How sought after she was. Or was she, indeed? Her boyish charm, her rare, sensible speech, her innocent yet mature mannerism were enough to entice him. Her love for tea, her habits and his way of life, were poles apart. Opposites attract, really?
Reluctantly, he confided the truth to her. For her, he was one among many. She chided him off. For him, She was his world. True love sets free. He respected her choice and let her be. He imbibed her traits and wrote on her daily over a cup of tea where he enjoyed overwhelmingly sweet longing.
She had been his muse and inspiration. He was a small time photographer and she an international model. One image of hers had catapulted her to international fame.
He had her in his thoughts always and the last photo he had clicked of her. On a rainy evening as he has entered her room, he saw her on the bed posing provocatively. He had started to click.
That solitary photo of her by him had catapulted her to fame and riches. But he remained the small town photographer, with the framed photo of coffee and her for company.
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. Returning back to an empty house from a friend's place, she huddled in a quiet corner with a cup of tea and a book.
"Look papa, sister is reading that infamous work", her younger brother bemused; who entered unannounced.
Seeing a woman sprawled on the front cover, her dad fumed. She slowly walked away. The freshly minted pages had opened up a Pandora's box of sorts, in her now peaceful life.
The ghosts of her past, had come to haunt her again. .
"There you go, yet another photograph of us. I'm getting tired of these now"
"Well, at least he still has to come to you when he needs you. I've already been replaced in his life"
"Remember when we were his closest companions, when he wanted to create one of you"
"Those were the days, before this chaos. Now we are just snapshots on his Instagram page"
"The one on his book bucket list"
"The certificate for the world that he's a coficionado/chaivinist"
"Hey, those aren't even words" shouted the dictionary
"Wow, he's still alive," they laughed together.
I spread my fingers out of the window to feel the beautiful rain. Praising its glory, suddenly she appears in the front door, all wet, cursing this rain. May be because it spoiled the book she got as a gift, for me. I jumped with joy and started reading. Book was gripping . She smiled and made coffee for both of us, best coffee in the world. I am on last page, no more is book enchanting, coffee lost its aroma, no more is rain beautiful, no more is she..
I have never felt the need of human company. Its very disappointing - the dependence, the expectation, the heartbreak. I've lived with that for almost two decades. Not anymore.
My only companions today include a cuppa and a book. Unlike humans, they don't let me down, they don't have mood swings, they don't break my heart, they don't ask me my religion or work, they don't play with my feelings, they don't laugh at my mistakes.
They give me the freedom, the freedom to be, just me.
That makes me happy..
She put down the novel on floor, as chirping of morning interrupted her reading. She stared at the windowpanes and felt warmness of light on her face. It was third nightâ€” she was helplessly sustaining it without sleep. Her eyes got swollen, lips got dry. She cupped the black mug into her palms, smelled it deeply, that aroma brought reminiscent of their love for half-cup-of-Joe. She sipped that salted coffee alone, she might have forgot the taste of tears but would it ever be possible to forget those book-ed evenings in the circle of his arms? .
What a time it was when we both used to read this novel and love blossomed between us. Both were new to the city aspiring to be famous. This city Bombay had some other plans for us, I slipped to the charms of luxuries life and left you to struggle on your own and myself settled for a comfortable life with a person whom I liked but didnâ€™t love. Today I am the lost flamingo reading the same novel again and again with a cup of coffee remembering our blissful days and regretting the loss of love..
Saturday, 11 am.
â€œGet up! Itâ€™s almost afternoon.â€
I want to sleep a little more.
I feel so tired like I fought a war yesterday.
War, yes, and I won it. Finished reading a book last night.
Thrillers! They spoil my reading targets.
With no new books in my collection, what am I going to do this weekend?
Tea by the bedside, I make an effort to get up. The last read is there too.
Just then, the bell rings. Oh! Delivery guy? New books!
I spring up, full of energy.
There is purpose now..
He kept the coffee cup on table and picked up the book. If he reads the book today it will his sixth time in last 7 days and nights.
Wife's sound in the backdrop is routine now. Today its about leaking fridge.
With publication of this book, he has become a writer. But is this what he wanted always?
Book reminds him of days when he used to roam to all producers with his script. He wanted to become a director but destiny had other plans.
He picked up phone to call fridge repair. Finally, Sid accepted his destiny..
I had a report to be submitted today at office. Halfway through work, my closest friend Anisha called me up. Her voice was quivering. The man of her life was getting married to someone else. Our talk of hours calmed her down. Meanwhile I had already missed the submission deadline. My boss was furious. I managed to reach home by extending the deadline till midnight. I opened my laptop and finished the task at hand. Now its 12am midnight. I have book in hand and a much needed cup of tea. No better way to start a new day!!!.
Sid is an Indian author who uses settings of magical realism, in his writing style.
Writes about the model and tries to explain the quietness of her world was silence of memory and sorrow, for which he gets mixed reviews. and later announces his second book to be his last.
Her: Got something in mind?
Him: I would have written if there was only a cup
Her: Men will be men
Him: I can definitely come up with some quirky story if you can make me a cup of tea.
Her: No way, I know what's next you are going to ask for from this frame.
â€œThe much awaited rainy evening, a bland cup of coffee and a book, my day couldnâ€™t have ended better!â€ thought she, as she settled down on her couch.
Hours later, setting aside her glasses and the book, she gazed through her window.
It was almost dawn and looked like it had stopped raining quite a while ago. Her face spoke different emotions now, ones she couldnâ€™t comprehend herself.
Sometimes, the books we pick just to reinforce our perspectives, change us altogether.
For, my dear friends, a cup of coffee and a book, are much more than a leisurely pleasure..