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The Possibilities

by Prashila Naik 


They meet again after a week, but they sense that something is different. A sense of calm prevails even as the two people, seemingly interested in each other, don’t find the need to probe their feelings . Prashila Naik writes a sequel to her story ‘The Blue Kajal’ written for Spark’s Feb 2014 issue (read here).

When they meet this time, something is different. She has spent the entire week mulling over how he had seemed strange the previous Sunday evening; his stares, his refusal to challenge her opinions, even the subtle manner in which he had complimented her blue kajal, all of it had been too obvious to miss. He too had spent the entire week thinking of her, only the thoughts had been unstructured and startlingly pleasant. In their own way, each one of them had looked forward to this next meeting, as if in the hopes of coming closer to a revelation, or at least finding a trail along which their minds could wander and possibly find something similar to one. But now, seated on their regular window-side table, she fidgeted with her cell phone, and he looked out at the street, a little too aware of her distraction.

“How was your dentist appointment?” he asked after a while, still looking out of the window.

“It was alright,” she answered, still not looking up her phone screen.

He turned to look at her, mildly annoyed by her persistence to not bring out her fears about visiting a dentist. Why was it so important to her, he wondered.

“You aren’t wearing the blue kajal today?” He could feel an edge of desperation in his voice now, and he absolutely hated himself for it.

“No, did not feel like it. And also, colored kajal‘s been proven to be bad for eyes. It contains lead.” This time she looked up at him. He waited for her to say something more, but she promptly got back to her cell phone.

“Is something the matter? You seem to be, I don’t know, uninterested in being here.” He said at last, making sure he wasn’t hiding his annoyance anymore.

She looked up at him, surprised at the sudden harshness in his tone.

“Of course, I am not uninterested. If I were, I wouldn’t be sitting here, right?”

He opened his mouth to respond, and then closed it abruptly. Of course, she has no idea of all the thoughts going on his head. How would she even know that he has spent a major part of the week thinking of her? How would she be aware of the confusion in his mind, and the pleasant mess that it has caused?

“Sorry, I did not mean it to sound like that. It’s just that you seem distant today. I thought something’s bothering you,” he said, feeling guilty.

“No, all is fine. It’s just that.” She stopped at this point, almost on the verge of telling him that he was the one who seemed different. Instead, she just put down her mug, and smiled. “Nothing. I am fine. Nothing’s the matter.”

He nodded, still not convinced. But then, their friendship had never been intrusive or imposing. He knew if she wanted to tell him something she would do it anyway. This old realization comforted him a little, as he picked up the garlic toast that was just served on his table.

“Why did you ask me about the blue kajal?”

He looked at her as soon as she said that, strangely relieved, even though he did not have an answer to her question. But maybe the question could lead to some possibilities of an answer.

“I don’t know. I guess it looked good on you.”

“So should I wear it only because it looks good?”

“That could be a good enough reason, no? But, no, you should not wear it only because it looks good.”

They both smiled simultaneously, and looked at each other, only to look away. She fidgeted with her cell phone once again, and he looked out of the window.

“Do you remember those two girls Disha and Trisha from Physics department?” she asked suddenly, her eyes bright with anticipation.

“You mean the twins?”

“Yes, the twins.”

“What about them?”

“Nothing. I just remembered them. Did you notice how they were almost always impeccably turned out, and insisted that looking good was a person’s fundamental duty. Something everyone owes to themselves.”

“I don’t necessarily agree.”

“Neither do I. But, it is an interesting concept really, and worth a thought if you come to think of it. Considering the world we live in, and the kinds of disparities that exist here – social, cultural, economic, gender-based, etc. etc., there are no set standards for beauty, right? What is flashy for one person could be understated for another.”

“I guess one just needs to be comfortable in their skin.”

“But that’s just chicken soup for the soul philosophy. Being comfortable in their own skin and all.”

“Then should a man or woman always be open to their personal flaws and acknowledge them rather than doing the more sensible thing of just accepting them?”

“See, that is it. Sensible. You think it is sensible to accept. I think it is sensible to analyse.”

“Of course you analyse. You are a business analyst, aren’t you?”

“Don’t bring my job into this. And anyway, weren’t you a business analyst too, not so long ago?”

He smiled, amused at how their conversation had moved to their respective jobs. He realised he was perfectly content with that, and no longer felt the need to make any startling discoveries about his thoughts of her. His anxiety and agitation was gradually disappearing. The pleasantness had begun to return in slow bursts. Maybe, this was what was needed. Willingness to just let things get on their own pace.

“What? You are silent again. Say something,” she said, her face scrunched in a grimace that he found unintentionally funny.

“I don’t know what to say. Maybe you are right. I do think it is sensible to accept things at all points of time, much like I would do with your argument, just as I would with my opinion.”

“But that doesn’t help. You are just being on the fence. How would it help society and the greater human cause if we always accept various perspectives as valid, and refuse to take any discussion further, refuse to let it evolve into something else, something that could probably be an even more valid perspective?”

“Agreed, but don’t you think it is good to stop once in a while, and just let things be as they are. Like, take us both for an example.” Here, he let himself look at her with an unblinking stare. “We have known each other for so long, and yet there is so much we don’t know about each other.”

“We don’t need to right? We are not married or anything yet, to know everything about each other,” she said, and then blushed. Marriage! Where did that come from?

“But who says married people also know everything about each other. My parents have been married for 26 years, and my father still doesn’t know what my mother’s sandal size is.”

She looked up at him, and noticed a strange glint in his eyes, as if he was challenging her, and simultaneously giving her a free rein to take the discussion in any direction she wanted to. She smiled, feeling a surge of affection for him.

“OK, maybe you are right. Sometimes it is good to just let things stay the way they are for the time being.”

He smiled back at her, wishing he would capture the expression on her face. Something told him she was having thoughts running around her in head too, much like him. Had she been noticing things too? Had she noticed the differences too? The possibilities excited him.

“There is a new exhibition of jewellery close by. I really want to go there,” she said.

“Do you want me to come along with you?” He had no idea why he said that. He hated exhibitions, had always hated them, and somewhere he was annoyed that just like the last time, she seemed to be prepared to cut down their meeting for silly reason. But, the expression on her face hadn’t changed, and he knew she would readily drop the idea if he would ask her to. “Yes, do you want me to come along?” he repeated.

“Would you really do that?” she asked, pleasantly surprised.

“I guess I could, but only if you wrap up your little shopping soiree quickly.”

“That I can’t promise.”

They both burst out laughing. He was suddenly terrified of the prospect of spending time in that exhibition now, but he looked forward to it all the same. She made a mental note to not spend a lot of time going over all the accessories in all the stalls. Both of them continued to smile through their thoughts, fully aware of the how the other person’s eyes were set on their face.

“Should we go then?” she asked.

“Yes, but after we finish our coffees,” he said, and picked up his mug just the way he had seen her do, making sure all his fingers were wrapped around it. He wished, for some silly reason that she would notice it. She already had.

Prashila Naik dreams of retiring into the idyllic landscapes of Ladakh and longs for a day when every child in India will have two full meals to eat and a permanent school to attend. When not dreaming or longing, she continues to extend her repertoire as a veteran IT professional who loves to dabble with words and discover new genres of music.
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