That time travel machine called mind..

“It’s only fair for wines to get better with age”, he said gazing into her big brown eyes. She broke into a sheepish laughter. “I am warning you against using that line on anyone else” “But it worked and you look stunning” he said, this time more in awe than trying to rekindle old feelings. She smiled gracefully trying to hide the flutter in her heart. The same flutter she felt more than a decade ago.

“Wait, am I seeing you after 7 years?”, she asked counting years in her mind. “If we would’ve met for the first time now, I would have broken all barriers of formality”, he said with a smirk. “Lord! Will you stop flirting already?” she said feeling genuinely floored and guilty of feeling that emotion. A feeling she attributed to being the teenagers’ territory.

 They took a long walk through the park, rekindling bits and pieces of the past, talking about everything under the sun just like how they did back then. A conversation without the fear of judgment accompanied by the joy of finding solace in each other’s company and a reassuring feeling that made her feel like a bubbling younger self in her early 20s.

Thing didn’t seem to have changed much, the humour was same, the telepathy was same, just a new name attached to the maiden one. She laughed with all her heart, till tears flowed out of her eyes. She laughed like that after many years. The feeling was surreal, overpowering, liberating and calming at the same time. “You haven’t looked at your watch yet so I am assuming you will up for some hot jalebis and samosa?”, a rather rhetorical question, he hardly allowed her the time to process a negative response. She helplessly nodded. Of late, she had taught herself to do little things that made her happy.

“It was great meeting you. Let’s do this again. And I want some good coffee next time, won’t let you go with samosa and jalebi”, she said shaking hands and controlling her urge to give him the warmest hug she could. “You know the answer cannot be a no. Been a long time since a gorgeous woman asked me out for coffee”, he finished. She was stunned at his timing and how he had his way with his practiced skills of flattery. And through the flirtatious outside, she was reminded of that man with high intellect, strong principles and genuine care for people around him. People like him led her into believing why some phrases like “head over heels in love” came into existence.

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She walked in the rain, not minding returning home drenched from head to toe. The fabulous time had come to an end, it was time to slip into the routine mode.

 “Mamma! You are drenched. Were you trying to play in the rain?”, declared the little one greeting her on the door. “(laughs) Move beta, Mamma will catch cold and if she starts sneezing who will finish telling you last night’s bedtime story?” she said, struggling her way inside her sparkling clean house with water dripping from her jeans.

“Good Lord! Where were you? This rain is insane!”, he declared

They drank their tea in silence, listening to the rain drops crashing on the window panes. “Just the perfect amount of ginger for today’s weather” he said, putting the cup on the table. He sure was a man of few words.

From the Top of the World

A prolonged exposure to early morning sun forced him to leave his bed earlier than usual. The glass windows with a sea view definitely helped. It was a breathtaking sight and would have been even spectacular had this been a non-business trip, he thought to himself, pushing the blanket aside and feeling uneasy from the previous night’s sleep that was anything but sound.

He was addicted to his morning cup of espresso, a concoction that had to constantly pass his perfection test with the right proportion of sugar, milk and coffee. A lot of times he ditched the espresso in Hotels because “it just wasn’t right”. His need for perfection extended beyond his professional realm. It made his wife’s life miserable in the early years of their marriage, till she got the balance right, or so she thought.

He gave her an assuring smile while sipping the coffee; it was his way of expressing gratitude for all that the woman did for him. From seeing them on the edge of bankruptcy to managing the inflating egos of his teenage boys and for sticking to a partner as busy as him like a rock sized chewing gum under a wooden bench.

“I remember you loving that bag I got the last time. Ofcourse, it was Roberto Cavali, so what’s on your wish list from France this time?” he asked her, still staring at the waves crashing against the perfectly white sand. “This time just a quiet lunch with your wife. Is that too much to ask for?” she said. Before he could frame a comeback his noisy Blackberry came in the way, like always. Several times his wife thought an extramarital affair would have been easier to deal with.
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“Can I try a little bit of Folk fusion this time round, what do you think?” He asked totally hoping a negative response. “It should be for the masses yet retain the sophistication that our label is known for. I want Vrisha Kapoor to gyrate like never before. You get the picture right? I think you are giving me a sure shot hit number this time, I trust you on that!” he quipped and zoomed away in his pearl white BMW leaving him baffled. He has been composing for 20 years now but requests like these still left him clueless, frustrated and constantly tested his anger management skills. He couldn’t stop himself from remembering the director’s mother and sister for half a minute and began humming a classical number to find temporary solace.

After two neat gulps of scotch and 2 sleepless nights he tried to close his eyes without dozing off while listening to the recording of their first raw mixing session along with his Lyricist best friend. They heard the first few minutes staring at each other, trying to converse with their eyes. “What the fuck do you expect? I can’t make a song like those Qawali type guys with no substance. Dance number can also be dignified, right?” he said breaking the silence. The lyricist poured himself a drink and responded with a deep sigh. “You know him. He will say this is not what the public wants!” he answered mimicking the director’s almost masculine voice. There was an instant burst of laughter that echoed in the huge hall. “Lets take a long walk and hum something. Remember, there were times you churned out hits in your sleep?” he said trying to lift the composer’s spirit (pun intended). He chuckled and thanked god for making him stick to a lyricist of his calibre.