Chapter 4: A New Beginning

A new life

This story is a part of the series called Alone. Please read the last chapter here: The Surprise!

My life had changed suddenly. I was coming to work everyday. I would wake up without an alarm, spend time on the shirt that I wanted to wear. A music in the background, like in the movies, specially the romantic ones, was somehow essential. I couldn’t stop humming. I cared to shave! The journey from home to office was like in the movies. I would smile at people. Sometimes I think I was taken over by something or someone, rather someone’s beauty. I remember saying Hi to strangers, being nice to people in general.

I think I was nice to people because I was scared for myself. It’s like how religion or faith works, you remember ‘The One’ when you need something, suddenly, you care for the poor, for others, for everyone else. I was scared too. I was in love!

All the blare, blast, boom and the other unbearable sounds that would normally suck the life out of me, were muffled by the sound of music, the music my life. Everything and everyone was more bearable to me.

I wouldn’t wait for the lift, race up the stairs. I would enter the office with a purpose: My eyes wandering around searching for a sight of her, wouldn’t rest until they could see her. It’s intriguing how I remembered her wardrobe by now, creepy when I think now. My instincts knew her hair, her voice, the sound of her laughter, her fragrance, her presence. Sometimes, I would find her duppatta peeping like me from the corner of her cubicle. Sometimes, she would not be there. I would drag my heavier than usual feet to my place and just hope she around, may be at the cafeteria, or the washroom. And I would take these breaks just to walk by her cubicle has catch a glance. Every morning, my heart wouldn’t rest unless it had found her. Not that I would have gone and spoken to her, and not that if she wouldn’t have turned up a day, it would have really mattered, but, there, in that moment everyday, it seemed like the most important thing. As I would see her, my gut would settle down a bit. But, then, just then, the awe of her beauty would take over, and I would struggle to take my eyes off. I would pull myself back to the real world, too scared that it might show, I might get caught looking at her. I was not just in love with her, I was in love with what merely her presence had done to me, I was in love with love.

The clumsy start

At a party which I had to be present, as a part of the making others happy so that I am left in peace, I saw her again. Frankly, after seeing her, I had become a little too brave, I could have missed this party / meeting: a forced gathering of people arranged and financed by the organisation I worked for. I could have missed the free food, but, I had an opportunity to see her again.

I was standing with a bottle of beer in my hand, just to camouflage myself in the crowd, looking around for a single glimpse of her, when I heard a ‘Hi’.

I knew it was her but, I turned around slowly, working hard to hide the complex emotion of guilt of being caught, and the sudden escapade of all my sense of humour and clever thoughts. I just managed to “Hi” back. I don’t think she could have construed my complex expression, one of those 10,000, to be a smile. Did I tell you what did we talk about after she had said “Hi” the first time? The truth is, I do not remember. I just have a faint memory of something about the day and weather and the party coming up. But, I remember very clearly that smile, that voice. And yes, the beautiful fragrance. Did you know that every person’s fragrance is a combination of stress level, anxiety, level of arousal, where they come from a lot of other things. Does it mean that if I find myself so attracted to her fragrance, I might love her thoughts and her history too?

I see her smiling little differently this time, like she has just figured out the fool in me, looks down, and then walks away.

Was she asking something?

Was I supposed to say something?

It must have looked rude!

She must have tagged me for a weirdo by now!

Have I just killed all the chances I had!

I had millions of thoughts suddenly, not one positive!

A couple of beers and a bit of fear of losing it all, I picked myself up and went to the other corner where she was sitting alone. I wonder why alone. But, somehow with this newfound courage I told her:

“Hi” “I mean, Hi again”

She smiled, “Hi”

“ What were you saying… I was lost somewhere” Was all could muster up. It was truth. I still am proud of the beer that I could tell something as near to the truth as was possible, without the result involving cops or getting beaten up.

She burst into a laugh, and said, “You don’t know anything about playing it cool, do you?”.

Her guileless style, startled me a bit. I could manufacture a smile instantly as my usual defence mechanism. A moment or two later, of the awkward silence, mostly being created and maintained by me, she asked,

“Another beer”

“Sure”

I followed her with nearly all the 9999 expressions attempting to replace this weird one.

“ Don’t worry! I too hate parties or any large social gathering” She said.

“Why” I said with an unusual voice, like my throat needed some oiling. It was my courage though!

“ A celebration is always short-lived. I think we all are wired in a way to be dissatisfied. As soon as we have a reason to celebrate, we find a new goal to yearn for. That helps the world moving forward and we all have the carrot to keep pulling it further. I would rather enjoy the yearning, that passion for something, more than this. You keep reading how one should detach from the result and should have the same reaction in any result: good or bad. But, then as soon as there is a positive result, we all celebrate. This happiness is addictive. We don’t yearn to do our jobs, we are just waiting for that positive result, that celebration. While life could have been an adventure, a celebration, it becomes a long yearning with a small probability of a celebration at the end”

I cannot exactly recall a lot after that! But, I remember having the best conversation in the world.

This story is a part of the series called Alone. Please read the next chapter here: The first Coffee!