I was an introvert in school. She was worldly. Even when she talked with you earnestly, it felt like her mind and eyes were somewhere else. She talked to me though, we texted and we might have talked on the phone too. But I always felt like I was on the clock, hoarding her attention when it could be elsewhere that’s more happening with people more interesting than me. When I was in college, my good friend saw how it affected me and he suggested I end all contact with her. He was right, and I did.

Much later, even though my job was in Bangalore, the company asked me to work from their Delhi office for a few months. Surprisingly, Delhi suited me really well. It was the winter months, and I would spend my time joyriding the metro, smoking in the fog, and getting drunk with my colleagues. It was during this time that I discovered Peter Cat Recording Company. It was a Facebook ad, and I was so drawn to the cover art of “Portrait of a Time” (the album). I started listening to a couple of songs. Eventually, it would become the soundtrack to the hazy post-drunk Uber rides back home during cold Delhi nights.

Meanwhile, I don’t remember how we got to texting again, but it turned out she was in Delhi too at the same time. Then one day she texted me about a Peter Cat concert. I had just started liking them at that point and was excited to hang out with her after all this time.

But on the day, she backed out for whatever reason. I ended up going with my flatmate at the time. They weren’t quite big as yet, and the venue was cozy with less than 40 people. By the end of the concert, I was sure I had found something special. Their music was going to be part of the rest of my life.

A few days later, we actually hung out. She and I, both of us were still below drinking age in Delhi. So I made a crafty cocktail in a juice box that I carried with me. Unsurprisingly, we were denied drinks at two different restaurants around CP. So, we decided we’ll just walk around. Maybe I got the cocktail right or maybe the Delhi air was great, we started having a great time. We talked, laughed, and sat on a park bench.

Over the years, I had come into my own. College had majorly shaped me; I wasn’t introverted, and I could speak sufficient Hindi. And maybe for the first time ever, I didn’t feel like I was demanding her time that night. I just was there in that place in Delhi with her. We just were.

I remember a moment when we crossed the road. Whenever I think back to it, I wonder if I should have held her hand. I didn’t. We probably ended up having some ice cream or something and went our separate ways. I was still buzzing, and I probably played some Peter Cat as I took the metro out of Rajiv Chowk.

She listened to their music too, but I don’t think it was an obsession like it was for me back then. Maybe if she’d come to the concert, their music would’ve annotated her time in Delhi like it did mine. Maybe.

I don’t remember if we hung out again in Delhi. We did a few times elsewhere later. I got over her, but I wonder if I still carry traces from the years of limerence and a list of moments we never shared.

I still love Peter Cat and listen to all their music. But I find myself trying to recreate the same high I felt during the first time, those days and nights in Delhi. I don’t think I’ve managed. “Portrait of a Time” (the album) has the feel of a faded memory. And when I hear the hi-hats on “Portrait of a Time” (the song), I’m vaguely reminded of the highs of the few cold months I spent in Delhi.