The spectacled guy seated 3
arms distance to his left, made notes voraciously. The morbid girl, who sat at
the same distance to his right, now seemed immersed in the day's newspaper since
time immemorial, a time-independent sullen expression smeared on her face. The
middle aged clerks sat at their respective places behind the counter, minding
their own business, least bothered about anything beyond the perimeter of their
chairs.
The sound of the old ceiling fans, the occasional flipping of pages and footsteps of trespassers, periodically broke the eerie silence that descended on the main lobby. He glanced again at the clock that hung atop the entrance. He fancied he saw it smile at him- 11:10 AM. Why not? He was supposed to meet her in the most deserted place in the university- the library.
"I'd need help with the 4th
assignment sheet..."
"Let me see..."
"I haven't really started.
I guess we could solve it together sometime... Library... Tomorrow? 11?"
He only heard the word
'together'.
"Eh... Sure. Free after
11."
"11 it is", she said
hopping on to her cycle.
That was 19 hours ago. Since
then, he'd spent an enormous amount of time wondering at her intention behind
this seemingly suggestive rendezvous. Sentiments and primitive biological urges
had prevented him from arriving at any conclusions. He was too puzzled to draw
any. Only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love.
Although the exploits of the Sunday gone by, should have
been evidence against the case of ‘The Woman in Black’, ‘Shakespeare in Love’
persistently chose to ignore the signs. But denial, Psychology suggests it is
some sort of a weird mental condition- reluctance to reconcile with reality.
It is also the most predictable of all human responses.
Meanwhile, 10 minutes had
started seeming like eternity. He hated to wait, particularly in anxiety, which
was one reason why he preferred crashing into an exam hall as late as safely
possible. 'The Girl' was making him anxious like never before, even more than
he'd felt in his 2nd attempt at JEE.
The next time he glanced up,
she was there- finally. Few more minutes and he'd almost have started
hyperventilating. A small side bag, whose strap ran from her right shoulder to
down left, followed her on her back, adding vastly to her casual attire. Her
strides were fluid but measured- every part of her lissom form moving in such
perfect harmony and clockwork precision- enough to teleport you to an alternate
reality with scintillating winds and a background score of violins and
saxophones.
The crimson top over fitting
jeans gave her the geometry of women sculptors chisel into statues and artists
brush onto portraits. She was beautiful and 15 minutes late. He wanted to
complain. But all that anxiety had somehow instantly dissolved in her cherubic
form. She raised her tender hands waving ‘Hi’ with such supreme grace and
feminine austerity, even the yester-year’s Dreamgirl would’ve been jealous.
He could’ve bet several
eye-brows must have been raised as the exotic specimen of physical perfection
made way across the empty lobby to the boy, no-one by now knew existed in that
space-time...
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