‘You look gorgeous ‘, Animesh bit his lip as the words unpremeditatedly flew out.
Girija blushed , pleasantly surprised with the realization that she was not just a machine-like efficient human being but still a feeling woman.
The beautiful evening sky , the gentle breeze, the serenely swaying trees had conspired to weave a perfect evening, Girija’s persona dazzling in a brick-red cotton sari .
‘I didn’t know, you were a visiting faculty here’, Girija said , striving to contain the excitement in her soul.
Nothing had changed except for the silver highlights in his hair.
‘Do you trust me enough to walk down the lane with me and perhaps have a cup of coffee?’ Animesh asked .
The coffee house was buzzing with a young crowd – big groups of friends, clamoring intellectuals, new couples, committed friends – one could witness a whole array of friendships within its solid walls .
‘Not here, Animesh, let’s go somewhere else’, she urged. Girija’s voice was somber.
Their days in the Coffee house was long past but memories of those days echoed clear.
She didn’t want her bearing to inadvertently pronounce her overwhelming melancholia for ‘a him’ that was no more .