Updated On: 24 March, 2021 01:12 PM IST | Mumbai | Kartik Bhardwaj
We had been dating for two months when I asked her to move in with me. We both thought it was too soon; I share a 1.5 BHK in Santacruz with another couple. One morning, a pipe burst, and the mist lifted from our eyes
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Photo for representational purpose. Pic/ istock
Last January, much before newspapers printed stories of not being coronavirus carriers, I was sitting in my office in Lower Parel, waiting for a dove to drop a snappy headline. The Maharashtra government had decided to open Mumbai 24x7. I was suppressing the urge to put “city that never sleeps” as the slug. Finally, I wrote “Non-Stop Mumbai” and green-lit the page. I was in a hurry. I had a midnight date.
My partner was waiting for me below the building. We walked to a nearby mall and found an open café. There was a lone attendant smoking outside. He went in to make pesto sandwiches for us. My partner was trying to recollect the plot of ‘Death of a Salesman’. We were planning to catch a play if we chanced upon some common offs. She asked for extra napkins and salt. Months later, when the city went into a pandemic-induced hibernation, I still thought back to that night. The attendant who might have lost his job. The feeling of sharing a napkin. Her silver earrings.