Grand illusions

My emptiness, however, vanished when she arrived, looking splendid against the setting sun. With an awkwardness that is all too familiar, we matched steps and began to admire the historical monument.

Her uninitiated history lesson began and she patiently heard me out. I was so engrossed in my stories that I failed to notice her irritation. Stumbling over a stone, I woke up from my reverie and her sigh of relief could be heard even over the din of the nearby Nizamuddin railway station.

To my utter surprise, she agreed to yet another date. She was quick to suggest a place of her choice. The meeting was all too pleasant for me but the moment I saw her diminishing smile, I realised that the compulsive history bore in me had surfaced yet again, and I was warned of the disastrous end this relationship would inevitably come to. I gathered then that she would not be Haji Begum for me, to build even a tiny replica of Humayun8217;s tomb in my memory. I would have to look for my Mumtaz Mahal elsewhere.