Her house was an intimate one, with a walkway that had a monstrously branched Mango tree on the left, followed by a thorny, lime tree, and an assorted array of shrubs like a Crimson rose shrub, aloe vera, and crape jasmine on the right.
An uncompromising vine of pink Bougainvillea had crept up her compound wall, embellishing a neat, stubborn frame over her short, iron gates, and had carpeted the stretch of narrow walkway with its pink petals.
She exited her house, clad in a pair of blue jeans and a matching maroon collared tee shirt. Her bag was strapped on her back, and her hands, tightly wrapped around a food bowl with mixed dry rice and cereal bran. Nearing the mango tree, she hooked the food bowl to the ring that was clasped around the tree.
Just when she thought she was good to go to work, her eyes spotted a young woman in her neighboring compound.
Her neighbouring house had been vacant for a long time now—ever since she'd moved into her house seven months ago. She'd contemplated it was no more vacant when she found the house brightened with lights, diffusely visible through the closed windows, by the time she came home from work last night.
With her hand tenderly resting on her fully pregnant belly, and the other one planted on her hips, the woman was taking a gentle stroll to and fro in the walkway of their house.
"Hi." She waved at the pregnant lady. "I am Rumi."
The pregnant woman shuffled towards the compound with a soft smile playing on her lips. "Hi, Rumi. I am Amrutha," she reciprocated, watching Rumi step into the muddy area to greet her.
And Amrutha took her hand readily, for a firm handshake.
"How do you like your new house?" asked Rumi, cheerfully.
A soft chuckle escaped Amrutha's lips, followed by a denying head shake. "I don't live here. My brother has moved in. I just came for a small visit," she cleared up, beckoning her thumb towards the door.
"Ammu, here's your Tupperware." A deep-throated, versant voice called out from distant.
Rumi's heart skipped a beat when it could tag a face to that voice.
Google boy.
Her eyes roamed over to his tall frame, standing at the doorstep with the same, knowing gaze, and a slightly teasing smile.
Amrutha turned around towards her brother, and waved a signalling hand at him. "Anna, come here. I got you a new friend."
Google boy trudged down to them, his eyes on her startled ones, as if he was amused.
Pulling herself out of the daze, Rumi took note of time from her wrist watch. Realizing she'd had an appointment in twenty minutes, she lifted her eyes to Amrutha, compellingly. "So nice meeting you, Amrutha. I think I should get going now, as I am running late for work."
Amrutha nodded along. "Likewise. See you around, Rumi."
Rumi switched her glance to Google boy, and tipped her head like a good girl, conveying her goodbye.
And, as she walked away, she'd figured her heartbeats hadn't sped down ever since the guy flashed his slipshod, boyish smile at her.
Since that day, they kept encountering each other in distinct situations.
When Rumi clambered upstairs to collect her sundried clothes, Google boy was on top of his water tank, brushing, and cleaning it.
When Google boy was digging up the soil in his front porch, Rumi would be watering her plants.
When Rumi would be in the kitchen, exerting herself at prepping a decent meal for her with the help of YouTube videos, Google boy would be in his kitchen, making his food, just offhandedly.
"Rude girl, do you know what's the purpose of an exhaust fan?" he'd scream, in between his incessant coughs, and sneeze that Rumi's charred upma would give him.
An already incessed Rumi would just soar herself to the tips of her fingers to stand, and would yell back. "I know! The exhaust fan is already running," she'd lie, completely forgetting to turn it on, which she'd do later, when he'd reminded her.
The music that'd fill Rumi's kitchen, distantly, was a sign that he was in the kitchen, following which she'd settle on the cabinet—somedays, just to quietly listen to his low voice singing, and the sounds of crackling mustard, searing onions with the heavenly aroma to revel in.
It even made her wonder, if he was purposely turning on the music in his kitchen to let her know he was there, hoping for her to talk, just like she was.
And on days, she'd feel like pulling his legs, she'd holler her lungs out asking him to stop singing with that horrible voice of his.
"Hello!" she'd blared towards his kitchen window, standing on her tippy toes.
"Yes, Rude girl," he'd asked, transferring the cooked dosai to his plate. "Should I sing your favourite song? Do you have a request to make?"
Rumi smiled like an idiot, but didn't show it a bit, in her loud voice. "You know what Google boy? I'd never tell you my favourite song because you'd just ruin it for me."
***
It was a week later on one sluggish evening, Rumi was sitting at her workplace trying hard not to doze off to sleep.
Out of nowhere, an adorable, Golden Retriever pup ran into her legs, with the end of its leash loose and unattended.
Rumi jerked up from her seat, at her newest, chubby patient.
A full blown smile stuck on her face, as she crouched down to lift the puppy in her arms. "Hello, cute, little, munchkin," she cajoled the puppy, cuddling it to her chest. "Where's your hooman?"
A silver dollar dangled from the Navy blue collar around its neck, with the words, 'Good Girl Number One' inscribed on it.
Rumi laughed out heartily at the pup's dollar. "Are you the goodest girl out there?" she asked, raising it to her eye level. The pup started licking her fingers in ecstasy of meeting a new human, who was only going to give her a vaccination shot in sometime.
"Alright, good girl. Let's get you checked. I hope your hooman let you in whilst they were on the phone or something." She carried the pup to the examining table, that was set just next to her table.
Her clinic was set up in a limited room, which was the only place she could afford with that loan amount the bank had approved for her.
When Rumi had finished inspecting the pup's ears, and had marked it down in her case sheet, Google boy was traipsing in shoving his phone in trousers' pocket.
"Why are you present everywhere I go?" Both of them screamed in unison, meeting each other, that scared the daylights out of Good girl that she balked a little.
Rumi, perceiving their loud noise had scared the little creature, brushed her mane softly to alleviate her.
Once she'd relaxed, and had lied down, melding with the chillness of the steel berth, Google boy asked, eyes widened. "Why are you here?"
As if he didn't really know it, he'd asked it.
Rumi looked at him, at his incredulous doubt. "This is the doctor's office, and I am the doctor," she said, holding her chin up.
The guy's brows furrowed. "Oh! Are you Dr. Rumi Prasad?"
"Oh! Should I show you my identity proof?"
"Relax!" he said, his eyes softening at hers. "I never really know your name. And we haven't exchanged much about where we work and stuff."
"Oh," Rumi hummed, still coddling the pup with her hands. "I thought your sister told you from the other day," she mumbled, with a dash of complaint.
"I am Adhithan." He offered her a hand shake. "My friends call me Adhith."
Rumi complied. "This is Rumi. I am a veterinarian."
Adhithan smiled intently. "I am a cook. I undertake orders for small parties and gatherings."
Rumi reflected on the days she'd fancied how brilliantly delicious his food would taste, if it smelled this wonderful.
"Okay, what name does she respond to?"
Her question befuddled Adhithan.
Rumi clarified. "To what name does she respond?" she asked, pointing out at Good Girl Number One.
A bright smile scribbled across his face, Adhithan replied, "Google."
It was Rumi's turn to be befuddled, and stare at him wide-eyed.
"Huh?"
"That's the name she responds to," Adhithan emphasized, raising his brows. "Her name is Google."
Rumi's heartbeats ran erratic at his statement. Refraining herself from soaking up in it, she asked, "Okay. First shot, is it?"
"Yeah. She's just Fourty-Five days old. Brought her home last night, although I have been seeing since the day she was born."
"Great," Rumi said, feeling her heartbeats in her throat. She then cleared her throat, and continued, "So commonly puppies need vaccination against Canine Distemper Virus, Hepatitis, Parainfluenza, and Parvo. There's one vaccination that can guard Google against all of these common illnesses," she went on, habitually, as she used to break it down to her clients.
Adhithan listened to her keenly, brushing Google's back, just now and then.
Rumi continued, as she took the filled syringe in her hands, "This combo vaccine is referred to as DHPP. And Google would require an injection of this combo, say like four times in first year."
Adhithan visibly panicked seeing her take the filled syringe to Google's neck.
Rumi couldn't help but smile at it. "Just hold her legs," she instructed him, "A little more tightly, please. I won't hurt her, trust me."
He gulped, nervously. "Okay."
Rumi, with the same smile pinching her lips, parted Google's skin and gave her her first shot.
Google did not jump or move wildly, except for the slightest flinch she'd made when the needle punctured her skin.
"That's like a good girl," Rumi gushed at her little patient, and discarded the syringe. She then walked up to her almirah, and fished out a couple of dog treats to feed Google.
"Wow." Admiration was evident in Adhithan's voice. "How did you do that? I thought only experienced and aged vets can do it so smoothly."
Rumi smiled. "I learnt it from my father. He was a vet too."
"Thank you so much. I can never see her whining in pain," he thanked her wholeheartedly, taking her in his arms and huddling her to his chest, watching Rumi write something in Google's notes.
"Not a problem. The injected area might be tender for a day or two," she recited, scribbling her name at the end of the report. "Also, knock on my door immediately, if you think she'd have trouble breathing or anything like that. Some pups may get allergic to vaccines."
"Okay..."
She handed over her notes to him. "Alright, Google boy, see you then." Her usual playfulness was back in her voice.
Adhithan and the pup looked up at her at the same time at their name being called, sending Rumi to fits of laughter.
And then he held out Google's paw to wave to Rumi. "Say bye to Doctor aunty," he mumbled, derisively, as he walked out of her office.
Rumi grabbed the bit notice that'd come with the newspaper, crumpled it. She threw it off aiming at the back of his head, when he'd bent down to leave Google on her paws.
Adhithan turned to her with a taunting grin before vanishing out of her intent sight.
