⋆ ——————— sitara ⋮ ⋆
"Look out from your balcony," Shaurya said and I frowned, jumping out of my bed and walking to my balcony. There he was, in a sage green t-shirt and light-washed jeans, with his hands raised in a wave.
My jaw fell open. "You said you were busy!" I said into the phone, a child-like excitement rushing through me.
"I was busy coming to pick you up," He said. I looked at him staring at me and I felt my cheeks heat up. He was doing something to my heart. "We're going on a date. You have fifteen minutes, Sitar."
"You should have told me sooner. Where are we going? Should I dress nice or casual?" I asked, my brain rushing.
"Casual," He said. I nodded and hung up, almost stumbling to my room. It was almost six in the evening so I had a feeling we were going to the movies. I picked out a solid lavender placket blouse and then jumped into my jeans, tripping a little as I pulled it on. He hadn't given me time to straighten my hair a little so I had to tie my wavy hair into a high ponytail. I pulled out a few strands of my hair in the front to cover the tiny constellation of acne on the side of my forehead. I put on light makeup and then applied a thick coat of gloss.
Fastening my watch on my wrist, I picked up my bag and went out of my room. I informed Ma that I was meeting Shaurya and skipped down to the elevator. I was excited.
It was our first date.
When the doors opened, I met Shaurya, leaning against the opposite wall, scrolling through his phone. "Hey, boyfriend!" I said, patting his shoulders.
"Boyfriend? I thought we were skipping the labels," he said.
"I always wondered how it would sound. Calling a guy my boyfriend. I didn't want to miss the opportunity because you'll be my fiancé soon." I shrugged.
"Well then, girlfriend. Shall we go?" He played along.
"Am I decent?" I waved to my outfit and he nodded but then a slight frown took its place. He lifted my hand and snapped a loose thread hanging from my sleeve.
"All good now," he said.
I grabbed my helmet — Shaurya got an extra one personally for me (how sweet is that?) — and buckled it in. I got on and clutched his shirt as he reversed the vehicle. He removed my hands and tugged them closer to wrap around his waist. "How many times have I told you to hold onto me and not my shirt?" He said.
"Sorry," I said, and tightened my hold. Wind blew threw my hair and rushed against my face as we went into the city. "Wait, I forgot to ask. Where are we going?"
"You'll see," He said.
"Tell me, Shaurya!"
He didn't answer. I sighed and rested my head against his back and watched the neon billboards blur past in a mix of colours. At that point of time, I had already figured out we weren't going to the movies.
Shaurya took a sharp right, into a street so narrow that not more than two motorbikes can pass through it at once. I had never visited this part of Kawanpur. This was more of the clustered and stuffed part of the city. I wondered if he had lost his way. Before I could ask him, he parked his bike and killed the engine.
"Here?" I asked.
"Trust me, Sitar," He said, helping me get off the bike. The smell of masala and spice wafted in the air, unbelonging to the street. I frowned.
He wove his fingers through mine tightly and led the way. There were various repair shops, stacked with broken mixer grinders and electronics. A little stall selling flowers was on the left, right next to a fancy jewellery shop. The plump man sat inside his shed-like shop and shook his head firmly at the customer, not giving into her bargain. There were a lot of tiny stalls and when we got to the end of the street, Shaurya pulled me to the path cutting right.
My jaw fell open, the second time this day. "Street food?"
He nodded.
"A street full of street food?" I asked stupidly and he grinned. I wondered how I hadn't known this place all my life.
Steam clouded the entrance of a stall as the guy splashed water onto the flat heated surface he used as the pan. On the side, one guy was twisting a ball of dough and rolling it into a thin cloth-like sheet. Then, he flipped it across his hands repeatedly, made it even thinner and rolled into a small ball. He was getting the dough ready to make parottas.
I looked to the other side and spotted a crowd, waiting for their mixture of pori and boiled peanuts. A man was calling out the people walking by, selling hot jalebi. The street itself was narrow and the number of people in it would seem impossible if one said it out loud. I couldn't see the brown muddy path at all because the road was packed. I held onto Shaurya tighter.
"Pick something," He said.
My eyes roamed. Most of the stalls were headed by people who looked like they were from North India. There were so many chaats and drinks to choose from. And it looked like I had to make the decision soon so that we could get in line. My eyes fell on to the bright yellow roadside counter that sold pani puri and other chaat items.
"That one," I pointed to it and Shaurya nodded. We walked together and I had to keep shrinking myself to evade a passing stranger. Shaurya's arm came around me and pulled me close to him as we made our way through the crowd.
It had been a long time since I had pani puri and my mouth was basically salivating at the sight. Before Shaurya could ask, I pointed to it.
"I love pani puri too!" He said and then he gestured to the man to prepare for two.
"Duh, who doesn't? Once, I ate the most pani puris for a small bet with my family," I boasted, remembering the last time I had a bet with my cousins and won thousand rupees.
"You?" He asked.
I frowned at his inability to believe me. "I am perfectly capable of stuffing pani-puris in my mouth. Don't underestimate me because of my height."
"But I'm sure you can't beat me," He bumped my shoulders.
"I can!" I said and before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Wanna bet?"
Shaurya's eyes glinted with mischief. Did I just fall into the trap he set me in?
"You asked for it," Shaurya said, too eagerly. Yes, he definitely set me up. I wanted to hit myself with a chappal.
I watched Shaurya converse with the man in Hindi, pointing to the two of us and then pulling out his wallet. The man's eyes were more than happy because we had just guaranteed more than half of his sales.
"Okay, he will be passing them one by one to both of us and he will keep count. Ready?" He asked.
"Wait. What should the loser do?"
"Whatever the other says," he said. "Wanna back out, Sitar?"
"No freaking way," I morphed my expression into a stronger one and nodded. We each took the little bowl made of dried palm leaves. Shaurya smirked and I wanted to wipe it off his face.
I was hungry. I could definitely eat more than him, I told myself.
The man placed the first puri in my bowl and I stuffed it in my mouth. The second was given to Shaurya. Our bowls kept filling and filling. I kept track of it until the point when I had taken too much time to chew and Shaurya got a double refill, skipping my turn. I lost count of it after that.
One puri broke before I could stuff it in my mouth, making my hands go sticky with the spicy water inside. Shaurya broke his puri thrice.
"How many?" I asked the man, chewing the crispy layer. I was panting. I couldn't stand.
"30," he said, pointing to me. Wow, that was two more than what I had eaten last time.
"33," He said, pointing to Shaurya. I grumbled under my breath.
I managed to squeeze in two more and I literally felt my stomach burst. If I had any more, I was sure the buttons on my jeans would pop off. I threw the bowl and held onto the rail, shaking my head. "I can't. That's enough!" I said.
Shaurya asked the man to stop, chewing his last share. He washed his hands from the bucket of water kept on the side and called me over. He poured water on mine and let me wash away the spills. "Aiyoo, I feel like a pregnant lady. I can't walk," I whined, clutching my stomach. Shaurya chuckled.
He spoke to the man again and then paid him five-hundred rupees. We ate pani puris for five-hundred rupees? Wow.
Shaurya came to my side. "You had 32. I had 35," He said, patting my head in consolation. "It was close enough."
"Argh," I cried, leaning my head on his shoulders.
"But you still have to do what I tell you. You lost the bet," He grinned and I nodded obediently. He balanced his chin on my head and patted my back. "Do you want anything else?"
"Are you serious? I am so full," I groaned. "But will you bring me here some other day?"
"Of course," He said, kissing my hair. "But, do you mind if I have Parotta from that stall? I'm still hungry."
I gaped at him. "How much do you eat?"
He laughed. "I didn't have lunch today. So, you can't blame me."
"If you are planning to eat all this, fall sick and get pampered again," I clicked my tongue and shook my head, "forget it. Not happening, Sir."
"I won't fall sick. Come on," He said, dragging me to the stall. There were two college girls sitting on the bench and eating hot parottas. All others were men. Shaurya ordered a plate and then found a spot between an old man and the girl on the bench. But, it was a spot for one. And others were filled.
"I'll stand," I said. "You go eat."
"No, come on," He said, taking his seat and pulling me onto his lap.
"Shaurya," I hissed, trying to get back up. The girl beside me smirked and whispered to her friend. I felt all eyes land on us.
I pinched his arms, telling him to let go of me. "Relax, Sitar. No one's going to tell anything," he said.
I felt embarrassed to sit on his lap in public but he didn't mind it and everyone else forgot about it in seconds. That made me feel a little better.
A woman handed over a plate of parotta and chicken curry. She smiled at us warmly. Shaurya held the plate with the arm which was around me, and used the other to eat. I watched him dip the piece of the crumbling soft parotta in the red spicy curry and stuff it in his mouth. I would be lying if I said I wasn't tempted.
"Want a bite?" Shaurya asked and I nodded.
He broke a piece and added some chicken to it before feeding me. My eyes widened and I nodded at how good it tasted. Even better than I imagined.
We ended up helping ourselves to another plate. I didn't know if it was solely the taste that made me enjoy it so much or the fact that I was on Shaurya's lap and that he fed me each bite.
Before the college girls left, they tapped my shoulders and called me. "You two look cute together," She said. I exchanged a glance with Shaurya and then thanked her, fighting a huge-ass grin on my face.
Shaurya went to wash his hands and I pulled out tissues from my bag for him. After we shared a mug of lemon soda, I was so done with today. I just wanted to sleep and go extra rounds of walking the next morning.
Shaurya led me in a different, quieter route this time to reach his bike. It was dark, and we walked hand-in-hand under a few street lights flickering here and there. It felt nice. Just us and our thoughts. I leaned into him.
⋆ —————— shaurya ⋮ ⋆
She was happy. I could see that in that enormous smile she hid when she pressed herself against me, and the little squeezes she gave my fingers. She thought I didn't notice but I did. I always noticed.
"So, how was your first date, girlfriend?" I asked, nudging her with my elbows.
"You did well," She said, patting my hand.
"I just get a pat on the hand?" I asked, faking heart ache.
"Well, I can't kiss you in the middle of the road. There are people," she said. I remained silent.
A few seconds later, she took my hand and pressed a lingering kiss on my knuckles. "Thank you."
I pulled her close to me. "I'll let you go this time but I need a bigger prize than this next time," I said and she rolled her eyes.
"Shaurya?" She called after a while. "You remember I asked you if you were busy when you called me?"
I nodded.
"I asked because I wanted to discuss something with you," She said, tucking her hair back. "It's about work. Um, you know we are opening a new branch in London, na? They picked out a few people to go organize stuff and train employees there. It's for a month and management will cover the stay, food and travel expenses. And... I was chosen," She explained.
"When?" I asked.
"February," She said. "Our wedding is on March 10. And our engagement is on Jan 6. The dates are not clashing."
"Okay," I said, not sure where she was going with it.
"What do you think? Should I go?" She asked.
I stopped in my tracks. "You're asking me? I am not the one going to London, Sitar. You are. It's your decision."
"You don't care either way?" she asked, her voice falling. I sighed.
"Don't twist my words. I said it's your decision, meaning it's completely up to what you want to do. If your heart asks you to go, then do it," I said, taking her fingers in my own. "I would keep you glued to my side if I could. But, I don't own you, Sitar. Whatever label you take doesn't mean I get the rights to your life. It's always your choice. It's always about what you want. I won't stop you. I don't want to be that man."
She nodded, slowly. "But I don't want to leave you for a month," she admitted.
"I'm not going anywhere. This opportunity might. Don't miss it because of your obsession with me." I said, chuckling. "Are your friends going too?"
She nodded. "Except Trisha," she said and then whispered quietly, "She is pregnant. Don't tell anyone. It's a family norm that a woman should only reveal to others that she is pregnant after three months."
My eyes widened and I nodded, surprised at the information. Trisha didn't seem pregnant the last time I had seen her.
"Sitar, I don't want to keep you from your friends. Already Aisha was giving me an earful for stealing you away every time. Go have some fun," I said.
"You talk to Aisha?"
"Yes," I said. "Why are you so surprised? You talk to my sister behind my back."
"Shaurya, that's your sister. She is practically family. This is different. Who else do you talk to?"
I smirked at her reaction. "Sometimes, Deepika too. Why?"
"You idiot." She hit me with her bag. "How dare you do that to me? I need Aarav's phone number."
"You already have it. He saved it in your phone, remember?" I riled her up even more.
"I hate you!" She said, smacking me with her bag. A man who passed us gave us a strange look but I couldn't stop laughing. She was so cute.
"Sitara!" I laughed, trying to dodge her handbag. God only knew what she had in that. It hit me like a brick. "I was lying!" I said, capturing her hands mid-air.
She struggled against me so I had to wrap her arms around my waist to keep her still.
"I called Aisha to find out if you liked street food. She took the chance and started yapping at me for always occupying your time. They miss you, it seems. That's all," I said, kissing the crown of her head. She glared at me from below.
"And besides, I think there is something going on between Aisha and Aarav," I added.
"You noticed them brushing each other's fingers accidentally and then blushing, didn't you?" She asked immediately, her eyes lighting up. I nodded. "I noticed too. There is something definitely going on because I saw them exchanging phone numbers. Ahh, what if they get together?"
Her eyes sparkled.
"They will make a good pair," I agreed, smiling at how easily her thoughts can be distracted. One minute she was hitting me with her bag and the next minute, she was gushing about our friends' unborn love story. She was innocent but at the same time bold. It was one of the many many reasons I loved her.
"So, you are going to London, na?" I asked.
"Yes," she smiled. "But, don't think you can escape me. I don't care about the timezones. I'm going to call and talk to you for hours. And maybe we can make a second trip there for our honeymoon," she added, cheekily.
"Nah, I have some other place in mind," I said.
"Which is?"
"A surprise. I'll tell you when you become my wife," I whispered.
"You are so mean," she grumbled and punched my shoulders. "Good thing I love you."
⋆ ——————————— ⋆
glossary:
parotta: a flaky layered flatbread made out of maida.
pori: puffed rice in tamil
jalebi: a sweet similar to funnel cakes, only dipped in sugar syrup with a hollow inside.
pani puri: an indian streetfood, which has a hollow crispy sphere that is stuffed and dipped in flavored water; also called golgappa, fuchka or gupchup.
⋆ ——————————— ⋆
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