take note of the vibes between Hari and Sheila.
The boss, Mr. Sabnis, was well known in the business. He had an unobtrusive way of sneaking up on his subordinates when they least expected it, and then spring the most unusual professional question to them.

On the day in question, I was perched atop a wooden stool above Sheila, and was trying to change the fluorescent tube above her seat. Sheila was supposedly busy doing her work. She was punching madly at the keyboard in front of her, and from where I sat, it appeared that she was unaware of anyone or anything around her. A mere 2 metres away sat Hari, not doing anything, but intently gazing over the partition at Sheila’s left profile, as she typed away on her PC. A look of pure love and admiration suffused his face. In what was probably a daily charade, the scene remained unaltered while I tinkered away at the tube.

Suddenly, Mr. Sabnis strode into Sheila’s cubicle, and without wasting any time over civilities, asked her, “ Have you completed the job of Informatics Institute that I gave you today morning?” Hari seemed to come out of a trance, or so it seemed to me, as I stayed at my post, mostly unnoticed thus far. I could almost hear him breathe a heavy sigh of disappointment at being disturbed at his favourite occupation. However, I was even more surprised to hear Sheila catch her breath, and steal a forlorn glance to her left, as if communicating silently to Hari.... that it had been good while it had lasted!

The moment passed, and Sheila was immediately lost in her work as soon as Mr. Sabnis went away. And yet, I could sense the despondency in the air- a feeling of unrequited love? - Or a feeling of unsatisfied passion?

***

On yet another day, all the staff had gathered in the meeting hall to give a send-off party to a senior employee Mr. Gyanchand.

The hall had been spruced up for the event, and I had been summoned to fix some extra illumination near the dais. I stayed back to wish a goodbye to Gyanchand. Hari and Sheila found themselves sitting next to each other, but across the central aisle, so all they could do, perhaps, was to exchange glances at each other; talking to each other was a problem, as the occasion demanded a silent hearing to the speakers, who were extolling the virtues of Gyanchand.
My attention was drawn to the lovebirds, as the rather long-winded description of Gyanchand by Mr. Sabnis was getting to be too boring. I could see that both of them were pointedly looking at each other’s profiles, but alternately. When Hari turned his head to look at Sheila, the latter would ignore his look and keep looking at the dais, and vice versa. The ritual was repeated several times, to my genuine amusement, and would have gone on till the end of the function, had not Mr. Sabnis invited Sheila to the dais to say a few words.

I must say, Sheila spoke well, but what was remarkable was the devout attention she seemed to get from at least one member of the audience, namely, one Mr. Hari, friend, office neighbour, confidante, and ... silent lover!! I knew then that Sheila knew that Hari was watching her with rapt attention, and hanging on to her every word, clause and sentence.

I went up to Hari after the meeting ended, and asked him how everything was. Upon being told that everything was okay, I proceeded to nudge him further.

I said to him, “ How was Sheila’s speech?”
He was momentarily taken aback, but he quickly recovered, and replied, “So so, I guess!”
I would not accept this cold response, so I countered with, “ I think it was great, and I also think, perhaps rightly, that she has a few rather serious admirers in this office."
He turned a ruddy red at this; he came closer to me, and whispered in my ear, “ How? Who? I mean, how did you know?”
I smiled cryptically, nudged his shoulder and winked. He was aghast!
“ You?” He said apoplectically.
“ No, no, not me, you silly man, but you,” said I, almost giggling by now.

He seemed greatly relieved to have found a sympathizer, and went on to share with me all the secrets regarding his “affair-le-coeur” unashamedly.

His demeanour toward me changed from that day onwards. He would approach me with all kinds of confidences and make parenthetic comments about Sheila from time to time.
It would be “Sheila looks great in that pink dress, doesn’t she, Rob, or “ Sheila smiled at me today morning, Rob”, and so on.

I urged him many times to profess his love for her, but he just didn’t have the courage to do so.


***

Then one day, Sheila did not come to work. Hari was desolate, and seemed so glum that it was obvious to all and sundry why he was behaving the way he was. When I went and sat next to him, he looked at me and unburdened himself.
“Why is she absent, Rob? I tried calling her residence, but nobody is replying - only an impersonal answering machine!”

I cheered him up by mentioning that after all, a one-day absence wasn’t such a big deal, and she would come in the next day. He seemed mollified by this, and sat digesting the information, as if he had heard such an explanation for the first time in his life.

I returned to my job and was out of the office in an hour. I had to go on a tour for about a week thereafter, and was back in the office the next week. My eyes landed on the chair usually filled in by the demure Sheila, and found it occupied by a new girl.

At the adjoining table sat Hari, looking pensive, but working on his PC nonetheless.

Bemused rather than alarmed, I loitered near him, and raising his head, he beckoned me to his side. I looked at him, and then at the cubicle next to his, and quizzically raised my eyebrows.

He broke down. He said, “She has left the company and has moved to Malaysia last week. Her father married her off to a Malaysian Hindu businessman.
“She could have at least called me once. I do not know what to do.
“ I am planning to go there and seek her out. Perhaps she still loves me and will come back to me.”

I empathized with him, and we both sat there, without a word exchanged between us for nearly an hour.

Finally, I patted him on his shoulder and gently told him that what he was contemplating was useless as a remedy, and maybe he should just forget her and move on with life. “After all”, I said, “ there are many more fish in the sea, and you a young, handsome man!”

That was the last I saw of him in the office. He resigned the next day. When I tried to reach him at his residence, his rather conservative mother said that he had left on a spiritual tour of Haridwar, and would return only after a month.
I left it at that, and I never saw him again.


***

Later, I learnt that he had actually deceived his mother, and had gone neither to Malaysia, nor to Haridwar, but secured a job for himself in Seoul, and was busy courting a Korean beauty in his office.

© Copyright 2002 Dr Taher writes again! (drtaher at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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