Love in the air, anyone? - II

13th FEB, 2011

The next evening, she subconsciously reached out for her best blue floral chudidhar and wore a little make up and reached the station even before him and waited. Preeti was thinking about him, the lengths to which he would go for her, his humor and the satire which made her roll eyes. The care that emulated from the surprising 6 footer when they were together. She liked his attention, well entirely. But as she told her best friend Ritu, “She didn’t want a boyfriend yet. She was single and contented”. But should a reason as silly as this stop between her and the her love of the life?

“Hey hiii”, Vinay produced a loud arrival, much to her relief he showed up. She looked like an angel in blue. “been waiting for long eh.. the binding is done, but the glue is yet to dry it seems. The shopkeeper asked me to come back in two hours or so…”.

“Two hours???”, she rolled her eyes, silently thanking her change of fortune.

“Hey.. hey…”, he threw his hands in submission “what am I supposed to do re? I run the shop here? Okay, listen. The beach is hardly a stone throw away, why don’t we just go there take a walk and kill time”.

It dint seem like a bad idea, the Aquarian in her always jumped at the prospect of a beach visit. And a beach visit with Vinay, not much she can ask for. “Okay..” she replied.

The hour flew at Godspeed. He spoke about mess food, his friends' girlfriends to movies and suddenly slipped on to discussing his family, when she got a little jealous and possessive all the same. The more he spoke, the more she laughed and more she enjoyed him. The waves lapping at their feet just added to the rhythm of her palpitating heart.

There was a something in him, that was gonna make her say YES and that was what was scary. They retreated to the mouth of the beach where hawkers and stalls were numerous; enjoyed bajji, chaat and a round of balloon-shooting. They wrapped up, walked back collected their bounded thesis documents and parted.  


The beautiful sunset along the horizon that they watched together remained etched on Preetis' mind, hours after they parted...Looking absent mindedly out of the steely train window, she recollected the pseudo-date blow by blow, it was easily one of the BEST days in her life. She wore a smile, an immortal one.

*beep* A shout from her mobile jolted her out of her dream world, “It was easily one of the Best dates.. oops.. “days” of my life!” it read.

She didn’t reply to the SMS. Instead she texted Ritu, her best friend, a quick message, three letters – “Yes”.

Late into the night Preeti punched some numbers and spoke into the receiver. The peppery-thick voice responded to her sexily. They spoke for an hour and a half, without halting for breath.. and thus Her highness spake –“Vinay.. I love you…” unmasking the obvious secret.

That night, they continued speaking into the Valentines day; into the small hours…

Only the stars knew if they slept that night…

* * *

Part I

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

Love in the air, anyone?

12th Feb, 2011

She buried her eyes in the book and slipped into it entirely.

Preeti was a pleasantly complexioned girl, who was turned mildly Olive by the train journeys to and from her college, her waist-length hair was pinned carefully and neatly but for her front fringes, which blew all over her face, erm in a sweet way. Today, seated in one of the benches in her college garden, she was reading “Eye of the Needle, by Ken Follet” and seemed oblivious to the jaywalkers, love-birds and the bespectacled professors who walked along the college road. But in truth she was least interested in the book at hand, in fact she was reading the book to avoid his eyes – those piercing eyes that she “liked” and its unrelenting attention.

Time and ago Preeti had joined Engineering with reluctance, under peer pressure, like many others. To add to her pleasure, her institution – “Vaista Engineering college” was a lousy one that had the girls-NO-talk-boys stupid theory. She frowned at the added displeasure, clenched her teeth and sailed through three years of ludicrous Engineering Design, she had just one more year to wade through and that gave her a deep sense of relief. Just a mini and major project, she can throw away her books in the air and take up some measly hand-to-mouth job.

She looked at the book, yet again with an increased interest. She did not want to distract “him”.

Vinay was a TDH six footer with a dimple and a don’t care attitude (that her college detested). He was on the notice boards for various reasons like ragging, attendance lag and sometimes even as the winning Captain of their college Cricket team. He bunked classes, chided professors, flirted with senior-girls like nobody’s business, but he excelled at academics. He was one of the prospective Gold medalists his college expected, thus they could not put a finger on him. He used this advantage to endure them all.

The last thing Preeti wanted to do today was to make eye contact with that idiot, Vinay. 

He has uttered the impossible, yes – a blatant “I love you” within eight months of knowing her. Like he had owned her all the time or something *roll*. She reacted to the unexpected by doing the expected, she gave him left, right, center; called him a fool and a man who was nuts and totally out of mind. He simply ignored the piece of mind she gave him; popped a gum and walked away; and that irked her even more. She had been sulking at him and hurling abuses since that unfortunate day. Wait a minute, he proposed on the 1st of February, on her birthday and she was sulking since then AND also thinking about him continuously i.e for the past 12 days.

But he would never leave her. She knew that, only too well.

Much as she expected, he approached her. She amused herself with a few stands of her flowing front-fringes and appeared to be very busy.

“Hey Preeti, what about the thesis photocopy?”, he inquired.

“What about it?”, she snapped even before he could finish the sentence.

“Didn’t we have to submit it for 0th review this week?”

She had completely forgotten that. Shit. She forgot almost everything since this idiot.. “well forget it”, she thought to herself. “No, I have not done anything about it yet”

"uh so, meet you tomorrow 4PM at Thirumailai station, I will get the Thesis binding done and pass it on to you.. hey gotta run for practice.. B.F.N. he spelt out”, and walked away.

Where the heck was Thirumailai station, she wanted to ask him, but her ego got the better of her. She’d go home and Google it out. He didn't even bother to ask if she was "free"! Was there a word called courtesy in that idiots' dictionary?... "Cute idiot", she said aloud, rephrasing her thought.

* * * * *

13th FEB, 2011

The next evening, she subconsciously reached out for her best blue floral chudidhar and wore a little make up and reached the station even before him and waited. There were times when he has not shown up at college get-togethers, will this one be any different? She wondered, and chewed her nails...

* * *

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

Memoirs of a Prayer Wheel

Bright Prayer flags against gloomy sky.

His eyes were red from crying for the past two days. On the top of everything, the heavy clouds and the gloomy irksome mood it created was SO annoying! Arrgh! Manus father had made a bitter choice. Not a bitter choice according to them – to them it was a good choice, it was bitter only to him. He never expected his little sister, to drive him out of Kathmandu; well again it was not entirely her – it was fate, it so seemed.

*-*-*

"Naniiiii, my rattle broke", complained little Manu to his grandmother. Playing with a rattle at an age of 6 might seem abnormal; but it was the only toy he had.

"Wait for 2 weeks before you get a real toy to play with sweet one", chirped his grandmother, kissing him tenderly; hinting as his yet to come sister.

Encouraged by the spoiling, he retreated to her lap. His grandmother was the only person who loved him unconditionally, thought Manu. His father had liked him too. But that was until their father started acting strange and started saying things like in Kathmandu there were no rains, no grains… his fathers eyes became sad when he said this, his eyebrows were raised and forehead furrowed, he seemed serious, but Manu found the whole repertoire funny – "no rains, no grains" : he hollered, of course when his father was not around!

His father was a much happy man since his tête-à-tête with the villages' veteran. Manu gathered that the veteran had prelidicted about the arrival of a girl child and troubles vanishing, something along those lines. Something that was too much for Manu to comprehend.

*-*-*

Boudhnath, Nepal

His eyes were red from all the crying the night before. His father explained him that he had to honor the wow he had given to their resident god in want of a girl child. Now that God had kept his word, he had to keep his; and send Manu to Vihara, (or Monastery), the nearest was Boudhnath about 11 kms away from Kathmandu. Manu could see the mortifying prayer flags from their household. His father continued explanation that he will not have to placate with a rattle anymore. He can find a dozen other children of his age. He will have a dozen new playmates. Father said that he will have lavish food, he will not have to go hungry to bed another day in his life.

None of it seemed convincing. He will miss the Dohori, folk songs that his father sung. None of it could soothe Manu. He was not willing to part. He was terrified – of leaving his home, his mother and most importantly his nani.

*-*

That dreaded day had arrived. That cloudy day. The sky welled and waited to burst out any moment, amidst a strong breeze Manu was taken into custody by a monk, who seemed his fathers age. The monk unlike his father didn’t have furrows on his forehead, he appeared to be strangely calm.

Two weeks later, Manu sufficiently adjusted to the repertoire. A senior, Shiju, helped him throughout.  He presented him with prayer wheel – a very pretty red and gold one; a gold-bead dangled alongside suspended by a thread. Shiju said it helped “concentrate during meditation”. Manu acknowledged it as a token of friendship and asked him the unallowed – "Will you be my friend?"

Shiju looked astonished. He, then, spoke at lengths about "how attachments caused the feeling of ego", haves, have-nots, disappointment and detachment. Manu gaped at Shiju as he spoke the incomprehensible litany. Shiju also told him that Bodhisattvas dedicate their lives to bodhicitta i.e for the sake of all beings. He ended the lecture saying that, "You, Manu, you are a Bodhisattva too. Now tell me what would be expected of you and me?". 

*-*-*

There was a little boy near the main Stupa. His eyes were red, apparently from crying. His father said - "Shorab, chalo beta". Shorab should have also been about seven.

Shorabs' father submitted him to the Boudhnath monastery and left him in the lavish hall. Shorab knew his father was not returning to him, he knew that I-will-come-in-two-days was a lie. He wiped his eyes, disappointed and looked around unsure whom to turn to. He was intimidated by the guru in charge though he seemed to be a pleasant person, with laughter wrinkles around his eyes. He submitted when his guru took him by his little finger...

Manu showed Shorab through the Monastery. Shorab took an immediate liking to Manu and asked him the unacceptable - "Are you my friend?". That very question Manu had asked 40 years ago. . .

Forty years later, Manu retrospected, nothing had changed. Nothing had changed but for the sky. It was not gloomy anymore, he noticed, wait - it sported a rainbow!

He smiled, took the child by his side and gave him a prayer wheel - a red and gold one with the five elements carved on it. . .

References :  
Boudhanath, Buddhist_terms_and_concepts

The Buddhist stupa of Boudhanath dominates the skyline. The ancient Stupa is one of the largest in the world. The influx of large populations of refugees from Tibet has seen the construction of over 50 Tibetan Gompas (Monasteries) around Boudhanath. As of 1979, Boudhanath is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Along with Swayambhunath, it is one of the most popular tourist sites in the Kathmandu area.

"The Three Jewels", Buddha, Dharma and Sangha,[dubious – discuss] as well as the concepts of karma,rebirth (and reincarnation) and the practice of yoga existed before Gautama lived but they later became associated with Buddhism.

This post is part of the contest Tibet: Roof of the world. Its people : Roofless.. on WriteUpCafe.com inspired by the Photo Fiction book

The Stopover

Stranger in the Night

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 31; the thirty-first edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is 'Strangers in the Night'

“Akka, but he is a stranger!!!!”, Vinisha squealed to her sister.

“He is not a stranger Vinisha, he is your 'Husband', for heavens sake”, her sister grunted softly and rolled her eyes.

“Still...”, she continued.

Akka stopped braiding Vinishas hair, and with a wry smile teased her, “At least you wont be Strangers in the Night” and laughed softly. 

Vinisha kept mum. She could not see the humor in her sisters cynicism.  Arrgh.

* * * *

She entered the room - eyes down, nervously looking at her feet; suddenly noticing the red on her nails and the maroon-vines the mehendi made on her feet. 

He looked at her, silently drinking in her beauty - her red Tussar draped along those slender hips, her long hair adorned with flowers; her khol rimmed eyes which showed hesitation and excitement all at once; and that beautiful mark of Sindhoor on her forehead that spoke of chastity and commitment at lengths. He sighed softly.

She looked like an apsara, was she Ramba or Oorvasi perhaps?

* * * *

One morning, Vinisha retrospected the truth in her sisters 'joke' - 

He was not a Stranger. 

They were one. 

He was her all.

She smiled lightly; enthralled at everything; her future included. . . 

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: Self, Participation Count: 05

[Short story] The Butterfly Brooch

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 30; the thirtieth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

It was another beautiful evening; the lovely sunset gave golden gleam to the water. Tanay strolled along the shores of Kovalam beach; waves kissing his feet. He was not ready to admire it; his mind was full of questions. He recollected the time when he almost was a murderer. Chennai beaches could never scale up to Digha beach back in Kolkotta, his hometown. But Chennai beaches were where they shared belly ripping laughter and mind ripping taunts. Where they walked miles, chattering aimlessly…

A ball fell on him, jolting him… “Anna, ball please..” a boy of 11 shouted. Brother, give me the ball. 

He looked across his shoulder, staring at the child for waking him from his thoughts. They were playing cricket.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Debbie migrated from Kolkotta to Chennai purely for work purposes. She couldn’t resist the pay cheque that she decided to part from the city which grew her, Kolkotta. It was quite a battle with the Chennai, automen who cheated, roadside Romeos who whistled at her every night before she could head to her PG, a portion of the salary being spent on atrocious room rents, annoying breakfasts called idlis and gazillion rupees gone in the name of phone bill. Arggh. The only thing that she looked forward to were Rosogollas at Sri Krishna sweets after those beach walks.

Oh how she loved Rosogollas! Well Rosogollas and Tanay. . . 

Tanay Roy, was her teammate – sharing the same date of joining and mother tongue, they shared a lot of their time together.  She loved those evening walks with him. Though he was busy yapping about some lady crush of his, whom he would claim to love to bits. She would laugh at the antics that he comes up in order to impress those yucky made up colleagues in their Team, sometimes scoff. But she loved him nevertheless.

Why is he blind to me? She thought. High check-bones, sharp eyes, bouncy hair, and a bonus dimple – she felt she looked okay – likable. “Why is he ever SO blind to me?” she thought aloud, applying one more round of bleach. No amounts of bleaches and face packs caught his attention. He was yet again yapping shamelessly about his hopeless romanticism.

"Mashider pichhone khali jao keno?", she questioned. Do you only go behind aunties?

Tanay laughed boisterously, irritating her all the more.

  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

That morning, Tanay had come to her PG to pick her up. 20 mins later, reaching the Pub - "Bike and Barrel", they met their friends at Phillip and Kamalika Dutta… slapping backs and hugging out. 

“Hmm.. so ssup man??”, Tanay asked Phillip questioningly.

“erm… well.. we’ve decided to..umm… tie the knot…” replied Phillip coyly.

Debbie hugged Kamalika, when Tanay furiously punched Phillip for hiding ALL that information. “Saaley, you never told us…??? I thought this was another harmless meet!! You are SUCH a con!” he screamed, “traitor! so when is the big day huh??”

“Next Month Tanay… 1^st Sunday of September”, pitched in Kamalika, “my parents will never accept this… getting married into a Christian family. As you might have speculated, this will be a register marriage. Since we are not in a position to make a grand affair, we just decided to throw our close friends alone a post-wedding party in Beach house in ECR…on Sunday eve… you both should come”.

“Of course we will… “replied Debbie. She looked longingly at Tanay and wished for a day as such. They’ll not even have to rush into sneaky marriages – both she and Tanay were Bengalis and of the same caste. They will have a 'love-arranged marriage' as it was called. Wait a minute! He didn’t even know she existed… :-/ and here she was dreaming of marriages? Duh. 

They ordered their drinks, the girls settled for orange juices when the guys wanted HOT stuff. They soon lost the count of drinks they had.Tanay always could not stop with a few drinks, and it hurt Debbie to see him so helpless.

“Keep it low Tanay”, Debbie intervened, it was not the first time she stopped him, “You have had enough, its time for us to leave I guess..”. 

“Yes mom”, he replied chiding her.

They reached her PG around 1AM down into the night,“See in spite of the drinks I have kept you safe… Aiii will kippp you safeuu.. Aiii promishh..” he said in a faltering tone.

She shrugged, “Please reach home and message me… Okay?”

Few minutes later, her phone beeped and read: “Reached. Had a nyc time. . . n ukw? Will tell u 2mrw... :P”

Sober idiot, she thought.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Wedding Party at ECR Beach house.
Evening.

Both the bride and the groom were looking ravishing. Phillp looked smart and prim. Dressed in her beautiful beige gown, Kamalika could almost pass for a Anglo bride. But the most beautiful woman on the floor was Debolina Gangopdhay, his Debbie who was dressed in a satin evening dress; the lavender gown ran until her knees, showing her flawless long legs. She wore a butterfly brooch on her hairdo, which glittered making her even more lovely.

Tanay sighed. He had fooled her enough, making her believe he was not interested in her at all. Its time he broke it, he thought.

That night close to thirty youngsters danced into the night...

“Have a little na??” they forced Debbie to drink... “Arrey, have little yaar...”

After a series of NOs, she gave up being a non-alcholic. She in fact enjoyed Vodka and the immediate high it gave her! She was happieee, after all who would not be? She was dancing breast to breast with the only man whom she loved on the whole earth! They continued to dance and gulp down fervently.

Slowly the DJ started moving away from the frenzy songs to mushy songs, making the couple rush out of the dance floor, needing that ounce of privacy. Soon the dance floor was almost empty, Debbie and Tanay found themselves on the beach. The dark night-sea drawing white foamy patterns around their feet…

“This is the best night I have ever had…” Tanay said taking her palms. There was silence but for the waves. Tanay drew her close to him and kissed her softly.. real soft... he broke the kiss, looked into her eyes and asked "Will you…?” and cleared his throat, leaving the question incomplete.

She chirped, breaking off from his grip, she ran into the waters, laughing and venturing deeper and deeper. He ran behind her, she was trying to wade more into the sea. He did not know how to stop her, he was unbelievably drunk. He had no clarity of mind.

He stood dumbstruck as his girl was being mauled by the waves… her giggles getting fainter and fainter… Time stood still… so did he…

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Someone tried to shake him up from the shore, "Err..", he opened his eyes; his head felt heavy; blurred with a few screams. “Where is Debbie..?” he could see them mouth; he heard no sound.

He faintly saw his friend picking up a butterfly brooch along the beach; it looked broken and frayed.  “OH MY GOD”, he heard him scream. Some sirens later, he saw his friend signing against the name Debolina Ghangopdhay I.C.U. ward form.

Tanay rammed his head on the hospital wall. He screamed. His life was on her death bed, she was fighting against a series of intravenous-tubes in her body. “Will you marry me...?” might become a question unasked forever. With streaming tears of despair, he screamed softly “Will you marry me Debbie… Debbie… Debbbbiee pleaaaase can you hear me…?”.

She could hear him, she wanted to reply - "Shut up, you idiot. I will be fine", but there were tubes in her mouth.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Three weeks after that unforgettable day, he started volunteering in the Drug Rehab NGO – Helping drug addicts, propagating cons of liquor and advocating also against drunk and drive. He called his project – “Butterfly brooch”, all the members who were signed in his group were given a Butterfly-brooch. They were supposed to introduce and help their friends and acquaintances who were suffering. His organization till date had helped close to 417 families.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Turning towards the little boy, he tossed the sandy ball back to him and smiled.

“Thanks anna”. Thank you brother, said the 11 year old child, “I have seen you before. Appa used to come to your seminars, he is a lot healthy now…", continued the boy, "and the brooch is very cute!” he called after Tanay.

Tanay smiled. But he couldn't stop for a chat with the boy, he was running late. He had to take Debbie for her 3rd trimester ultrasound.  Therefore replying the little boy with a larger smile, he strode away.

As he walked, he fished into his pocket and took out a broken and frayed brooch…

He realized that the frayed butterfly had spread its color seamlessly..

Credits :
Bengali Translation : Anindya Roy :)
Pictures : Google image search

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. I’m thankful to BLOGGER NAME, who introduced Blog-a-Ton to me, and I debuted in 27 edition.

Credits

Image - Shades of Orange by Harsha Chittar
Courtesy - Curious Dino Photography via www.blogaton.in

ONCE AGAIN?

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 27; the 27th Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The topic for this month is 'Once Again'. 

Now, at HER STUDY

Aadhirey (or Addz) was horrified to see that mail on her Inbox. The perfect blackmailers email, failing to follow which she would (as cliché goes) face UNDUE consequences. It was there, speaking out LOUD to her : “Another get-together guys!!!”. There were apparently umpteen exclamation marks at the end of the subject. The subject itself was an exclamation to her.

Being married for under two months, to a guy who was her acquaintance – in the name of engagement for 6 months, she was trying to cope up with married life crisis (that people who get married quite later than the autowala age limit undergo), she was ABSOLUTELY not in the mood for this email. That too meeting THIS very evening. SIGHHH. She re-read the mail which had “voting button” (voting button! *duh*). She was ashamed of herself for thinking twice about spending time with girls who were her close friends. Getting angry at herself for being such a snob, she clicked on “Yes”.

Now, at HER LIVING

Married. She was married for TWO whole MONTHS that she knew her hubby loved LOUD music, loved arachnoids (ewwww…) and her man also loved his coffee piping hot and strong “just as his mother made”. Bah – just as his mother made. The whole ordeal of making coffee early in the morning was SUCH a slap across her face. Idhula just as mother made’aam**…

There were better things to do early in the morning – like curling into the warmth of her comforter, dreaming about being a diva, waking up to bed-coffee – all of which she used to do at her ammas' place. All of which were passé. Now she held that compelling decoction maker before her which was a sad reminder of life that had once been.

“Addz, is my Coffee ready?” he cried. He was at the living room – slouched in the sofa, his legs conveniently placed on the armrests.

“Put your legs down Vaibhav” she snapped. “You are spotting the sofa-fabric and your manners have certainly taken a vacation. Please kaala keela podu. Put down your legs”.

He grimaced and got the Coffee cup from her.

She seated herself on the divan – golden one with beautiful miniature maroon flowers on it. Slowly she started - “Today evening I am going to see my friends ra..”. He knew her friends. She introduced her gang as “GAZA” at their wedding Sangeet function – Gauri, herself (Aadhirey), Zaira and Anju.

“You just saw them last month right?” he immediately pointed.

“LAST month! All right. Don’t you see your friends every other week?” she stormed in annoyance.

“Okay okay. Chill ma.. chill. Where are you people meeting? Should I drop you?” he questioned.

"Don’t bother Vaibhav, we are meeting at Coffee day Café only - it’s pretty close to our place right, I will take an auto. All the more you have review session today… ”

“oh yeah...all right then... Adios amiga!” said he, leaving the living room in a prance.


She cursed under her breath. Adios it seems. DUH. Adios. She hated people who used foreign exclamations – C’est la vie, adios, uber cool and ALL that. They just robbed the feeeeeling. She called people who spoke so as “peter pasanaga”, a Tamil colloquial word used to tease guys who spoke a LOT of fashionable English unwantedly. Here she was stuck with her very own husband who did that. More SIGHS.

By early evening, she started getting ready. Picking from her cupboard a white kurta with sequins along the cuffs - she teamed it with maroon leggings, LONG earrings and a dash of lip gloss. “Chic!”, she thought.

Now, at THE CAFE

Reaching the cafe she saw 2 of her 3 friends were already there. Gauri was not yet there, she would come however – they all knew about her, she even earned her nickname – Miss. Puncuality! They exchanged bear hugs – started off with superficial gossip. 20 mins later Gauri entered! Exchanging squeals and giggles they started ordering.

The girls settled for drinks and bites. However, they were aghast when Aadirey made her order – “Death by Chocolate”.

“Death by Chocolate, Addz? You really like that? Death by Chocolate?? I hate Chocolate icecream...” exclaimed Zaira.

She didn't reply. They just did not expect one.In fact they just started talking amongst themselves. “Hey me too!", offered Anju, " even I don’t like it ya, which is why I swear by Strawberry ice-cream”.

“Strawberry icecream? Over my dead body… “, another quipped.

(she lost track of who said what)

Another conveniently avoiding Choc Vs Strawberry war said: “I don’t like both I vouch for Butterscotch" That's when the gang piped – "Butterscotch!!???” (They look at each others faces, like she has SLEPT with ALL their BFs) “How do you stand that Caramel?!!” They screamed in unison.

//THAT is a reminder that liking some remote flavour like Butterscotch can still put you into trouble. Meet a gang at the once glitzy café and order a Death by chocolate, you trigger *THIS* conversation??” Such is coffee discussions these days? You seriously cant sip your coffee in peace. Why everyone has to prove he/she has THE best taste? Why cant one like something without being judged?, thought Aadhirey//

“Erm” she cleared her throat “am somewhat full ya, I will better have coffee.” Conveniently resorting to a harmless drink like coffee she got engaged in the conversation her mind wandering elsewhere. Innately she pretended to sip her coffee. Pretended to not hear all the you-questions. Pretended to not know the answers to the you-questions.

Gauris supertalented brain noticed her quietness and sprung saying – “Addz, you seem to have become quiet....”

Zaira nodded in agreement, squared her shoulders saying – “Man you have changed SO much after marriage”.

“Yes she has changed SO much after marriage”, they all agreed almost at once.

“No man” Aadhirey replied, slowly biting her lip. She realized the fact she has indeed changed – marriage didn’t do it to her, maturity did it.

She couldn’t just stand judgement, let alone prejudice. Their elevator eyes that judged her kurta, their brains that judged EVERYTHING, icecreams included. She wanted to walk out on them that very moment. While leaving her flat, she was looking forward to the meeting and looking forward to frivolous discussions on whether or not actor R. Maddy would do a baring act in his next film now that he is a PETA activist and other USEFUL topics like that. Not something that is not about you, you and you.

Counting the notes as they decided to Dutch the bill amount, she was happy the meet came to a close...

Now, on HER BED

*Stretching her hands and legs*. She woke up to her alarm, sat on her bed – knees pulled up to her chin. One kind of a day with the women, she recollected. She eyed him, he was still sleeping. Two months, she wondered. Now she also knew he loved HIS Sunday morning sleep more than his whole life put together. He was sleeping like a baby, she thought. And blushed – man too gooey gooey poetic she has become. She saw more of him and more imagery rolled out before her eyes –

May be she was TOO judgmental herself, she reflected.

He didn’t entirely fall into the category of “Peter pasanga”. He largely spoke and why even mimicked in Tamil. He was sweet - he promised he will gift away Wendy, his dearest Tarantula, as she hated spiders! Now how great is that?! And now, he was trying to reduce the volume of his Blueray Home Theatre - his immobile nonliving wife… come on… at least he was “trying”. Sometime back, he was joking he would start making coffee for him as well as her, as was the rule in ALL advertisements aired on TV - haha!

With a smile hung on her face, she left the bedroom in her nightdress. She heard him wake up. She once again started her day making Coffee - as typical as it has been for the past two months : Boiled the milk, made the decoction and brewed simmmmply flavorsome coffee.

Hmmmmm. The aroma just ran through her veins, so did happiness. Coffee making didn’t seem like a ritual anymore… The bitterness of the Coffee was long gone…

Like every other morning they sat together and emptied their coffee mugs.

Glug. Glug. Empty.

She eyed him and asked - “You want one more Coffee?”

“UH??” he looked confused, quizzical and flustered all at once. 

“Coffee, once again??” she repeated. And smiled.
By,
Kappu


**Idhula just as mother made’aam - On the top of it, should I make it (Coffee) like his mother?
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