The Dinner Date: Ashima and Kabir's Story

Part 1: I Promise

The Promise, the goodbye, the inevitable, and the love between them. Their kind of love! This is their thread.

Meet Ashima Bhasin and Kabir Parashar in their journey of lost moments and spent love.

If Bhawna and Veer’s love story made you feel warm like a hot chai on a rainy day, Ashima and Kabir promise to take your breath away. Scroll down to untie the thread of their hearts.

Happy Reading!!

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24^th January 2026

Special Ward, City Hospital, New Delhi

I promise…

I still remember our last conversation. The last time she looked in my eyes, the last time she held my gaze, the last time she made me feel alive, and promised before succumbing to her sleep.

“I promise that you will be the only one to hold me and my heart in the next and every other lifetime. Please wait for me, and I will be there earlier than this time. I promise!”

Her words! The only words that resonated in my head and strung my heart with an unknown ecstasy in this grim moment. These are the only words that I want to remember. They are the last pieces of thread tying me to her forever and maybe beyond that.

As I sat here, on this cold hospital chair, the only sound I wanted to hear was her words to me, the promise that she made. Still sitting and waiting for a miracle to happen, like every day, for the past 12 days.

I have gotten accustomed to the hospital routine by now.

The plain white walls, the deliberate commotion of the peak hours, the silence of the night, accompanied by the constant whirring of machines, and that smell, the smell of the medicines and chemicals that stays with you longer than the time you spend inside the hospital premises.

I remember how once she complained about the hospital smell when we visited one of our colleagues after their delivery.

“Sterile air that scrubs your nose clean,” that’s what she had said.

“It smells as if this cold, clean, antiseptic, plus rubber-like stench is screaming that there are no lives here.”  

I had laughed then, at her detailed explanation.

This was then, two years ago. When things were different, simple, and happy. When we had no idea about the coming storm. When we didn’t know that this ‘chemical-like’ hospital stench was going to be normal for us. A part of our day, and the last thing that I would ever smell on her.

And this is now, our today, surrounded by the ‘no-lives’ smell and whirring machines. Nothing more, nothing less.

Here I am in a dark blue shirt and black pants, sitting in front of her as she lies in that hospital bed, attached to wires and beeping monitors, surrounded by white walls. There is nothing more that I can do to change her view or environment.

I know, in her dazed state, hanging by the threads of a mechanical life support system, on a hospital bed, she cannot see anything. But the thought that maybe she can still smell makes me anxiously responsible for the fragrance lingering in her room.

Every day, I remind myself to make sure that her room smells exactly like she likes. Bringing her jasmine and roses has become my religion, and applying that perfume has been my motto. The same perfume that she gifted me on my birthday last year.

“You look like someone who would smell of sea and home at the same time, so I got this for you.” 

She had explained her reasons to me in simple words. Words that I still remember. After all, words and memories stay with us, long after people are gone. And now, as I try to hold on to these memories and moments with her, everything is coming back to me.

Each passing moment, each cherished memory, every little detail. I want to keep them safe, fresh and loved, always.

I was never the love of her life, neither the first, nor the last. But I want to cherish her forever, as mine. I want to keep her and everything about her safe; our first meeting, our projects together, our dinner dates together, everything. I smiled at the memory of our first meeting. What a disaster it was! But then, with her, nothing has ever been average.

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5 years ago: The First Meeting

What comes to your mind when you think about government offices?

Ginormous gates, with landscape gardens, long roads, no tree cover, distant buildings, under renovation most of the time, cold, dark corridors with silent rooms and always busy government employees. No?

Exactly! That’s what I thought, until today. I had spent the last seven years of my life behind tinted glass windows of the tall, majestic buildings in Delhi, living the corporate life that most scholars dream about.

For as long as I can remember, my biggest ambition has always been to climb the corporate ladder with precision in one of these glass skyscrapers, settle abroad with a high-paying job, and a secure future.

But as I entered the regal establishment of the Niti Aayog office, my delusion broke with a clash. It was nothing close to my imagination. Living in Delhi for more than ten years, I have passed through this campus many times, but it never appealed to me like today. It was an architectural masterpiece with an expansive building, painted in a sophisticated shade of light brown. When you enter the gates first, more than just routine meets your eye. There is a certain ease about the atmosphere. People moving at a controlled pace, talking, discussing, enjoying the view, thinking about the next project, maybe. Beautiful, green campus with go-carts for easy commute. Jasmine, Bouganvillea, and Hibiscus trees added more beauty. I would have stood here and watched more had I not been running late. Not ‘on the clock’ late, but more like aesthetically late. It was 8:30 am, and I had a briefing at 9, in Vertical 3 of Yojana Bhawan. I had not had any breakfast, so I made my way to the nearby cafeteria for some quick coffee.

The café was huge, with an elaborate menu running smoothly on a display board right in the front as you enter. There were a couple of people sitting, enjoying breakfast, maybe taking an early chai break. Some were fuelling on coffee while a few were sulking over some report that needed to be finished soon.

“… yaar yeh report kab shuru hogi aur kaise khatam. For the first time, I am completely out of ideas.”

I heard a girl complain in a tired voice. She was sitting with some others at a table exactly near the counter. As I turned after giving my order, I could see the words Aspirational Districts: Primary Schools Profile typed on a computer opened in front of a girl whose back faced me. The cursor was blinking every second, waiting for more words to be put in. I outlined that it was the same girl who was complaining about the report a few seconds back. Her back was to me.

I averted my attention to the large coffee mug that arrived in my order. Trust me, I was not interested in indulging my mind in some office gossip, especially on my first day.

This was not my world. This was not what I wanted. I just needed an experience slab of two to three years working in the government sector, reading data and extracting outputs. I needed it for my resume, to strengthen my prospects of working abroad, reflecting the wide range of projects handled in my career.

“Excuse me, may I please know the way to Vertical 3 in the Yojana Bhawan?”

I asked the group of people sitting at that same table. It was 8:45, and I needed to hurry.

“Walk out, take a left, enter the premises on your right, exactly after 100 steps. Your destination is the first gate near the printing machine that never works.”

The same complaining girl replied in a heartbeat and looked up at me after she finished. “That’s your cue!” she dismissed as she realised I was still waiting.

I blinked once, then twice. A robotic thankyou came out of my mouth as I made my way out, recollecting myself from that weird encounter. I had no time to waste pondering over a lost girl, and frankly, I didn’t care.

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It took me 30 minutes more to reach the said venue, Vertical 3 in Yojana Bhawan, and in these 30 minutes, I was late, ‘on the clock’, 15 minutes late. Not fashionably late, or aesthetically late, just late for the first day of my new job, which was going to give me the perk I needed.

Way to go, Kabir!

I felt all the eyes on me as I entered. Faces, faces, everywhere, some gazing, amusing, accusing, visibly annoyed by my lack of sense of time. I apologised and took my designated place in the third row from the second left queue.

The meeting resumed, but I could still feel someone’s eyes on me, piercing my back. As I turned around, I found a pair of eyes belonging to the familiar face that gave me the wrong left and right in the cafeteria. I held her gaze for some time, burning holes, silently blaming her for my delay and straightened myself as she tore her gaze apart.

The meeting was not a very long one. A quick briefing specifying the details of our new projects, acknowledging the new joiners, and welcoming interns. We were told that the initial projects were simple and on-the-desk jobs.

We were to be partnered up, and our combinations would be picked out randomly by the department, with the names to be displayed on the notice board outside after lunch. We would also be pinged individually about the same.

…

It was lunch time now, and the meeting went on uneventfully except for my very memorable late entry. I settled on one of the tables in the dining hall, completely engrossed in my South Indian platter, when Miss Directionless approached me.

She held a note out to me that said:

It works. Unlike your sense of direction- Kabir.

I smiled inwardly as I read the note, resonating my sarcasm meant for her.

I met her accusing gaze, held with questions, as I looked up at her.

“Is this how you say ‘Thank you’ in the corporate sector, Mr Kabir Parashar?”

She probably read my name out of the tag that was given to all the members of the program for a better and easier introduction.

She was flaming with fury, and I don’t know why, but I was enjoying it.

I was sure that she had already seen the list of members and the potential partners in the upcoming projects that were sent to us digitally.

I stood up from my seat and offered a handshake to her.

“Nice to meet you, too, Miss Ashima Bhasin. And you’re welcome for rebooting the printer, which was otherwise in a completely workable condition. It just needed a restart.”

I pointed it out to her with my tongue in my cheek, clearly fueling the fire in her.

“They don’t really show any gratitude in the corporate world, but I am sure they definitely lack the knowledge of lefts and rights here.”

She was ready to jump me as soon as she heard this, but held herself together, knowing very well the surroundings and the setting.

And, as for me, I was loving this banter, like my favourite rom-com movie.

“We are not going to work together on any project.”

She stated, more like tried to establish it, and stormed away as furiously as she had entered.

I stood there, for I don’t know how long, smiling and relishing her musings more than required.

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That was the day one of our story. I had no idea that in the next six months, the course of my life was going to change, for better and for worse, forever.

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This one hurt to write.

This is part 1 of The Dinner Date: Ashima and Kabir’s Story.

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Kabir will be back soon to tell us how he fell in love with Ashima. Please follow for more!!