KATHA

17 KATHA - SPECTACLES AND GOSSIPS.

I was setting a table for a family when the door opened and two men entered the shop. All eyes turned to them and whispers rose in the air, now these two were here later than their usual timings which were early mornings. My heart raced and ached at the sight of the one swathed in a loose black shirt and slacks.

Seeing him again after whatever we shared on the dancefloor of Blue Nile, I found myself grappling with an unexpected realisation. Kalki was beginning to grow on me, like a persistent melody that refuses to fade into the background. Like a shadow that never leaves your nights. The more I pushed him away, the more he found his way into the recesses of my thoughts. His unwavering pursuit had unveiled layers of my own complexity, making me question the confines of my carefully constructed world. The plan wasn't to be in the limelight. It was to stay hidden and lost. It certainly wasn't to get involved with the very man who ran the city and get attracted to him.

While I had a stalker to whom my depths answered. In the earnest, no less.

I sighed.

In the midst of my internal turmoil, I couldn't deny the burgeoning warmth that his presence ignited.

His hair were messy and the frown on his face spoke volumes. Seemed he was having a hard time running the city. I didn't know what took over me but I wanted to take his mind off whatever was the reason for that crease in his defined brows. "Oh look, it's my favorite critic. Back again, I see. What a joyous occasion." I pretended to be tired of both of their existences as I walked towards the front counter.

I didn't know if I imagined it but his face transformed at the sight of me. He propped his elbows on the counter and leaned forward. "I must say, the tea still hasn't reached the level of 'tolerable' in my books."

I gave him a dry look before leveling his sidekick with a glare when he played with my treasured radio. Tere Chehre Mein Woh Jadoo Hai by Kishore Kumar and Kalyanji-Anandji filled my ears.

Not really mad for I loved that song, I turned to the man my heart ached for. "Why are you here then ? Do you ever visit places that actually meet your clearly high standards ?" Sarcasm dripped from my voice as I gave him a blank look.

"It's a good thing I come here for the entertainment value as well. Your sarcasm is the highlight of my day."

I rolled my eyes to the back of my head, "Lucky you. I'll make sure to charge extra for it from now onwards."

His chuckle was so soft and melodious, I wondered what it might taste like. Ripe strawberries ? I needed help. "You might be on to something. Perhaps start a 'Sarcastic Tea Hour' and charge people for the experience ?"

"Oh, I'm sure it would be a hit. I'll make sure to hire a world-class eye-roller."

He simply reached for the glass cookie jar and took the liberty of stealing my cookies right in front of me and stuffing his mouth. I was too lost in the details of that movement, I forgot to glare at him or reprimand him. It was actually slow motion for me to watch as his lips wrapped around the thing. He chewed slowly before swallowing it. Every movement of his neck muscles was followed by my shameless eyes, "I'll keep an eye out for the most skilled eye-roller in town. But then again, why hire someone when you have yourself ?"

I froze. Did he say something ? About eye rolling ? I really didn't know so I showed him my usual pretence of displeasure. "You really have a strange way of enjoying life, don't you ? Getting a rise out of me ? Irritating me ? Most people would have given up by now. But not you. You're like a stubborn mosquito."

"A mosquito that's oddly drawn to this particular source of irritation ?"

Kisan Malhotra made his way back to us from wherever he was goofing around up until now. He slumped on the chair by the table right before the counter.