In midst of a purple twilight, we started walking towards Triveni Ghat. The smell of chilly sauce mixed with that of roses and jasmines. That's what you experience walking down narrow lanes packed with fast food shops on the right and garland vendors on the left. But that evening, a cool wind from the river kept playing with her hair, brushing it in every direction. As we walked, the smell of her hair conditioner reminded me of my ex girlfriend.

I stopped at a roadside ice cream vendor. Dessert often helps sweeten the heart along with the tongue.
“Ice cream?”, I asked. She nodded without making eye contact.
"Butterscotch, vanilla, chocolate?" the seller muttered various options. “Caramel Balsamic Swirl?” she asked and seemed to regret it instantly. The poor man looked as if she’d asked him to explain the plot of Interstellar. I don’t blame him. I was also hearing that flavor for the first time.

Later, as we sat on the steps of the Ganges, water lapping at our feet, she seemed to relish every last trace of the vanilla cone she'd been having.
“Vanilla isn’t that bad right?” I asked, still not finished with mine.
She forced a smile and said, “I don’t mind. I anyway always seek things I can’t have.” I didn’t know what to say.

We sat in silence for a long time, watching darkness slowly taking over the soft twilight. Hills on the other side of the river blended into the black sky. Head lights of...