Between the erstwhile British architecture. Windswept with a forlorn feeling. Amidst the beauty of narrow lanes. Imitating a thing or two from the west. And calling out to her every time she craved for it. The Pantry in South Mumbai’s kalaghoda district was a place that had stolen her heart. This is where the mysterious solo table occupiers dwelled. Content with a laptop to accompany them and a strong cappuccino that just sat, steaming in impatience, waiting to be noticed and sipped on. She went there to be lonely with the lonesomes. They all had their reasons. But for her, for that one hour, she wouldn’t be reminded about being horizontally challenged. She wouldn’t be told that she would die alone. She wouldn’t look into the mirror and search for beauty. Instead, just for one hour, she searched for solace in the mint green interiors and old-world charm. And found it too. Today as she sat there with her laptop, she called for the carnival squash. But as it made a grand entry onto the table, so did a certain someone through the door. Their eyes met and locked. And through the sea of solo table occupiers he chose her to share it with. The carnival squash was insipid. It seemed great when she laid her eyes upon it. But in between flavourless bites of jowar, red beans and dahlia, somewhere she found a companion. Little did she know that she would relish this tasteless dish forever.