Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
This feels good, he said, allowing the flavours of spicy chutney, smooth butter and crispy dosa to sink in. They settled down in the vast area like fine mounds of aroma, taste, colours dancing in the stomach, with the aftertaste gushing in the food pipe. Eating with him was like experiencing the taste in every detail, letting the food talk to you. Before he could burp (well his niceties wouldn't allow him to!!!), I asked whether he wanted milkshake. Ah, he said let the flavours sink in more before I corrupt it with other tastes. Eh, but why milkshake he said. I tired of shakes, smoothies and phirangi stuff. Phirangi, did I hear that from a person who almost ran away from this country for greener pastures. I still remember him gleaming from other side of glass, holding his passport as though his life rested in there. Before we could bide a decent farewell, he rushed in, pushing the enormous luggage to security check. That was years back, when I still hoped he would come back, atleast for the elaborate lunches. Those were days, when amma's sambar rice would tickle his taste buds and he would push his purchased dhabha to my side and gorge on the sambar and vegetables. Does your mom still make gongura, avakai, puttu……he asked pushing me back to present. Well, yes. I will parcel some for you, to fit into your foreign suitcase. You know they parcel specially for foreign travels. Hmmm, he murmured before shouting for a coffee. Naraye decoction and konjum milk. Ah, ha black coffee, I smirked. So the phirangi aspect comes out, isn't it.
So, well, how come this trip. The silence was filled by the coffee slurps moving in annoying slow pace. With the conversation thread lost, I watched him gulp the last drop of coffee and pushing the dabara. There he said, looking at the brown sugar crystals settled down in the dabara, this is indulgence, loads of sugar, thick milk and thicker decoction. This is worth a lifetime of wait.
So, should there be a wait. By now, the aromas had sunk in and we were back to familiar after taste. He said, some more time. Outside, rain drops fell from the roof, like a lost conversation still trying to convince us. Before there was a question on how long could I wait, we paid the bill, and watched the rain drops from the roof get lost in the puddle. For now, I said lets head home before it pours. Before the deluge, we would have answers.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
She scribbled clandestine and surreptitious in plain paper, applying second layer of ink on C. This is it, she heard him saying. That's what sells, clandestine. May be this would click, he murmured looking at her rucksack of stories. She tossed the book away, watching the bold C shimmer in bed lamp and waited for S to conjoin. He murmured again, leave it. You may spin a story on us. Beyond the shimmer, and on the other side of darkness, he turned away, pulling the bedsheet closer to him. She watched his bare shoulders peeping from the bedsheet and scribbled a bold S watching him sleep in peace. Tomorrow, the tryst begins.
The love sign in the huge cappuccino cup smirked at her. She wanted to pierce right through the middle, disturbing its peace for that moment. Far away, two people cocooned themselves away from the world, sipping two straws from one cup. Bliss, happiness and unhygienic!!! Sigh!!!
She shut herself from them and watched water trickle down from the glass panes. Once, she was with him in one umbrella, with his fingers writing some strange love words in the glass panel, which would be wiped away by the rain water. One more word and again water would clean it away. Last he wrote memories and rain stopped. She didn't remember what happened after that. Right now, the bill of huge cappuccino cup demanded the price of love.