It's never too late for a coffee date.

 

"Coffee date hi to hai, Mumma, go na!", Akshara said to Sheela.

Sheela was sitting on a rocking chair by the window. She closed her eyes and a flashback of Anant struck in front of her. "He loved going on dates. He loved to give me surprises. Our favourite café was right at the corner of the supermarket. After shopping for groceries, he would grab my hand and out of blue, take me to the café, on a date. Behave in public Anant, I would say...Atleast umar ka lihaaj karo hamari. Even at 90, I will hold a walking stick in one hand and grab your hand tightly, with other, he used to say, smirking at me", Sheela recalled.

Sheela opened her eyes, stopped rocking the chair, looked outside the window. She saw a rainbow. "Rainbow means hope, let's try again for a baby Sheela", Anant had said, wiping her tears, after her 1st missed carriage.

Akshara put her hands on Sheela's shoulders. Tears dropped from Sheela's eyes. Akshara hugged her and said Mumma, "Don't worry, it's not a crime to meet someone. At least, give it a try, for me".

"Mumma wear this chickenkari lemon yellow suit. You look fab in it", said Akshara, taking out her suit from the cupboard. Sheela looked at the suit and again got lost in Anant's thoughts. He had gifted me this when he had come back from his Delhi tour. He was going to come in a week and his work didn't wrap up, so it took him one more week. He had felt guilty to leave Akshara and me all alone here. So he had got this gift as a compensation. "Don't butter me with your gifts", Sheela had said. Anant had winked and said, "You caught me!". Sheela was filled with Anant's thoughts.

Sheela smiled, Akshara was happy to see her mom smile. "Okay done, this is what you are wearing", she insisted.

Sheela, even at 55, looked fabulous in the yellow dress. "Mumma thodasa kajal and at least a nude shade of lipstick, please Mumma", Akshara said. "Okay, beta, as you say", Sheela said.

Sheela got a text message with a map to the venue. "It's our favourite café!" Sheela was startled. She started her car and drove to the venue.

Amar was a grey haired, army man in his 60s. Dressed in blue shirt with tie and formal trousers, he was waiting at the café for Sheela. He escorted her to their table. Amar used a walking stick and had slight limp in his left leg. Amar saw Sheela noticing his leg. They got seated and to break the ice, Amar told her the story of how his leg had got injured during one of his postings at war.

They ordered coffee. Sheela shared that her husband had expired 2 years ago. Amar told his side of the story, he had lost his wife 3 years ago. He had no kids and he wanted a companion in this phase of his life. They both gradually chatted on various topics, from Akshara's career to her favourite ice-cream. Sheela was slowly opening up.

Amar also shared a lot of his army stories with her.

While sipping her coffee, few drops spilled on her dress. Sheela got up to go to the washroom. She tripped while getting up. Amar hastily, with walking stick in one hand, held her hand tightly, with other. She looked around the café and in a spur of a moment, said, "Anant apni umar ka to lihaaj karo!". She came to her senses and rushed to the washroom.

Sheela splashed water on her face. Did she mistake Amar for Anant? She wiped the stains on her dress and went back to her seat.

Amar said sorry to have held her hand, but he said he did it to stop her from tripping. Sheela asked, "Amar, would you hold my hand even at 90?".

              

AUTHOR'S NOTE: "Sometimes we have to move on, not letting go of the memories, but forming new ones!" ~ Jui Purohit.

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