Red Velvet

July, 2026.

A woman was sitting with her back towards the large glass window of the café. Her soft pink chiffon salwar suit glowed in the white light of the café. The montage of the moving cars and vehicles behind the window created a beautiful conglomeration of the city life at it’s very best. The urban life moves fast, like a scroll of paper moving fast at its own pace. Like a notebook with pages which can flip, the animated motion of the moving motors seemed to breathe life into the otherwise still scene. Staring at the Bohemian painting hung on the wall in front, she curled the small strand of hair falling on her slender face.

The interplay between light and shadow created a wonderful shadow on her face, the complexion of an almond getting transformed into a massive yellow ochre. She looked up at the clock hanging on the wall, impatiently fidgeting with the menu card. Glancing at the menu card finally, she decided to place her order. A warm plate of Arabiata pasta, along with a serving of one piece of red velvet pastry and a watermelon shake. Waiting for her order to arrive, she took out a blue diary from her purse. A blue gel pen was attached to it.

She began writing something on the white page. A bunch of memories flashed across her intrepid mind. After such a long time! How would the meeting even go? They had not met for decades. The ennui of her past still held tight onto her. It felt like a picture book coming to life. The distant memories of her childhood returned, like a flash of memories. Had she not left behind those old, black shadows of the past? It felt like dragging a heavy straw bag on the shoulder, like a heavy emotional baggage.

Approximately half an hour later, her order arrived. A long shadow was cast upon the entrance of the café. As the door opened, leaving an impression on the oak floor, as a figure entered the café. It was Anita. Shweta’s wait had finally come to an end. Waving her hand, she signalled to the newly arrived girl to locate her table. Taking her seat, she asked Shweta, ‘How are you? ’The inquisitive glance in her chestnut brown eyes didn’t go past Shweta’s glance. Truly, why had she even agreed to meet her?

Grabbing a steel fork from the stock of cutlery on the table, she proceeded to eat the Arabiata. Eating the piping hot pasta, she replied, ‘I’ve been good. What about you? Where are you nowadays?’ Passing on the menu placed on the corner of the table, she suggested her to place her order. Comprehending her gesture, Anita took it and glancing up and down the menu she replied, ‘You already know we work at the same company. I have been good. I just wanted to talk to you…’. The pause was quite silent. Despite the people chatting in the background, and the loud conversations between old friends, or a new couple on their second date, the silence ended up overpowering everything.

For fifteen minutes straight, none of them spoke. The pause was finally ceased with the entry of the waiter. Taking out a pen from his pocket, he asked Anita, ‘Ma’am, may I have your order please?’ Ordering a cup of Nutella cappuccino, Anita replied to her companion, ‘May I proceed if you don’t mind?’ Shweta looked back at her, her eyes teeming with a weird feeling – was it rage, or absolute sadness? Was she finally able to forgive her?

Shweta and Anita were old friends. They had been friends since preschool. Living in the same locality, they were inseparable growing up. They whiled away all the time in the world playing in the lush green park of the neighbourhood, which got replaced steadfast with café visits in their early adult days. Whenever they would meet up at a café’, be it Eighth Day, or Bunephile, they would order a slice of red velvet pastry each. However, during their college days, a drift was caused between the close friends because of a misunderstanding. One of their classmates, Prisha, had caused rift between them by spreading rumours about the other, owing to her jealousy.

Having gone separate ways in their second year of Bachelors, they had not met for a long time. But fate probably had other things in mind. They had become editors eleven years later, at the same newspaper house. One was the Chief Editor, the other a Subordinate Editor. Shweta had refused to talk to her old friend during the briefing when they met for the first time after centuries. Once the briefing got over, they both headed to grab a paper cup filled with coffee in the canteen.

The lack of communication was finally broken when a loud sound came from the kitchen. Some dish was being prepared, and one of the serving dishes had fallen to the ground. Shweta apologized to Anita for not believing her back then. The corner of her left eye exhibited a tiny tear drop, stuck somewhere yet about to fall out soon. This did not go beyond Anita’s observation. Glancing straight at her friend, she apologized too, asking for her forgiveness. When a beautiful bond etched in the ink of the heart, gets broken and repaired after centuries, something internal gets healed immediately.

Almost like the art of Kintsugi, the wide rift between Shweta and Anita had finally ceased to exist. Meeting after eleven long years, they went to time zone once they were done with their evening appetite. Bathing in the bright pinkish-purple light of dusk, the figure of the two friends walking across the half-crowded streets holding hands gradually disappeared into the horizon. What was left behind as residue was the dream of making many more memories in the distant future. Sometimes all it takes to mend a relationship is honesty, and communication. Just like a broken plate being held in place by molten gold, human relationships too can be glued via molten gold.

Note: Kintsugi refers to the art of joining broken plates in Japan , using none but molten gold as glue .

~Riddhima Sen~

Writer’s Introduction : Riddhima Sen is currently pursuing a Masters degree in comparative literature at Jadavpur University . She has self published twenty three solo books and has participated in thirty three anthologies so far .