The last cup of coffee

'Will you hasten up a bit, baby? I need to go the office too.' I was getting late for my shift and my husband, he just won't understand!

'I'm really sorry! Give me two more minutes. I'll be ready.'

'Yeah yeah! Take, here's your coffee.'

I've been married to Rishabh for four years for now. It was a love marriage. Love. I loved him so very deeply that there wasn't a day when I didn't die to see him smile. His happiness was my fuel and his sorrow was my breakdown. Even after seven years of togetherness and four years of officially staying together, we were still the same – like the way we were on the very first day!

'That's the second best thing that happens to me every morning – the coffee. Your hands do magic in the cup!'

'Second best thing? What's the first thing?'

'YOU.'

I blushed. Even after so many years.

'Rishabh? I need to rush, honey!'

'Yeah, almost done.'

Finally. We locked the doors after another 10 minutes.

I wish I never walked out of the flat that day. I wish I never let Rishabh leave me that day. Had I known the future, I would have kept him close to my heart. So close that, today, I could have been hugging him whenever I missed him. But destiny's plans are inevitable.

Rishabh dropped me at the IT office, giving me so many flying kisses as he drove off. I saw him turn around the corner of the road. He vanished into the traffic.

I walked past the office floors to reach mine. Content. Was there anything for me to worry about? Practically nothing. I had everything I wanted. A well-paying job, a very adorable husband who was my college sweetheart as well, a very supporting family back in Delhi and everything seemed pleasant.

But that day, 12th March 1993, sent my world crashing down. Rishabh was there in the basement of the Mumbai Stock Exchange building. He had gone to the building as a part of his work. I knew it pretty well. I also was aware of the riots in Mumbai. But do you expect something tragic in your normal path? You don't.

'Hey, I'm just not feeling good today. I mean, I don't know,' I finally spoke to my colleague and also a great friend of mine. I was feeling an unnecessary restlessness throughout the day. The gut feeling that something wasn't right that day. There was definitely something fatal.

'What's wrong, dear?' she could clearly see the desperation on my face.

'I have been trying to call Rishabh since 2 PM but cannot get through. I know that he can't go a day without calling me during his lunch break. But he didn't call me today.'

'Stop acting like a kid. He is a busy person. Must have been busy or whatever. You don't have to worry so much, honey. Just relax.'

I sighed. I knew I can't relax. Not until I heard his voice.

Suddenly the phone on my rang.

'See, must be his call!' Gauri softly said and left me to talk to Rishabh.

But, to my huge disappointment, it wasn't Rishabh's call.

'Hello?'

'Is it Mrs. Riya? We're speaking from the city hospital.'

My heart almost forgot beating. The word 'hospital' sent out shivers through my spine.

I gulped and after regaining courage, I opened my mouth.

'Yes, I'm Riya.'

'We're extremely sorry to inform you of somebody's death in your family. The body is a bit unrecognizable and we could just find the damaged remains of the wallet from the person's pocket.'

'...'

NO!

'Was there anybody you know who was in the Mumbai Stock exchange building at around...2:00 PM today?'

'Yes, my husband,' I trailed off. Tears started rolling down my cheeks. My brain repeatedly denied whatever was happening.

'We're really sorry, ma'am. Your husband died in the bomb blast at the Mumbai Stock exchange building today. I hope you heard the news about it. Can you please come and recognize the body?'

The floor slid open for me. It was like the hell broke loose. WHY WAS I ALIVE?

I broke down crying. There was chaos everywhere in the office. It was 4:00 in the evening. There was a series of blasts in Mumbai. The first one starting at where Rishabh was – the Mumbai Stock Exchange building. The chaos died down and the world fell silent for me. Perplexed and paralyzed.

I couldn't move my legs and the world went spinning around. I was breathing heavily. I lost the only love of my life. I wanted to hear Rishabh's voice for the last time. See him smile for the last time. I wanted him. I wanted him beside me, alive.

I lost everything that very second.

Muddled. Scarred. Scared.

'Hey, you heard about the blasts, eh?' Gauri came rushing towards me. Little did she know the impact of the news on me. I stayed silent.

She sensed something grave.

'Rishabh died in the bomb blast in the MSE building,' I mumbled, deadpan. She gasped. That's all I could remember.

I lost consciousness that very moment when the words actually left my mouth.

Later that day, I went to the hospital to confirm his death, with the only hope of finding the wrong body. The only hope was imagining Rishabh calling me and telling me that he was safe. Neither of that happened.

It was him. The badly destroyed body. Blood dripping from everywhere. Burns, crippled hands and fingers. My man, Rishabh, lied there, in the mortuary. He lost two of his fingers in the blast. I wanted to soothe him. But he was gone. Forever.

The view of his body left me traumatized for years after. That was the horrendous torture that destiny chose to give me. The torture of having to see your only love lie like that. Dead.

I hated human species that day. Screamed, yelled, cried and cried. Broke down stuff. I was uncontrollable. Why wouldn't I be? I wanted RISHABH back! But, everyday, I just woke up to the empty house. Empty life. Nothing could soothe me now.

Why was it that my love was killed? Was he at fault? Did he pick up any fights? Was he in any misdeeds? Did he deserve to die such a death? So painful? Leaving behind his soulmate here. Many such people like me cried for their loved ones that day, and for the days to come!

A week later, I got my medical report. I was pregnant. The ray of hope. The hope that Rishabh finally came back to me. The depression was tremendous, though. But I now had a reason to live. The baby.

~~~ 10 years later~~~

'Rishabh? You're getting late, honey! Come, eat your breakfast!'

'Coming, Mom.'