Never Enough Time

The conveyor belt started yielding the luggages one after the other, even as the passengers departed off the aircraft. Anamika made her way through the geometry of people to find a place to collect her suitcase from. Anamika Acharya, glanced through all of the baggages and returned to checking the mails on her phone. White linen trousers, a royal blue denim shirt and her beige canvas shoes added to her charm. She had worn her hair in a loose clutch, and let the watch dial sit pretty as her locket on her thick gold chain. She consulted it out of the pocket, and smiled when she felt the bindi packet inside. It was eight forty five already. She was on time.

Far off, towards the other end of the city, Angira made her way through the morning traffic. In her red shirt and blue jeans, she looked nothing short of an early morning rockstar, capable of pulling traffic at her very sight. She would have to stop by the milk booth and buy the curd. She checked inside her bag again to make sure she carried the honey. It was nine. She was on time. 

In his office, Ankush, asked his secretary one more time if all the paintings sat straight on the walls. He touched his chin to ensure that the shave was proper. He was proud of his tailor-made suit. It was a dust blue. He burped quickly, reminding himself to be careful about mughlai cuisine from the next time. As he settled in his chair, he switched on the TV. It was fifteen minutes past the morning headlines. He was on time.

Ayaan Pervez kissed his wife after she straightened his tie. Each morning as he offered his prayers, he would not miss thanking the greatness of Allah by virtue of which he was living the life he had always dreamt of, one of great success and love. His phone beeped in the reminder about the meeting at Acharya Consultants' office. The swell of the Rolex dot pampered his ego. He was on time.

At nine forty five, the office witnessed the siblings meeting each other after three long years. Anamika stuck one little red bindi each inside Angira's bag, and in Ankush's wallet. She had earlier put one in her bag too. After this, Angira scooped out a plastic spoon from her bag and poured a bit of honey in the curd. She fed a little of this mix to her elder sister and brother and gobbled up the rest, with a willing smile. "Never can do without your curd, can you, Angoor?" Ankush pulled her to him. He kissed her on her head, and then pulled Anamika. "Come on Didi, you want it too!"  

Pervez could not behold the spectacle enough. He opened his briefcase and took out a pile of official-looking official papers, stamped and advocated. This case ensured the new flat that Fatima had so loved. The timing of the Acharya-dispute couldn't have been better. It legalised the property differences. By the end of the meeting, Pervez was a richer, sad man. The siblings left the room -- one towards the airport, the other for her house and Ankush for another meeting. Allah make sure they meet soon. Such lovely siblings!

Their thoughts, if one could show it to each of them, at that same moment, mirrored their childhood longing for the ancestral bungalow in Raipur in which they used to play hide and seek. It was gone now. Done. On time.