Hello Friends!
This fic is a sequel of my earlier one-shot, "Lost Love."
I received a few requests to continue it, but it is a one-shot for a very good reason: it is too serious and melancholy for my tastes. So, to partially fulfil those requests, I am starting this new, humorous fic, which is set in the same timeline as "Lost Love," and continues where it left off.
In the rare case that someone has not yet figured out who the two officers are, the first one is Vivek, and the second one is Sachin. The ladies, of course, are Tasha and Saloni respectively.
Unlike "Lost Love," there will be no Roman transliterations for this fic. Very sorry about that.
WARNING: Devanagari Ahead!
Meanwhile, at Sachin's house…
He was doing the stuff that unsuccessful lovers usually do: listening to Kishore Kumar!
दिल ऐसा किसी ने मेरा तोड़ा, बरबादी की तरफ ऐसा मोड़ा
एक भले मानुष को, अमानुष बना के छोड़ा।
सागर कितना मेरे पास हैं, मेरे जीवन में फिर भी प्यास हैं
हैं प्यास बड़ी जीवन थोड़ा, अमानुष बना के छोड़ा।
कहते हैं ये दुनियाँ के रास्ते, कोई मंज़िल नहीं तेरे वास्ते
नाकामियों से नाता मेरा जोड़ा, अमानुष बना के छोड़ा।
डूबा सूरज फिर से निकले, रहता नहीं हैं अंधेरा
मेरा सूरज ऐसा रूठा, देखा न मैने सवेरा।
उजालों ने साथ मेरा छोड़ा, अमानुष बना के छोड़ा॥
At Purvi's house…
Poor Purvi didn't even have the luxury of those songs to comfort her. The target audience for all the "unsuccessful lover" songs are males.
Shreya was trying her best to console Purvi, who was bent on flooding Mumbai with her tears.
Shreya: रो मत पूर्वी। सचिन sir को भूल जाओ।
Another round of loud and raucous crying followed. Shreya was at a loss. She had a flood to prevent, after all.
Shreya: तुम… तुम सचिन sir से प्यार करती हो न?
Purvi simply nodded, without bothering to stop crying.
Shreya: तो क्या तुम चाहती हो कि वो बाढ़ में डूब जाएं?
Purvi stopped crying for an instant, and looked on, puzzled.
Shreya: तो रोना बंद करो नहीं तो शहर में बाढ़ आ जाएगी।
Bad move, really bad move. Purvi resumed crying, and the flood was now the least of Shreya's concerns. She had to defend her eardrums, if she was to ever hear Daya's sweet voice again.
Shreya: (thinking) ये मैंने क्या कह दिया? अब इसे शांत कैसे करूँ? (speaking) गाना… गाना सुनोगी पूर्वी?
Purvi: (through teary eyes) नहीं! खबरदार जो गानों का नाम भी लिया तो!
Shreya: क्यों? क्या हुआ?
Purvi: हम लड़कियों के लिए एक भी sad song नहीं है। सिर्फ लड़कों के लिए ही है।
Flashback
At Purvi's house, on the day she learned of Saloni.
She tuned into a retro station with the FM radio on her phone.
And… Nothing happened!
Purvi: (grunt) Who the heck desgined this crap?! Now where are the earphones?
Ever wondered why your expensive smartphone won't pick up FM signals without a pair of earphones, while your cheap ₹ 50 FM player can do so just fine? No? Well, let me explain. The earphones don't actually serve to channel sound to your ears. The long wires act as antennae which the phone uses to pick up the high wavelength FM waves off the air.
You can actually test this by using a pair of scissors to cut off the earplugs part of a earphone, and plug in just the wire to the phone. The FM will work just fine.
The cheap FM players have an antennae which can be extended, but something of that sort on an expensive phone would look really tacky. The phone can't use the radio which it uses for placing phone calls because calls are placed at very low wavelengths compared to FM transmission. Greater the wavelength of transmission, greater will be the length of the antenna. Understood?
Anyways, I digress. Coming back, Purvi was trying her best to remember where she threw those damned earphones.
It had been three months, after all. Three months since she fell for Sachin. That was the day when she carelessly tossed those earphones which had been her companion since Vivek's rejection.
They hadn't been too helpful then; nor did she expect them to be too helpful now, but there was no harm in trying.
Purvi: (thinking) You never know, the Bollywood folk keep coming up with a song every minute. Maybe, just maybe, they've realized that women may also fail in love.
She hoped against hope that three months will change three decades of stereotyping. She found the earphones at last, and…
(male voice)
प्यार हैं किसी और का, तुझे चाहता कोई और हैं
तू पसंद हैं किसी और की, तुझे माँगता कोई और हैं।
Purvi: (thinking) Same old, same old. Nothing's changed since I left.
She changed the channel.
(male voice)
पत्थर के सनम, तुझे हमने मोहब्बत का खुदा जाना
बड़ी भूल हुयी, अरे हमने, ये क्या समझा, ये क्या जाना।
Changed again.
(male voice)
मेरी भीगी भीगी सी पलकों पे रह गए
जैसे मेरे सपने बिखर के
जले मन तेरा भी, किसी के मिलन को
अनामिका तू भी तरसे।
Purvi: Argh! I'm going to sue Bollywood for gender discrimination!
Her phone must also have thought of filing a case against Bollywood, for abetting murder. For that is what she did with the poor phone. She brutally smashed it into the wall.
Purvi: (shouting) That's what you get for upsetting Purvi! (thinking) On second thoughts, a good excuse to upgrade to a smartphone.
She shook off any traces of decadent thoughts, and a teary eyed Purvi went to bed.
End of Flashback
(Note: The flashback was Purvi's narration to Shreya. With the exclusion of the FM part, of course; that is mine!)
Since then, Purvi had never attempted to tune into an FM station, primarily out of concern for her shiny new smartphone, which was too expensive to meet the same fate as her old Nokia.
Purvi: मुझे तो पूरा यकीन है कि सचिन sir इस वक्त किशोर कुमार के गाने सुन रहे होंगे। मैं तो वो भी नहीं कर सकती।
Another round of raucous crying followed.
Shreya: (thinking) ओहो! अब तो ये समझ में नहीं आ रहा कि ये रो क्यों रही है? इसलिए कि सचिन sir किसी और से प्यार करते हैं? या इसलिए कि उनके पास सुनने के लिए sad गाने हैं और इसके पास नहीं।
Okay, I just twisted the original plot of "Lost Love" by a full 180°, and made it humorous. Did you like it? Please let me know.
For those who were requesting a continuation of "Lost Love," I have now fulfilled your request. Can I ask for a favour in return? Please read "Digital Forensics." You don't have to review it. But please, please, please read it.