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wasn’t there, he had
once again missed his chance.

 
    Indian
boys are shy - he’d be the first to admit it. Despite this he was sure he’d
fallen in love with her. The thing he loved most was her stunning hair although her smile made him feel
all funny inside.
    When
she came into the office, she was like a breath of fresh air, walking around
chatting to the other staff members, always cheerful and happy, so carefree and
easy going. Kishore knew she didn’t even know he existed. She smiled politely
at him but she had never even said his name. Even so , just looking at her was enough to make him hold his breath, his heart beat faster
and his palms go sweaty. These were the classic signs of a person falling in
love.

 
    Kishore,
who had just turned twenty-three years old was of average height with cocoa
brown hair and eyes, his skin was caramel and smile broad. He was certainly
ready for a relationship and even though he had never had a girlfriend, he was
ready for marriage. He didn’t believe in going out with a girl, just to go out
with her. He knew when he finally met a girl he did like, in that way, it would
be with the intention of commitment for a lifetime. Since coming to New
Zealand, he had spent Friday and Saturday nights trying the nightclub, pub and
bar scene but it wasn’t for him. So he spent his weekends wandering around the
shopping malls alone, alone and bored but he had soon learnt this was not the
way to find a wife.

 
    Having
almost given up on bars he decided on a
Friday evening
to go out one last time. It was a last minute decision
but he hoped it would help take his mind off the red-head. Maybe luck would be
in his favour and he would meet someone, it could be he was wrong and he wasn’t
meant to be with her, possibly someone else would come into his life. Dressed
in jeans and a business shirt he entered the bar, Brandy’s. Sitting on a stool
he asked the bartender for a beer, Lion Red, the Kiwi man’s drink. He sipped it
slowly as he scanned the room trying to look like he had a purpose for being
there. It was quite busy - a noisy group of people were in one corner , laughing loudly, a halo of smoke hung above them.
The main door opened and Kishore glanced over, he couldn’t believe his bulging
eyes - he nearly dropped his drink, it was her, really her! He lowered his head to compose himself , the n cautiously peeked in
her direction. He watched as one of the guys from the group in the corner
approached her. Kishore observed as she went and sat with them, his heart sank
like a rock swiftly falling to the bottom of the ocean as he thought this guy
must be her boyfriend. But, he decided something didn’t look right , she didn’t mix with them she sat poker faced
staring straight ahead. He realised that man couldn’t be her boyfriend, he
could tell from her body language she wasn’t having a good time. Why couldn’t
he just get up and go over to her? Wouldn’t that make him worthy of being her
boyfriend, a gallant knight rescuing a damsel in distress? Unfortunately, his
legs were like lead unable to move from his spot at the bar, he sat and watched
her as discreetly as he could for about an hour until he she rushed past him
and out the door.

 
    During
Kishore’s childhood he had been surrounded by Indian women. Most of them were especially beautiful and graceful and as he grew
older he understood how hard they worked. His Mother worked all day, every day
doing her chores. Her main chore was cooking – Indian cooking is extremely time
consuming – every meal contains ginger, garlic and onions, each ingredient must
be peeled, chopped and fried, one by one. Kishore’s Mother performed this task
three times a day for each meal. Chopping, frying, adding spices, stirring,
then peeling and chopping again - this time it would be vegetables. She would
make the dough for the chapattis (or roti, round
flat bread) and then roll them out ready for cooking. Kishore watched his Mother a