One Day At A Time

Chapter Twenty Seven - Enshrined Memories

"nazuki uus ke lab ki kya kahiye
ye numāaish sarab ki si hai
Mir uun neembaaz aankhon mein
saari masti sharaab ki si hai..."

Mir breathed a sigh of relief and rolled the small paper in his hand into a ball and chucked it into the empty coffee mug on the small round table they were seated at in the airport cafeteria. "What?" He said with his brow raised. "You said you wanted shayari!" He smiled sheepishly, watching her look at him with a blank face.

Khushi's eyes slowly opened wide in wonder, her eyebrows almost touching the sky in disbelief. "Janaab ne farmaaya hain?" She asked him incredulously while he kept staring at her. "No bloody way! This is shaayar Mir Taqi Mir, right?"

"Mohtarma, I would like to remind you that people write shayari when their muse is in front of their eyes all the time. Unfortunately, I don't enjoy that kind of privilege, so I have nicked it from one of his books."

"This is the lamest excuse anyone has ever provided to mask their lack of talent or skill, Doc." Khushi lifted her teacup and stared at him while she sipped on it. "Pray explain this need to venture out into a territory you clearly have no clue or understanding of!"

"Because a little birdie told me you wanted me to write shayari before I could even think of asking you out."

"Asking me—" The words froze on her tongue. Mandy! She gritted her teeth and let out an exasperated sigh. This woman was trying too hard, too often! A wave of irritation buzzed through her as she exhaled a slow breath and focussed on the warmth of the liquid in the cup. "I am going to have a roasted birdie for dinner the evening I come back from India." She muttered under her breath.

Mir allowed his face to crack into a grin and then straightened it to a grim expression. "Look at the irony of my life! I am a cardiac surgeon, and I am dealing with a woman with no heart. No wonder I don't know what the hell to do with you anymore."

"I think I agree with you and genuinely feel you are wasting your energy and time on me, Doc."

Mir knew he should've been angry hearing those words. Hell, she had said this so many times, he could almost recite it verbatim. But all he did was smile and ignore it like he always did. There was something about her which made him go back to her regardless of how she felt about him—or rather, didn't feel about him. It was irrational. He knew he was going nowhere with this, yet, he couldn't help it. She was beautiful, pristine and a wonderful woman by heart and it was but natural to be drawn to her although she had shown no signs of interest in him in the two years that they had come to know each other.

"Fine. I get it. You are not interested. But can't you sugarcoat it? This is just—brutal!"

She looked at him and saw a glint of frustration in his eyes which he tried hard to mask with a smile. "Trust me, sugarcoating doesn't help, Doc. It complicates life, and I speak with experience. So—"

"You—" He hesitated, "—need to let go of the past. It's been four long years, Khushi, and four years is a very—"

She raised her hand, forbidding him to speak further and looked away. A sudden lump in her throat made her lips quiver, and she hated it. She knew if she tried even to blink right now, it would crack the poise with which she had been holding herself bravely for the last couple of weeks since Payal's phone call that late night.

"Pi!" Khushi squealed with excitement as Payal's mellifluous voice sang on the phone line, bringing in the cheer she had desperately needed to keep her awake as she stared at her small computer screen with droopy eyes. "God! What a surprise! I was going to call this weekend but—"