Dabara Tumbler

I Want Some Real Human Interaction

            I Want Some Real Human Interaction

"Hey, Meena, hold on to this. I'll be back."

Raghav declared, flinging his leg to the front getting off his two-wheeler. Meena raised her brow at his impetuous action as she hastily shoved her mobile in her handbag, and tipped forward to clasp the handle bar.

Thank heavens; she had not draped a saree in devotion to her colleague's wedding. It was only a salwar.

Stamping both her feet firm against the plane of the road, she maneuvered to get a grip on the motor cycle, her sable eyes holding on to Raghav's visage that was jogging away to the other side of the road, nonchalantly.

She was clueless on what he was doing.

Loping along the side of the road for a stone's throw, Raghav stopped at a small Aavin store that sold most of its milk artefacts.

This is it, she thought with a self-discerning smile.

After exploiting all the melange of food in the wedding buffet, Khushi had dropped him off at the mechanic's shop to fetch his motor cycle, along with Meena. Following that she had to take leave, stating to meet her parents.

On that account, Meena trailed Raghav with her from the mechanic shop, to her home.

Raghav trotted back to the two-wheeler, with a carry bag of milk khoa; the favourite dessert of his most favourite person, at Meena's home.

"Stop being so impulsive, Raghav. It is becoming difficult for me to hack it with your spontaneity and at times, it scares me." Meena complained scrunching her face in sheer vexation.

Why can't he just get down patiently and go slowly?

Why can't he just inform her before doing anything senseless in the middle of the road?

Because, He is Raghav, he does senseless things and you know it, don't you, Meena? She thought.

Tossing his leg over the handle bar and seated, Raghav replied, "Instead, why don't you just be attentive?" keeping an eye on her, on the rear view mirror, throttling the gear.

Meena stared at the mirror, back, astonishingly, "Is there any moment when you haven't spoken back at me?" she fretted. Surging her hand to signify the carry bag, she pumped, "And what is this?" on her next query.

"You know what it is," Raghav said with a semblance of a sheepish smile.

Of course, she knew what it was.

It was Mudra's favourite dessert from Aavin.

And she was Raghav's favourite.

Ever since Raghav smoked out about it, he'd been managing to bring her, her fave-wait khoa in tiny tokens, every time he visited her.

"I asked what is this, as in, why did you buy this?" Meena retorted, still glaring at him on the mirror, stringently. "Mudra falls sick a lot, very lately, Raghav. I don't want her gobble up sweets, and catch cold, once again."

"Meena, if you want your token of khoa you know, you can ask me. Don't take advantage of Mudra's quota," he had said shrilly, jousting with the briny, torrid wind, as they coasted along the beach road.

Meena sighed, "I am being serious, da. Doctor has advised me not to feed her a lot of sweets," with all sincerity. Nothing would wear down a mother than a sick baby.

"Come on, childhood is incomplete without coming across this phrase from the doctors. And a tad amount wouldn't do harm." She knew it. She always did –this guy wouldn't effort to mind being straitlaced.