Ritu and Ashish
‘Micro-fiction is lazy. Lazy literature by lazy writers for a lazy audience. There is no build-up, no character development, no story arc. It’s like invoking ‘Et tu brute’ without the conspiracy, foreshadowing or the conflict of emotions.’ Ashish jibed at Ritu.
Ritu knows this is Ashish’s yet another attempt to get on her nerves, yet another oppurtunity to say just the thing that would irk Ritu.
Ritu checked her phone. 5.6k likes and counting. It’s been just 6 hours since her last ‘little tale’ was published by a Facebook page.
Ashish hates when she shields herself with her phone. The phone faintly luminating her oddly round face, a face with with large dark eyes, her hair half falling over one side of her face. Her fingers tapping incessantly over the phone screen too busy to arrest the unruly hair behind her ear. The ear with a small pearl earning. The pearls he got her when they moved in their one BHK flat.
‘Are you done with your coffee? I’m getting the bill.’ Ashish’s voice was becoming increasingly impatient.
Ritu nodded . They have already overstayed their welcome. ‘Leave them a good tip, please.’ Ritu said authoritively being well aware of Ashish’s habit of skipping tips. A small town habit, Ashish could not help change.
‘We can leave your phone here. The waiter will be happy, and so will be me. Win-win’
Ritu gave him a playful sideeye. Ashish’s prize has been won.
‘Or I could just leave you here.’ The joke clearly wasn’t appreciated.
Ritu is tired of Ashish being a baby. He’s failed to pass the driving test three times in a row now . She is certain by now that he fails in them intentionally because he hates driving and would would rather have her drive him around.
‘We need to get the fish right now and then head home, I can’t miss tonight’s game.’ Ashish suggested.
Ritu’s post just reached 6k likes, a new record. Congratulations poured in her inbox.
Ashish likes his fish fried, cooked in mustard sauce with tomatoes and coriander. And Ritu knows how to cook it just right: savoury with a hint of heat from the mustard and tanginess from the tomatoes.
But, she was in no mood to cook. It was already tough balancing a day job and her passion for writing . Cooking for an overgrown adolescent’s fancies didn’t really rank high in her priorities.
‘We are going home . If you have to eat you cook yourself or you order out.’ Ritu stormed out of the cafe and trotted quickly through the sidewalk.
‘Nope. I am not going home without it . Also, can’t miss the match, so can’t cook.’
Ritu let out a disapproving snort, knowing fully well her objections would meet deaf ears.
They paced by the sidewalk , hand in hand out of habit. Her eyes on the phone, his on the road searching for their parked car.
Ritu counted four proposals, six dick pics in her inbox and seventeen friend requests. Sometimes she wonders why is she even with Ashish. Her girlfriends keep telling her how she can do much better. May be she should give her a second chance. Go out and test the waters.
‘I need to get to the bank tomorrow. Drive me to it while you go for office.’ Ashish demanded nonchalantly.
‘Ki jalaton!’ She snapped, ‘You realise they are on opposite directions. I will be late for work again.’
‘Won’t be the first time you would be late. Your flirting skills shall be of use again to handle the boss. Won’t be the first time you’d do that either.’
Ritu felt a hot bout of blood rushing at the back of her head. Her girlfriends were right, he doesnt deserve anymore of her chances. Infact, she can’t fathom why she was trying to make it work in the first place .
‘That’s it. I can’t stay with you any..’
Ritu looked up to not find Ashish next to her. She looked towards the road. Ashish was in the middle of the road in his red tshirt and khaki short running. towards an approaching truck. He bent and picked something up and landed on the opposite side missing the truck by a fraction of a second.
Ritu’s heart skipped a beat. He crossed the road . He held a small pup in his hands , which would be hardly two days old.
‘I think we should keep this.’
Ritu knew this was a bad idea. The well being of the pup would inevitably fall upon her.
But she said nothing. Ashish pulled the pup close to it’s face and touch it’s nose with his.
Ritu wanted to revolt but couldn’t.
‘Pick up a feeding bottle while you are at the market. This one needs to be fed . I’ll wait in the car’ Ritu said and took it in her arms.
The pup is getting fed today . So is Ashish. Fried fish cooked in mustard sauce, with a hint of heat from the mustard and tanginess from the tomatoes.
