Sunday, January 8, 2012

Life took over


I first saw him in jeans and a white shirt, an orange knapsack over one shoulder.

He never forgave me for asking if he was a good pilot, that first encounter.

He claimed he stood on his toes to get picked for the Republic Day parade, so we could get to know each other in Delhi.

While out on our first cup of coffee with a friend of his, he borrowed money from her to see us through the rest of the day.

He was quick to confirm and was relieved to be told I did not expect flowers during courtship.

He courted me in my Dad’s car on some days; on other occasions it was his Yezdi “ABU”.

He looked sideways at me with that calm expression when I warned him I would make life hell for him.


Of the forty odd days he was in Delhi on temporary duty, he stayed away only on two days, for reasons of maintenance, he said.

He spent a major chunk of those familiarization days, keeping my Dad company over drinks.

He was prompt in allaying any misconceptions my friends may have had over the ‘Top Gun’ quotient of his profession.

He declined my poetry reading, admitting he did not understand poems.

As I climbed the steps tentatively with my friend Sadhana, he stood looking down from the landing above. He had a henna orange blob on one palm and was holding out a book, “The Little Prince”.

He led my 'Baraat', dancing into our wedding venue. 

I found a tea cup stain on my picture when we first moved in together. He explained it by saying he had kept it under his table top cover for daily reference. 

During our first month as a couple, I was a regular recipient of chocolate bars.

On way out to the first temporary duty, he rushed back in with a shrub rose, picked off the bush by the road.

He made a last minute dash from work, driving a long way to get me my birthday cake.

There were several cards, tucked away in nooks, waiting to be discovered during the day.

He called my bluff during my first royal sulk and packed me off to my parental home.

When I simmered, he whistled.

He saved me from the consequences of my social ineptness more than once.

He handed me a single red rose through the rail bogey window as I transited through Delhi once.

He did not recognize me on the Ahmedabad railway station where he had come carrying a bunch of lilies to pick me up.

He was there, besides me, on all my confinement and other hospital tenures.

He ensured I made it to my University exams on time, going to Amritsar to get my admit card and mark lists.

It’s been twenty five years since. When I turn and look, it is these memories that blink like beacons on our couple road map. A lot more followed, there were zings, tings and blings but most of it had to do with life taking over! 

2 comments:

Renu said...
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Honey Sangha said...
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