Delhi Diary-Memory Lane

95 steps I climb till I reach your apartment. Three times I knock against the door. But the answer is only silence. I let my bag slip and lean against the frame. I swear but even worse I am hungry and the neighbors downstairs cook, the smell of cauliflower Aloo evaporates through the staircase. Half an hour later you finally arrive. „Excuse me, I say?“ What for?, you say and I get up to leave. You hold my arm. „Don’t you say and I shrug with my shoulders. Your apartment is still exactly the same. White, empty and beside of a futon mattress there is no place to sit. I tip with my foot against the long row of emptied wine- bottles and with a sound that is silver and clinking like in a domino game all the bottles fall down on their side. „I assume then, you don’t want a drink?“ „You are quite right“, say I and ask if there is by chance any food. You hand over a tiny silver bowl of peanuts. „Are you serious?“ „Do you see me laughing?“ I nod and hand back the peanuts to you. Let’s get something to eat somewhere, say I and you nod. I follow you down the 95 steps and you pull your motorbike over. „A helmet?“ Since when do you care about such things, you ask? You are right. I never cared much. Half an hour later I am not hungry anymore, we sit on the steps close by JNU, you drink beer and I some sweet AppleFizz. You remember, you say and I look behind my back. I nod. How will I ever forget that when we met for the first time, the ATM screwed your card? You laugh and it sounds earthy and warm and very much like you. „I will never forget how you tried to fumble out the card with your hairclip cursing the security guys watching this on CCTV. I laugh and remember all of this too well. „Well say I, I was young.“ „No, you say, you were just you.“ Do you want to come for a ride you ask?“ I nod and climb back on the motorbike again leaning against your back, listen to your voice I barely can hear and wish we could drive on for a long, long time. Your smell different from then, of a spice I can’t make a clue of, of beer and surprisingly of peppermint. When we are back at my place it is 3AM and I know I will regret this in a couple of hours when I have to get up, but now I lean for a moment longer than necessarily against your back, till you turn around. „Get rid of these bottles, I say and get off the motorbike.“ Still the old romantic, Read On“, you say and I wave you good-bye.

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