Énouement

Delhi winters were hard. At least, for a girl from the coastal regions of India, who had never experienced cold winters. Anika missed the east and it’s salty air. But, this was her home now. Battling through the Delhi metro, changing it twice, she made her way to her best friend, Saanjh’s house bearing a big bottle of wine. This was the first time they were celebrating Diwali away from home and without their people. The air was thick as she got down and hailed a rickshaw. When she reached her destination, she was greeted with a smile and a loneliness which was mirrored in her eyes. Saanjh’s cute little flat was her second home. Almost every weekend, they would stay in and sleep off the ebbing energy they battled the entire week. Being a lawyer was tough. It left you with minute motivation to have a life after work. They managed though. They would order in food, binge watch different shows and be soothed by each other’s company. Saanjh was a little bit of home, Anika still had with her in that strange and yet unknown capital. 

The room had a single window which was attached to a cooler for the indifferent summer. They had stapled old newspapers on that window to keep the cold away and had hidden their attempt by hanging colorful duppatas from the curtain hanger. They had no patience, time or ardor to buy the curtains. There were fairy lights haphazardly pasted on one wall and a big comfortable mattress on the floor with a lone pillow. Saanjh would always give Anika the pillow to sleep on by saying that she didn’t need it. The entire room was their’s and they loved every inch of it. 

As Anika took out the wine bottle from her bag, she could feel Saanjh’s eyes darting nervously as if something was bothering her. Anika didn’t ask her anything because she knew they would talk about it later. It was late and both of them were famished. They made their way to the kitchen to cook some dinner with old hindi songs playing in the background. They didn’t really know how to cook. So, the meat they prepared was undercooked and the rice, overcooked. However, they relished every bit of it. At that time, they themselves believed the almost fake compliments they gave each other. After dinner, Saanjh decided that she wanted to make a rangoli. ‘Even if we are not home, we will not let it ruin one of the festivals that I love’, she said. It was 11 in the night and they quickly got dressed. The pretty salwar kameez they wore, which was a perfect fit for them when they home, hung loose on them. With kajal adorning their eyes, bangles clinking and colored lips, they started with the rangoli. It turned out to be quite decent. Even though, they clearly were no artists. 

Once done with the rangoli, they climbed a rickety staircase and went to the flat’s terrace. The wine bottle sat between them. There were no glasses. An open packet of namkeen from a famous local shop of Bhubaneswar which had travelled along with them to Delhi, lay in-front of them. They sat gazing at the polluted sky and the sudden lights which shone from the fire crackers. The crisp sound that the fireworks made was appeasing. As Saanjh took quick gulps from the wine bottle, Anika sighed and asked ‘Whats wrong?’. Saanjh didn’t answer at first. The pause was extensive. So long that she thought Saanjh won’t answer. Finally, she replied ‘I think I am leaving’. Anika looked away. She concentrated at the black abyss above. No words were passed between them for a protracted time. They sat quietly. Both having a zillion thoughts running in their heads. Both sad. After a while, Anika put her hand on Saanjh’s, looked at her with a slight mist and said ‘Its okay, I understand’. She put her head on Saanjh’s and repeated ‘I understand’. 

A month later, Saanjh left. For Anika, she left behind a lone pillow.