There is rain outside, and little droplets inside.
There is one chair in our modest little balcony.
I am sitting in it, a lovely Bangla song playing from the speakers in the background.
You don’t understand the lyrics too much, but you know I like the humm of it during rains and you are not really an enthusiastic cook, but you made pyaaz k pakode and chai, and walk into the room slowly.
All your concentration on the chai, so you don’t drop it.
Your lips pressed together, your eyes happy with your handiwork.
You put down the dishes on the table next to me, and bring a pakoda to my mouth.
I bite it down and pull you closer.
Hold you close to my body and I stare at the universe in your eyes.
You blush and pull me up and plop down on the chair yourself- like its your turn now.
You drag me with you and I melt into your arms.
I blush slowly and giggle as the chair creeks.
This chair has been enduring this foolery every time it rains.
We both pick up our cups of chai, and enjoy the newly washed earth.
Sitting in that one chair, and petrichor surrounds us.
Sitting in one chair, today- 10 years since we first did. I have lesser hair now, but hey- you still like me. And you have grayer hair now, but I still love playing with them. It all started back when we were still in 3rd year. And it rained, and that time we sat on one chair because there was only one chair available.
We have grown together, haven’t we?