they meet n ........

"Hi, I'm Manas. I live just there," he said, pointing up the house above them. "I don't have many visiting boats here. There's really only room for one very small boat, like yours, so.... Anyway, I smelled your coffee and was looking at your paint job. That's an awesome name!" He wasn't quite sure what to say next and so fell silent. "Thanks," Tamanna said, smiling inwardly to herself. Yes indeed, she thought, this was Manas Mehta, the guitarist. She had known that he lived somewhere just outside of India but never dreamed of meeting him in Nicobar in quite this fashion.
Manas was boldly examining her as she spoke, and he liked what he saw. Even clad in an oversize sweatshirt and canvas cargo pants, she was still quite feminine and her blue grey eyes had a wonderfully deep and dreamy look about them like the stars in the sky. Tamanna felt his scrutiny and became a little self conscious. "So did you come to borrow some coffee?" she asked. He chuckled again, a rich sound that she thought suddenly made him seem older than she had at first guessed. She was trying to remember a recent article that the paper had run about him but all she could recall for sure was he had recently won some sort of award.
"Not really, but now that you mention it...I would sure love to have a cup." he smiled winningly, She smiled broadly at his boldness. His green eyes flashed with enjoyment of the little game he was concocting and she found herself trusting him despite all the usual warnings she knew so well about strangers. Besides, she reasoned, he wasn't really a stranger because she knew who he was, even if they'd never met. "Well Manas.., I'm Tamanna …, Tamanna Siddiqui ." She told him.

Once Manas was aboard and on a level with her, Tamanna realized he was quite a bit taller than she had first thought. He was very slim but beneath the fine features she could certainly detect ( girls always fancy their changes in analyzing guys .. they do it in just 1 go !! ) a strength and solidity. Manas extended his hand and they exchanged an almost formal handshake. Tamanna was again conscious of his strength through the firm grip he took of her hand. He held the grip a little longer than necessary and caught her eyes in his sparkling green ones. "So it's official, Tamanna," he solemnly pronounced, "Welcome to the neighbourhood of Nicobar ." He broke into a boyish grin and added, "Now how about that cup of coffee?" Tamanna went below to pour the coffee. Manas made no move to follow her but instead was examining the rigging and fittings of her boat . He was very impressed with the tidy little boat. "What do you take in yours?" she called from below. "Just cream," he replied. "Is that cinnamon ( a wild guess .. he just hates it .,) I smell, too?" "Yes it is. I like to put a little in my after dinner coffee. It really adds a nice flavor" Tamanna came back on deck, handing Manas a large steaming mug. "Oh, I hope you like cinnamon." "Love it." ( a LIE ..he just cant stand that ) he grinned . Manas followed Tamanna's lead and moved out onto the tiny foredeck of the sloop. There was a thick wool blanket spread out there which made it a comfortable spot to lounge while they talked. She put her mug in a safe but easy to reach spot by the mast and he did likewise. When she settled down, she was cross-legged Indian style. Manas sat beside her but stretched his legs out in front of him keeping his sneakers off the blanket. "So Mr. Manas , tell me about the neighbourhood of Nicobar ." she asked. "What's there to tell? I live up there. There's a couple of other houses along the way there but I've never met the neighbours." He shrugged. "I'm not really home very much and when I am I'm usually working. But the scenery here is beautiful and it's just good, you know?"