'They should be in anytime', Sandy yelled from the living room, dragging herself from the couch.
It was around 5:00 pm and Sandy had returned from her office a while back.
The appartment was real clean as if we had moved in today. I could smell the White Zodiac from Flower Gram, mauve and white flowers over the glass table complemented the black leather couch and the green rug. Sandy was great at mixing colors, an amateur interior decorater at heart. The cream-white glass stools had a lilac touch, matching the strips on the fan.
I and Sandy had stayed together off the Wellington Road, near the Lords Cricket Ground for the last 4 years. Once every month the artist in Sandy expressed. 'Its lovely'.. .while I put my coat and umbrella in the closet, 'why isn't this way every day,' I mumbled.
'Annie, is at the Queen Mary's Garden. Harri, had called from Middlesex Hospital.'
Harry, Harris in its Indian form- is supposed be here, Annie, aka Anita has been invited too by Sandy. Harrie and I have been to the same school, Annie and Sandy were roomates throughout their college days. Sandy and I, were friends, quite good friends sharing perfectly frank, prefectly kindly, perfectly unsexual comradeship.
I was franticly checking the refrigrator and the kitchen, 'Do we have everything ready for dinner,' I asked in genuine wonder, though should have been very much sure ,'they ought to be.'
'Come sit beside me, everything is perfect!, We can watch the movie till they come, ' Sandy signaled with her sweet, soft and shapely hand. The tension of the moment didn't engulf me that much that I couldn't notice how beautiful she was, the oriental tan, straight raven hair slightly curly at the ends, thin "duck like" lips, the unshrinking gaze; the maroon tank and black lower accentuated every bit of the atheletic build she had.
The doorball rang, and as if ...WIP..
Bangalore, India July 2000.
Anjali, her two blue bags, a white 'toy' panda - "Snoopy" on KK express pulled into the tin shed of a dimly lit, shabby station.
The view from the side seat of the AC1 coach looks distantly promising to Anjali, who had heard so much about the town-- it only sleeps before the most happening town of India , Mumbai. The station defintely promised otherwise. The bookstall on the right, few PCO booths on the left just outside the Platform 1 bustled with the frantic excitement of people trying to reach their near and dear ones.
Anjali walked to the book stall, gazing at the myriad of books on the stall. A sudden realisation brought the sweet smile on her face, a dimple on one side -- eyed by everyone whom she had met till date. Sweet enough for her father and mother to believe Aanjali would never take the wrong stand. No one was watching her step, she could pick any magazine.
It need not be under the scrutiny of her sister Sia - don't read this, don't read that. Anjali, was free, free to act in whatever manner she wished. There was nothing to fear; Sia must be sitting and crunching numbers at 20 Cabot Square 2nd Floor, Stanley House, London. She picked the Cosmopolitan, Jennifer Loved Hewitt in a blanched almond cocktail attire donned the cover.
She moved towards the multi arched gate. It was 1:30 in the afternoon. The warmth of the sun reminded her of the spring Sun of Delhi.
Madame ! Madame ..Where you want to go. A short,stout, moustached middle aged man approached Anjali.
"Kormanagla, 5th Block" Anjali retorted. The brown top, golden rod yellow stripped on black three wheeler cranked to the powerful pull of the driver. 395cc engine hummed at slow pace while Anjali pushed her bags in the aisle infront of the back seat of the 'autorickshaw'.
'Hogonwa!,' the driver turned back; Anjali was startled by the quirk, both vocal and physical.
'What ?', She couldn't fathom the happiness with which the driver had asked her. The sound didn't make her feel as if the driver was asking.
'Oh, first time in Bangalore. Interesting city,' he said pulling the vehicle in drive. Anjali turned back to take the view of the station, this was going to be the gate to her long life in Bangalore. 'Bangalore Cantonment' on the medieval architecture, with a gothic touch- slowly disappeared as they turned left.
She started to flip the pages of the magazine she had bought. 'You can go to Lal Bagh, Cubbon Park, Bull Temple, Ulsoor Lake Madame!, ' the driver said driving efforlessly. The jolt of a sudden break to avoid a crash with a black CBZ startled her. Cosmo Fashion had her totally engrossed. 'What went wrong Ahmed,' she had managed to know his name. 'Nothing, see the Vidhana Soudha,' said Ahmed, mumbling about the driver that went past.
The neo-Dravidian granite house, home of the State Legislature and the Secretariat looked splendid. She could get the glimpse of massive sandalwood door. The signal turned green. She was on her way to House #132, 5th Main 4th Cross Vth Block Koramangla.
