Omelette Pav

He loved pav. The smell of the local bread, the sight of those fresh buns rising in those local wood fire ovens thrilled him like nothing else.

And he loved her smile.

Every time she smiled he felt his world light up just that little bit more. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled and he felt a wave of happiness run through his entire body, knowing it was for him.

They sat together that day in the tiny dilapidated Irani joint. They sat in silence.

A handful of tables around them were occupied. Thanks to the plethora of modern coffee shops and bistros that had mushroomed all over town, these Iranis were rarely visited by people. Only a handful of loyalists came here to sip on milk tea and take a bite of bun maska and mawa cake. The younger lot had stopped coming.

They both looked around the place and once again looked at each other. Her wavy brown hair now had a few silver streaks visible in them. Although she had tied it in a simple ponytail the volume of her hair was still evident. He loved the way it bounced when she walked. Her eyes had lost a bit of the sheen but there were still traces of that old sparkle. Her porcelain skin as delicate as ever. She looked still the same to him in her white chikan kurta and blue jeans. The oxidised jewellery on her was his favourite. She knew it and probably that’s why wore it. His thinning hair was more salt than pepper. There were crow’s nest around his eyes which made him look like a sage. She always felt there was an inner calm about him despite his often aggressive exterior. His present appearance seemed to confirm her belief. As always, his black denim shirt and faded blue jeans remained the same. She was glad somethings hadn’t changed in all these years.

It was nice of you to come, she finally broke their silence.

He looked at her and smiled. He had no words in response.

I know you won’t understand and maybe even think it’s not fair to you but I need to do this, she continued, as she looked straight into his eyes. She placed her hands on his for the first time that evening.

You know when we reconnected I told you about my marriage. And how I was struggling to stay afloat. You stood beside me like a rock when I was trying to keep it alive. You never let me feel alone. And today I see a glimmer of hope. I see a change no matter how small it seems at this time it still is a change. And I don’t want to let go now. And yet I don’t want to be unfair to you either. I must move on and get it back on track. She was suprised at the ease with which words flowed out of her mouth. She hadn’t known how to break to him but as always, she felt so much of comfort and ease being with him, she didn’t have to try very hard. They just came spontaneously.

He didn’t say a word, as he just kept looking at her. He was reading her eyes as much as he was listening to her. He gripped her hands tighter as he felt hers on his.

As she kept on talking, he was hearing lesser and lesser. He could see her lips moving, her hands stroking his hands from time to time, her dazzling smile and a few moments when her eyes swelled up too. But he couldn’t hear a thing. There was music playing in his head. Songs from the past kept kept playing inside him as he took a trip down the road he had avoided all these years. Those heady days of college and after. Those days when they were both young. And in love. That’s all that mattered then. Armed with love they were ready to face the world without realising how inadequate their preparations were for its challenges.

Life had skittled them apart like ninepins and before they realised it they were busy in their real lives in the world. A far cry from the dreams they had woven together.

A chance meeting at a college reunion had brought them face to face again after decades. And they tried to pick it up from where they had left it. She was in the middle of a troubled marriage and he was battling his inner demons from within. But with each other they found a strength and a calm they both needed in their separate lives.

The waiter brought cheese straws and an omelette pav and placed it on their table. A cup of milk tea and black coffee accompanied them.

He drew his hands away from her as he picked up the cup to take a sip of his tea. She was taken by surprise by his sudden action. Instinctively she drew her hands closer to herself, turning her face away. She picked up a cheese straw nervously, trying to hide her feelings, her face turned away.

I knew you wouldn’t understand she said again breaking the awkward silence which was shorter than what it felt like to her.

He reached out his hand towards her this time but she moved hers away, still upset at his earlier action.

I understand, he finally said for the first time that evening. I may not agree or accept, but I understand. He looked right into her eyes as he spoke. She felt that same magic she felt every time he looked at her that way. It hadn’t changed in all these years.

You’re pushing me away again, he continued, his tone getting slightly more aggressive than the understanding and empathetic one a moment ago. Just like you did years ago. Just your way. Your decision, your wish. Almost as if I don’t have a say in this at all. It’s always like this, his voice kept growing louder as he got up from his chair and pushed the table slightly towards her.

You left me then without giving me a reason or even half a chance to explain. It was all about you then and it’s the same even now. After all these years, he was furious by the time he was walking away from her.

She looked up at him, as she was recovering from his verbal volleys all this time. She had forgotten how his silences would often be punctuated with the vilest of words. She remembered all that now as she looked up at his standing frame. His crinkly eyes had a lot of anger.

As he walked out of the Irani, she kept sitting there, with the uneaten cheese straw still in her hand. Her eyes went on the half finished omelette pav on his side of the table. She picked up his cup of milk tea and took a sip. A hidden tear managed to find its way out of her shut eyes.

Later that evening he stared blankly at the half torn calendar in the wall of his studio apartment. Would it be another 17 years till they met again, he wondered. Or was this really the end?

The smell of freshly baked pav wafted through as he stood by his window shutting his eyes, lost in no particular thought at all.