Neeti:
The Sanwer
road looks so different today. Plain, barren and cold. In the monsoon it was
green, glistening and full of life. We had come here to have the famous
Sanwer bhutta. Even though I have been living in Indore for almost
seven years, I had never gone to Sanwer before. Raj and I were standing by one
of the makeshift stalls, overseeing the vendor as he roasted the local variety
of corn on the cob for us. The vendor looked up at the overcast sky as he
fanned the embers in the small black sigdi on his wooden cart.
The fragrance of the corn was mixed with that of the soil. The indication of
the approaching rain did not deter us from waiting for the bhuttas to
be roasted to perfection. Soon it started to pour and Raj rushed back to the
driver seat with one bhutta in each hand.
"Bhabhi,
come quickly!" He urged me to follow suit.
As I approached
the car with the rest of the wares, Ronit slipped to the middle of the
back-seat to give me room. I was wet, it was windy, but I felt warm. We were
five full-grown adults in a small hatchback but I could feel only Ronit's
presence. His legs brushing against mine, the fragrance of his cologne
overpowering my senses. He laughed at Raj's jokes and fussed over how Amma was
eating her bhutta. My presence went unnoticed.
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