Reading Time: 6 min
What if story didn’t end there? What if it was just the beginning?
???
It felt good to be back in the heart of Delhi, my city, my home. Despite spending six years away for work, the city’s vibrancy felt familiar, yet the crowd was all new. I found myself at a party hosted by a friend. Somewhere from rooftop parties to a closed section in the lounge – we all had grown up. I held on to my beer and I mingled around, making small talk, talking a lot yet telling nothing, passing along from person to person.
Amidst the chaotic revelry, my gaze landed on a solitary figure near the corner window – a woman, sipping wine and quietly observing the surroundings with an air of confidence and quietude that was magnetizing. Her name, I learned later, was Radhika, her calm presence a stark contrast to the party’s dynamic madness. She intrigued me; she found solace in her solitude despite the cacophony around us.
Feeling a surge of courage, I decided to approach Radhika. But first, I needed a drink. My day had been a roller coaster of stress, and I yearned for a drink with some punch. The day had been demanding, and my recent heartbreak made this social situation even more taxing. I craved for something potent to take the edge off and finally ordered a vodka martini with a twist of lemon. The bartender, probably misheard my order, garnished it with a slice of lime. I was too lost in my thoughts to notice the mix-up until I held the glass in my hand.
Now, vodka martinis were no ordinary drink. They were like divas, not made to be casually toted around. They required a delicate hold on the stem, ensuring the drink remained perfectly chilled as one navigated the party. With the glass in hand, I started to make my way towards Radhika, my mind racing with various thoughts. I held the glass carefully, stepping around the crowd, trying to make his way to Radhika. My heart was pounding in my chest, my mind was jumbling words trying to make sense on what to say. I barely registered the spread of guests around me. Before I knew it, I tripped. Miraculously, the drink remained intact, however the lime slice, perched atop the martini, fell to the ground with a soft slap, while the drink remained miraculously intact. The sound was barely audible over the party’s noise, but to me, it seemed to echo around the room.
Heat rushed up to my cheeks. I glanced at Radhika, half expecting her to turn away in disinterest or mockery. To my surprise, Radhika responded with a kind and empathetic smile. It was as if she saw right through my embarrassment and understood the clumsy situation I found himself in. a signal of understanding that eased my embarrassment slightly. I tried to pick up the fallen slice of lime, but between a recurring backache and my constant effort to avoid spilling the martini, I only managed to make a fool of myself. The situation would have been hilarious if it hadn’t been so mortifying.
Radhika, observing my plight, gave a lighthearted giggle. She gracefully squatted down, picked up the lime slice with a tissue, and tossed it in a nearby dustbin. Gratitude welled up inside me, mixing it with lingering embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” my voice barely more than a whisper, “I was never good at ‘pick-up limes’!”
The joke, as clumsy as my martini situation, was met with a burst of laughter from her. That laughter was like a summer melody, warm and genuine. I did not intend that awkward joke, yet the ice was broken.
“So, what are you good at?” She asked with a grin as she gave me her hand to get up. “Hi, I am Radhika, and you are?”
“Sahil”, I said taking her hand to get up.
“Nice to meet you Sahil”, she said with a genuine smile, “Take a seat. We can’t have you falling in anymore accidents.”
This is a what if story
Or a hypothetical encounter. Back in those early days of the pandemic, there was this one girl who I just started talking to just before the lock downs happened, but we never met as the country shut down a few days after I had come back to Delhi. Later that year, she asked me what if we were to meet in a ‘normal’ way, how would that go, and in response to her query, I penned this narrative, a whimsical what if story encapsulating an ‘ideal’ meeting. It stayed somewhere lost in my notes. Today I revisited those words and couldn’t help rewriting and polishing it a bit so the what if story makes sense. This holds a small sense of joy and nostalgia as this imaginary narrative came to a full circle as a year ago today I had the privilege of marrying the girl who inspired this what if story.
Check out rest of my short stories here and follow me on Instagram for more travel photographs. I clicked this image in Maldives.
