That evening storm: A short story

That evening storm

Its 10 am Saturday morning. Ahmad’s cell starts buzzing...soft music falls into his sleepy ears. He moves his hand, grabs the phone and presses the red button.
“So early, who the hell is buzzing in such early hours of the morning?” he thought without looking at the cell-screen for the name or the number.
Meanwhile his sleepy mind started doing some lateral thinking-“he can be my brother. He gets up early in the morning and generally calls me but I have told him not to call me so early in the morning. So he is ruled out. Who else then? May be Rima , a sure probability , I still get calls from her early in the morning since last 5 years since the time I last met her. He can’t be my father. He understands me, knows well I am not the morning person and I dislike being disturbed too early in the morning.”

The cell buzzed again waking him up from his half- sleepy state. He decided to tell the person on the line not to bother him in such early hours. He pushed the green button this time without looking at the screen, brought the phone close to his left ear. A soft British accented sweet voice sang to him-“hi, good morning Ahmad, this is Kamini here. Sorry to disturb you at this moment. I was wondering if we could meet over a cup of coffee at Mocha today evening if it’s convenient for you. I want to discuss the book I am writing and just spend some time together.” He had not spoken a single word yet perhaps had got lost in the flow of her soft, sensuous melodious voice or in the memories of this eye fluttering damsel whom he had met years back in college.
She sang again-“are you still there baby?” This brought him to the moment zero. He answered still sleepy –“I’ll let you know in an hour or so.” He squeezed the side-pillow and tried to sleep once more with the soft soothing melody playing in his mind bringing back the memories of a bygone time.

College brings all kind of people together- “ugly-beautiful, smart-dumb, sharp-dull, confused-confident and many others as many as the number of the people, each with one’s own idiosyncrasies. Kamini had hers too. She was gorgeous and an instant-killer with a no-nonsense attitude. Ahmad had fallen prey to this beautiful hunter when he had just crossed her shadow one beautiful moon-lit night while dancing at the annual College festival. Not a word had been spoken, only four eyes had met for a while and parted leaving him restless and wanting. He imagined himself lying with her on the beaches of Canaries and Bahamas and sea waves washing their bodies. In the dark or moon-lit nights sometimes he walked in sleep to the terrace craving to possess her. He dreamed her perfumed body dancing under the moon-light.

He had met her in his dreams many times now it was the time to meet the real Kamini at 6 pm today evening. Facing light is not easy when you have been living in darkness for years. Dreams are better than the realities because you can see what you want in dreams without getting hurt. Reality brings pain and suffering along with joy. He was in two minds. It had been years he had not met her… but that was not fully true because he occasionally met her in dark or moon-lit nights in his dreams. He wondered-“should I tell her what a great dream-maker she has been all these years or act fresh with ‘pleasure seeing you’ stiff upper lip expression or just tell her sorry I am busy.”
His tender mind questioned-“why is she interested in me?” Has she now no one else to have fun with? Has she got a hang of my dreams and how much I crave to possess her?” He found no concrete answers. All he could gather was vague assumptions and a few guesses. After all he decided to meet her but with one promise to himself-“thou shall not get laid by her.” At 12pm he gave her a buzz –“see you at six”.
He reached Mocha at six dot. She was already there sitting on the sofa with a glass of cold coffee and a hookah by her side. She was in a red skirt and a white string top. Her long hair hanged loosely on her back. She welcomed him with a smile and a tight hug. He had brought her red roses bought at the traffic light from the street kids. He clarified immediately though the color of the roses.
He said –“the red color means love but here it’s just accidental.”
She said smiling-“yes I know that”.
He started the conversation –“so what’s up these days?” and ordered a ‘heavenly mocha’ for himself.
She said offering him the hookah- “I am writing a book about life in big cities like Delhi, about parties, cocktails, orgies at the farmhouses in the suburbs etc...”
He said blowing smoke in the air-“sounds interesting”!
She further added-“it is about the life of a simple fellow from the countryside who gets caught up in the high life of a city and the interesting experiences he has with the different kind of people around.”
He said-“please tell me more about it”.
She said smiling -“wait till the book gets published. You can buy a copy.”
She asked taking a long gulp of smoke from the hookah–“what’s up with you these days”
He replied-“seeing you writing a book I too feel like writing one though I am not sure what I want to write about. Besides that I am busy with my work, books and music.”
They finished their drink and smoke and moved out to take a stroll. The place was full of young couples holding hands occasionally caressing and fondling each other, occasionally checking out the passers by. Showrooms sold the latest design of clothes, sports shoes and music. Restaurants served regional and continental cuisine. Discs were full of young crowd some dancing, some busy locking lips, some continuously groping each others bodies and Pubs full of men and women enjoying a drink in ‘happy hours’. Beauty parlors crowded with middle –aged withering women trying hard to maintain youthful looks, young ones getting their hair colored. The sun had set and clouds covered the blue sky. A sudden drizzle in the evening and cool wind was making the weather pleasant and romantic.
He asked –“what do you think about the United nations reforms?”
She replied-“I think India should have been there on high table long time back but it’s never too late. But India should get with full veto powers or it should be done away with for all members.”
She asked –“what do you think about love. Does it exist?”
He noticed a complete change of track and took some time to think about it.
He said –“love does exist and so does lust. It’s up to us what we choose. Many of us most of the time do not appreciate love because it’s not sexy and does not come from the expected places.”
Weather was getting stormy and it was time to part. He very strongly felt like holding her in his arms for an instant before saying goodbye. Four eyes met again. Time froze for a while.
She asked-“could you drop me home if you are not in hurry. It’s not far away.”
He said hesitatingly –“sure, my pleasure”
In 5 minutes car was standing in front of her place. It was a beautiful house surrounded by trees. The path was covered by the fallen leaves, wet due to the drizzling in the evening. Cold breeze was blowing and had started gathering momentum. The weather started turning stormy with thunder and lightening in the sky. No one had expected that weather will take such a sudden turn.
She told him “park the car in the garage and wait till the weather gets normal.”
He hesitated getting inside the house. He remembered the promise he had made to himself in the morning.
He said-“no thanks; I’ll wait here in the car in the garage.”
A wicked smile appeared on her face. She said-“ok, as you feel comfortable. Since you are my guest here I must bring you some drink. What would you like to have tonight- scotch, champagne, wine or vodka?”
He thought-“it’s not a bad idea to have a glass of red wine while waiting. Good for the heart”.
He said-“red wine would be great.”
In a jiffy she got scotch for herself and a glass of red wine for him in the car down in the garage. It was raining hard outside. Power supply was gone and there was a complete black out. Occasional lightening lit up the whole place for a while only to be engulfed by the pervading darkness all around.
She asked sipping her whisky-“did you ever think about me?”
He said looking into her eyes-“no never”.
She said-“then why did you come today to meet me if you had completely forgotten me.”
He kept mum gulping small sips of red wine slowly.
She asked –“are you scared of me”
He replied-“no”.
She said-“then why don’t you come up and have dinner with me till the weather gets normal.”
He smiled and looked into her eyes. Four eyes met again and his mind got filled with the flashes from those moon-lit nights which brought him so close to her. He had started losing himself.
She pulled him close. Eyes gave way to lips. The storm outside had found its way inside the garage and had entered the car. The car shook badly. Occasional lightening lit up their faces and bodies.
When the storm was over the hunger struck them both. She rang up a pizza joint for some fresh food but they refused home delivery in the storm and heavy rain. Hunger knows no reasoning; it does not understand the limitations of the outside world. It must satisfy itself no matter what happens. They ran into the kitchen, grabbed the leftover food and ate as they had not eaten in days.