An old-age affair

The essence of pine needles, jasmine flowers and what we call Love

He woke up with the sun nowadays and not before it. Today he felt fresher and decided he’d probably walk an extra round. Standing up slowly, he shook his shiny head as he reminded himself what day it was. He couldn’t afford to be late.

“Should I make tea?”, His better half murmured from under her blanket.

“No, no. I’ll get some tea near the garden.”, He said shortly while pulling his favorite sandals on.

She peeped through a crevice curiously. He loved tea more than mogras(jasmine flowers).

“No need to stay up.”, He said stopping at the door.

“Hmm.”, She kept staring at his back, only more certain of what she feared.

He refilled his lungs with freedom, walking with a fervour down the dew-drop paved path to the garden. He checked his watch, 6.50.

Too early, he thought and walked on.

He had to stop in the gate when he reached. The garden looked prettier than ever in the slightest way. With the rustle of the freshly watered shrubs, the subtle goldenish tint of the sun or the extra bloom of the roses, it seemed to be just the right day for them.

Yes, them.

He sighed as he looked around at the park occupants. His comrades, Gupta and Patil were luckily nowhere to be seen. He could meet her in peace.

He’d met her in her youth and his adolescence through the casual flirtations that distracted them from books and teachers. They were full of life and love and the scent of mogras.

He laughed instinctively remembering her love for mogras failing to hide his inside joke as he bought a gajra (bunch) at the corner outside the park before leaving.

“Arre (Oh) Sharma!” He looked up suddenly sobering up from the memory. A portly man in trainer shorts and jet black hair walked up to him.

“Gupta! Woken up early today, huh?!”, He greeted the portly man who refused to stop colouring his hair.

“Could say the same about you, my friend! Where to?”, He smiled cheekily, eyeing the bunch of mogras.

“Oh! Haha, Anu insisted”, He smiled.

Gupta laughed heartily and pat his back. “Good, good, you keep all of us lousy husbands in check!” He smirked as he bid farewell.

So much for wishful thinking. He quickened his pace to avoid any more encounters. The maze-like crisscross of pathways was like the back of his hand to him.

The narrow path opened to what others would call a dead end but what he called their little rendezvous spot.

Isolated from buildings, cars and people, the end of the wall of a run-down school had a small square of flowerbed next to it. It had several flowers of pink, blue, yellow and red but majorly, white ones — mogras.

He broke one flower out of the bunch and ducked down. Finding a tiny place next to one which still had dewdrops on it, he pat the earth plain as the flower stood in a crowd of white.

“We should find a bigger square”,

he heard her voice; a tired echo of an erstwhile sweet melody of words she called her voice but with the same capacity to make him write, sing and dance at the same time. He stood up tenderly and turned around to face the love of his life.

Her silver hair was neatly tied in a bun, her eyes lined with Kohl, her lips rushed with blood and her cheeks pinched to a tint of pink he considered only hers.

“I thought you forgot”, he managed to say.

“How could I forget?”, She asked simply smiling like a child.

Their silence blazed with the sunlight as he planted the gajra on her silver bun. She fought a grin as the air filled with the smell of mogras, reminiscing the first time he’d bought her a gajra on the last day of the eighth grade examinations.

“Did she know?”, She asked furtively. His hands paused tying the white thread as he answered.

“I think so.”, he said quietly.

“Are you sure?”, she persisted.

He fumbled for words.

“Ofcourse she did, if you didn’t even have your tea!”, She laughed.

“Anu! Yaar (Dude)…every time we try roleplay!”, He stopped tying and groaned.

“Arre Sorry! I’m sorry. Continue.”, She mumbled between giggles.

“You messed up the purpose”, he said agitatedly.

“Accha (Okay) let’s get that tea now”, she laughed as she held him by the hand.

She raised his hand and gently kissed it as they walked back.

“Happy Anniversary, honey.”, she whispered.