Bittersweet hot-chocolate
There's more detailing to a caucasian wall than to a story written by a poet. Poetries are about capturing moments and stories? Stories are about movements, but some stories are nothing but plethora of moments that stayed, stopped, stuck.
Summer had it all scheduled; the position of the sun, the frequent whiff of hot winds, the scorching, succumb-to-death waali garmi. And there i was waiting in the parking, under the mercy of this oh-so-aesthetic cafe right above where i stood, waiting for a certain someone who wears watch only to break all the time limits we pre-decide. The seat of my bike was perfectly warm by the time she arrived, parked her cute, red scooty on the space that I've been saving for her for the past 20 minutes. That space was right next to my vehicle.
She says,
"Are jaldi chalo, aisey kyu parking pe akele khadey ho?".
Knowing for a fact that she herself would do the same if it were me in her place. I know because I've seen her do so. She unfurled her infamous scarf all over her face, took out the hand gloves that she wore, packed it all in a bag only to store it on the boot of her scooty. I carried her purse (which had numerous items i just cannot describe cause that might require a whole another story to cover it all) to the corridor that opened to this cafe filled with the amount of crowd that I'd normally hesitate to be around. But i guess if not now, when? Maybe the time might not be right or the weather was being too cruel but if not now, when?
The air conditioning simply got a hold of her for the first 5 minutes while me on the other hand was searching every spaces to ensure which table would be the best for us. Brushing off againts other chairs, we ended up on the table arranged right beside the window and then came the grim-yet-funny realisation, "What are we gonna order?"
We're in a place known for some really good coffee, pastries and it's over-priced sides. We exchanged the awkwardness way before exchanging our beverages we were about to order.
Somehow amidst all these chaos, it was this restlessness, this tussle to race against time that consumed me. Every minute felt like a step farther away from her. All of this rush felt like an orchestrated ballet and we were puppets responding to the songs, an art stuck in a canvas, dancers bound just to the dance floors.
After an entire 10 minutes of awkward interrogation with the waiter and another 10 minutes of waiting, came our "not-so-strong" hot chocolate with lemon-biscoff cheesecake. I tore open the packets, took out the straws, stirred the hot chocolate pretty well. She on the other side of the table, held both her hands wide covering each side of the table, with a fork in one and knife on the other hand while her eyes? Her eyes were telling a whole different story. A story that wasn't rushed, that wanted to stay, to be a moment that's simply slowing all my thoughts down. Her big, black eyes were stuck to the cheesecake and each time she'd look away, I'd look at my watch as if it's our last meet-up. (It's not, is it?). I spent half the evening pretending not to look at her, and the other half pretending the night still had time left.
And cutting through all my thoughts she speaks,
"Ye to khatm ho gya-"
"Khatm ho gaya?"
"Haa ^_^ "
She was just playing with me, perhaps testing if I'd frown just like i do in every other dates but this one? This one was different. I gulped down the cheesecake that she saved up for me, sipped the beverage which i knew wasn't sweet at all (the way she likes), i watched her sip the hot-choc from the same cup and i could've painted the exact curve her eyebrows made, that slight disgust in her eyes from the strong hot chocolate. She definitely didn't like it.
The city outside ran on schedules. This table ran on stolen time. The time that was about to end as the sun was about to descend down the horizon while moon climbed the sky. We left the cafe with another one-of-our-funny story, walked beside the crowded roads. All the vehicles passed, people who were walking against our direction and amidst all this, it was us; hands held tight and steps perfect synced. I watched her take pani-puris of size bigger than her mouth can fit, finished the aam-ras that she couldn't drink furthermore. The chaos around us kept developing and nothing stopped, the crowded cafe with different people each minute, blinding lights of the night that marked the end of our short date and her words before leaving?
"Pata hi nahi chala time kab khtm hua, na?"
Little did she know, i kept a count everytime i lifted up my wrist to check the time. We went to the parking the only place we'll be together infront of each other for this time, she sat on her scooty and i sat on mine. This time was different, holding hands felt tough and letting it go felt even tougher, her tiny fingers interlaced with my tough, big ones and neither of which wanted to let go first. My eyes that couldn't look away from hers knew this moment doesn't come very often. I was about to hold her hands tigh-
"8 baj gaye na? Train chuth jaygi, jaana padega. Packing bhi karni hai......"
As she hurriedly kept ranting about how she hasn't packed anything yet, i let her go, as always. Some men buy expensive watches to measure time. I spent the entire evening wishing it would stop.
~Shrey
(Im an absolute beginner, just need analysis over this, thankyou)