A walk down the street which led to her old office was something I had held myself from taking ever since She left, although I had taken a few cab rides through the same route, but to stand at the pavement where I would often stand waiting on her, smoke a cigarette until She took the stairs and came down looking for me was an experience I thought couldn’t be missed. Back in the day, it was an usual sort of a routine to land up there, sip a cup of tea, pack a bouquet of roses and bid my time, I would at times wait for 20 odd minutes for her to get done with her work.
She never appreciated the fact that I would take a long route, pay an exorbitant cab fare and trouble myself to get to her office, to me though it was nothing short of an adventure. The 13kms of travel, the hot cup of tea and the fiery look of her eyes, it made up for all the trouble She assumed I put myself through.
She would initially text me citing it wouldn’t be possible for her to finish off her work, she would always be in the middle of something, a bit of persuasion and at times some cold response from my end would make my business easy, She would come down, blast me for every reason She thought were valid and I would pretend listening to her, I knew that deep within She did like the fact that I met her, and got her roses.
The meetings would last depending on her mood and pressure at work, I would avoid adventure trips on Fridays, given the volume of work She was assigned on that day of the week, I would not risk taking any chances of upsetting her mood any further. Also, given the kind of dedicated employee She was, it wouldn’t seem nice to invade into her professional commitments during the business day of the week. Tuesdays and Saturdays would be a bit relaxing for her, if I were to do a statistical analysis of our meet ups near her work place, I guess, I must have met her there mostly on Tuesdays, on Saturdays: She would take a cab and come down to the cafe near my place.
I could never muster the courage to look into her eyes, I would just stand and look somewhere else, look at her feet; her shapeless toes and neatly trimmed toenails, stealing glances was the real deal, catching her unaware and keeping my heart content that I could at least see her, and I did. I don’t remember getting into any awkward situation when She might have caught me looking up, trying to steal a glance. Stolen things are sweet, aren’t they? With her, it was even sweeter.
Now, as I stand on the same pavement where we would meet, with me stealing glances and She telling me a thing or two, rebuking me for coming down to her office, it’s all coming back; all things good.
The florist hasn’t opened his shop yet, the tea seller busy in serving hot cups of tea, I try catching up on all that has transpired ever since She left, for good; for bad or for the reasons known to both us.
“Ek cup chai dena bhaiya”; I say, and as the tea is sipped I realize there’s this lump in my throat, choking me down.
I look at my phone, no texts and no calls; She mustn’t have known that I was here again, looking out for her in the midst of all the things I am left with : a cup of tea, a cigarette, the florist who knows me rather well and the pavement where I would wait on for her. I am not moving !!
abhishek purkayastha 