Eyes to My Soul - Part V

Think...think...think hard you fool, I told myself as she kept staring at me questioningly. I was standing at the door of a swanky restaurant, fixed under the skeptic looks of a gorgeous girl and the incessant curious glances of the manager and his staff. I still hadn't made up my mind on what to say, and was starting to sweat when the manager came up from behind and
smilingly asked us to sit down and 'make ourselves comfortable', the last part being directed at me (I'm sure he was thoroughly enjoying this spectacle). She led me to a table in the nearest corner of the room and we settled down. I mumbled an incoherent greeting, something that should've sounded like a 'hi' but didn't, and managed a wry smile. She instantly broke into an amused giggle. So she had noticed my discomfort too. Here I was, feeling dehydrated in her presence, and she just sat there laughing at my plight. So very characteristic of her.

But I could take it no more. Frowning, I demanded to know what was so funny. But she just reached across the table, placed her hand over mine, and asked how I had been. And smiled. Just like that. No questions about my prolonged absence, no visible anger, no complaints. I was taken aback for a moment. This wasn't part of the plan. She was supposed to be surprised on seeing me, and bombard me with a thousand questions and rebukes over my sudden disappearance. I had had this conversation over and over in my head a thousand times before coming to see her. She wasn't meant to smile like that. Like she knew everything. But it was just like her to make all my plans go for a complete toss. I was at a loss of words again. She asked me, "How've you been? Life's been treating you pretty well, it seems" while surveying my appearance from head to toe. A hint of amusement was evident on her face. And I involuntarily blushed. And it suddenly felt like old times - the free flow of conversation, the way she could read my mind and the way she always knew how to make me uncomfortable even in my designer shoes - I could see everything falling back into place. And I resigned myself to the moment.

I told her I had been good and that life had been fair to me so far. I told her about my time abroad (only the good parts) and further plans for my career. It was surprising how I'd come with a plan to play all mysterious and hard to get this time round - to reveal less, to mystify her with my stories and to leave her impressed and wanting to rekindle what we'd had earlier. I'd made a lot of effort in these two years to change myself completely and to be the kind of guy I knew she would love. A dash of mystery and style was all I needed to grab her attention now. But look where I finally find myself - telling her all I'd done over the past two years, about my family, friends I'd made and places I'd been to. More surprisingly, she kept prodding me to tell her more and more while she herself revealed very little. All I could get out of her was that she'd been globetrotting quite frequently and writing quite a lot, and was currently in talks with a publisher about a book she had been writing for over a year now. She never once asked me what had happened years ago, when I'd abruptly and completely disappeared from her life. I actually felt stupid reminiscing about it now. I'd blocked her on all social networks, deleted her number and decided never to contact her ever again. Why? Because she'd liked another guy. Because she hadn't instinctively understood my feelings for her and had let her heart be ruled by another. How noble of me, wasn't it? Realization hurts. I was mentally rebuking myself now. And to add to the guilt, she didn't appear to be angry with me at all.

She went over to her friends and excused herself for the afternoon. We ordered food and some wine. I'd quietly kept the lily on the table and slipped on the little gift-wrapped watch into my pocket. I wanted to leave them as a surprise for the end, since she'd spoiled more than half of it already. She let the flower be where it was, pretending she hadn't noticed instead of asking if it was for her, like she would have earlier. Something in her demeanor told me she knew more than she showed. Did she know why I had come, or what I had in mind? Was she giving me time to work towards it, to surprise her? Was she being supportive??

Or was she avoiding it altogether? Was she trying to dissuade me from doing what I was planning to do? Conflicting thoughts kept muddling my head while she ate and I watched her from the corner of my eye. The silence between us felt odd and strangely familiar. Like the last time we'd met. But no, oh no, I didn't want to think about it at that moment. I was here with an agenda, and I had to go forth with it without fail. This was my only chance. So, summoning some courage, I started talking again. Random topic, which I slowly and as casually as I could, steered towards the past. And then I asked her THE question - what had happened with that guy she'd liked? I was regretting it the moment I opened my mouth. But I needed to know. She did not seem to be offended or uncomfortable about the subject, I noted with relief. She looked up from her food and simply said it didn't work out. And she gave a smile which I knew wasn't really what it was meant to look like. She seemed distant today. She wasn't her chirpy, talkative self. She wasn't cracking any jokes or really laughing at anything I said. She just had a plain smile pasted onto her lips. Every move, every word, every expression of her face seemed too subtle for herself. It was like she thought a lot before acting or talking now. And yet, I knew her enough to know she couldn't fake anything, least of all calculate her moves. It seemed as though this was part of her now. Like she had grown up a lot in these few years. I realized with some pain that it wasn't only one of us who had changed. We both had. I sure knew why I had. But what had happened with her as to subdue her so much? Probably the break-up had been bad. But then it was never like her to be so badly affected by anything. What could possibly have transpired in my absence? Whatever it was, I didn't have the courage to ask.

We had finished our meal by then. She called for the cheque while I racked my brains, wondering when and how to breach the subject. The cheque arrived and I grabbed it before she could lay her hands upon it. She insisted a little too much to pay, but how could I have let her? With that we got up and moved out. I picked up the lily behind her and followed her into the foyer, where she smiled at the manager as he thanked her while giving me a funny look. Once outside I looked about, searching for her car. As if on cue, she explained that she had arrived with the others in a friend's car. Thanking my stars, I gestured for her to come with me. She hesitated, but slowly obliged. My confidence had started to soar again and I wanted to go for the kill before the courage waned. She was behaving particularly tamed presently, but I was too chuffed to give much thought to it. We navigated through the crowded, perpetually under-construction roads and corridors of CP to finally reach the parking lot where my Cruze was parked. She looked somewhat admiringly at the car, though said nothing. I asked her to step inside while opening the door for her. She rolled her eyes at me, clearly surprised at my supposedly new-found chivalry. Once inside, she asked me to drop her off at the nearest metro station entrance so she could go home. I offered to drive her home. But she did not budge. I could feel the courage trickling out of me.

I sat there in the driver seat, looking straight ahead, for a moment oblivious to my surroundings, even to her. I wanted to give her the lily and the present. I wanted to ask her out on a date, yes, that's what I had come down to accomplish today. I was confident she won't be able to turn me down this time. It had seemed completely out of the question earlier. Now I knew not how to even make her stay for two more minutes. My mind was racing but nothing seemed to be coming to it. She suddenly gave me a little nudge and asked what I was waiting for. Sigh. I started to slowly drive out of the lot, deliberately turning my face towards the window, pretending to back the car carefully, so that she couldn't see the anxiety and unrest writ large on my face. Before I realized, we were standing right in front of the Metro entrance. She gathered her stuff, thanked me for the meal and the surprise turn-up and in a swift movement, stepped out without so much as a second glance at me.

So this was it. All those months of maniacal perseverance, all my faith, all the hopes I'd pinned on this one meeting - dashed. Crushed to pulp under her high heels. I could not assimilate what had just happened. We met, I surprised her with my sudden reappearance, we had a great meal, we chatted nearly like old times, and I drove her here - and then she just got up and left. Something was grossly wrong here. I did get a chance to tell her why I had come back. I couldn't manage to voice my true feelings to her - I just failed at it, again. I felt a familiar stab of pain tearing through my heart. When I'd wished we could go back into time to those old days, I hadn't fathomed every single thing would be the same. I'd hoped, rather known, that this time would be different. But it just wasn't anymore. She'd left - yet again.

I thought I'd been sitting there alone for an eternity when there was a gentle tap on my window. I rolled it down and sat looking at her in confusion - was it indeed her or was I imagining again, like I did ever so often? She smiled. Playfully. I gaped at her with an open mouth. She said she'd left something behind. I looked about the car in confusion, but found nothing belonging to her. I glanced back at her with a blank expression to see her grinning. She pointed at the lily lying on the back seat and asked if I was keeping it for another girl I was going to meet afterwards. I picked up the lily and looking at it, suddenly seemed to wake up from a dream. She took it gleefully from me and then began making expressive, overt gestures towards my trousers. I didn't seem to get it at first. She certainly wasn't a nympho to be suggesting what I was thinking. She rolled her eyes. I felt around and then found what she meant - the present! The watch I'd brought for her!! And to think I'd forgotten about it in my gloom. She grinned and said, "How could you possibly think I wouldn't notice? Nothing ever escapes my eye!" and winked. She literally winked at me. And then, just as suddenly as she had appeared, she skipped away to the station entrance again. But just before entering, as I looked on in amazement, she turned back and gave me the most glorious smile I'd seen in an eternity. The sun seemed to shine brighter as she smiled. And then she was gone.

So this wasn't the end after all. I knew in my heart now that it wasn't. It was but a start. A start to something I couldn't, till a while ago, have fathomed would happen. But I knew that smile only too well - it was gonna happen now. And I just sat there smiling to myself...like I hadn't in years.

For the rest of the series, visit here.

Eyes to My Soul - Part IV

For the rest of the series, visit here.

The flight entered IGI airport even as the sun was contemplating whether to rise out of its deep slumber or hit the snooze button for a few more minutes. Just as the front wheel hit the tarmac and people started shuffling and arranging their stuff, a profusion of thoughts clouded my mind. What lay in store for me in the coming days I could not in the least fathom. I couldn't say I hadn't thought about it all this time. I had made a decision two years ago and I'd stuck with it so far. But the hardest part was soon to come and I was not sure anymore of whether I'd made the right choice after all or not. It didn't make any difference anyway - here I was, back in India after two years, to pursue the end I'd left behind before I left.


I had been away in Massachusetts these past two years pursuing my Masters in Business Administration from Harvard University. How I got there and after how long an ordeal makes for an altogether different story, which I shall reserve for another time. It should just suffice to say I had a really hard time staying on in the city where I'd seen my dreams shatter, and I'd grabbed the first chance of going abroad that had come my way. I had a dream and I had to work towards it at all costs, and part of it had been achieved when I graduated from Harvard. Now, returning to the country with a great career, relatively fairer skin and a painstakingly picked up accent, all that was left to do was to find her.

I had long severed contact with everyone who could possibly have the slightest idea about her whereabouts or her life, as also with those who could pass on my whereabouts to her - which essentially meant almost everyone I knew in the city. I wanted to be out of everyone's (read: her) sight for long enough to be all but forgotten, so that when I returned, it would have the impact I desired.

No one but my family knew I was returning. But thankfully they were no longer in town to be able to spread the happy news and spoil my surprise. My parents had moved back to our hometown when I left, and my kid sister had already been living in her college hostel by then. So after two years I was returning to the city where most of my life had been spent, with a top class degree and a job to die for but to no home and no family - just a posh room in one of the top hotels of the city with a view of the Jantar Mantar.

I checked into the hotel and spent the afternoon making inquiries. As it turned out, one of my close friends from college was working in another department in the same office that I was supposed to join in a week's time. I called him up (to his great surprise and then rage for having been cut off for so long and not calling sooner) and set up a meeting with him for the evening in my hotel. He arrived, we chatted over coffee and everything seemed like going back to normal. Until he breached the subject I was most wishing to avoid - why had I left without a word? Why hadn't I kept in touch? What had happened? I didn't have the words or the courage to answer him, so I kept quiet. He kept posing questions, rebuking me for being a jerk and finally said one word that made me wince unknowingly. Her name. And that was when he knew. And so the whole story came tumbling out and I won't say he was really impressed. Heck, he didn't at all approve of my intentions. He said it was a bad idea. I stuck to it all the same, only asking him to help me with one thing, to which he hesitantly agreed. We'd always been close friends, so I knew he would keep his promise, and so he did.

It was thus a cold Sunday morning, two days after I'd landed in Delhi, when I could be found pacing up and down the foyer of an uptown Italian restaurant in Connaught Place. He'd told me she'd be here for her weekly brunch with a group of girlfriends. I had returned to India only for her, and this was going to be my chance at finishing what I had left incomplete. In the last two years, as I heard from him, she had graduated and taken up a moderately-paying job that gave her a chance to travel all over the globe. Somewhere along the way, she'd given up the job and turned into a travel writer who was apparently much sought after today. As much as I wished I could be happy for her success, it had instead made me all the more nervous and doubtful about my plan. And so, with bated breath, I waited for her at the foyer, complete with a lily (she'd always hated roses) and a designer watch that I'd specially brought for her from Paris during holidays. I dressed impeccably now, always smelled of musk (apparently her favorite fragrance) and was what you could call 'a good catch'. So much for the girl who'd never thought I was even boyfriend material. Try as I might, I could not understand how I could have been so naive back then! How did I ever think she'd be mine? Looking back at who I used to be, I couldn't help but give her some credit for cushioning the blow of her rejection by attributing it to another guy rather than to me. I'd heard that they never made it beyond a couple of months together. I'm sure if I'd been around, she wouldn't have considered me even as a rebound. Or she just might have. Oh Lord. Should I have lingered around just a bit longer? If I had, wouldn't I have been her obvious choice for a rebound relationship? God, what was I thinking?! I sure as hell was panicking now. I wished she would arrive sooner and end my misery, either for better or for worse.

And then I spotted her, getting out of a shiny black sedan outside the restaurant, not too pretentious yet hard not to notice. And like always, my breathing stopped while I looked on at her perfect figure, tanned a bit but ever the picture of beauty, walking towards what seemed like a glass door separating her from me. Fortunately I came to my senses just in time to realize I was standing directly in her way (thank God for mirror glasses - she couldn't see me just yet) and I darted behind the manager's desk to his utter surprise. She was laughing with her friends, ever her cheerful self, and presently approached the manager to look up her reservation. I stopped breathing again (totally involuntarily). She found her name on the list, chatted with the manager about stuff I could hardly concentrate upon, and finally moved inside the restaurant to my utmost relief. The manager gave me an amused look, indicating that he'd done me a favor by not ratting me out while also reminding me that I was still crouching under his desk. I quickly stood up and straightened myself, and thanked him in a very self-conscious, throaty voice.

I was inwardly cursing myself for having been such a coward as to run away on seeing the very person I'd taken so much trouble to come and see. With no better idea in mind, I gathered my teetered spirits and leftover courage and entered the restaurant. Not such a grand entry as I'd planned to make after all, but nevertheless. I could see her perched at the far end of the place, at a table along with her girlfriends, looking out of the glass wall towards the rooftop seating outside with wistful eyes. I recalled how much she loved eating out at rooftop restaurants and open places with greenery all around. So she hadn't changed all that much. I couldn't help smiling to myself. And that was when she abruptly turned and caught my eye. My smile turned into a scandalized expression, if you know what I mean. She looked completely shocked and incredulous. I looked to my left, then to the right, and just as she got up from her table and started marching towards me, I realized I was cornered. Hadn't I come all the way here for exactly this moment? Wasn't this going in the right direction? I asked myself. The answers weren't reassuring. I didn't know what I was gonna say to her. I was at my wit's end. She reached up to me and blurted out my name disbelievingly, as if checking if it is indeed me or someone else with my face and physique (only, better taste). I kept mum, looking back and forth between the ground and a spot somewhere above her shoulder, as I could not look into her eyes. She spoke to me, possibly my name again, but I wasn't listening. I was thinking hard about what to say, and how to say it. This wasn't at all going according to my plan. Oh God, what had I gotten myself into?

(To be continued...)

Eyes to My Soul - Part III

Find the rest of the story here.

Part III

I don’t exactly remember grasping any of the who, when, where, how that followed thereafter. I was in a daze. Losing all perspective, not knowing whether to be enraged or feel sorry for myself. Why would this happen to me, I wondered, that too finally when I had thought I’d put an end to the indefiniteness and tell her how I felt. I suddenly saw all the moments we’d spent together fly past me, dancing in stop motion. I felt numb. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Wasn’t I the one she talked 24*7 to, shared her deepest thoughts with, and liked to hang out with? Aren’t those the first signs of blossoming love? Didn’t she adore me for all my funny antics and silly flaws? Wasn’t it too obvious that we were meant to be together sooner or later? Wait. I must certainly have heard it wrong. She must’ve named me as the one she liked. That was how it went in my dreams. That was how it was always meant to be. This wasn't for real. I wished with all I possessed for this to be a nightmare and for me to wake up right then. Only, I didn’t. Because it wasn’t a dream. It was real. And I realized that this was it.


She was looking at me with an amused expression and asking if I was even there. So she knew I wasn’t. I tried to collect myself, mumbled something incoherent. She smiled and asked me if I was gonna finish my ice cream or let it melt. I said I didn’t feel like having it. She nodded and got up to make a move. I followed. On the way out, I couldn’t help myself and unknowingly, asked her if she indeed was serious about this guy (whoever he was, I had not the slightest idea at the moment). She looked at me for a moment, as if seeing through me, reading my thoughts. And in a grave voice, replied in the affirmative.

I don’t remember anything that happened after that, until the moment I saw my mother hovering over me in a dimly lit room that looked somewhat like my own. She looked pale, anxious, very unlike her usual demeanor. Next I discovered her hand on my forehead, over a dripping wet piece of cloth. My sister lurked near the door to the room, looking unsure, visibly shocked. I tried to sit up. Mother held me back, requesting me (again unlike her usual self) to rest. I was surprised. What exactly had happened?

Then I felt the shooting pain. My head. It seemed to have been struck by a heavy blow, the way it hurt. Like hell. I couldn’t keep my face from contorting, sending my mother into an attack of hysteria. She asked me if I was fine; I counter asked her about what had transpired. And then I heard. I had returned home late that evening in an inexplicable state, keeping silent and heading straight to my room. When mother came in with a cup of tea, she found me lying unconsciously on the bed, running high fever. I wouldn’t wake up for hours. And when I finally did, I could recall nothing. So they knew nothing.

I spotted dad, standing in the far corner of the room with a questioning, somewhat sad look in his eyes. I didn’t know what to say to them. I could sense the extreme anxiety and concern in their eyes. But I didn’t have the answers to their questions. I was at a complete loss of words; I couldn't explain to them what I was going through. And so I never did. I just swallowed it all up; buried deep in my heart, never to let it out. Until...

To be continued...

Eyes to My Soul - Part II

Read the rest of the story here.

Part II

I remember the day she called me over for lunch. I was a nervous wreck. It wouldn’t be your fault if you thought I looked like one too. I was having almost girly jitters. In a state of part excitement and part anxiety, I couldn’t eat all day. Random thoughts kept flashing through my mind. Was I finally going to name the feelings I had for her? Would I admit them to her? Will I be able to say a single coherent word in the face of her deep crystal eyes that double up as a polygraph? Did I even have the courage to own up to my own feelings? Questions galore, answers none. I looked at myself in the mirror again and again but couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Something was out of place. Was it that conspicuous blush on my face? God, I was panicking. She could easily do this (and more) to me with something as simple as an invitation to eat out.

I was supposed to meet her at a fast food joint near her college. I reached half an hour early to calm my jittery nerves, so as to cut a smart picture when she arrived. Did I succeed in doing so? I wouldn’t know. She never showed any hint of ever noticing anything different that I’d tried on in order to impress her. Whenever I tried to dress up well or get a ‘cool’ haircut, all she would do was to act amused, laugh it off or outright ignore it. It always reminded me of how rugged and uncivilized I looked beside her. Not that she cared though. She was always her nicest to me.

She as usual came ten minutes late and started telling me all about her day at college. I kept looking at her, slightly nodding or interjecting wherever I thought it would give her an impression that I was following her words. Not that I wasn’t interested; she was an eloquent speaker. I just found it hard to concentrate at the same time on her moving lips, the glint of her earrings and the sound of her talk. It just wreaked havoc on my senses if I tried to catch all of them together. So I concentrated on one thing at a time. She had noticed that many a times and told me I had attention deficiency syndrome. Yeah, right. Nice way to defend yourself, I thought. But this day was different. She kept talking and I kept looking, but gradually I started to notice that she was talking less excitedly, with longer silences in between. I didn’t know what to do. Found myself in a catch 22 situation – to I ask her what’s wrong and risk being shut up, or let her go on and wait till she shares it herself? And on an impulse I blurted out that she was looking worried. She looked at me (and I momentarily froze) and inquired if it was indeed that conspicuous. Now I’d easily have said, it might not be for others, but I know your moods and behavior well enough to be able to notice it. I would’ve sounded all macho and impressive. But all I could manage was a yes. And she flinched and looked away.

By now I had completely forgotten about all those fears and jitters I’d been full of earlier. Her worries always made me forget mine. And I knew it was going to be a matter of mere seconds before she’d be out with whatever it was that was bothering her. She couldn’t hide things from me. Not until she wanted to, which was another matter altogether. So I waited in silence as she sat looking into space. Minutes passed, our food came. And then she turned towards me, her face suddenly flushed, and exclaimed, “I think I like a guy.”

To be continued...


(Find the third part of the story here.)

Eyes to my soul

As she appeared across the lawn, a shadow falling on her face, making it impossible to decipher her expression, I wondered. What was it about her that made her so dear to everyone she met? And yet, why was she hated so much by almost everyone at some or the other point in the course of their association with her? I suddenly realized I could never really understand her. She was an enigma to me.


I had been with her for far longer than I deserved credit for. I would always tell her everything I ever had on my mind; she would invariably be there for me, listen patiently to all my talks. I observed everything she did or said. I always tried to understand what she meant to achieve by every action of hers, and that has been one of the major sources of my understanding and knowledge of her thoughts and personality, however little that might be. We would talk endlessly on almost every topic there was under the sun. We would agree on some points, argue on some other. And eventually I would quit arguing with her, because it was like you could never win over her. She always had the last word. Not that I ever complained. She means the world to me, as much as she does to all the ones who always gave up in front of her like me.

She was a ray of sunshine on the horizon; a real delight to be with. There was an aura of happiness, wholesomeness and contentment about her, that lured everybody into its grasp. She was a picture of beauty; beauty of body, mind and soul. She could turn all your worries into nothing, and amplify your joys manifold. She had an inexplicable look of satisfaction on her face – to me it seemed like that of knowing everything yet revealing little. She could always tell what you had on your mind, but would never make you uncomfortable with unnecessary prying and prodding into your affairs. And yet, you would suddenly feel yourself bound to tell her all your worries and travails, as if she had a magnetic grip on your mind. She would understand everything you tell her, and would follow it up with such careful and sound advice, as would make you feel like your problems never really were of any consequence. Such was her effect on people that it sometimes baffled me into believing that she practiced black magic. But as I said before, I never really understood her. I just revered her for all that she was.

She was as much a mystery as Bermuda Triangle could never manage to be. Her eyes constantly lived in a dream. Her words went far deeper than they would ever appear to the listener’s mind. Her exquisite face was a brilliant cover to her true thoughts and feelings. But her clear hazel eyes revealed something she could never hide – pain. She hid her pain with her perpetual smile and joyful demeanor. But she had her dark days too. I never knew what caused her to be so affably happy at times, and yet inexplicably weird at other times. On normal days, she would have a splendid countenance. There was a ring to her voice, a shine to her smile and a rhyme to her actions. She would sing and dance her way through work, and at the end of the day, would recount the day’s events to me with full spirit. On those days, I felt such a rush of happiness and contentment throughout my veins that I could die of it and still not mind. But on those few days when she was weird, she would be very difficult to put up with. She’d brood over every single thing, take offense on anything even remotely untoward, and in general, present a picture of dissatisfaction, quite unlike her true self. It was of such days that I was dead scared. She formed the very thread of my existence; I could never bear to see her out of sorts. I would try my best to pacify her, mellow down her moods, try to make out her wishes and fulfill them as best as I could. Yet I managed to do a very poor job of it all. Why was it so difficult to understand her, yet totally unthinkable not having her as a part of my life? I think I knew the answer. Only I wouldn’t admit.

To be continued...


(Read the second part here and third part here.)