The Perfume – short story

By | 14/05/2022







The Perfume. Another short story happened at an advertising event, a Real life-based story. He blinked at the sun warming his body and tried to soak in the surrounding… the situation confused him.

He came by the red-eye Jet Airways flight yesterday to attend the ADASIA sessions at Darbar Hall, New Delhi. But as he felt a bit tired and had plans to attend the evening Gala dinner, he left early in the afternoon to catch up on his sleep.

In the evening, after taking a cool lethargic shower, he debated and then discarded the idea of wearing an Indian dress for the function. He went through the list of names he could connect tonight and decided it was time to move.

In the list, he saw her name with more memories and dried down emotions. He has not met Sunaiyna Choudhry for ages since she moved to somewhere in the Middle East. His fingers played around her name on the screen, and with a deliberate press, he closed the file.

Closing the screen was much easier than closing doors to the flood of memories. How can he ever forget Sunaiyna? He still remembered her. He picked up the AdAsia passport with boarding cards for the evening do’s and afternoon branded lunches. A cute but old Idea, he thought. 7 PM. It was early, and most delegates were expected to join tomorrow. But then he came early to Delhi for the F1 that finished yesterday. He called the driver and left for Taj, still thinking of Sunaiyna.

What will be her reaction when he sees him? The usual advertising party and ZEE sponsored ‘Dilli Haat’ themed dinner. He looked at the fake vinyl walls and compartmentalised modular sections, creating an illusion of gullies of Chandani chowk. He never understood Indian brand fetish with mystic India or pre-independence. Yet he liked the ambience. He saw those lanes as from Sadat Hasan Manto and Premchand stories. The Khoya Bhandar. Parantha shop, book shop, Gulabi milk and tea stall. Well done. 8

His gang was already at the ‘Absolute’ Bar. The bar had cocktails named Grass, Chang, Mahuha or Narangi to go with the ambience. Picking the first drink and not wanting to network outside their group, they found comfortable seating on small modhas.

With fresh cigarettes and stale conversation Dada was trying to impress others. Next to him, a very straight faces Dhiren sat more concerned about his vodka and the next borrowed cigarette than the discussion.

And there was he, giving his elbow the much-desired exercise with small swigs of Absolute Grass. He sat facing the walled vinyl separator with the Shiva Tea stall watching the delegate coming in.

Photo by Анна Хазова:

He knew what he was looking for but dared not to acknowledge it. It was his third drink when he smelled the arrival. It was that Jasmine based unbranded perfume, and the aural cues woke up old memories. A smell that you could never buy in regular shops. A perfume he could recognise anywhere.

He still had half vial she had left in his bachelor pad after one of their many fights, and she never came to claim it. A fight he thought would end with make-up in the morning, and it was not to be so. And then, from the glimpse of the bare shoulder, he could make out it was her. Before she turned toward him, he was getting up to meet her. There was Sunaiyna, his Sunaiyna. Back to reality, 12 years, and he had never heard from her.

Twelve years and he had moved on in life. Twelve years was a long time, and she probably would have moved on too. And despite developments in his life, he could not visualise her with anyone else. Sunaiyna! He never blamed himself for the fight that blew their relationship.

Whatever happened was not him alone. He won’t allow her victories, and the past should not be allowed to overpower the present. Determined to face it, he turned right into her face. Those mystic deep black big expressive eyes were too powerful for any resolution to survive. ‘Hi’, she was the first to extend her soft hands, and they were cold. He looked at her, saw her smile and said ‘hi’. 1

Soon they drifted away from the gang, and then he noticed there was no one else with her. ‘Alone’ he asked. ‘Never’, she replied, smiling. She opened her purse and showed him an old picture of his. ‘Never, I am never alone’. He looked far better in that picture. She was there, one of the most beautiful girls he ever knew. In moments of weakness, she accepted him as her soul partner till she found there were others around him.

After asking questions that he refused to answer, she had left that night, questioning her love and trust. It seemed she never aged. There was no sign of wrinkles and not a single grey or white hair. She was exactly like the Sunaiyna he knew.

No questions were asked, and no answers were expected. They were just happily comfortable with each other. Her Honda Civic was at the gate, and he did not remember her calling for it. She told the driver to take them to Nizamuddin.

Her place, he had visited it so often in the past. They were restless, holding each other. They had the house to themselves. He winked at her, and she smiled. ‘I am married, you know Sumi’, he said. ‘I know, she added, ‘forgot I emotionally married you much before’.

She smiled, but something was missing. The only peaceful part was entering her home. Confident, knowing there was no one else. Hungry for many years, they just bonded. Holding her in his arms, lips locked, they decided to remain on the ground floor.

Climbing stairs to the first floor was too much a waste of time. ‘Come, let’s purify this place”, she said, leading him to the side room, which had a bar. He took a deep breath, feeling her perfume. They were soon emotionally naked. Slowly seductively, she led him through the steps. They sealed lips with kisses; there was not much to talk about. Somewhere during that night, he slipped into a peaceful sleep. He blinked at the sun warming his body and tried to soak in the surrounding. And, He felt he hard mud under him.

He was in an under-construction building. The Green coloured house on the opposite side of the road still read B-14/5. It was Sunaiyna’s House, where he stood alone. He pulled out her visiting card from the wallet and saw the letters disappearing slowly. There was a strong hint of her perfume, and he felt her kissing him before she finally left him alone, never to meet again.

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