Romance
By: Amruta Mapuskar
Tags: Romance Story, Beginning, Cooking, Kitchen, Travel Writing

Romance

”Maybe romance is missing from the kitchen,” he said. Their eyes locked for a moment or two before they continued walking. She felt that she had found the missing piece for why she had been feeling uneasy in that house.

She had been feeling uneasy, even though she had finally found a house she liked after hours of online research. The lake-side house was surrounded by a huge garden with avocado trees and the lake itself by five beautiful, volcanic mountains. She was happy that her room was at a distance from the main house. The house was empty because of the monsoon, and she had only the owner and five pets for company. Best of all, the monastery she was to go to was 200 meters from the house. It was everything she could have asked for and yet, she had a profound feeling of something being absent.

She loved cooking, but she had to drag herself to the kitchen. Forget about her dreams of learning to cook local delicacies, she was not even cooking her comfort food. Why am I not excited to cook? she wondered.

Her whole face lit up when he said that. She knew what he meant by romance.

The idea of romance is not limited to who you love or the work you do – it is having your first cup of coffee or looking at birds or even sitting by the same tree every day. It’s being absolutely in love with whatever you do, in love with the simple pleasures of life. She was thinking to herself and realised he was spot on!

“Maybe I can let you know more if I see the kitchen,” he nudged. “Yeah, sure!,” she blushed. Needless to say, he wanted to spend time with her and how could she have said no to a chef, when she had a special space in her heart for men who cook.

***

It had been all of two weeks since they had known of each other. He used to arrive for practice just before it started. He never looked at anyone, never spoke to or greeted anyone; always with himself, as if he was on a mission.

What a strange person! she thought to herself, after observing him for a week. Mmmm! Maybe he’s going through something. She pushed her judgment away. You can never guess what someone is feeling or going through. Words and actions can easily deceive.

One morning, after a session at the monastery, she was walking downhill with a friend, talking about the difficulties in ascending and descending. They saw him passing by with 2 sticks in his hands and she told her friend that this seemed a very good idea. Without wasting a moment, the friend called out, “Excuse me, excuse me.” He stopped, unsure if someone had called him. As he turned, the friend asked him, “Where did you get those sticks? My friend needs one. Where did you get them from?”

He walked towards them. “Hi, I am A.”

“Hiie, I am S. Actually we have been watching you with those sticks. They look very comfortable to walk with.” The friend was unstoppable.

“Yeah, they are. I can get it for you,” he replied.

He turned to her and extended an arm. “Hi, this is A.”

This was so unexpected that she hardly had time to gather herself. “Hey,” she mumbled. “I am M.”

He gazed at her face and was struck by her dark brown eyes. She was also hooked by his wide-open, greyish-blue eyes. Oh, my! He can see me. Danger! She tore her eyes away and started talking to him, distractedly looking all around. After all, she too was on a mission – not to fall in love with people while travelling. And to fall in love is really not difficult for someone who wears love on her sleeve.

She covered her eyes with invisible blinkers to stop looking at him. He was six-feet-tall, had a sturdy but lean body, a long face, thin lips, and mahogany coloured beard and hair with a small braid behind the neck. All in a few stolen glances.

Stay away! she warned herself. Don’t look into his eyes again. Don’t! Don’t! Just run away from him. “There is a car behind you, come this side.” Her pale attempt to distract him failed. They moved to the side of the road and continued. She somehow finished the conversation and left.

Weeks later, on an evening after practice, she left the monastery in a hurry. Her friend wasn’t there and she was trying to avoid him. She grabbed her bag and started walking. While closing the gate she looked back to see if he was coming and breathed a sigh of relief.

He caught up with her halfway down the hill. She became alert to his presence. Without uttering a single word, he was trying to match her footsteps. When he finally synced with her rhythm, they looked at each other and laughed. A little further, she suddenly sped up. He matched her. “How has the speed increased?” he asked.

She raised her hand and pointed to the setting sun against the pinky-orangy backdrop. “Don’t we want to catch that?” They caught each other’s glance again. This time there was something new in the way they looked at each other. He smiled back and they ran to catch the setting sun by the lake.