The guards at the Metro terminal of the Delhi airport were bored, and did not pay much attention as the couple raced down the stairs towards them one minute to go before the last train pulled out. They were used to goodbyes, and this one was brisker than most, almost brusque. A quick almost-hug, and the woman grabbed her bag from the scanner and rushed into the lower levels of the terminal. The man waited till she was no longer visible, turned, and walked away with his bags in tow.
The taxi ride to the airport was quiet. A half hour of watching the lamp posts whizz by far too quickly. Dark skies, unearthly yellow surroundings. Vividh Bharati on the radio with its nostalgic, romantic music and chaste hindustani-speaking announcers.The couple sitting close together, his arm around hers, her head on his shoulder.
The weekend was much of the same. Two people stuck together Velcro-fast. Playing enough scrabble, eating enough mangoes, listening to enough music, making enough plans to tide them over for the next few months and then realizing that it would never be enough.
But it need not be enough. We will have more. We will play scrabble online,and chat, and read, and watch movies. And before we know it, Mian and I will be together again.