YOU ALWAYS COME LATE!

You always come late!

By- Teevranshu Vashishtha

Myra walks into the room and sees the empty table near the window. She looks at her watch and notices that she is half an hour early. She sits down; she feels the air of the establishment stifling; she asks the waiter to open the windows. It’s a beautiful November morning. She sees the hustle and bustle on the streets, the mesmerizing New Delhi life. She deliberately came in early to be able to take in the aura of this place once again. The tables are scarcely filled; she is probably the first to barge in here. She knows she will have to wait a little more, even though she has been waiting for this for years.

She orders a steaming cup of black coffee; she knows his order will be the same. The waiter brings it in a moment. She takes a sip and looks over at across the road at the mall that has stood here for decades. It was being made when she was last here. It was in the summer of 93’; she was leaving for her job in Madrid. It was the first time she was going out of the country. So, he decided to have what he thought might be his last of the many rendezvous of such kind that he used to have with Myra. That day too, she came in early because she also feared that it would be the last one. Myra waited for 3 hours that day, but she never flinched because she knew he would come, for he always did. Myra is deep in remembrance when the waiter asks her.

“Are you going to have company Ma’am?”

“Yeah! But why?” she replies dreamily.

“We have just received a call by one of our exceptional guests to reserve this seat for him. He is an old customer, and he comes here very often,” he replies obsequiously. “We were wondering if you will agree to shift to that table over there.’

Myra looks around her, the people have started pouring in. She thinks about it for a moment, but then she accedes to the waiter's request. However, she has always sat in that seat. It had become a ritual for both of them. Ever since Myra could remember, they both used to come here to enjoy a cone of their favorite vanilla ice-cream. Myra remembers the afternoon of her 18^th birthday; that day too, he came in late. She was furious and was about to leave when he finally showed up. He knew she'd be mad, so, he had with him her favorite chocolate. Myra knows she loves him more than anyone else in her life, though their bond is shaken. She wanted things to be the same as before. She finally had some time off from all the commotion of life, and she hoped on the first plane back to New Delhi. Myra asked him if he was still up for it, and he readily agreed.

#

Myra feels a little hungry, and she orders a glass of orange juice. It’s 15 minutes past the designated time. She prays to God that he has not forgotten their arrangement. She keeps looking over at the door and hopes for his walking in through it any minute. Myra needs this more than anything in the world right now. He is the one who has seen her struggle more intimately than anyone else. He is the one who has always stood by her side. He always knew what she needed, and he helped her get it. Myra tries not to cry as the reminiscing brings about tears in her eyes. She knows it will all be well now that he will be here.

The waiter comes near her once again, this time holding a package in his hands. He places it in front of Myra and tells her that he has received it from a gentleman, who asked it to be delivered to her. Myra looks at the black and red-colored package and knows it instantly that it is from him. She stands up in the excitement and looks around for him, but can't find him. She looks at the box; she finds an envelope upon it. Myra is elated like a little child; she tears open the envelope and finds inside it a letter which only has a line written on it.      

‘For the bad always fades, and the good times always remain in the heart.’

She opens the small box. Tears roll down her cheeks as she lifts the photo frame from the bottom. It is the same photo taken here in 93; she sees the young Myra in the picture holding on tight to him. While the older Myra has somehow let go of him. She cannot wait for him anymore. She looks around once again, but to no avail. She is dejected and directs her steps towards the washroom. She opens the tap and feels the cold-water soothe her nerves; she looks up in the mirror and sees the reflection of her grief molded face. So different from the face of the young Myra from that picture, who was a carefree bird. She washes her face- one splash, two splashes, three splashes… It’s like she is trying to wash away her sorrows with the water.

#

Myra walks out the washroom, with heavy steps she walks towards her table and sits down on it. Her eyes fell on another letter, which is stuck under her cup of coffee. She opens it.

'I’ll be at my table. You can always find me there.'

She looks up towards the table near the window. She sees him; his back is turned towards her. She recognizes the broad-backed man, though now a little hunched. His hairs all colored to defy the aging of life; a mix of black and grey. Donning the same black shirt that Myra gifted him last year. Times have changed, but not Myra's zeal for him. By chance, he too can feel her looking at him, and he turns around. A big smile spreads upon his lips as he opens his arms. Myra rushes down the aisle to jump into them. He closes his arms around his princess, who is now a grown woman, and the mother of two children, Myra, lovingly chides her father.

“You always do this to me, Papa. You are always late!”