Caramel custard (a short story)

‘You would get a retirement than getting a judgement in our system.’ swinging his long, black coat, that was covering his quite plump physique and continuing his stiff walk, my lawyer A J Nabar went on motioning towards the crowded street food stalls continuing  ‘You eat and come while I go for the discussion’

And there I was standing outside the High Court, all alone. Crossing the heavy traffic, and the busy roads I looked up to see an old yellowish building, half of its paint ripped apart.
I found myself a seat. One right under it’s creaky, old and slow fan.

‘Order madam?’ The waiter popped out of nowhere.

‘Five minutes.’ Half pleadingly, half wondering if these fans are even made anymore i motioned him to go.

‘I used to bring my daughter here and she loved everything! You have no appreciation of good food at all! Kids these days!’ My grandfather yelled at me, his voice box searing high.

Mildly embarrased, heavily angered I turned my chair away from my grandpa to my dad . They were here for their case. Dad and grandpa against each other for some property, but I was concerned with things that were more important back then.

‘You promised that you would buy me food from that international food outlet. ‘ I pointed out his unkempt promise.

I was a small town kid, we didn’t have such outlets at our place, the city was the dream back then, that’s where you get everything. It was more important for me to brag that I’ve been there, than just eating good food.

A five feet me sitting at one end of the table while a slightly taller grandpa at the other end, while my tall, neutral father in seated in the middle, ironically stuck between us and a  table having all its space taken up by good food, was looking at us yearningly.

‘Arent you going to eat this or not?!’my grandpa ordered.

‘No way. I wont.’ I angrily yelled back.

‘Fine then don’t eat. This caramel custard here, is their signature, they’ve been making it since your father was a child. Atleast try a bite of that.’ He brought a spoon of that towards my mouth.

Putting it half heartedly inside my mouth, my ego acted out, thus I was gagging.

‘Ew.’ I kept gagging.

Now, my completely angry grandfather turned into a tomato, and asked my dad to take me away, my stomach was grumbling, but I ended up eating at that outlet much later that day, just like my stubborn self hoped I have and bought back half for my little brother. He hugged me happily.

‘Madam, order?’ The waiter popped back again, this time a little less patiently.

‘Caramel custard.’ A tiny smile lurked around my mouth.

‘That’s all?’

‘That would do.’ I smiled again.

I waited for a while, wondering how I have ended up here against my own brother for the same property dispute.

My caramel custard arrived, on a stainless steel plate and with a soup spoon over it. Wiping off my dusty, soup spoon with a tissue paper, I took a small piece, with some syrup and had a bite.

I felt  weird sensation over my cheeks, and my eyes tingling and that is how I started crying in the middle of a canteen, surrounded by lawyers and staffs throwing their concerned looks at me.

‘Is there anything wrong?’a lady voiced out their looks.

‘This tastes so good! ‘ I exclaimed, bursting out in tears hugging her. Looking puzzled they all turned back.

My phone buzzed.
‘You can go home. Drop by next month, for the next hearing.’ The text read.

‘Can I get one packed?’ I asked the cashier and this time he flashed a huge smile at me, nodding his head fast, giving me a tiny cardboard box to be carried in a polyethylene bag.

Searching him, eyes wandering and mind wavering, I finally found him, my little brother on the middle of the road, alone like I did, a while back.

I ran to him, this time forgetting to cross the busy roads, like I couldn’t see, for once again my vision was blurred by tears and then, I hugged him tightly.

‘Here, I got this for you.’
And that is when I spoke to him after five years of silence. We didn’t get our judgement yet, but that is when we got us ourselves back.

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