After midnight

The salesman who, with every drop of his salesmanship, was trying to sell me something from the store.

The moment I entered, his eyes followed me. He approached and asked, “Ma’am, what are you looking for?”

I wasn’t looking for anything.

I didn’t want to spend money that day.

No.

But me being me, I said,“Umm… maybe skincare?”

His eyes glistened. He started showing me different kinds of toners, face mists, and serums. I was impressed by the products, not gonna lie.

But remember, I was very sure I wouldn’t spend a single coin that day, and I didn’t need to.

I have been home after years.

I missed home. I missed one particular lake out of the seventeen lakes in the town.

It is called Bada Talab. The big lake.

So simple.

I missed the black iron gates of my house.

The pink bougainvillea.

The unkempt lawn.

The climber on the pink wall that no longer exists.

It had to be cut down because a snake once climbed it.

The black railings.

The lamps in my house.

Picture Credit: Zahra Matin

I missed my kitchen balcony that overlooked an empty plot.

It is now a garbage dump, because the residents of the building beside it are purely uncivilised.

I have missed the jasmine tree.

It is called 'Raat ki Rani', meaning Queen of the Night.

It only blooms at night and fills the house with the most gorgeous, gorgeous fragrance.

This time, while visiting, I went to the area where I used to play as a child with my siblings and my cousins.

In my memory, I climbed huge staircases and played cricket in a vast courtyard. Unfortunately, I am too grown now.

I have outgrown the vastness of my childhood.

The stairs appeared small.

The huge mango tree seemed quite normal.

The number of steps reduced from five hundred to maybe fifty.

Nothing changed and I grew up.

So the salesman picked up a bottle of perfume and

sprayed it on one of those white strips.

And here you go-

It is after midnight.

I am sleeping in the back of the car, wearing a green kurta and a pink lehenga,

returning from a wedding of relatives I don’t even know.

My dad is driving.

I enter my house, still sleeping.

But I know I am home.

Because Raat ki Rani is blooming.

I can smell hundreds of flowers while asleep.

“This perfume is Jasmine. Concentrated.

It is intense and long-last....,” he said.

“I’ll take it,” I said.

For a moment, he couldn’t say anything.

I didn’t even use any of my skills, he must have thought.

I paid the bill.

I could hear the announcement, my flight was boarding.

And I left the store.

With that bottle of concentrated jasmine, I left my town too.

You do not outgrow everything.

You cannot.

I guess that's good.