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Ankita Guru

Others


3  

Ankita Guru

Others


A Cup Of Love

A Cup Of Love

5 mins 11.9K 5 mins 11.9K

Life was literally out of place when I met Anil through Amour, the dating app we had back then. I had been a loner throughout my teenage and when my puberty had bid me adieu since a long back and my adulthood had already been six years old, my oxytocin was longing for the sparks of love. I had always wanted to have a tale of mine which is different from that of others. Having pity on my boring life, Misha, my roommate, installed the dating app, and guess what, she made my profile all by herself with a bio that reads "Hormonally available". She wanted to sprinkle the colors of love, no, not love, intimacy in my black and white life. And the next thing I know, I was sipping a steaming cup of cappuccino at the Coffee Corner. 


It was technically my first date after, one lost love, one break up, and one unrequited love. Coffee Corner, the place meant for lovers, where people either initiate their tales or are on the two hundredth page of their very own love novel. White round tables with red chairs gave comfort. The table was garnished with a bunch of roses tucked up in a thin tin vase and the tissue holder read, "let's fall for a cup of Coffee or fall in love". On the left most corner some books adorned the racks. Eric Shegal's Love Story, Nicholas Spark's The Notebook, John Green's Fault in Our Stars were some of the titles I could recognize amidst the pile. As I headed towards my second round of Cappuccino, a familiar face walked up to me. There he was, pure black pupils in the sagacious white sclera, black hair, sharp enough to hit my heart, the nose straight enough to suit his charisma and the cherry on the cake, his pale pink lips. I had never tried strawberries, but I wondered, it wouldn't have tasted different. 


"Hey, Aasmi, Anil." 

"Hello"

"I am sorry, the traffic was a bit too much. I hope I didn't keep you waiting much longer."

"No, it's completely fine. I love Coffee, they tend to be a good companion for me. "

"Have you visited this place, before?"

"No. I often visit the one which is located down in my Street. Have you been here before?"

"No, it's my first too."

"I guess, I need to order something as you seem to be relishing your cup of Coffee. Excuse me."

"Yes Sir"

"Can you please get me a Cup of Espresso. Would you like to order something else?"

"No, I am fine," I smirked.

Usually, when two people meet for the first time which you millennials call a Date, there lies an amateur silence betwixt them. I call it unfamiliar because when nervousness brews in a good cup of intriguing hormones, the silence doesn't seem to be common. Anil and I too shared that cup of awkwardness for a few minutes until his hot cup of espresso made it's way to his lips.


I broke the silence, " What are you writing lately" Anil and I had had a conversation before fixing the meeting. And then amidst all the casual chatting, Anil and I both had shared our professional identity. And, to my awe, he was a Writer.


"Well as of now, I am in search of a story. Recently no ideas have been bubbling up in my head. What about you, hope your kids are doing well."


" Ah, they are doing great. You know, I don't really enjoy their company but what to do, that's my job. Being a Paediatrician seems a boon when I see myself surrounded by chaste innocence. They have kept the kid in me alive. Then the ceaseless shrieks and howls gives a pain in my head."


He and I rolled in laughter. He narrated the experience of his first book launch when a lady who was a newbie Mommy, brought her little one along and how the cranky baby ruined his show. Although his book did business, the experience was etched in his memory. 


It was peculiar how we both had ended up discussing kids and their clamor in our very first meeting. We ended up realizing that we both don't hate newly born, but kid might be a bearable toothache for both of us.


Within an hour, we both were giggling and chuckling at heights. After years of solidarity, I could hear my own laughter reverberating in my ears. The awkward silence has long been kicked out of our conversation. It was like meeting an old friend after years, were to your delight, nothing has changed. Four hours later with aching stomach and merriment glistening in our eyes, we called for the bill. And to our amusement, he had forgotten his wallet at home. I paid the bill and we bid adieu with a promise to meet again the following day. 


"Then?" 

"Then, what?"

"Then how did you and Dad got married?"

"After two years of dating, your Dad finally gathered the courage and proposed me."

"And when did you both decide to bring me home?" 

"The very first time we saw you swinging in the crib, your gesture beckoned us, as if you were waiting for us since eternity. And then we signed the adoption form and brought you home."

"Mom, you and Dad fight over trifle matters, why did you agree to marry him?"

" Because I had found my best friend in him... what you say, yes, Partners in Crime."


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