Shivani walked out the gates of CGO Complex, head bent against the unseasonal wind, looking anxiously at her watch. Hitching up the pleats of her saree, she started briskly towards the metro station, aiming to beat the rush that would sweep up in the next fifteen minutes.
“Shivani di!”, his voice called out from behind her.
She knew she was far enough to pretend she didn’t hear him and keep walking. But her body betrayed her. And she turned.
There he stood, flashing his boyish grin, holding up the spare helmet.
Puchka? C.R Park?”, he shouted, thrusting the helmet in her direction.
Shivani stood there, rooted in indecision. Looking at her watch again, she hoped the time would help her decided against this impromptu joyride. But she really really wanted to say yes.
Smiling, she walked towards his parked scooter. The weight of the world, or rather her ailing father, slipped off her shoulders. Quite in tandem with the gathered pallu of her cotton saree that now abandoned the discipline of the pleats, and draped loosely on her shoulder. The wind picked up and the tree-lined parking lane rustled loud enough to drown out the taunts of her nagging mother. A few strands of hair escaped the tight bun and fell across her face and lips.
Taking the helmet, she tucked the stray strands behind her ear.
“Promise me we’ll be quick.”, she said, looking up at his softly angled face.
“It’s not up to me, is it?”, he shrugged. “We’ll be as late as the traffic wants us to be.”
Shivani had a feeling that was a lie. That he sometimes deliberately chose routes and times with heavy traffic. But she was honest enough to admit to herself that she didn’t mind that at all. So she just rolled her eyes at him.
They started off, navigating out of the quiet parking lane and into the cacophony of the main road. The traffic seemed light so far, they cruised through the next few signals. The wind still kept up its pace and Shivani closed her eyes, savouring these minutes of absolute freedom. Entertaining the thought of learning to ride a two wheeler, she imagined what it would feel like to grip the handlebars and steadily push the limits of how fast she could go.
Just as they hit the leafy lanes of C.R. Park, it started to rain. Nothing crazy, just a light shower. The pedestrians scurried to line up along the roads, seeking cover in bus stops and tarp-covered coconut and flower stalls. Their scooter neared Market 1 and he slowed down, but didn’t stop.
Shivani put her hand on his shoulder and pressed gently. And that was all the consent he needed to speed up again.
They went riding down the slick shiny roads, past a shower of yellow leaves wafting off a neem tree. They rode into the rain, hoping it would wash away the second thoughts and the restraints. Shivani hoped it would clean off the years of accumulated responsibility, and make her feel just a tiny bit selfish. Just enough to maybe answer differently, when at the end of this evening, like at the end of every evening they’ve spent together, this boy, five years younger to her, tells her that he’s in love.
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