Cupcake and Choco Pie

Just as I sat in the verandah with the coveted cup of cold coffee, my phone rang. The ringtone punctuated the stillness and leisurely feeling of the Sunday morning. I pushed myself to grab the phone lying on the table nearby.

“Hello Ma’am”, said a female voice. “I’m speaking from the United People’s Bank. We are formulating a policy for our special customers who…”, I disconnected the call, cursing the caller in my mind for spoiling my pleasant weekend mood.

No sooner did I sip into my coffee than the phone started ringing again. The same number flashed on the mobile screen. With a reluctant face and a more reluctant voice, I said, “Hello!”

“Hello Ma’am, sorry to disturb you again. I’m speaking from United People’s Bank. I just wanted to let you know that our bank is formulating a policy for our special customers who are below 30 years and are willing to establish a business of their own. This special scheme is only for female entrepreneurs.”

Before she could continue further, I interrupted the unknown female voice – “Thank you for calling but I don’t have an account in your bank.”

The bank personnel seemed to be unperturbed by my words. She continued, “That’s not an issue. You only need to visit our bank, fill out a few forms and we will help you open an account at the earliest.” “But neither am I below 30 nor do I nurture any entrepreneurial dreams”, I blurted, irritated.

“Okay. So, in that case, could you please forward me a few names along with contact numbers of your relatives or friends who might be interested in the scheme?” I was taken aback by this weird request.

Who is this lady? I don’t even know her. She has already spoiled my weekend vibes. How can she expect me to provide a list of potential customers of the bank? I breathed heavily.

After a few moments, I spoke. “ Listen! I don’t know who you are. As it is you have already wasted a lot of my time and I’m not interested in any schemes of your bank. So, please hang up now, or else I will be forced to block your number!”

The female voice pleaded, “Please Ma’am, please don’t disconnect the call! I know it’s your birthday today. Just allow me to tell you the details of the scheme.” I was now on the verge of losing my temper.

I said, “I’m not interested in your scheme and…wait for a second! What did you say? How do you know that today is my birthday?”

The female voice burst out into huge laughter. While I tried to understand who the caller might be, playing a foolish prank on my birthday, the voice uttered, “14 years, 8 months, and 13 days have passed but you’re still the same, Aditi!” “Kavya, is that you?”

I spilled a few drops of cold coffee on my t-shirt. “Yes, you idiot! Happy birthday! How have you been?” Still in a trance, I somehow answered, “I’m good, thanks. Where are you nowadays and from whom did you get my number?”, I asked her.

“I’m in Delhi now, working as a freelance fashion designer. Sunidhi gave me your number. Remember class 8A…Sunidhi, the first girl?”, Kavya asked.  

Resting myself on the bean bag, I continued the conversation. “Yes yes, so you could finally convince your parents?”

A practical Kavya said, “Yes, I managed to explain it to them that my profession should be based on my choice. I’m very clear about what I want and I’m sure that one day I will achieve my dream.”

I smiled a little. Kavya had the same spirit. Her voice had the same attitude. Her words had the same strength, the same determination that they had 14 years ago on a wintry night in the terrace of the girls’ hostel of St. Agnes in Darjeeling.

“How about catching up in an hour or so and celebrating your birthday together?” Kavya’s voice came again. “Yes, sure. I’ll just forward you my address”, I replied.

“Great! See you around 11 then! Bye, my choco pie!”

Kavya disconnected the call, transporting me to the good old days of St. Agnes. The blue hills, the mist, the untimely rains, the monastery visits from school, the lovely hostel, the strict warden…memories started gushing into my consciousness.

I ran to the bedroom, opened my closet, and pulled out the drawer, containing old letters and photographs. Glancing through the albums quickly, I found an old picture featuring two young girls holding each others’ hands. 

I kept staring at the picture for a few moments. There were some pencil marks at the back of the picture. I looked closely to decipher the words inscribed. It read, “To my Cupcake, with love…yours Choco pie.”

It was the last time when I saw Kavya before St. Agnes gave her a transfer certificate for violating the norms of the institution and being involved in a supposedly ‘illegal’ act with me.

I clutched the photograph close to my heart as my eyes became wet and a voice spoke within me, “Thank you Kavya for getting reconnected. Thank you for bringing those long-lost memories back. We will no longer walk into an abandoned Nepali cottage on Mall Road. We will no longer feel each other’s bodies in secrecy. We will no longer mask our identities and don over the socially accepted ones.

We will explore our love. We will let it reach out to the world. We will walk beside each other in broad daylight, unabashedly. We will talk about our feelings in the open. We will create a world where only love will win, defeating all the barriers of being a ‘man’, being a ‘woman’. We will stop being Aditi and Kavya and continue to be each other’s ‘Cupcake’ and ‘Choco Pie’ forever!”