Lonely September

He stood beside the French Windows nursing a cup of strong hot coffee that his secretary had brought in; with a reminder of the video conference he was supposed to be attending in another… he checked the dial on his wrist and sighed- half an hour. His eyes focused on the crashing waves of the sea just outside his office once again. The once soothing rhythm was now like a torture to him. 

His eyes closed, his sigh fogging the window in front of him. The almost silent pitter patter of the rain drops taking him down memory lane, as it was wont to do. September, he thought, looking around himself. His charcoal grey suit, black tie, polished Italian shoes, suave and sophisticated offices… He couldn’t have cared less about all of that. There had been a time, when he would be one of those people- itching to go out to the beach, enjoy the rain and the sea, live – really live- life... with her.

How was it, that even the thought of her tripped his heart up… still? He smiled, but she had always had that effect on him, hadn’t she? Right from the time he’d first seen her, she had captivated him, his angel. With those beautiful sparkling eyes, that mischievous smile, that tinkling giggle… He looked out again, the couple walking hand in hand on the beach in the rain plunging him back into bittersweet memories. Of Her.

“Come on NK, you’re being such a bore!” His brows quirked up at the pout he could clearly hear in her voice. Oh, now he was a bore? The following almost whined “Please?” managed to extract a sigh out of him, of defeat- and of course she heard that! How a smile could light up anyone’s voce was beyond him, but that was his angel as she laughed an exuberant “Thank you!”  through the phone. 

She had been waiting outside his building when he left work- and her excitement as always brought a smile to his face even as he teased her, “You do realize it’s raining, don’t you?” and had to suppress another smile as she rolled those expressive eyes at him. 

“Yes, Grandpa.” She huffed as he laughed, but then she was tugging him across the road towards the beach. Bemused, he had followed her- captivated by the swaying curtain of black silk that hung down her back, as she walked ahead of him. Her small soft hands wound around his arm as they reached their destination. Her contented sigh as she rested her head against his shoulder, prompting him to look down at her- her simple glowing beauty in that white button down shirt and blue jeans paired with a pair of blue and white peep toe sandals still managing to knock him on his ass somehow.

And they walked on the sand, their steps falling into an easy rhythm that matched the one of the pitter-pattering rain drops and that of the waves. “Have you tried Mumbai’s World Best Pakode here?” she asked him and he looked at her again in unhidden amusement, “Mumbai’s World best Pakode?” he asked, a brow quirking as he tried to stop his lips from twitching and she smacked his arm furthering his amusement. “That’s what the shop is called, smartass.” And as he laughed some more, she turned to him, that small pixie, her hands fisted at her hips- “Come on, macho guy, we’ll see who’s laughing at whom at the end of this.” And she had almost towed him to the small shop at the almost end of the beach that was indeed named Mumbai’s World Best Pakode. 

“Kaka, don plates. Ani ek Mirchi karal ha!”** She had instructed the bent old man behind the wok in rapid Marathi, smiling back at him mischievously. And then she’d brought back two plates of steaming pakode- and watched as he ate one, and almost blew fire it was that spicy. And then she had been the one laughing, bent double, tears of mirth streaming down her cheeks, even as he gulped down glass after glass of water to try and put out the fire on his tongue. And as their eyes had met- hers still sparkling with laughter- he’d known there was no going back. He’d realized that he would happily eat spicy pakode for the rest of his life if it meant she would keep laughing like that. 

And he knew that she knew it.

He was roused from his trip down memory lane, when his secretary came calling again. It was time to go back to the boring working Singhania. But something stopped him and as he looked back at the sea, he could have sworn he heard her sigh, “I’ll always love you, NK.”

Clearing his suddenly thick throat he called to his departing secretary. “Uhm, Mrs. D’souza, have you ever had Mumbai’s World Best Pakode?”

I'm sittin' here all by myself
just tryin' to think of something to do
Tryin' to think of something, anything
just to keep me from thinking of you
But you know it's not working out
'cause you're all that's on my mind
One thought of you is all it takes
to leave the rest of the world behind

Well I didn't mean for this to go as far as it did
And I didn't mean to get so close and share what we did
And I didn't mean to fall in love, but I did
And you didn't mean to love me back, but I know you did.

And as he sat back in his chair, enjoying spicy Pakode with his old secretary; he looked out at the waves too, sighing as he gave in to her- like he had always done, “I’ll always love you, Payal.”   

     

NB: Lonely September by Plain White T’s

**”Uncle, two plates. And make one Spicy okay?”