Isn’t it weird that fragrance of an old perfume, music of some absurd song, first rain of the season and even the date mentioned on a photograph brings back a plethora of memories of the past. I wonder how such a small thing can hold so strong a connection and engross in a way making one oblivious of the surroundings. Something similar happened to me when I heard the song ‘Pukarta chala hoon main’ on AIR FM Gold after almost 3 years and some memories cropped-up.
He was a stranger and owned a bakery near my institute where I intentionally sneaked in after the class everyday and at times in the break time too only to catch a glimpse of his. There was nothing extraordinary about him and I still can’t figure out what swayed me. Most of the times he was absent but whenever he was there, I tried staying long by loitering around and asking his aide awfully ineffectual questions about the products. All I longed for was a welcoming smile and a small chat but he always overlooked me. My crash course merely demanded two months and probably after this it was not possible to see him. I didn’t know when I were to visit Delhi again and if I did, there wasn’t any surety of this bake house being still here.
I kept the hope alive and did not stop visiting the store but I always flinched when it came to initiating the conversation. I wanted to tell how much I adore him but knew, to him it will not matter a tad. So the days passed and came the final day but he seemed equally adamant. All I desired that day was a nice goodbye. Knowing that he would be least bothered, I kept my expectation to the minimal.
I went to the shop with my fingers crossed and encountered his aide who always assisted me with the best-flavored cakes, delectable chocolates and other delicacies of the store. I searched ardently but couldn’t find him anywhere. Disappointed I made my way back when he entered the shop. I hastily turned around and told his aide about my departure in a loud-enough-to-be-heard voice. He wished me good luck but I was awaiting a word from someone else. He finally spoke but to my disappointment, to his assistant and left whistling some song without any acknowledgement. I left the city with an unanswered desire and a tear in my eye. That was when I saw the last of him.
Initially I found it hard to forget him but eventually his thoughts faded. Everything seemed just normal until I heard the song which turned out to be the same he whistled that day. I didn’t know it will take me three long years to find this out. I recalled it colossally for quite a long thinking that he was trying to deliver something through that but by the time I was back in town, I had forgotten the tune. Though it is too late and all water under the bridge now but it did succeed in retrieving the archived memories and restoring the feelings.
