Everything changes, sometimes for the worse and sometimes for the better. Over the past decade, I’ve spent a number of Diwalis and New Year’s Eves cuddled up in bed. ‘In each loss there is a gain’ therefore, the second year in a row I spend my Diwali with the Anonymous Aunty and the Night Rider. Though, AA is the queen of gossip, he’s the kind of person one can always call up, when one doesn’t want to be alone and he’s nice enough to show up. We two Crabs, bicker like crazy ( about my temperament and his verbal diarrhoea)  but it’s an entertaining equation, nevertheless. He picks me up, which I always find ironic (so touching) and we catch the afternoon show of Aae Dil He Mushkil.

I don’t know if it’s Anushka and Ranbhir’s overacting, the fact that it’s a little close to home or that I come from a lineage of aashiqs but I spend half of the film sobbing. ‘ Jab intezaar sirf waqt ka ho……’ Oh man, that dialogue releases  my queen of non stop melodrama from the freaking dungeon. Uff, awful. After watching a mediocre film with shit loads of overacting and crying a bucket full of tears, I’m convinced it’s going to be a terrible day. But I underestimate the company. We stroll around for a bit and then pick up the Night Rider. Mr Roy, returns my call.

Yes, despite my boys insistence that it’s a passing phase, this one seems to be weathering the storm. Though, I’ve strongly discouraged him from calling, I’ve always had an affinity with the written word. The messages are corny- the way they are when a man tries to woe you. Since, I’ve been dating the younger ones, I’m out of practice. From ‘kabhi kabhi’ to references to ‘my beautiful self’, it’s the ‘when you need to crack a tough nut, you need perseverance’, that actually makes me blush. We chat for a couple of minutes. A few minutes later he calls again. ‘You guys be careful and give me a few hours of your time, when I come to India in December’, says Mr Roy, in his usual charming manner. ‘Men make women messy and isn’t it ironic?’, I ask myself as I finish the conversation. Someday, far far in the future, when I’m able to talk about somethings more honestly, you will realise just how ironical all of this is.

Anyway, back to the boys. They show me a really good time. We wander around a market place. Look for an interesting place to grab dinner but all the restaurants in Nehru Place and Greater Kailash are closed. A bar in Kailash Colony is open. It’s a visual treat for us, as there’s a private expat party happening on the terrace and some gorgeous women are dancing away to glory. A grub fest and a couple of drinks later, I’m all set to take on the dance floor. We dance for a bit and then head back home. The one who waits, calls on the landline. ‘Pyaar me junoon he, par dosti me sukoon he,’ I’m reminded of Anushka’s dialogue, as I’m falling asleep to the sound of his voice.