Coffee @ MG Road - Part II of II

(image source: www.thetrainstation.fit)

(continued from previous post)

After finishing a quarter of the espresso, Sandhya mellowed down. ‘Anyway we are here to discuss something more important,’ she continued. ‘This is just not happening.’

‘Sandhya, we have discussed this before. You need to give a relationship time. It is not something that blooms just like that,’ Hari reflected philosophically.

‘Ah! How mature! If only you had displayed this maturity in your actions,’ she remarked, with the air of a cynic.

‘Sandhya, I know what you are hinting at. I have apologized for my outburst. I have come to make amends. I am sorry.’

“The past one month the only word I have heard from your mouth is ‘sorry’. A plethora of apologies. It is easy to say something, do something. Can you reverse it?’

‘I am sure these things won’t happen again. I…’

‘I need a break, Hari. This cannot go on. It is like a heavy stone around my neck,’ She said, with an air of decisiveness. 

For a few fleeting moments, there was silence. The sound of the Bangalore rain could be heard between the opening and closing of the doors of the cafe.

‘Sandhya, please. Why is it that you always.... keep talking like this......? Can’t there be other things? Can’t we work things around?’

Amidst this whole melee, Hari couldn’t help notice how gorgeous she was in that purple saree. Men will be men.

“I would gladly like to, Hari. But a relationship can succeed only if both parties work together to achieve that. It cannot be a one way street. I cannot spend my next moment looking at what act of yours to forgive.’

‘What is that of me that you do not like?. I…’ Hari stammered.

‘It is nothing to do with what I like or not. If I had not liked you, this conversation would not be happening. But I need something out of this relationship. I cannot play God. You are a nice person. I enjoy your company. I do not deny that. But you need to perhaps attune, change yourself. I have already told all this. I don’t want to go on a repeating spree.’

‘So?’ asked Hari with an air of resignation.

‘Take a break. I have accepted the two month CISCO project in the US. I am going next month. I guess this will do good. If things can work out then, let us see.’

‘What do you mean? You took the CISCO project? You never told me. When did this happen? How could you, Sandhya? You should have consulted me…’ Hari finally found his voice for the first time that evening.

‘Excuse me? Why should I consult you for my joining a company project? What are you saying? You are not my husband. Even then, I have a mind of my own. This is one of the things I find impossible about you…’ 

Hari could sense that he had touched a raw verve in Sandhya and she was growing livid. ‘Sorry, that is not what I meant..’

‘That’s another 'sorry' for the evening,’ Sandhya let a small smile slip out.

‘How can this happen Sandhya? Two months! It would be difficult without you. I mean, did you think of that?’

‘Sorry Hari. I have decided. Let us go our separate paths. Let things change course on their own.’

‘Sandhya, but aren’t we part of the ‘things that have to change course’?’ Hari finally talked something smart that evening. Sandhya was not impressed though.

Sandhya got up. ‘Bye, Hari. All the best,’ She said.

Hari sat alone in the corner. The evening had grown dark with the lights of the coffee shop and the ones from the vehicles vying to blind his eyes. Walks in the Cubbon, evenings at Bull temple and Ulsoor lake, endless coffee shop visits and drives flashed through his mind.

The end of the paper. Wow. What happened next? Which story is this? Whose story is this? is this a book? I googled these names on my smartphone  to find the name of the book so that I can read it. No luck. After five minutes, I gave up. In Google, if the first two pages do not throw up anything, it is no use searching further.

What could have happened? Could they have got together? Or not? I was swamped with these thoughts when the sound of honking became increasingly louder. I heard a wild tap on my window. I lowered the glass. "Can’t you see, the traffic has cleared. Move!", yelled the policeman. I switched the car on and it started ambling. For some strange reason, I could not get the characters out of my head. At the next turning at the end of the road, a white Wagon R was trying to overtake me. We drove together for a few fleeting seconds side by side before the next traffic light stopped us. 120 seconds, said the traffic light. I looked out of my window to see the driver of the Wagon R, who had switched on the light. I saw a lady in a purple saree. I could not see much of her except that she looked striking. Dusky? Maybe. She took something, perhaps out of one of the cubby holes of her car and shut the light off. When the signal turned green, she sped off.  

The honking of vehicles continued behind me as my car started moving. Outside, it started pouring again.