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As he pulled up the curtain after a lazy sunday nap, the sun was kissing goodbye to the perfect orange sky and its horizon was blushing and throwing the shades of pink, Aayan stretched his limbs to shake away his inertia and mesmerise the beauty of this love affair. After all, Aayan seldom gets to enjoy evening time of the day at his house, seeing the world from the 10th floor, all the high rise buildings of the New York city covered in the orange sheets of the sun rays and many reflecting it back on to the world.

One such reflection was falling on the picture frame nicely hung on the spotless white wall opposite the window, spreading light on the serenity of the family picture from back in India, specially highlighting the grace of Maa's (mother's) face. Aayan approached the frame and kept staring at it as if he was wondering how and when this picture perfect frame got there and why hasn't he noticed it in an entire year and a half since he moved in this beautiful apartment. While he was admiring the picture, his phone rang, getting his attention.

It was Carl, from the Pizza place. "Yeah..." said Aayan, still gazing at the picture.

"What yeah? You were suppose to let me know if you wanted garlic knots and soda along with your regular sunday order.", said Carl in a hasty tone.

....

....

"Umm, Aayan, you there?"

"You know what, cancel today's order.", Aayan broke the silence after an odd pause.

"But your regular one has already been placed, I just called to confirm about the garlic knots and soda."

"Ummm, don't worry, charge me on my card and give the pizza to Jhon. He must be standing outside the store by now."

"Who? The homeless guy in red jacket?"

"Yeah.", Aayan confirmed. "And don't use debit card instead of credit again. Thank you and I'll see you tomorrow buddy."

"Is everything alright? You never..."

"Yeah everything's cool, it's just I had a big meal in the hospital cafeteria after the shift." , Aayan interrupts Carl, "And was napping all the time thereafter. I'm not hungry."

"Hmmm... okay bud, let me know if something comes up."

Aayan hung up the call, still gazing at the picture. And now adding to the wonder, why did he lie to his friend Carl.

The reflection of the love affair between the sky and the sun on the picture took him to the place he lost a long time ago and brought back the feels and thoughts that were stacked in the remote corners of his heart.

Well, who is not busy in the New York City? And why would a successful psychiatrist, whose appointment won't be granted before atleast 2 months, be any different to remaining busy in this never sleeping city? And may be it was this tight schedule, that got Aayan to push his feels and nostalgic memories in that corner of his heart from where he could access them, use them to give real life examples to his patients, but not re-live them, not experiencing what they made him feel like in the past.

But something inside Aayan was different today. He took the picture frame and rushed to the kitchen, opened the window in a hope to catch the blush of the sky before it disappears into the dark. Took out a boiler, added two cups of water and turned on the stove.

He hovered his left hand from right to left over the stove before putting the boiler on it and as opposed to the heroic tone he used when he was a child, Aayan said in a soft, broken voice , "No fire can burn my spirit Maa.", looked at the picture, locked his eyes to Maa's gaze, and said, "But it can definitely burn these tiny fingers you idiot!!!... right Maa?"

As the water reached its boiling temperature, Aayan could feel his heart melting due to the warmth that was gradually filling in his body. He added Rajma (kidney beans) and rice and closed the lid. As he was waiting for the rice and rajma to get boiled, he looked out of the window and saw that the sun had already gone deep into the horizon. And the sky was still orangish, as the sun left the traces of love on the sky before leaving. With soft howling of wind through the open window and the indistinct sound of the traffic down on the street, Aayan too, could feel those traces of love that Maa left in him. His eyes were searching for something in the sky, may be a cloud which could resemble the shape of Maa's face or just a remote resemblance to her smile, but his vision was getting blurry as tears started rolling down his cheeks.

Before he could understand what was happening to him, the whistle from boiler started making noise and Aayan quickly tuned off the stove and grabbed the boiler by the handle to put it aside and the uninsulated end of the handle touched his arm. "Ohh shit...", he exclaimed.

"Yeah yeah, I know, you should always put the cloth on the handle... stop laughing at my misery Maa.", Aayan smiled looking at Maa and patted himself on the head, just like Maa would have.

He put the rajma-rice in a vessel, turned on the stove, hovered his left hand on the stove again before putting the vessel on it and began stirring it. He kept on checking the temperature from time to time and just when it was optimally warm, he started adding the spicies and singing in a childish high pitched voice,

"Oil before everything boy...

Cinnamon and clove,

In this order, don't forget to add your love...

Turmeric and pepper,

Will make it taste better..."

Controlling the the laughter bouts, Aayan looked at the picture and with happy joyous tears in his eyes, continued next line in low pitched opera like singer

"Now for the hero spice,

Ohh salt, shouldn't be more, shouldn't be less, has to be completely precise...

No matter what happens in you life, never fail to strive,

Come here ohh boy, give me a High Five..."

He wiped down his tears, feeling eternally and internally grateful after a long time.

The sun was long gone but Aayan's soul was lit with the warmth of the love that was radiating from his heart. He served the simple dish and placed the family picture on the dining table, lit a candle and enjoyed every last bit of it as this "ordinary" dish brought him back something "ordinary" that he was dying to have a little "extra" of, the most "ordinary" place, the most "ordinary" feel that he called "Home".

- Parth Patel

6th Mar 2020