It was on a particularly unremarkable afternoon that she had, quite literally, walked back into his life. Like many other occasions, which he had come to dread, Varun had been summoned to a client site and he was in the elevator when its door opened and Shreya walked into it. She turned to face the door and pressed the button for her floor. Just as in college, all those years ago, she paid no attention to him now and just as in college, his heart sank at the mere sight of her.
A lot had changed since college. Varun was now a consultant at a major multi-national firm and married. Almost a year back he had got down on his knees and asked Swati to marry him. She had said yes. They had the perfect wedding and had gone to New Zealand for their honeymoon. In a sense they were in love. They would call each other cute-names, plan surprises for each other and make love as regularly as they had meals.
Varun had a successful career lying ahead of him. His life, since childhood, had been a string of accomplishments. He never took a step unless it was in direction of some, major or minor, achievement. So when he followed Shreya out of that elevator, he wasn’t just taking steps that could be retracted by moving in the opposite direction. He was taking steps that would take him away from the life that he had always known he was going to lead.
He followed her, typing random words in his phone in order to appear busy. Once she took her seat, he hung around acting as if waiting for someone or getting coffee from the machine or just walking around. He marked her seat in his memory and noticed everyone whom she would talk to. Having spent around half an hour studying her, he left to proceed with his appointment. He went to the ground floor, got into his car and drove off. But Varun could not drive much far.
He parked his car on the side of the road and went to sit on a large cement platform by the ocean. The horny couples who, looking for privacy in the indifference of the crowd, occupy this platform by evening were not here yet. Nor were those hawkers, joggers and sunset watchers who crowd up the place there yet. Sitting under a palm tree with nothing but endless ocean to look at, he realized it was no more an unremarkable afternoon. It was one of those rare hot and humid July afternoons when Mumbai betrays the fact that at heart she’s still just a simple Konkani village. It was one of those rare quiet afternoons when you realize that all that life could have been, she still can be.
(To be continued by Pablo ... )
A lot had changed since college. Varun was now a consultant at a major multi-national firm and married. Almost a year back he had got down on his knees and asked Swati to marry him. She had said yes. They had the perfect wedding and had gone to New Zealand for their honeymoon. In a sense they were in love. They would call each other cute-names, plan surprises for each other and make love as regularly as they had meals.
Varun had a successful career lying ahead of him. His life, since childhood, had been a string of accomplishments. He never took a step unless it was in direction of some, major or minor, achievement. So when he followed Shreya out of that elevator, he wasn’t just taking steps that could be retracted by moving in the opposite direction. He was taking steps that would take him away from the life that he had always known he was going to lead.
He followed her, typing random words in his phone in order to appear busy. Once she took her seat, he hung around acting as if waiting for someone or getting coffee from the machine or just walking around. He marked her seat in his memory and noticed everyone whom she would talk to. Having spent around half an hour studying her, he left to proceed with his appointment. He went to the ground floor, got into his car and drove off. But Varun could not drive much far.
He parked his car on the side of the road and went to sit on a large cement platform by the ocean. The horny couples who, looking for privacy in the indifference of the crowd, occupy this platform by evening were not here yet. Nor were those hawkers, joggers and sunset watchers who crowd up the place there yet. Sitting under a palm tree with nothing but endless ocean to look at, he realized it was no more an unremarkable afternoon. It was one of those rare hot and humid July afternoons when Mumbai betrays the fact that at heart she’s still just a simple Konkani village. It was one of those rare quiet afternoons when you realize that all that life could have been, she still can be.
(To be continued by Pablo ... )
