| Title : Date Night at Perch |
|Written By : Krayon (Alias), #1 | Date Dairy : Khan Market,Delhi |
| Delhi Date Diary : Story #1 |
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It was a warm Saturday evening, just after the sun had simmered down giving way to the bluish silver twilight. I had out on my best fitting shirt – it was light blue with dark blue polka dots and fit my shoulders really well, making me look broad at the top and a little more leaner than I actually am. Pairing it with khaki pants and my blue Stan Smiths- a pair I have fondly been wearing, almost everywhere since the last 3 years. I put on a strong musky fragrance – it was Pi by Givenchy. It had a very sensual feel to it so much so that it even burnt my skin a bit.
I informed at home that I was going out to meet some friends and I would be dining out – factually correct! except for the fact that I was actually heading out to meet a lady – someone who I had just interacted with on aisle (a dating app).
I stepped into my car and drove as fast as I could to reach her apartment. I fumbled with the map to figure out where she stayed, but at last I reached there. It was a busy place buzzing with people moving about – some returning from their evening walks and others just buying everyday groceries. The place had a very unwelcoming vibe to it, but what the hell! I was looking forward to a date.
My heart was racing, I had brushed my hair like ten times already, and finally I called her after having texted her a few minutes back. She sounded very feminine, had a certain playfulness and warmth in her voice. We made small chat as to where I was parked and how we would go about the evening.I decided on going by cab, as drinking and driving with a total stranger was too risky for our own good! She took a great deal of time in finally coming out; meanwhile she had called me once to let me in on a safe spot to park ( ( ‘that’s cute’, I thought). She called me to a side where our cab was waiting and finally I saw her for the first time. My heart skipped a beat and my prose started turning to poetry in those moments. ‘ Gosh! it was worth the wait ‘, I said to myself.
She was wearing a smart black skirt , the length of her knees (not too risque`, but engaging enough to keep me on toes and the glint in my eyes stayed alive.) .It had a red flowery pattern. She had paired this with a slit-sleeve black top and a set of black ,open-toe high heels. She had painted her lips to the brighter shade of cherry, sensually contrasted by the dark thick kohl in her eyes and wore her hair open for the sport of it. (they were extremely curly, I liked!). All in all, She was quite fair in appearance , looked gorgeous in any split second glimpse and was wearing a golden nose ring. (So feminine I thought!) We exchanged glances and smiled at each other, we even shook hands (I think so). Boy did she smell nice! The fragrance she wore reminded me of a rather eventful night at Thailand ,where my college friends and I blew out wads of money on Russian strippers.
I wanted to open the door for her in the cab, but she was quite straight and went in from the other side ( There goes to drain, the two day rehearsal on the niceties, LOL! 😛 . No No! I am kidding, … or am I? 😀 ) . We finally sat, sinked into back seat. It was a little cramped (thankfully) ,our legs almost touched each others’. We struggled with the directions to head out to the main highway, turned out she wasn’t well versed with the roads as she didn’t drive and relied mostly on public conveyance. Finally after leading our cabbie to the right route, we broke into our conversation.
Initially it was about me, I answered all her questions – education, work, I covered it all (Like a fresh graduate, LoL! ). Finally I did some probing, found out she’s an Air Force kid, an MBA herself, someone who had sacrificed her education and career for her family more than once. I instantly liked her! (I and liking girls was nothing new, there was a time I could like a girl just crossing the road, but I have aged a bit over the years. Liking women doesn’t come that easy, moreover I don’t see that many women in my life anyways, such are my stupid boy like troubles) In the midst of this, the cabbie threw in his business idea (Like Mr. great timing, pun intended !) and made some awkward one sided conversation. After trying to be polite, I had to cut him off and started again,climb ing back in my conversations with the pretty lady.
As we reached our destination, I asked the cabbie to stop around the corner at Khan Market. As I opened my wallet and asked the cabbie how much we owed him, she promptly threw in a crisp 500 Rs Bill at him, not giving me a chance to even share the fare. (A lady who insists on paying? – perhaps I have been reading too many memes on 9gag and Instagram).
We stepped out and walked a bit towards Perch. I had never been there (let alone with a lady) , so I propped out my phone and looked the place up on maps. It was barely 150 m away, I led her on and we finally entered the place. Typical staircase entry with yellow ambient lighting and Air conditioning on full blast!
Being the gentleman that I am thought to be, I let her in first. I followed her as she climbed up. (Great view I thought! And then instantly felt ashamed for having such stupid thoughts) I looked away (What?! … yeah happens to the best of us man!). The first floor had a few tables, families, women with sharp noses and white hair made up most of the crowd. I asked them if they had seating on the upper floor (Which place in Khan Market doesn’t?) and they did (big surprise). Climbed up again (didn’t even glance at the *ahem view). The second floor had boys and girls ogling each other, (and the boys ogling every other lady in the room, like routine stuff). We got a corner seat uncomfortably close to another couple on our side, but they minded their own business as I did mine.
The waiter brought in the menu cards, the wine and coffee line up is to die for (said someone on Zomato). Well ,I wanted wine , I asked her what she wanted and she tossed in a story on how she had come last time with some ‘friends’ and had ordered some wine ( So interesting…yawn,yawn). She was more of a red wine person (In this freaking summer?!) and so a bottle of imported red wine it was. We ordered some finger food to go with.
Our conversation was like water flowing in a spring. Pure, continuous and rich in content. We had hit it off just like that. Her sparkly eyes, her red lips, even skin tone, that nose ring and those dark curly hair enticed me just like everything too colorful and beautiful in nature does to attract prey. And boy I was enticed alright.
A few glasses and fun conversation later, our bottle ran dry. We called in for a pitcher of their Sangria (Let it rain). The couple on our side made way for another, a slim lady with a burly man with a thick stubble stepped in. They had little to talk and looked here and there. They eavesdropped on us shamelessly and even looked at us a couple of times ( I couldn’t care less, I was engrossed with my date). We made jokes on the couple right next to us, we even discussed our fantasies and fetishes. While all this was going on, I touched her nose ring and held her hand.
We sat on the table holding hands. (How romantic …. and socially inappropriate). Finally our bladders spoke too (together in sync like literally). We walked to the washroom, I held her hand. They were occupied (As usual), I slid my hand around her waist as we waited for it to get vacant (We found love in a hopeless place, remember Rihanna?). While latching the loo, I cut my finger at the latch, it was just too sharp. After peeing to my heart’s content, I washed my bloody hands and checked myself in the mirror (I looked a little pink but my hairline was still thin …. The alcohol was not working that well today… but I felt grossly content and confident).
I made my way back to the table and sucked in the remaining bit of sangria from my glass, pouring myself another before she came back (Women need longer…. They touch up their makeup, call friends, and get out their pepper spray?).
Finally she came back; we reached the bottom of that pitcher quite fast and called for the cheque. It was past midnight! And man was I buzzed!!
We fumbled our way down the 2 stories of stairs. Walked around the isolated market (What a buzz kill). I had my hand around her waist the whole time we walked (fumbled) around the market. Her waist felt soft and warm, it was one the nicest things I had held in a while. We had a warm congenial walk in the market (drunk men, drivers, shopkeepers, etc. staring at us) finally we hailed a cab.
The drive was quick; we discussed how fun the evening was (I think), and finally we got out near her house. She tactfully told me stay away from the main gate as the watchman had a roving eye (I was to find out why in the coming weeks). We bid each other a brief goodbye, no hugs, no kisses …. Just sparkly eyes (little bloodshot too) looking at each other. Man I wanted to kiss her so bad! How nice it would be kiss her and feel her lush red lips against mine! I wanted to swerve her to a side and plant a wet deep kiss to her (forgetting about the alcohol and garlic breath).
But it was not meant to be. I saw her off, she walked clumsily through the main gate and then on to her house (wherever it was).
I got in to my car and drove past the gate … leaving some dry leaves flying in a swirl.
With my hands cold, heart warm and head dizzy I reached home. I peeled out my shirt and pants, got in to my red polka dotted boxers and hit the bed. But sleep was not to come by so easy. I thought about how splendid the evening was and how we spent close to six freaking hours together! (I can’t usually stand people that long). Finally sleep hit me; I had vivid wine fueled dreams and an unfading smile, running with some mild dehydration through me.
Bloggers’ commentary : The memoir by Krayon (alias, as provide) is a class A narrative. The description of his date is poetic and his own self-bantering sparkles the humor like cherry on top of a cake. It may inspire many alike to wish for such classy dates in and around Delhi, and maybe pen it down for everybody’s vicarious experiences at-least.
How to write and submit : Send in your ready to publish draft – To : email@example.com , CC : firstname.lastname@example.org.
The write up should not be any more than 1500 words ( exceptions only in rare cases or if the quality and content demands it). Usually, a concise piece can be easily penned down within 1000-1200 words. There is a leeway of 300 words which shall only be used if needed. The only criteria of selection is that the piece should have reading value, devoid of any crass/too explicit narrative and needless to say, class A writing skills.
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