Natasha should have known that it was going to end in tears.
Because it began in tears. Lots of tears. She had been peeling onions for dinner that evening when they matched.
“Buzz Buzz. You have a new bee in the hive” – The yellow notification popped on her phone.
She didn’t even have to wonder who it could be. Her Bumble prediction system, trained over several years and hundreds of matches and several dates and several more heartbreaks, was close to hundred percent accurate in knowing which ones would match. And it was him, the biker. With the three fourth’s face in the display picture. She usually wouldn’t swipe on profiles with not many pictures or words. But this guy met her height criterion. Also this guy’s insta was linked and man, was he a writer. Also, very uncannily, very very uncannily, he had a picture of a tree in a temple town, from an angle, in the weather, that she had. The exact, same shot. The idea that both of them, random strangers, from lands far far apart, had stood at the same spot in this big wide world and seen the same scene and decided to capture it, was exciting. She wanted to know this person. And know him, she did. More than she had expected from a dating app. A lot more.
“Hey, you’re an amazing writer. Natasha here btw. How’s it going?” – She wiped her hands on her apron, blinked the tears away and pressed send.
“I am in the food-court. Wearing a very out of place, deep necked, blue floral dress. Hair tied in a bun. Pretty much the Wednesday that it was, showing on me. Your ETA?” – Natasha typed.
“Ahem! Dressed for more than a date, are we? (smileys)
Running a little late. Bangalore traffic. And more than a few crazy Mallu friends bonding over Onam Sadhya. Sorry?” – Came the reply.
“That’s cool. You’ll find me munching away at the Subway counter on the far right of the lift.” – Natasha typed back. She was tired. And a little pissed. She hated people who did not turn up on time. 9pm for a date on a workday in Bangalore traffic was her being her “desperate to find love” self. After all, the guy sounded so damn sexy on call the other night. He deserved a chance. Just for that voice.
She sat staring at the veg-sub and sipped slowly on her glass of sprite, sitting facing away from the crowds, feeling quite over-dressed in a mall food court.
It was a full fifteen minutes as she finished her sandwich and contemplated leaving, when the phone buzzed again.
“Just getting out of the rickshaw. This is going to sound strange but you will not like what I am wearing.” – came the ping.
“I am agnostic to looks” – She typed back, faster than she had wanted. That wasn’t true. She had her type. But this one was for the voice and the picture and the writing.
“No one is agnostic to looks. But well, I am here, and you are here. Just getting out of the lift.” – came the reply.
Natasha returned her plate and walked towards the lift, texting “Right there. You should see me.”
And she saw him. He wasn’t the height in the profile. But his smile was everything it had promised on the DP. And those eyes, intense.
But then her eyes went to the “veshti”. Hm…the guy was wearing a lungi. Atleast that’s what they called it at her place. An off-white printed kurta and a white lungi. For their first date?
He noticed her expression change, laughed, walked over and gave her a light hug. She was awkward.
A low neck blue floral dress meets a white lungi in a mall at 9.45pm on a workday. Definitely not close to any first dates she had ever imagined. Plus the guy wasn’t 173 cm. Uh huh. Nope. He was shorter. And yes yes, it shouldn’t matter. It’s just a number. But well, Natasha liked her men tall.
He sensed her awkwardness. “You don’t like what you see. You’re second guessing your choices.”- he said, smiling, comfortably sitting down in the closest chair. Not a sign of uneasiness on his face. That should take courage, Natasha thought, surprised at the transparency of her thoughts. A lungi in a mall, takes courage. Full marks for courage!
She sat down opposite to him.
“Oh no, I mean for sure we are definitely dressed for different types of dates. But that’s not why I was awkward you see, I am not a hugger.” She blushed. “And I don’t date much, so the awkwardness. Anyways, Natasha” – she said, pretending to be as careless and unaffected and unscared as possible, extending her hand.
“Krish” – he shook her hand, that magnificent voice finally having a face. And something happened. A jolt. A minor one. As his soft, firm hand met hers for a minute and he looked at her. Those eyes. As if he knew her. Everything about her.
“Ganne ka juice?” – He asked, looking at the closest counter.
“Huh?” – Natasha muttered, coming back to reality.
“Sugarcane juice?” – he asked again, indicating the stall behind them.
Time ran fast. The mall was closing. But their chatter hadn’t ended.
They walked out of the mall and then kept talking and walking to and fro in the front section of the mall. Not caring the least about the stares that their supremely mismatched attires got them. It was natural. The whole conversation. No pretence, no tension of a first date. No inhibitions. Two extremely intelligently, honestly, candid humans, probably attracted to the idea of each other, talking. Sharing stories. Lives.
“You know you’re not a 173cm right?” Natasha asked as they passed a glass pane capturing their reflection.
“I am.” He defended, staring at their reflection.
“You’re not. I am a 168 and you’re just about thiiiiis shorter than me”. She said, smiling and pinching her fingers.
“Huh. Well, 5.7 feet converts to 173cm. Maybe you’re wrong? He said. A little defensively.
“See that’s where you might never win, Krish, Math. 5.7 feet is not the same as 5 feet 7 inches. A foot is 12 inches.” And she laughed as they continued walking.
In a while, Natasha looked up at the night sky. It was a typical Bangalore August night. Cloudy and pleasant.
“Look at the moon. Isn’t it gorgeous?” She said, her eyes lightening up.
“No it isn’t” he said, very matter of factly.
“Actually, it’s the opposite of gorgeous. It’s shrouded in clouds. You can hardly see it. Natasha, you have some Bollywood lens you know that right?” – He said, continuing to walk.
“Yes, but it’s the clouds that make the moon so much more interesting. Spreads it’s light in a different way, gets an outline, romantic.” – She sighed. Not giving up.
“Nonsense. Utter nonsense.” He reiterated, smiling.
Disappointed at the response, Natasha asked. “Can we sit? Im tired.”
“Oh sure we can sit.” He said. As they found a spot on the benches outside the mall. The crowd had dispersed. The security guard was looking suspiciously at them. It was 12 in the night. A lungi and a blue floral dress at that time, outside the mall made no sense.
They sat cross legged, facing each other.
“Can I hold your hand?” Natasha asked, shyly.
“Ha ha ha ha. You seriously have issues you know that right?” He said, taking her hand in his.
And they sat there. In silence.
The door opened.
“It’s you.” – he said. Smiling.
“Were you expecting someone else?” She asked. Heart beating fast, seeing him again after a full week of intense chatting and calls.
“No no” he said, smiling. “Just a delivery.”
An unsual awkward silence followed as they stood in the hall, the door closed.
“I want to kiss you.” He said, earnestly, gently.
She moved forward and pecked him on the lips. Every nerve in her body feeling the thrill of this proximity.
“That’s what you call a kiss?” He said, laughing.
And before she knew it, he embraced her and kissed her, a deep, passionate long kiss. A kiss that she had never experienced before. A kiss, that changed the idea of intimacy for her forever. A kiss that lived in her neurons, when everything else had died.
Written as part of Writeclub Bangalore’s session on “Foreshadowing as a Literary Device”
Let me know your thoughts on what the plot would be? Is this a romantic tragedy or a murder thriller?
Dreams Unlimited 