Disha walked up the steps and into the cloudy New York evening. She was half surprised and half pleased that he'd called her randomly to say that he was in New York and wanted to catch up. The rest of her friends who had since moved out of the city hadn't bothered to keep in touch at all. After spending the summer being interns together, this would be the first time they would meet. She didn't know that it would also be the last.
After a few minutes of being vaguely lost, she caught sight of him waving from the corner of the next intersection. She smiled, waved back, and hurried over to give him a hug.
"I know I said just coffee, but its getting late and I'm betting you haven't had dinner."
"Sounds lovely, I was hoping there would be some food involved. Did you have to wait long?"
"Nah I was just sitting in that restaurant down there. They're going to have a live band coming on soon, would you like to go there and get something to eat?"
"Sure."
Disha followed him into the crowded but cosy candlelit place. The band had just started up with some soft jazz.
"So how has life been?" she quietly cursed at herself for not thinking of anything less cliche to say.
"Its been good...work as usual, you know how it is, old friends asking me generic questions in the one hour that I get to meet them..." They both laughed.
Disha smiled, in that instant they went back to being the interns who goofed around the office. It was as though they picked up their playful banter right from where they left it when they went their separate ways at the end of the summer. Disha thought back to the lunch that they had on the last day of work...
"So any sweethearts back home?" he had asked
"No, I left all the sweethearts behind when I left the country. Long distance is no good."
"So here then?"
"Its hard when the American boys just want to mess around, and the Indian boys are like children when it comes to relationships. Seriously, how difficult is it to find a desi who has an ounce of relationship experience and doesn't sound like he works for Technical support?"
"Oh, I wouldn't think its *that* hard. But you just can't seem to keep the desperate dance-floor-grinding types off you huh"
"Yeah, after all, how often do you find a hot Indian girl with an American perspective making her own living in NY?"
"Just as often as you find a nice Indian guy who isn't a relationship novice?"
"Touche."
"What are we doing in the west anyway?"
Disha didn't comprehend the flow of conversation. She found herself pulled back to the candlelit restaurant, he was actually asking her a serious question.
"I don't know, we probably just went with the flow during all of the decisions that actually mattered. And then we probably justified it with something silly like 'take every day as it comes and it will work out' "
Much conversation and a couple of drinks later, it was time to leave. Disha asked the waiter to take a picture of them on her digital camera right before they left the restaurant. He insisted on paying, which wasn't normal, but Disha didn't want to offend him.
He offered to walk her to the subway stop. As Disha turned to say her last goodbye before walking down into the station, she was surprised to see an entirely novel expression on his face. Within a split second she realized what it was and she gulped. Not again. She hated this part.
"Listen, Disha, there is something that I need to say. I know I don't live in New York and that you don't like long distance and that its probably not going to work, but I have to say it anyway. I've had a crush on you ever since the summer, but never got a good chance to ask you out properly. I was hoping I could do that now."
"You're right."
"I am?"
"Yeah, its not going to work. Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression."
"No, its just wishful thinking on my part. I just had to get it off my chest. If you ever get tired enough of your Tech support suitors you can give me a call."
Even in this awkward situation, Disha managed a smile. "Sure thing."
February 28, 2010
February 21, 2010
Earbuds (Guest Author)
She sits outside on the steps alone in the warm night air. A lonely moth flutters around the porch light above her and the sounds of crickets echo in the dark of the small front yard. She stares blankly at the black river of street that extends out from the grass. She hears the screen door open with a creak behind her followed by an familiar voice.
"You look lonely out here."
He lets the screen door bang shut behind him, then walks over and sits down beside her.
"Want to listen to some music while you wait?"
He fishes through the contents of his pockets until he finds the desired object. He offers her one earbud from the set plugged into the MP3 player.
"Yeah, thanks."
She takes the tiny speaker and easily fits it into her ear, then goes back to observing the sky. He watches her intently enjoying of the subtle grace in her movement, but then turns his head to look at the road. They sit for a few moments. She looks over at him and smiles. He smiles back.
"What are you thinking?"
You're so cute when you smile. "Nothing really. What a summer. I can't believe it's over already."
"Yeah, pretty ridiculous."
They go back to staring at the road. The night is full of sound, but neither can seem to break the silence between them. The song changes.
"What do you think you'll miss most?"
You. "I dunno. The simplicity of it all I guess."
"Right. That part was pretty great."
The taxi pulls up in front of the building. She hands back the earbud and stands slowly, swinging her one small duffel over her shoulder and straightening her shirt. He stands up beside her and shoves the player along with his hands clumsily into his pockets.
"Well, I guess, I've got to go." She attempts another smile.
"Yeah, well, goodbye." He shifts awkwardly and half smiles back.
"Goodbye." She turns and walks to the taxi. I love you.
"You look lonely out here."
He lets the screen door bang shut behind him, then walks over and sits down beside her.
"Want to listen to some music while you wait?"
He fishes through the contents of his pockets until he finds the desired object. He offers her one earbud from the set plugged into the MP3 player.
"Yeah, thanks."
She takes the tiny speaker and easily fits it into her ear, then goes back to observing the sky. He watches her intently enjoying of the subtle grace in her movement, but then turns his head to look at the road. They sit for a few moments. She looks over at him and smiles. He smiles back.
"What are you thinking?"
You're so cute when you smile. "Nothing really. What a summer. I can't believe it's over already."
"Yeah, pretty ridiculous."
They go back to staring at the road. The night is full of sound, but neither can seem to break the silence between them. The song changes.
"What do you think you'll miss most?"
You. "I dunno. The simplicity of it all I guess."
"Right. That part was pretty great."
The taxi pulls up in front of the building. She hands back the earbud and stands slowly, swinging her one small duffel over her shoulder and straightening her shirt. He stands up beside her and shoves the player along with his hands clumsily into his pockets.
"Well, I guess, I've got to go." She attempts another smile.
"Yeah, well, goodbye." He shifts awkwardly and half smiles back.
"Goodbye." She turns and walks to the taxi. I love you.
February 15, 2010
Strawberries with Cream Part VI
Social engineering was just a theoretical term for Anjor until recently. With 3 days left for him to leave the country, he had gained practical experience. He had managed to engineer a gathering of the social circle that he shared with Preeti. It had taken many phone calls, a lot of convincing and shifting schedules. He had been more successful than he hoped – although it sounded more like an old ladies' gathering, the plan was to have a potluck at Preeti’s place. He had insisted on bringing the dessert.
Anjor picks up the phone and dials the number on the business card that reads “Samit Mishra”.
“Samit Mishra here.”
“Hi, this is Anjor, I was the person who visited the other day asking about your famous strawberry dessert.”
“Yes I remember please go ahead. How was the sample?”
“It was great actually, and I would like to place a larger order for tomorrow if that is possible”
“How large? I’ll see what I can do.”
“I would like to pick up a strawberry shortcake tomorrow afternoon around 3 for an important party”
“You mean the special shortcake with a strawberries and cream layered filling? I can probably arrange that. Hold on.”
A couple of minutes later –
“It will be ready by noon. You can pick it up at your leisure in the afternoon.”
“Great, thanks a lot Samit .”
“My pleasure sir. Do send me your comments”
After explaining to his inquisitive parents that he was just talking to a new friend that he made recently about meeting tomorrow, Anjor buries himself in his laptop and types away furiously. There is another task that has to be completed.
The next day Anjor flies to Le’ Meridien at 3 and picks up the perfectly layered delicious looking cake. Almost everything is in place. He stops at a private printing facility.
“Kya chahiye” (What do you want)
“File print karni hai” (Need to print a file)
“Kaunsi” (Which one)
Anjor hands the printing tech a usb key.
It’s almost 4:30 as Anjor pulls into Preeti’s lane and squeezes his car in between the two that he recognizes as belonging to his friends. He is glad not to be the first one there.
He rings the doorbell with a covered package in one hand, and a backpack over his shoulder. He holds his breath at the click of the latch and the door opens. The radiant smile that greets him causes him to almost drop the dessert on which his plan hinges. But even then, he feels as though it might be worth dropping the package in order to gaze at that smile.
“Aren’t you going to come in, everyone is already here”
“Oh of … of course.”
“Let me take that for you.”
“Nn no…I’ll put it in the refrigerator myself, it is fragile and not to be opened till it’s time for dessert.”
“You are so stubborn!”
“Don’t come between a man and his dessert.”
They both laugh, but Anjor breathes a sigh of relief as he carefully places the package in the already overfull fridge.
A couple of hours, a couple of drinks, and a couple of laughs later, it’s time for dessert.
“Anjor won’t let anyone touch his dessert-baby.” teases Preeti
“Anjor, aan na” (just bring it) someone pipes up.
Anjor jumps up and brings out the now uncovered precious dessert. He is treading so carefully and purposefully that he swears for days to come that he was walking in slow motion. As he sets it on the table, it is very hard for him not to look proud – especially as he sees Preeti’s eyes light up. While everyone else chatters about what it is and how great it looks, Anjor manages to catch Preeti’s eye and they share a brief moment where both of them know exactly what is happening.
After devouring every last scrap, its finally time to leave. People start ambling out. Anjor purposefully hangs behind the crowd.
“Hh.hey Ppreeti…”
“Hey Anjor, thanks for coming, and thanks for an amazing dessert! That is by far the best dessert I’ve ever had.”
“Oh it was nothing. I have a confession to make though.”
“Oh Anjor, if this is about what we talked about the oth…”
“Hear me out. There is something I need your help with.”
“Th..his looks like you’ve written a …story.”
“It is. It’s almost finished.”
Anjor stands patiently as she flips through the pages. As she realizes what the story is, she hurriedly flips to the last page where she reads
And then he gave her the note.
“Wait a minute…you didn’t give me a no..oh.”
Preeti unfolds the note. It reads
“Dear Preeti,
Meeting you has been the highlight of my visits to Pune in recent years. I know you are in a tough situation so I’m letting you off easy. But next time I visit Pune, I will bring you strawberries with cream every day if that is what it takes. In the meantime, I can only leave this note as my promise.
-Anjor”
Preeti looks up from the note, and takes a deep breath.
“So what did you need my help with?”
“I don’t know how the story ends.”
Anjor picks up the phone and dials the number on the business card that reads “Samit Mishra”.
“Samit Mishra here.”
“Hi, this is Anjor, I was the person who visited the other day asking about your famous strawberry dessert.”
“Yes I remember please go ahead. How was the sample?”
“It was great actually, and I would like to place a larger order for tomorrow if that is possible”
“How large? I’ll see what I can do.”
“I would like to pick up a strawberry shortcake tomorrow afternoon around 3 for an important party”
“You mean the special shortcake with a strawberries and cream layered filling? I can probably arrange that. Hold on.”
A couple of minutes later –
“It will be ready by noon. You can pick it up at your leisure in the afternoon.”
“Great, thanks a lot Samit .”
“My pleasure sir. Do send me your comments”
After explaining to his inquisitive parents that he was just talking to a new friend that he made recently about meeting tomorrow, Anjor buries himself in his laptop and types away furiously. There is another task that has to be completed.
The next day Anjor flies to Le’ Meridien at 3 and picks up the perfectly layered delicious looking cake. Almost everything is in place. He stops at a private printing facility.
“Kya chahiye” (What do you want)
“File print karni hai” (Need to print a file)
“Kaunsi” (Which one)
Anjor hands the printing tech a usb key.
It’s almost 4:30 as Anjor pulls into Preeti’s lane and squeezes his car in between the two that he recognizes as belonging to his friends. He is glad not to be the first one there.
He rings the doorbell with a covered package in one hand, and a backpack over his shoulder. He holds his breath at the click of the latch and the door opens. The radiant smile that greets him causes him to almost drop the dessert on which his plan hinges. But even then, he feels as though it might be worth dropping the package in order to gaze at that smile.
“Aren’t you going to come in, everyone is already here”
“Oh of … of course.”
“Let me take that for you.”
“Nn no…I’ll put it in the refrigerator myself, it is fragile and not to be opened till it’s time for dessert.”
“You are so stubborn!”
“Don’t come between a man and his dessert.”
They both laugh, but Anjor breathes a sigh of relief as he carefully places the package in the already overfull fridge.
A couple of hours, a couple of drinks, and a couple of laughs later, it’s time for dessert.
“Anjor won’t let anyone touch his dessert-baby.” teases Preeti
“Anjor, aan na” (just bring it) someone pipes up.
Anjor jumps up and brings out the now uncovered precious dessert. He is treading so carefully and purposefully that he swears for days to come that he was walking in slow motion. As he sets it on the table, it is very hard for him not to look proud – especially as he sees Preeti’s eyes light up. While everyone else chatters about what it is and how great it looks, Anjor manages to catch Preeti’s eye and they share a brief moment where both of them know exactly what is happening.
After devouring every last scrap, its finally time to leave. People start ambling out. Anjor purposefully hangs behind the crowd.
“Hh.hey Ppreeti…”
“Hey Anjor, thanks for coming, and thanks for an amazing dessert! That is by far the best dessert I’ve ever had.”
“Oh it was nothing. I have a confession to make though.”
“Oh Anjor, if this is about what we talked about the oth…”
“Hear me out. There is something I need your help with.”
“Th..his looks like you’ve written a …story.”
“It is. It’s almost finished.”
Anjor stands patiently as she flips through the pages. As she realizes what the story is, she hurriedly flips to the last page where she reads
And then he gave her the note.
“Wait a minute…you didn’t give me a no..oh.”
Preeti unfolds the note. It reads
“Dear Preeti,
Meeting you has been the highlight of my visits to Pune in recent years. I know you are in a tough situation so I’m letting you off easy. But next time I visit Pune, I will bring you strawberries with cream every day if that is what it takes. In the meantime, I can only leave this note as my promise.
-Anjor”
Preeti looks up from the note, and takes a deep breath.
“So what did you need my help with?”
“I don’t know how the story ends.”
February 1, 2010
Strawberries with Cream Part V
It is getting more and more difficult for Anjor to run around looking for strawberries and flowers without attracting attention from his friends and family. But he has to play this one close to the chest. Between meeting people and running errands around the city, he has to work hard to find fragments of time in which to pursue his girl. The efforts he is going through are downright scandalous in this town. Privacy is a luxury hard to come by.
Anjor pulls into Le’ Meridien, the most upscale hotel in the fast developing city. It’s been in the news recently since Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt stayed there with their adopted kids and nannies. Anjor is a nobody compared to the folk that generally set foot inside, he is a little nervous about pulling this off. He is dressed in his finest jeans and button down. He takes a deep breath, and walks through security as if he owns the place. He hopes that by ignoring all the doormen and busboys he’ll avoid interrogation.
“Sir excuse me sir may I help you?”
Anjor puts on his most arrogant voice.
“Actually yes. I wish to speak with Samit Mishra.”
“Excuse me?”
“Samit Mishra. He does work here right?”
“…y..yes sir, straight and to the left.”
“Thanks.”
As the word leaves his mouth, Anjor is already walking toward the renowned restaurant. His aggressive tone had done the trick. The restaurant is completely empty. Its slightly before opening time, just as he had hoped.
“Yes sir, how may I help you?”
“Is this where famous chef Samit Mishra works?”
“Yes sir, how may I help you?”
“I would like to speak with him, please.”
“Sir, I don’t know if that is possible….”
“I would be grateful if you can go and check.”
“Y..yes sir.”
A few minutes later, the reception comes back out of the kitchen, and makes a couple of phone calls. Another few minutes later, Samit Mishra walks into the restaurant lobby.
“Hello, I hear you were looking for me.”
“Hi, my name is Anjor, and I am here to sample one of the desserts that you make. I’ve heard a lot about it.”
They shake hands.
“What would that dessert be?”
“I’ve been told that Samit Mishra makes the best strawberry desserts in the city. I was hoping that you could humor me and whip up something with strawberries, cream, and shortcake.”
“Well, let me check if we have those ingredients, have a seat please.”
“I appreciate it.”
Samit Mishra discovers that there is no shortcake. He makes a few calls and ascertains that a shortcake could be delivered to the hotel within 24 hours if desired. He offers
“Sir, we don’t have a full shortcake, but I do have some shortcake crumbs which I keep around. Can I use those for your sample and then if you are satisfied we can put in a large order?”
“I don’t know, if that’s the case then I’ll have to check with my people. Why don’t you make it to go, and I’ll see what they think and get back to you.”
“Sure sir, I would appreciate any culinary feedback you have for me. Here’s my card. I’ll have your dessert ready in 10 minutes.”
Anjor leaves his contact information at the reception and ten minutes later he strolls out with a fresh made, delicately packaged serving of strawberries and cream with shortcake from the best chef in town. But he didn’t know that this had been the easy part of his struggle.
Anjor still has one more thing to do before he takes the leap. He stops at a gift store to get some acceptable paper and ink. He takes a deep breath and writes –
“Dear Preeti,”
He pauses. He isn’t sure what else he can say. He doesn’t want to appear desperate, but he doesn’t want to be lackluster in his message, either. He hastily writes the rest of the message before he can change his mind. He folds the paper and puts it on the packaged dessert. He is almost done.
A block away from her house, he stops the car and calls her.
“Hi.”
“Hi! What’s up”
“I was wondering if you were at home and had a couple of minutes to spare.”
“…actually I’m in Goa.”
“Oh…when will you be back?”
“Not till Sunday.”
“I guess I’ll see you then. Have a good time in Goa!”
“Ok, bye Anjor!”
Anjor punches the steering wheel so hard that it hurts and for a moment he’s afraid that the airbag’s will pop. He throws the precious package in a dumpster on his way home.
Anjor pulls into Le’ Meridien, the most upscale hotel in the fast developing city. It’s been in the news recently since Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt stayed there with their adopted kids and nannies. Anjor is a nobody compared to the folk that generally set foot inside, he is a little nervous about pulling this off. He is dressed in his finest jeans and button down. He takes a deep breath, and walks through security as if he owns the place. He hopes that by ignoring all the doormen and busboys he’ll avoid interrogation.
“Sir excuse me sir may I help you?”
Anjor puts on his most arrogant voice.
“Actually yes. I wish to speak with Samit Mishra.”
“Excuse me?”
“Samit Mishra. He does work here right?”
“…y..yes sir, straight and to the left.”
“Thanks.”
As the word leaves his mouth, Anjor is already walking toward the renowned restaurant. His aggressive tone had done the trick. The restaurant is completely empty. Its slightly before opening time, just as he had hoped.
“Yes sir, how may I help you?”
“Is this where famous chef Samit Mishra works?”
“Yes sir, how may I help you?”
“I would like to speak with him, please.”
“Sir, I don’t know if that is possible….”
“I would be grateful if you can go and check.”
“Y..yes sir.”
A few minutes later, the reception comes back out of the kitchen, and makes a couple of phone calls. Another few minutes later, Samit Mishra walks into the restaurant lobby.
“Hello, I hear you were looking for me.”
“Hi, my name is Anjor, and I am here to sample one of the desserts that you make. I’ve heard a lot about it.”
They shake hands.
“What would that dessert be?”
“I’ve been told that Samit Mishra makes the best strawberry desserts in the city. I was hoping that you could humor me and whip up something with strawberries, cream, and shortcake.”
“Well, let me check if we have those ingredients, have a seat please.”
“I appreciate it.”
Samit Mishra discovers that there is no shortcake. He makes a few calls and ascertains that a shortcake could be delivered to the hotel within 24 hours if desired. He offers
“Sir, we don’t have a full shortcake, but I do have some shortcake crumbs which I keep around. Can I use those for your sample and then if you are satisfied we can put in a large order?”
“I don’t know, if that’s the case then I’ll have to check with my people. Why don’t you make it to go, and I’ll see what they think and get back to you.”
“Sure sir, I would appreciate any culinary feedback you have for me. Here’s my card. I’ll have your dessert ready in 10 minutes.”
Anjor leaves his contact information at the reception and ten minutes later he strolls out with a fresh made, delicately packaged serving of strawberries and cream with shortcake from the best chef in town. But he didn’t know that this had been the easy part of his struggle.
Anjor still has one more thing to do before he takes the leap. He stops at a gift store to get some acceptable paper and ink. He takes a deep breath and writes –
“Dear Preeti,”
He pauses. He isn’t sure what else he can say. He doesn’t want to appear desperate, but he doesn’t want to be lackluster in his message, either. He hastily writes the rest of the message before he can change his mind. He folds the paper and puts it on the packaged dessert. He is almost done.
A block away from her house, he stops the car and calls her.
“Hi.”
“Hi! What’s up”
“I was wondering if you were at home and had a couple of minutes to spare.”
“…actually I’m in Goa.”
“Oh…when will you be back?”
“Not till Sunday.”
“I guess I’ll see you then. Have a good time in Goa!”
“Ok, bye Anjor!”
Anjor punches the steering wheel so hard that it hurts and for a moment he’s afraid that the airbag’s will pop. He throws the precious package in a dumpster on his way home.
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