Book Fair

Delhi ki traffic-jaisi awkward silence ke beech Aarav ne apni coffee ka pehla sip liya aur socha, book fair tak ka ye “simple date” shayad simple rahe hi nahi. सामने वाली chair par Meera apne cup ki sleeve ko ungliyon se ghuma rahi thi, jaise usme koi hidden message likha ho. Café ka music halkasa low था, aur around them log apni-apni duniya me busy the, lekin un dono ke beech ek ajeeb sa pause latak raha tha—na uncomfortable enough ki uthkar chale jaayein, na comfortable enough ki bina soche bol dein.

“Tumhara cappuccino kaafi strong hai,” Aarav ne finally kaha, jaise weather report de raha ho.

Meera ne smile kiya. “Aur tumhara observation bhi kaafi strong hai. Product designer ho, right? Sab kuch measure karte ho kya?”

Aarav ne thoda sa hansa, thoda sa sharmaaya. “Bas cheezein predictable rakhne ki aadat hai.”

“Predictable?” Meera ne eyebrow raise kiya. “Delhi me?”

Uske tone me mazaak tha, par uske eyes me curiosity bhi thi. Aarav ne notice kiya ki woh har baat ko halka banane ki aadat rakhti hai, jaise kisi bhi answer ke neeche ek aur answer chhupa ho. Woh South Delhi wali polished si vibe ke saath aayi thi, but uski baaton me thodi unruly warmth thi—jaise koi well-edited article jisme ek line intentionally raw chhod di gayi ho.

Aarav ne apni cup ko table par rakhte hue kaha, “Mujhe lagta hai, coffee date ka point hi ye hota hai—simple, no pressure.”

“Hmm,” Meera ne slow nod kiya. “Simple bolne se cheezein simple ho jaati hain kya?”

Yeh bolkar woh chup ho gayi, jaise khud hi apne question se thodi hil gayi ho. Aarav ko laga usne ek layer touch kar li hai, lekin phir Meera ne immediately smile karke baat ko halka kar diya. “Anyway, tum weekend pe Delhi aate ho, Gurgaon se escape karne?”

“Escape?” Aarav ne coffee ka cup dekha. “Maybe. Ya phir bas yahan ki chaos ko observe karne.”

“Classic designer answer,” Meera boli. “Sab kuch dekhte ho, par bolte kuch nahi.”

Aarav ne uski taraf dekha. “Aur tum?”

“Main?” Meera ne shoulders shrug kiye. “Main bolti bahut hoon, par kaafi kuch avoid bhi karti hoon.”

Usne ye line itni casually boli ki Aarav ko samajh hi nahi aaya woh joke tha ya confession. Tabhi café ke bahar se ek pamphlet waale bande ki awaaz aayi—“Delhi Book Fair! Pragati Maidan! Today special entry!”—aur Meera ka face ek second ke liye bright ho gaya.

“Book fair?” usne bina soche bol diya.

Aarav ne uski taraf dekha. “Tumhe jaana hai?”

“Matlab… bas dekh sakte hain,” Meera ne instantly casual tone pakad li. “Coffee ke baad kya hi karenge, right? Thoda walk, thoda books, thoda Delhi ka unnecessary crowd.”

Aarav ko samajh aa gaya ki uska “thoda dekh lete hain” actually uski impulsive side ka codeword hai. Aur, honestly, uski apni carefully planned date me ye detour ka idea thoda alarming bhi tha aur thoda exciting bhi. Usne apne phone par time dekha, phir Meera ko. “Okay. But only for a while.”

Meera smiled. “Wahi toh. Simple.”

Dono café se nikle, aur Delhi ki shaam unhe ek alag hi mood me le gayi. Metro ke paas se hote hue, pamphlet aur posters ke beech, unki walk ek date se zyada ek accidental adventure lagne lagi. Aarav ne notice kiya ki Meera rickshaw waale ke rate sunke bhi negotiate nahi kar rahi thi—sirf uski baaton par haste ja rahi thi. Meera ne notice kiya ki Aarav road cross karte waqt bina soche uski side aa gaya, jaise naturally protect karna uski default setting ho.

Pragati Maidan pahunchte hi book fair ka scene alag level ka tha. Crowd, colors, loud announcements, paper ki smell, chai ke stall, kids running around, aur har taraf se books ka ek naya jungle. Aarav ka inner system turant activate ho gaya—“Right, left, main aisle, exit point, crowd density”—par Meera ne uska wrist lightly pakad kar kaha, “Relax. Hum airport me nahi hain.”

“Main relaxed hi hoon,” Aarav ne almost defensive tone me kaha.

“Bilkul,” Meera smiled. “Tumhare face par jo emergency planning chal rahi hai, usse pata chal raha hai.”

Woh pehle fiction section me ghuse. Meera ka haath ek quirky title par ruk gaya—something absurdly dramatic, something about lost letters and monsoon secrets. Aarav ne design books ki taraf dekha, clean covers, typography, layout—sab kuch uski controlled personality jaisa. Meera ne ek old edition uthayi, jiske pages thode yellow ho chuke the.

“Tumhe old books pasand hain?” Aarav ne poocha.

“Old books mein thoda history hoti hai,” Meera ne page palatte hue kaha. “Aur thoda attitude bhi. New books too polished lagti hain kabhi kabhi.”

Aarav muskuraya. “Tum bhi thodi polished lagti ho.”

Meera ne uski taraf dekha. “Aur tum thode boring.”

“Wah.”

“Par boring in a safe way,” woh turant add kar di. “Which is not always bad.”

Aarav ko ye line sunke andar kuch soft sa laga. Safe. Ye word uske liye usually compliment nahi hota tha, par Meera ne usko aise bola jaise safety ek bridge ho, cage nahi.

Thodi der baad unka route ek used-books stall ki taraf mud gaya, jahan ek aadmi loud voice me customers ko bula raha tha. “Aao aao, rare edition! First print! Aise books milti nahi, aise log bhi nahi!” Uske stall par board par likha tha: Kabir Singh – Old Delhi Used Books.

Kabir ka face sharp tha, moustache thodi dramatic, aur aankhon me woh kind of mischief jo turant samajh jaati hai ki saamne wale ke beech kya chal raha hai. Usne Aarav aur Meera ko ek second me scan kiya aur grin kar diya.

“Arre wah,” Kabir bola. “Date pe log kam aate hain, par book fair pe aa jaate hain. Smart choice. Coffee se better judge milta hai yahan.”

Meera ne laugh suppress karte hue kaha, “Aap humein date pe judge kar rahe ho?”