Wilted Petals

Chapter 19: Forgetting the World in His Arms

Song: Darkhaast

Nothing is a better serenader to me than music. One of my favorite memories as a teenager when school wasn't choking the life out of me was Manish and I sitting in his bedroom and me listening in as he effortlessly strummed the song, "Yun hi Chala Chal Raahi," on his guitar. Hearing his voice and the gentleness of the guitar and the song melting together dissolved a lot of the stress crushing me at that time.

    Those exact memories are what's inflating my mind as I inch towards his house for another randomly exciting visit. Literally in the morning, I was enjoying some leftover sambar with my sad, oval shaped dosas when Manish texted me, "Hey, wanna come and have chaat at my place at 8?"

I of course couldn't say no, and the idea of chaat was more than enough to propel my legs towards his apartment at 7:55. As I inch towards his apartment, the sounds of music from the radio float throughout the air, with lyrics of Pritam and K.K.'s "Dil Ibadat" accompanying it. "Dil ibadat kar raha hai dhadkane meri sun." (My heart is praying that you'll listen to its beats)

The words gently brush against my ears, and immediately, I finish the lyrics in my mind. "Tujhko main kar loon haasil, lagi hai yahi dhun," (I want to achieve you, that's my desire) I hum, as I finally reach Manish's ajar front door. I gently rap on that door with my knuckles, as I hear Manish yell, "You can come in, Jaya!"

I step inside to find Manish standing in the corner, frantically cleaning up his kitchen like the President is coming and he'll revoke his US citizenship if there's any spot of dirt. His eyes dart towards me examining why he's cleaning his kitchen in such a rush, and he starts to explain. "I made some food and didn't have a lot of time to clean up. Sorry about that."

I shrug, as I go to flop back on his couch and relax. "Your apartment is almost always spotless. Mine looks like Jason Voorhees and Freddy Krueger had a food fight. You're fine, don't worry." Manish snickers, as I see him dust off a little bit of the atta that was sprinkled on his fingers.

As he's cleaning off the counter, he turns back towards me. "By the way, I ordered some chaat. I've been craving it so much lately, so I decided to order some pani puri for me and dahi paapdi chaat - extra spicy-  for you. Is that good?"

Saliva starts to pool in my mouth at the thought of some really spicy chaat. The spice of the chutneys, the crunch of the papdi, and the creaminess of the yogurt are all causing hunger to rumble in the pits of my stomach. "That sounds amazing," I admire, as I also secretly celebrate the fact that Manish remembered that I like it extra spicy.

Manish chuckles a little bit, as he hangs the dish towel slung over his shoulder on the oven door handle.  "Hey, thanks for being so great with my parents, by the way. They were so happy to see you. I'm so grateful that you didn't pull a 'Main Prem Ki Diwani Hoon' on them."

I burst out in a fit of laughter after remembering that god-awful movie. It's easily up there as one of the worst movies I've ever watched in my life. At that moment, a little idea pops in my mind, and a devilish smirk spreads on my face. I clear my throat, and in the most screechy, annoying voice I can muster, I yell, "AUNTY!!!"

Manish immediately catches on with what I'm trying to do, and follows up. "How are you aunty?!?!?! Oooh, pranaam, aunty!"

I feign a shocked expression, as I somehow try to muster up even more dramatics for this. I put my hands on my face to appear overly shocked, as I squeal, "Oh, you're so beautiful aunty!"

Manish himself is snickering, before he realizes a little bit of atta still on the counter. He organizes it in a straight line to mimic cocaine, before bending down and pretending to snort it. He then turns around, with his arms spread open, and yells, "Wow, what a beautiful garden, aunty!"