at a coffee shop...

'Cool! so you've become a regular scribbler?...what do you scribble? How you manage to find time out? How's your kid and wife? how's kaku?'
She asked all these at one go, as if she had little time at her disposal and would go out soon...of the coffee shop...on this beautiful wintry sunny, sunday morn...at Park street...
I looked at her...
She was sitting opposite to me...
'Yes...about  childhood, mother, nature, and love...I scribble whenever I find time...kid is going good...wife is perfectly alright...dad is a bit ailing...'
I answered like writing down a horizontal line...no ups and no downs...
As I looked at her...who had grown a bit plump...womanly...
'Buss? aur kuch likhte ho ki nahin?'
She asked, suddenly as she completed her third long sip...taking a good amount of chocolate layered coffee from the glass tumbler...looking at me...with her eye brows dancing...
I know this...I know this dancing of her eyebrows meant playfulness...
This shows that she is happy...
And this knowledge that she is terribly happy, pleased me a lot!
So I smiled, and looked at my glass tumbler...not a sip taken so far...
'Sorry! I'm asking too many queries! Take a sip...its really good!'
She exclaimed and entreated...
'yeah...'
I whispered almost...and took a sip...and the hot chocolate went through my pipe...Ah! smooth...warm...
Now...it was probably her turn to scrutinise me...
'You look trimmed...'
She said, kind of commented upon, casually, merrily...
I smiled...
Not knowing what she had actually meant by the word 'trimmed'...my hair? my body? my moustache?
'You didn't answer me...'
She said, breaking a truffle cake by the  flat spoon...
I looked at her golden pendant hanging right on the cleavage...as coming to a brief view...a view of a moment...under the cover of her dupatta...
And looked outside...turning my head...
The cars were scarce on the sunday morn...
The red building on the other side of the road as seen through the big glass window of the coffee shop looked like freshly painted...
'Hey! you!'
She upped her tone a bit to gather my attention...
'Yes...dear...'
I murmured...
Suddenly her face went through a strange transformation, in front of my own eyes...
A sudden shadow of sadness made a brief impression upon her face of the morn...it stayed for a while before going away...
'I do write a lot...on varied things...about music, wine, painting, people, streets...life...'
I answered, taking my second sip from the tumbler...
'Not about me?'
She asked, looking at the broken truffle cake on the white chinaware at our table;

I remained silent and sighed,
She looked straight at me, looked at my eyes-straight, very very straight, like an arrow almost, sharp!
I looked at the road outside...getting busy gradually...
The red building appeared fresh and redder with the sun now falling on its facade...
'Hello! gone to another land? you poet?'
She asked...
I felt the warmth getting back to her after a brief coldness,
I felt my blood getting the warmth from her,
So...
I took the third sip and took out a piece of paper from my wallet...a folded piece of paper that had grown crinkly almost...
And opened the folds and placed it on the table before her;
She sort of jumped onto it and grabbed it as if it was an expensive thing lying...
She took it up and started reading it, softly,
Her eyebrows were all concentration...
Her face showed curiosity, eagerness and...
Well...I don't know...
I might be wrong...
But...
At that coffee shop, on that sunny, wintry morn, at Park street...
I saw a glimpse of Love...
In her eyes...



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