Brishti

Bristi.....A dream in a name, I don't recall where I first met her—perhaps outside the window during my early childhood, or maybe in a long-forgotten radio program. 'Brishti'!" I don't know how many songs I've spent searching for the reason behind the irresistible pull towards her, how many cigarettes I've smoked, stretching my hands through the narrow window grills, feeling the touch of tiny winter raindrops awakening my senses.

I could never resist her consistently serene demeanor. I could envision her enveloping me from a distance, sometimes on my way back from school, sometimes while playing football, and other times as I stood by the riverside. Perhaps the longing for a tender, gentle touch deterred me from seeking a safe haven. A soaked smile always traversed deep within as soon as she painted her essence upon me.

I awaited Brishti eagerly as I departed from home to attend college far away. However, there was no sign of her! I anticipated her arrival at any moment, but she departed with a somber expression. Later, I learned that it was my own loved ones who had respectfully pleaded with her to stay away, wishing for my safe journey ahead.

"At last, managed to secure Tatkal tickets. "Mama, I'm coming home!!!"

The Delhi Railway station was damp; the sound of heavy raindrops could be heard for miles, penetrating through my cellphone.

I inquired of my sister, "Is it raining there?"'Yes! but why? Can you see Brishti around?

'Jone, are you going crazy again? Who is Brishti? Will you ever tell me, dear?'"

"Sister, how do I explain? 'Bristi'—it's my cherished name, love wrapped in a dream, a dream embodied in a name."

***My friend has infused the flavor.