(A
two-minute short story)
A partially opened
window (thank God), stubborn body attached to a bed (eyes bright nevertheless) and
a mind still fresh and romantic despite the wrinkled skin. What more to shoo
off boredom?
Today is
Tuesday. It’s a sunny day. The gate next door is half open. It’s a courier agency centre. Now it’s live
footage for me! Will she, won't she? He looks distraught, plus sheepish. Wish I
could lipread. Darn....there goes the bloody scooter....the momentum is
disrupted.
Huh? A
handkerchief? Now why? I thought girls don't cry these days, they only fool
gullible guys who think they are smart. Ah…her face is turning this side…stupid
curtain, what a time to sway in the breeze.
“Preetha….Preetha,
where are you? I want some air, open the window a little wider will
you?........Ah…that’s better.”
Is it tears? Or plain, unromantic sweat? Why
did she fish out the hanky? Don’t they have any emotion called love any more? Well,
there goes the hanky into her bag. Material misses, all. A hint of a smile
crosses her face and he…yes, yes..he is actually blushing….thank God..the world
is still a nice place to live in….there’s love, there’s compassion…empathy..
At peace
with the world once more and the window opened wider, I try to look at the
expression on their faces. Enveloped by straightened hair that fell on either
side of her face, it worked like a dupatta. Cheap, light blue printed (can’t
see what the print is) synthetic top and a pair of jeans, frayed at the ankles. A certain steely look
that betrayed no emotion. He seems all
flustered. Did he finally tell her? His cream shirt is bathed in sweat.
Both rush
into the building, as a car stops at the gate. Looks like their boss is coming.
Dog in the manger! “Preetha…is my orange juice ready? I want it sweet. I said I want it SWEEEET.”
The next
morning is rainy. “Preetha..open the window, both sides..wide open, please.”
Now where
are they? He should have been here by 9.30 and she by 10. It’s already 11. Maybe they are working inside today and will
clear the parcels lying outside later. Hmm wonder what happened yesterday..
The morning
next is here….Time: 11.30 am. Window open…but no sign of her or him. A pile of
parcels lie untended. The boss makes an appearance. With him are two guys and
they are shown the parcels. Where is she? Where is he? Did he propose?
“Preetha?”
“Here’s your
orange juice.”
“What’s
happening next door?”
“New staff.
The old ones were caught red handed with the money they stole from the locker
two days ago.”
The
blushes…. the hanky…. she caught him and he had to part with half the moolah. And both got caught. So it wasn’t love?
“Preetha..close
the window!”
