On The Subway (Part 3)

October 23, 2003

“Does this look ok?”, she asked. He didn’t hear her. His mind was preoccupied with something else. “I said”, she raised her pitch, “Does this look OK?”. But he was lost. As he turned, a projectile sandle met his forehead. . The train of thoughts which was about to change tracks had met with an accident.

“You never pay attention to what I say”, she complained.

“Who are you, by the way?”, he chuckled.

Another projectile sandle approached him. This time he was attentive enough to dodge it over his head.

“You look great. Can we go now?”, he said.

“You are good for nothing”, she said and went in to change. Five minutes later, she was back in a new dress. Before she could open her mouth, a voice reached her ears.

“You look phenomenal, out of this world. Can we go now?”, it was him, standing on the window sill, muttering those words with his back turned towards her.

She stamped her feet and went in again.

“How do I make her understand that she looks phenomenal in everything? How do I tell her that a diamond – whether engraved in a ring, shielded in a museum, pendant on a necklace, or unpolished at a jeweller’s store – was still a diamond – precious, beyond measure”, he heard her footsteps again.

“You look mindblowing. Can we go now?”, he pleaded, as he turned around and caught glimpse of a man in a dense turban, with thick moustaches and a flowing beard. His drink almost fell out of his hands.

“Does this look OK?”, he heard the childlike voice from behind the hairy tangle.

“Oh my God”, he burst into laughter, beating his fists onto the wall. Then he fell over, rolling on the floor, a fresh burst of giggle deluding him everytime he looked up at her in the disguise. The moustache, beard and turban clad princess began to laugh too.

Sanity returned by the time they took their seats in the car. As he was turning the keys, he said, his voice gruff, “You know what?”

“What?”, she questioned, her eyes turned towards him.

“You are the only girl who has ever made me laugh”, he pressed the accelerator and they were on the road.

September 30, 2003

1 PM – his watch read. Funnily enough, it had been reading the same for the last eleven times he had seen it in the last sixty seconds. “Where is she?”, he thought to himself.

As he was about to turn his wrist for the twelfth time, the sight of a black limousine caught his glance. He followed its track as the vehicle slowed down and parked itself in front of him. The door opened, and there she was.

“Hi”, he muttered, not knowing what else to say, and lent his right hand forward to shake, not knowing what else to do.

“What a fool? I’m meeting him after so long and he can’t even hug me”, she thought to herself as they shook hands.

“So, where do you want to go?”, he queried.

“Should we eat something first?”, she asked, knowing that he wouldn’t have had breakfast. He had only woken up by her call an hour ago and knowing him, she knew he would rather go hungry than be late.

“Ok, let us go to this Italian restaurant – The Tavern”, he motioned towards the north with his hands.

“No Italian, Only Indian – South Indian”, she argued.

“You’ve come all the way to New York to eat Indian food?”, he was baffled.

“No, I’ve come all the way to New York to meet an Indian man”, she smiled.