Sandhya’s Wait

 

Wringing her fingers and wiping her sweaty palm on the delicate hand-kerchief she carried, fluttering her eyelids and motioning to the waiter that she was waiting for someone else to join her before she would order her food, the black kohl lined eyes darted across the floor, towards the door trying to seek out the face she had seen on the website.

Pleasantries, phone numbers and email ids had already been exchanged, but this was their first real meeting.

He’d asked her to meet him at The Renaissance at 8.00 pm, but restless and anxious as she was, Sandhya reached the hotel well before time. 

The place literally took her breath away. The golden chandelier emitting light from each of the tiny diamond shapes hanging from the central flower shaped unit, the intricate detailing on the ceiling and the mirror like floor did nothing to steal away the glamour of those handcrafted patterns on the pillars, the dainty little figurines that were placed on each table.

She had seen the grandeur of this place in photographs and from the newspapers that continually reviewed the food festivals that were held from time to time. Her purse had never been heavy enough to grant her access to such kind of a place.

The tables were at perfect distances from each other to allow for sufficient privacy and comfortable conversations without having to worry about the persons on the next table being bothered with the conversations from one. The cushions on the chairs were soft and silky to touch, the cutlery seemed to be of silver and there was definitely an aroma wafting in the hall that made one reminiscent of old durbars of Arab kings where women were employed to ensure a pleasurable olfactory experience to all its visitors.

This place was just perfect.

And expensive.

(I thank each and every one of you who is reading this and leaving me your comments. Please know that each thought of yours, each view point is important to me and I would love to hear them all. I will read each one of them once I am back to my normal life. Please know that when each part of the story goes live, I might be on some mountain top trekking with my friends, or in some temple praying fervently seeking some divine intervention or lost in some remote village with no connectivity. Thank you for understanding. May life smile upon you!)

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Writing to me is therapy, it frightens and comforts at the same time. Liberates like nothing else. A book in my own name is a dream, but a bigger dream would be to write something that haunts the reader even after the last page is turned and the book is shut. I enjoy reading and music, spending time with family whilst battling my social awkwardness.

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