Celebrating after the celebrations

 Last night's chatter had died down. The excited sequels of his grandchildren, the booming laughter of his sons, the frivolous banter of his daughters and daughter-in-law, and the loud beating of his heart. It was now quiet and slow life had returned. Yet, his heart was still drumming in his chest, rejoicing after having met her after almost two decades. 

Celebration continued post the celebration of his seventy-fifth birthday. 

Sandra, the timeless beauty of St Cathederal School in Shimla, had suddenly paid a visit to his slow, arthritic life in Nashik. Not much had changed with the girl. Ouch!! Could he still call her a girl? Forever, his heart replied. The first flutter she caused in his chest like the gentle flapping of a bird eager for flight was always remembered. How could he forget the way his spectacles slipped down the sweaty bridge of his nose when she stood next to him in the assemble? The memory of her stern glance catching him watch her foolishly, bubbled yesterday when she entered the party.

The geeky guy could never muster the nerve to forge friendship with her. Greek Goddess would never kiss frogs living in pond scum. But he made himself useful to her during exams and detention periods. She didn't deserve to be bored by Raman's light effect and Boyle's gas laws. Premchand's poverty and Tukaram's tenacity should not bother her. She was meant to flip her ponytail in a way his raving hormones were pleased. 

The bounce of her skirt, playing peek-a-boo, with her slender long legs was all he craved. 

Sandra, in all their schooling years, never acknowledged of Venkatesh's existence. He deserved it, Venkatesh thought. Yesterday, like mist being lifted from an ethereal beauty, she had sashayed into his life. 

Tongue-tied, he watched her greet him and plant a kiss on his deflated cheeks. Colour flooded his anemic face and he excused himself on the pretext of popping his diabetes pill. What would Ramani, his wife, think? Looking decent and composed, he crawled out of his hiding. He spoke to her, telling her about everything that he secretly did for her except the fact how he drooled over her fair skin and pearly eyes. 

Fascinated, she heard him. The evening ended on a high note with Sandra promising Venkatesh to stay in touch.

Today's morning was certainly the celebration of that promise. 

'Your coffee is turning cold.' Ramani's quivering voice nudged him to step out of the cloud.

As a dutiful husband, he brought the hot coffee to his lips. The hot steam didn't pull away the silly smile plastered on his face. He must have slept like a grining donkey all night. Who cared? 

As the stimulant made awakened his senses, he realized he hadn't asked Sandra how she came to know about his special day. The smile was replaced by a worry line sharpening the corners of his mouth.

'I invited her.' Ramani continued sipping her tea without a look at her husband of thirty years.

The coffee now burned his palms.

'You?' Was all Venkatesh could mutter.

'Hmm...a gift from an aging wife to her longing husband.'

The quiet air suddenly felt suffocating. How did Ramani bore the knowledge of his childhood crush? Gosh!! Now the colourful blanket of his life would start fading. The carefully folded truth was dancing amok. The dogs were let out.

'Don't worry, it was only for the birthday she came on much request. Privileges look good only when they arrive and leave as guests.'

Ramani picked their empty cups and headed to the kitchen. From inside she asked, 'Sambhar or rasam?'

Ordinariness returned to his life. The jitters gone. Too much of thumping was not good for a seventy-five year heart. But once in a while he was going to celebrate his wife who had invited his first crush on his special day.

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