Thursday, September 14, 2006

Limousine Eyelash

One of the many great things about catching up with Tua is that one never needs to feel apologetic about being late. The odds are always against her being on time, and hell in the seven-sigma event that she did turn up at the appointed hour and crib, with over five years’ acquaintance and evidence, it is an argument I can easily win.

The weather was a classic City fall. Confused sunbeams from behind the orange-rimmed cumulus, at war with the long shadows, sometimes bounced off the glass of the skyscrapers, whose steel scaffold the business district skyline. A crisp, tad nippy breeze, ruffling empty paper bags. The crunch of the autumn debris - leaves and twigs, under the hurried feet of weary homebound suburban human traffic.

Stepping into the Bar and the cursory glance over the heads- I was not surprised to find that she hadn’t yet turned up yet. I took my place at the table I had reserved earlier in the day. From past experience, I knew that the wait could last anywhere between right away to an hour or so. So I ordered my poison and set myself down for an indefinite wait.

To be absolutely honest, I cannot really blame her for being late today. Earlier in the afternoon, I happened to leave behind my hand-phone in a cab, and hence she would always have that exit. Well…

As I sipped in the amber liquid, and sank in my chair I began to contemplate on the day gone by. It had begun on a terrible note- I was about an hour late into office, having dropped Priya and the kids at their mother’s the previous night. Though I had intended to head back immediately her family had insisted on dinner, and then some more. It was amazing how these people could go on forever. By the time I settled into my desk, my day’s unread message count had reached 67.

Actually, I am pretty ok with drinking alone as long I don’t have to stand. As a bachelor, living away from parents for over a decade- most of it with only “settled” friends, I have had ample experience at it. I proceeded to survey the occupants of the restaurant, subjecting them to the vacuous introspection of the habitual drunk. The blonde at the bar, the redhead further down the hall, the brunette who just walked in - another day another time they would’ve been of some interest. But today, and possibly for the rest of my life, they belonged to a section of the menu that my diet did not permit. Sigh!

The thought of the menu reminded me that I hadn’t eaten since morning, which was also why I probably felt a little heady just into my first drink. As a regular at this place many years ago, while the waiters would keep an eye and ensure that my glass was never empty, ordering anything non-standard took forever. Things hadn’t changed much over the years- I craned my neck to search for the once familiar orange and black shirts that the waiters here wore.

For a minute, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There had to be some mistake. After all these years nothing seemed to have changed. Nothing. The same backward tilt of the head which went so well with the hearty laugh, the same glint in the eyes, I could almost sense the lilt in the voice as well- and I thought, well, I must be pushing my luck now. But it had to be her. For across the bar, the first time in over seven years, I caught a glimpse of Tanya.
(To be continued...)

7 comments:

shuchika said...

priya ? tanya? tua?

your glass never seems to be empty.

:)

shuchika said...

and I am back from hibernation.

The One said...

Fiction! Fiction!

dazedandconfused said...

hehehe...

Liked the way you described the evening...

shikha said...

fiction stems from reality..he he wat say T.O...

and yes, complete the story soon..not after a month:)

dazedandconfused said...

Suffering from a writer's block? Here's deliverance in the form of..."You are tagged!"

shikha said...

Do you ever plan to return