⋆ ——————— sitara ⋮ ⋆
I RIPPED THE heating patch from its sheet and stuck it on my lower stomach. The warmth that flooded through me made me sag against the pillows with a sigh. I pulled the covers back onto me and closed my eyes. The current position I was in turned me temporarily ignorant to the pain but when I shifted just a bit, the pain flickered back in my stomach like a wave of shock. I groaned and decided that this was not going to do it.
I craved a milkshake. Preferably a large-sized serve of Caramel Carnival with an extra drizzle of chocolate syrup from Shake it Off. I just needed something to comfort me.
I tapped the mousepad of my laptop and 11:34 pm flashed above a picture of Hrithik Roshan and his starry blue eyes. My situation seemed beyond pathetic —a twenty-four year old woman, craving a milkshake at midnight because her period cramps wouldn't let her sleep. I wanted to cry.
If only I had a boyfriend who bought me chocolates and ice cream; smothered me with warm cuddles on the couch and kissed my forehead to make me forget the pain, and didn't mind watching soppy Malayalam movies with me.
If only I had a boyfriend at all.
Scratch that. If only I hadn't watched way too many K-dramas and TV shows to build these useless hopes. Shame on me.
I decided that sitting in bed wouldn't do it so I opened the door so slowly, a micro-inch at a time when it was 30-degrees ajar, because that was when the hinges usually let out a god-awful creak. Successfully done with opening the door just enough to let me out, I tip-toed out and followed the same slow-mo routine to shut the door back. I cringed at the short squeal it made and prayed Ma didn't hear the noise and march out outside to investigate.
It was not like I wasn't allowed to step out of the room after the lights were off or I was bound under other non-existent child curfews. It was because if they heard me, I knew exactly what would happen. My parents will hold me in interrogation as to why I was outside, what I needed, why I needed it and most of the time, the discussion would be saved to be continued in the morning over coffee and news readings. My parents loved asking questions but I hated answering them. So, I made sure I never gave them an opportunity. Simple.
I trailed towards the fridge to check for milk in the hopes of making my own milkshake. And only when I saw the complete lack of it, I remembered Ma using all of it to make milk kovas for the new neighbours who had moved in today. She really had no other job nowadays.
Having already pictured the milkshake in my hands, my tongue begged for the taste of that caramel-chocolate duo.
I called Aisha.
"Arre yaar, I sent all the marketing data again. I spent three hours on it and if you tell me something is missing, I am going to bawl my eyes out," she said as soon as she picked up the call. There wasn't an ounce of tiredness in her voice. No wonder we call ourselves the nocturnals.
"Shut up, I'm not calling about that," I said, though the picture she created in my mind was tempting. Watching Aisha cry would be a once in a lifetime opportunity. "Do you know any milkshake shops open 24/7?"
"Yeah. Sunset Pier. Why do you ask?"
"Cravings," I answered and she gave me an ah of understanding. I thanked her and then spammed kisses on her Whatsapp when I checked that the shop was indeed open. And home delivery available— how sweet of them. Though it wasn't Shake it Off — my favorite milkshake place in the whole of Kawanpur (not that I had tasted all of them) —Sunset Pier was actually good. I was once abducted there by Vinaya where she broke the news of her first pregnancy. Now, Vinaya had three children.
I placed an order of two-large serves of Classic Caramel with additional chocolate syrup.
The next thing I had to be careful about was when I collected the order. Both my parents were light-sleepers and I had to make sure they didn't rise from their den and freak out when they find out I was ordering milkshakes at midnight.
So, as soon as my order read picked up, I called the delivery person to make suitable alterations.
⋆ ——————— shaurya ⋮ ⋆
"Claim the order that just came in, Shaurya!" Aarav shouted, as he got onto his motorbike.
"Why is Kawanpur so awake today? All these days only the workaholics ordered stuff and now the whole city is joining in?" I complained. "I signed up for this only because you told me there would be a maximum of five deliveries. You cheated me, Aarav! I've already done eight today."
"Chill, machi. It's only today. Go home after this order — it's midnight, anyway. And the order is from Purple Fields; just near your house," He said as he put on his helmet. "You have to pick it up from Sunset Pier. Take this as an opportunity to chat with Nisha. She won't stop asking me about you." He smirked and I wanted to fling a cricket bat at his face.
"God, I hate you, Aarav. Hate you!" I shouted as he zoomed off, laughing.
I hit claim next to the order and drove to Sunset Pier. I prayed Nisha wouldn't be on her shift today and to my luck, she really wasn't. I quickly picked up the two takeaway cups and was on my way to Purple Fields when my phone rang. I killed my motorbike's engine at the corner of the deserted bridge and pulled out my phone only to see an unknown number calling me.
"Hello?"
"Oh, okay you are a guy. So, um, I was wondering if you are the one picking up my milkshakes from Sunset Pier?" a female voice asked, which made me want to smile; it was soft, with an edge of mild shrillness when she dragged out her e's and u's.
"Yes, that would be me. Is there a change in the order?"
"No, no, I want that milkshake please!" The urgency in her voice grew a frown on my face. "The change is in the location. Um, would you mind ignoring that door number written on the order and delivering it to the terrace instead?"
"Sorry, what?"
"The terrace. The roof. Motta maadi. Um, I don't know what they call it in Hindi. You know, like the place —"
"I know what a terrace is. Why would you want me to deliver it there?"
"Personal reasons? Is that good enough for you to be a gentleman and help this woman out?"
"Fine, fine. I'll be there in five minutes, woman."
I heard a brief laugh before the call went dead. Customers like these irritated the hell out of me but I was glad that she at least had the decency to inform me before I went and knocked at a door which wasn't going to open. Some customers took their own bloody time to collect their order and some also had the nerve to scream at us after giving us the wrong address. Fools.
The watchman of Purple Fields saluted me lightly when I entered and I returned the same as I made my way into the apartment lobby.
I got onto the elevator and pressed the key to the 29th floor, which apparently was the last one, and waited patiently.
I had this game. Everytime I claimed an order, I liked to guess how the customer looked. It was a shit game — I mostly ended up getting them wrong — but it was fun when some things matched. Like once one person ordered rasmalai in the middle of the night and I knew it had to be an old man, probably sneaking behind his wife's back to get something sugary. And boy was I right. The old man himself had said, "I have Sugar but of course once in a while, a treat wouldn't hurt, right? Shaila just won't understand!"
Today, I had her voice as an extra clue to my guessing game as well but still I couldn't place solid descriptions. She sounded like a twenty-year old, or twenty-one, doing her college probably. Maybe she suddenly had a craving in the middle of the night and didn't want to disturb her parents who were sleeping in her flat? I couldn't be sure of it and besides, her appearance was a big blank space. Black hair? Brown eyes?
The ding of the elevator sounded and when I stepped out, I saw a flight of stairs tread upwards. I took two steps at once and walked out into the large space. A few flower pots were arranged on one side, a climber weaving through them raggedly. It was dark with only the moonlight as a light source and under the shimmer of it, she sat on the bench next to the sturdy compound, staring out into the night sky with her arms propping her head on the surface of the open wall. I couldn't tell the length of her hair because it was tied in a messy bun but I assumed it was a few inches below her shoulders.
I cleared my throat. "Sitara Sagar?"
"You came!" She got up from her seat quickly and rushed towards me. I held in a laugh at her antics because she sounded like she was meeting her lover after a long time. Then, I focused on her appearance. Black hair, check. Brown eyes, check check. Feeling proud of myself, I handed her the cups and waited for her to tell the delivery code.
I wasn't going to lie and comment that she wasn't beautiful. Because she was. Indeed, very, very beautiful.
"Thank you so much! You know, for coming here to the terrace when that's probably not your job. It really means a lot because I couldn't come all the way down with this period cramps and get the order. I really craved a milkshake. You literally saved me. Thank you," she said and I nodded.
"I've got requests worse than this. And no problem," I said, turning to walk away. I was almost to the stairs when I heard her call me again.
"Um, do you have somewhere to be?" she asked, chewing her lip.
I raised my eyebrows. "Why?"
"Yes or no?"
"No, why?"
"Could you, maybe, um..." her words trailed and I waited. "Could you have a milkshake with me? I swear I won't ask you to say longer than that. You are free to say no, of course. It's just that I have an extra milkshake in hand and I thought I'll save it for later but then instead I could just give it to you."
I blinked. "You want to have a milkshake with me? In the middle of the night? On the terrace?"
"Isn't it the most romantic thing to do?" She sang.
"What?"
"Nothing. You in?"
"Aren't you afraid of me?" I questioned, still unable to believe her.
"Should I be?"
"Of course not," I blubbered. I figured she was talkative when she first rambled a hundred words to convey a single point but I realised she was also crazy. How could she trust a total stranger, that too in the middle of the night?
"Then?" she prompted.
"Fine," I took the cup from her and walked to the bench she had been sitting on. She followed me with a smile that, unfortunately, made me want to smile too. It was contagious.
"Do you always ask delivery men to sit with you and have a drink?" I asked, sipping the milkshake. I wasn't a big fan of caramel but the chocolate drizzle helped better the taste.
"No, just you."
I looked at her and saw her pink lips curve around the straw and swallow a long dose of the milkshake. "Why?"
"It's very stupid, really."
I raised my eyebrows at her.
"Okay, fine. When I mentioned period cramps, you didn't flinch or cringe or give me an uneasy look. You nodded as if it was the most normal thing in the world. It's not everyday I see men do that," she said.
"Why is that a big deal for you?"
"I work in Sierra — the company selling organic sanitary products for women. Do you even know how many men look at me differently because I work there? So of course, it's a big deal for me."
I processed the information. "So, you come here often?"
"Yeah, I like to watch the skies. It has a calming power to it, you know," She said, a hand pressing her stomach while the other held her cup.
"You are something else, really," I said before I could stop myself.
"Then I'm sure you've not met my friends," she answered. "But, I get this comment a lot. I am talkative, when girls shouldn't be. I usually rely on my gut instincts and do things spontaneously, which I shouldn't again. I am not yet married, which is a crime according to my parents and all that."
"Marriage? How old are you?"
"Why should I reveal my age to a stranger?" She asked, but a smile played on her lips.
"Fine, you don't have to answer that. Sorry."
"God, you are too decent to exist in today's world," she laughed adorably, her eyes shrinking as she eyed me. "I am twenty-four, by the way."
"But you still have time, na?"
"Apparently not, because my cousins are all married and happy while I am single and working my ass off."
"Aiyoo, social pressure ah?"
She sighed and nodded, getting back to her milkshake. The wind brushed her hair out of her eyes and then let it fall back down. With her thin fingers, she pushed it away and tucked it behind her ear.
"Do you want to get married?" I asked.
"I don't have anything against it. If someone loves me for who I am, then why not?"
I nodded and turned towards the sky, lifting the cup to take a sip. There were too many stars in the sky today and it felt nice to just relax and spend time admiring something because I hadn't done that for a while. I never made the time for it. Shaking the contents of my cup, I took another sip only to realise my milkshake was over.
I looked at her gazing at the sky with her palms clutched around the edges of the bench next to her thighs, her milkshake cup sitting beside her. "I have to go," I said.
She turned towards me. "Oh, alright. Thank you for sitting with me and hearing my sad story."
I chuckled. "It's not sad."
She waved her hands off as if to tell me to stop lying. "Thank you for offering me. I never imagined I would enjoy drinking caramel milkshake with a stranger at midnight," I said.
"Same here," she said with a smile. "I wonder if I'll meet you again."
For a second that comment took me by surprise. She really said things she wanted to without a filter, I thought to myself with a smile.
I simply nodded and told her goodbye. When I turned around to walk away, she called me again. "What's your name?"
"Shaurya," I said.
She whispered my name back as if to get a feel of it on her lips and then waved at me.
I left hoping that somehow, someday I would meet her again.
⋆ ————————— ⋆
glossary:
milk kova: an indian sweet made of milk and sugar.
arre yaar: indian slang used to convey annoyance/frustration. yaar means 'friend' in hindi.
machi: tamil slang for dude
motta maadi: tamil word for terrace/roof
rasmalai: indian sweet
i have sugar: i have diabetes
aiyoo: south-indian slang for expressing frustration/oh no!/and various emotions. we use it for almost everything lol ( atleast i do)
⋆ ————————— ⋆
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