Haroon Bijli

"Chalo, chalo!" she yelled at the rickshaw. Just as the vehicle started moving, the girl jumped inside, pushing Rhea to the opposite edge. If you ever tried boarding a rickshaw in motion, even in super slo-mo, you'd know that it isn't what rational people do. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the girl blurted half a dozen apologies to Rhea and the nervous driver in between noisy gulps of air. Rhea was staring, clutching her handbag, and the driver seemed unsure, but continued driving.

"I'm… I'm Ashu's sister…" gasped the girl. "Okay!" Rhea said, in a mix of disdain and politeness, as if a disagreement would cause greater trouble.

"I just wanted to… (gasp) talk to you. Want to apologize for my father's behavior."

"Okay?" Can you be quick and leave me alone? By now Rhea was sticking very closely to the far end of the rickshaw. But the girl seemed to be getting her breath back, and looked much less threatening now. In fact, she looked fragile, shy, and had that delicate look about her – of those who'd lived almost totally indoors, giving very little opportunity for the air outside to blemish their skin. She even started looking apologetic and embarrassed.

"I didn't mean to chase you and jump in like that. It's just that… you know, I was afraid I'll never have the chance to see you again." she said. "Okay!" said Rhea, eyes still wide open, still clutching her handbag tightly, disdain still present in her expression.

"Driver, ruko. Stop. Let me get down here."

"No no no, sorry, wait. Gaadi chalao, chalao, drive on," interrupted Rhea. "Am sorry… just that it was so startling. I didn't quite expect this… am sorry. What is your name?"

Finally. This girl is actually decent. Just like Ashu had said. "Mariam." A hand came out of the folds of dupattah, confidently. Rhea shook it. The grip was surprisingly firm, yet very soft and delicate. You know, the kind of hand that isn't used to hard work, even around the kitchen.

"Do you want to stop somewhere for a coffee and then we can chat?" asked Rhea. A moving rickshaw in a busy Kurla lane, hot and dusty, doesn't give the right atmosphere for two young women to embark on a possible friendship.

"I don't know, I haven't been to a restaurant before, at least on my own. And we drink only tea," said Mariam, though she would very much like to taste coffee and most certainly would like to sit and chat in one of those coffee shops – Barista, Costa, CCD – that her brother always talked about. But years of conditioning meant she would need to be persuaded to accept any invitation. Rhea tried again. "Good, then. You can see a new place now."

Instructions were quickly passed forward, as the rickshaw trudged along the empty Bandra-Kurla Complex roads. Mumbai lasses have this ability to estimate travel times, not only in terms of an onward journey, but the return as well. She also had a feeling she might need to drop Mariam home. So that made 90 minutes of travel time. Should she go to Linking Road or stop at a CCD at BKC? Not sure, but she decided Barista at Linking Road anyway. Might as well be in a comfortable setting.

This decision would be important, she would later realize.

"Would you like to go the Linking Road Barista, Mariam?" "Sure!" said Mariam readily. "I've been to Linking Road several times, but always with Amma, Apa, Chachi and some men in the family. Mostly Bhaijaan. Ashu would never come!" Then she added quickly, "Only for shopping, haan."

Rhea was already beginning to like her. She seemed the chirpy sort. Innocence, and a desire to be thought well of. She even looked as if she wanted to impress Rhea. She'd already shown some spunk by jumping into a moving rickshaw, something even the most seasoned Mumbai commuter would hesitate to do. Rhea was beginning to enjoy this unexpected turn of events.