Mrs Billimoria flopped into one of the benches dotting Joggers’ Park, huffing. She glanced at her rusty HMT watch. I’ll sit for a couple of minutes more and make a move.
“Pearl! Is that you?”
Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up. Age had done nothing to him. Dapper as ever, she thought.
“What are you doing here, Rustom?” She wished she didn’t sound like a lovesick teenager.
Rustom Daruwala took his seat next to her. “I stay in that blue apartment. You? God, it’s been ages since we ….” he paused.
Mrs Billimoria blushed a beetroot red. What’s happening to me? Memories gushed in – of a sixteen-year-old Pearl writing love letters but never quite finding the courage to hand them over to the ladies’ man Rustom.
“Pearl? You okay?”
Mrs Billimoria nodded her head. “Sorry, I was lost. Your presence caught me by surprise. Weren’t you in New York?”
“Yes. After my wife’s death, I insisted on coming back to India. My son didn’t like it one bit, though.”
“I’m sorry for your wife. I understand how you feel. My husband left me for a young chick.”
Mr Daruwala’s eyes glinted. “B@#stard! How could he desert such a beautiful wife?”
An uncomfortable silence ensued. Mr Daruwala spoke first. “If only I had confessed to you my feelings!”
Mrs Billimoria perked up her ears. “What? You loved me?”
“With all my heart! But I was sceptical. Would you accept me? After all, you were the epitome of beauty and elegance. And I was but a bumbling fool in front of you.” Suddenly he stopped as the implication hit him.“Wait … Does that mean….” He caught her hand. “Dearest Pearl, will you have coffee with me?”
Mrs Billimoria’s reply was instant. “Yes.”
By Narayani V Manapadam
“Narayani is an IT Professional lost in the dreary world of Excel. When time permits, she loves to get lost in the maze of Word(s). But nothing makes her happier than being a cat momma to her beloved Uttam.”
She can be contacted at fraunara@gmail.com.
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