Sapna

By Shreya Dixit

Philosophy classes are exciting and end up being very lively. There are very few of us enrolled in this class. I don’t mind, I elected it. As I see it, philosophy is the source of all sciences. This is how people consciously made an effort to think. Despite all my love for the subject, I still prefer the last bench in the class for the first ones. I like to have the freedom to daydream, I suppose. Daydream about the concepts and develop the ideas being discussed in my own time.

Days are a whirlwind between dancing and my too many electives. I don’t seem to have a “Life!” according to my friends around me. I don’t have many people in my life. I guess this is a fair observation, by the people. I don’t have friends. Friends who know me and the secrets that make me. The lucky good point is, I don’t mind. Isn’t that the most important thing? I love my books, studying excites me more than people can, at least that’s what I like to believe. I love to dance, and I feel I have made compatriots in my dance society.

I love to dance, to express my emotions. Sometimes I can’t speak, I can’t find the words to express the emotions I am feeling. I find that I can, however, dance them out. I have to admit I have lost a lot of weight dancing and running from one place to another. I seem to be living a dream. Doing precisely what I please, not burdened by people, friends and their expectations.

It’s so strange, the philosophy class keeps getting bigger. We had moved from smaller classrooms to bigger classes, to lecture theatres and now it was happening in the auditorium, and the funny part is that class has now filled the seats in the lower section. Just like it should be. All sciences and humanities should study philosophy.

I am late, I’ll have to find a place for myself on the balcony! Not cool. Then again was the only one other person there, almost, always a plus. No one to bother me, to ask me for a translation of what the professor uttered. It is a boy, wearing his cap backwards. I think I have seen him with the Music society…I guess I can’t be sure. It’s my other favourite society after dance, of course. Finally, the professor is here. I put on my specs, I had hoped I would never need them, but I suppose you hope that things do happen or you don’t hope at all…

Work, wait I exaggerate, tasks are never easy, and always in abundance. I don’t mind, it lets me think and mind my mind's wanderings as well. I roll up my sleeves, well literally, why would I do it figuratively? Such waste of breath. Make an untidy bun on the top of my head and well, get to work. Honestly, I try, but my reluctant mind doesn’t want to work. It keeps wandering. It’s not even wandering right; it’s stuck on a memory. About a rainy Sunday morning, when my car had refused to start, and I was already late as it is. I had taken the metro to the University. As I had gotten off the station, I had found myself matching the steps of a person walking next to me. We walked as though we had coordinated our steps. It felt like a scripted dance to me, and it came to me naturally at the same time. I was in a rush walking fast to prevent myself from any further delay, and he sauntered taking the long lazy steps, enjoying the pleasure of being early. We walked in silence, it felt comfortable and…warm. A complete company. I don’t know how it felt to him, but I felt that way. It felt safe and heady, and I had been giddy with it! It felt as though I was matching my steps with a boy I always wanted to notice me, someone I had a crush on, and he finally accepted me, after my breathless confession.

The peacefulness of it all, and the sheer joy. I craved to live it over and over again. The sadly ephemeral beautiful connection that needed no words.

Huh!

That is precisely when my very rational side of the brain huffs and usually says are you sure you hadn’t suffered a head trauma, a seizure perhaps? It is a good thing as it wakes me up from my silly daydreaming, strange and silly. I have no idea how I’m going to do anything at all this way. I have already dreamt five minutes of my class away. I shake my head. Fairytales are for people who have less to love and live for, I scold myself, I didn’t have time for this bizarre listlessness. Ugh, this was bad!

“Socratic Midwifery is the concept that…”

Wait, a minute! Is this a repetitive lecture? Or a doubt session. A tutorial? I didn’t know, I wanted to groan out loud! I had far too many held in me now. I couldn’t even ask the dude sitting with me on the balcony. He didn’t belong to the class. He is too busy staring at some blokes downstairs wow now I’ve seen all of it. I don’t know why but I am very irritable, irritated by the smallest of things like the completely average person sitting not bothering me in any way but not here to study either. I had already sounded like a homophobe and uptight asshat.

Sometimes I just wanted to find the person from my dream and meet him to get him out of my head? Or… What I really wanted to do, was to find him and rest my heavy head on his shoulders.

My dance society members wanted me to design this year’s annual production’s dresses. Since all my teacher was doing today was answering the questions asked by my numerous and new classmates. I decided to spend the time going through magazines to design the dresses.

My mind can't walk the line today! It was the first day of the week I couldn’t be slacking off already. The guy from my metro trip keeps pulling my attention to himself. It almost feels like my mind wanted to linger in his serene presence …that contained the calm, collected intellect. He had worn half-rimmed specs. I don’t know. I want him to be smart and intelligent. Maybe, I am the knowledge snob, Vibhuti calls me to be. Princess Vibhuti, my dancing partner whom I dragged to attend a quiz with me. She has nothing to complain about, I shared half the money I won at the time. All she had done was sit and prompt prettily, I sort of helped her win the Economics inter-college quiz, which as it happened to be was her set of subjects too!

I don’t know who he is and what he does and, here I am already mutating his figure to meet my expectations. Am I wrong in doing this after all he is no more a person I had chanced to walk beside? Isn’t he now my creation, my fantasy? His side profile as I recall was with a shadow of a beard on his cheek and chin. His lips were proportional to his face, but they had looked firm and soft, small. His eyes seemed to have acknowledge in his own serene way to feel my gaze on him. He was letting me scrutinize him. His eyes looked kind, even though they were depthlessly black. His wheatish complexion went well with the almost closed cropped hair that emphasised his big head almost shaped like a bulb. I remember looking at him till his glasses reflected the light and awoke me from my strange fascination with his face that I perused so openly. Besides, my neck hurt from craning to see his face. I must have blushed as I did now. I felt like kicking the chair in front of me except my legs felt similar the way they had then. They felt like they were made of jelly, making me wobbly. Oh god! I had to stop this! That’s it, no more daydreaming, Gah! I was turning more pathetic by the minute! I am not reading any more of the Georgette Heyer books the dance princesses hand me. They are particularly bad influences. Oof, ok back to the magazines I had prepped the hair and sleeves for undertaking.

It was almost the end of the class when I had completed my sketch of the dress we could wear while dancing. Not something I had seen off the magazine, but a bit of the best of everything I had seen in the magazines. I was done! Yay me, one done, what next…break, please? Phew, who knew etching would be so tricky. I end up looking at my partner on the balcony and follow his line of gaze, only to realise I was wrong. He’s not staring at a bunch of blokes, he is staring at a girl among the blokes. She looked…goth. Beautiful black straight hair which I needed to iron to get every morning seemed to be natural for her. She has dark kohl around her eyes and a pretty piercing on her nose. She wore a dark magenta kurta, a colour I really liked. He was love-struck and not so gay after all… Isn’t that what he is supposed to be? In love, but as I saw it, she seemed to hang out with a bunch of guys who seemed to be inappropriately hanging around her. I pity the guy. I knew how he felt. Except perhaps it was worse for him. Mine was safe in my head. I’m love-smitten with my own imagination; there is nothing that can be done to ruin my love.

I smile like a Delhi aunty who knows a secret looking back at the rest of the class, till I spot him. Right on the skirts of the same group my spoke partner on the balcony section of the auditorium making shorthand notes, leaning on a balanced chair. I jump when he slams back down, it wasn't as loud, but I jumped anyway. I had been stalker-staring at him after all. He bent to make a religiously neat note of something the professor said…

Uh oh!

I’m glad the class is about to end for I don’t know what I would have done had it not been ending. When the Teacher finally let go of the class, in my irrational hurry I drop everything on my lap, my magazines’ bundle, all over the floor and my sketch for the dance society's dance production dress design too. Some of it even fell over the railing. Irrational because I'm not sure why I'm in a rush. Maybe I want to meet him and get him off my mind, or maybe I am mimicking how I was rushed when I first saw him. Even my phone fell down. Resigned to my clumsiness, I kneel to pick up my dismantled phone and collect my magazine, there was the opportunity lost. My not so gay partner, in fact, not gay at all helped me pick up my books. He was quite good looking and very…stern and formal. As I piled my books on my arms, I stole glances at my Mr Serenity. My newest friend in solidarity, helping me saw this too. I suppose, maybe that’s why he had done what he did next.

“Oh no, I’ve misplaced the sketch…” I had barely murmured when he said, “I think it went over the rail.” I peered down standing up quickly. He was right. It was laying down below on a chair a little further away from where Mr Serenity sat. He shouted, “Hey Saransh,” Mr Serene seemed to go by that name as he was the one who turned to look up. “Yeah, Nakul?”

“Hey, Yaar, she dropped a page. Down there, could you pick it up?” Saransh eyes were on me instantly. He smiled. I felt elated enough to turn and face the tall man standing next to me. His smile was warm; it betrayed a warmth that hadn’t made it to his face yet, otherwise. Disguised in all the formal sternness, he was handsome still as he was handsome without it. I tiptoed and kissed his cheek, “Thank you” I hugged him too. I felt solidarity with him, in his misery which I’ll admit was possibly all just in my head.

I went down…no that is not right or true, I ran down. I was in a bubble of my own happiness. I had never exactly felt anything like it before. It filled my stomach and chest, for I was too worried about letting it out and seemed uncouth. It was all for a serendipitous coincidence! He stood there below on the stairs waiting for me, looking at me bumble my way down the stairway. His bag slung over one shoulder, holding my sketch in the other hand. His smile was brilliant. He wore a half-sleeved horizontally white and blue striped shirt paired with a pair of faded, soft-looking well-worn jeans and sandals.

Suddenly, I was conscious of how I might have looked in my patchwork long skirt, and black grandma shoes and black stockings that I danced in. My loose black shirt, over which was a bright orange bustier, that accentuated the curves I did not possess. His first words to me were. “So…you dance?” I nod, for some reason not able to meet his eyes. On the sketch, I had written as much. I felt shy, and it was so stupid and silly. I wanted to laugh and cry. I tried to look up at him but looked away again, he was gazing so intently. Couldn’t utter a damned syllable if I wanted to. I finally managed a meek, “Thank you.” at which he smiled. My face felt warmer, my blush just must have gotten deeper. It had been building up since the time Nakul had called to tell him to help me. My phone rang, and I wanted to curse. I don’t know why, not that I had been having a verbose and intellectual conversation with him. I hadn’t been able to think of anything to say and barely had the courage to say what did come at me. For most parts I'm glad that was true. Or else I would have come across the forward idiot that I wasn’t. Well at least, I didn’t think so.

I picked up the call and it was Sumukhi, one of the dance princesses of my dance society, “Your class is done for the day, right?”

I nodded like an idiot that ended up behaving in front of him. He was still smiling down at me.

“Yeah, my classes for the day are over.”

His hands were on my shoulders to get me out of Nakul way. I was breathless, feeling like a complete idiot for even thinking this, but I think I would have swooned at his feet, thank god for Sumukhi’s phone call who was saying, “Great! Come to the Audi then you have to prepare for this weekend. You are doing a solo.`` I don't know how I managed to register what she was saying despite his warm hands on my shoulders. They felt so comforting and warm, it made me wonder how it would be to be in his embrace.

“I am?” Continuing with the dimwit armour, I seemed to put on today, especially before him.

“But Akriti di said…solo?” I looked up at Saransh. Now that he had such a sweet-sounding name, I couldn’t use it in my head as well. I looked up at him as I held on to my phone, he was looking down at his blue and silver watch, which I immediately immensely liked. He caught my eye and smiled apologetically. I don’t have a clue what Sumukhi said next. I got what he meant, Time for class. I shrugged, but I'm sure my fallen face wasn’t as subtle. It didn’t seem to matter as he smiled as he whispered close enough in my free ear, “See you around?”

——

I was supposed to be doing a contemporary solo piece on “O re Piya”, it was supposed to be sober and solemn but I couldn’t wipe the silly smile off my face. After two times of reprimanding me for it and seeing my pathetic attempt at hiding it. They gave up, getting clued into the fact that something exciting was going on in my life and they let me bask in my somewhat unsung un-understandable untold glory.

It was five at the end of the same day when he was in the auditorium of the commerce department, with Akriti watching me practise my solo piece. My heart fluttered, and I couldn’t hold my…enthusiasm. I want to dance to a merrier tune and rhythm. I want to burst free from these solemn shackles that everyone seemed to want to impose on me. I want to let go of some of this pure energy seeing Saransh again had infused me with his simple smile. The instructor sensed it too, I think. He let me rest, I sat contrite drinking water on the edge of the stage. I jump to head to my stuff, bouncing off the stage trying to collect my thoughts and parts of my brain that are all blown around by his gaze.

Akriti calls me as I drink water, and I jump, spilling water on my grey sweater of sorts that I have worn on my black, full-sleeved and full legging one-piece leotard. I open my hair and let them fall down. “Adya! come join us if you are taking a break.” I smile and hold up a finger for the universal symbol of a moment to catch my breath. I’m not dumb! I repeat it to myself a couple of times as I drink some more.

I hope I don’t stink too much, I’m sure my hair looks like an oily mess and a moist from all the sweating I have done. I smile as I walk towards Akriti and Saransh. He says my name, “Adya..?”, I look at him waiting. I am not shy of him. I want to see his face, I want to memorise it for it is better than I had imagined it to be. I want to know him. I want to befriend him, for I have much to gain from the acquaintance. I am only human, not selfless at all. He asks hesitantly, “What does it mean?” I smile and start, “Um…” looking at Akriti who fills in, “Um…This is Saransh, he is my classmate…he seems to have a sudden fascination in dance in his final year."

I look at him and smile brighter than before. “What is not to be fascinated about?” Akriti laughs. Saransh doesn’t probably know I am being candid and literal. I wouldn’t have minded if he had laughed, but I am even more enamoured now that he didn’t. He is puzzled at Akriti’s laughter, I think. He’s looking at me, and here in my element. I feel only calm, not flustered at all, for if I do lose my voice, I will still find a way to express what I mean through the thing that won’t look so odd being performed here, dance. My energy is not fading. I am even more excited than before. The intelligence in his eyes, the seriousness of his face and the relaxed understanding stance of his body, makes me want to make him understand me. “Do you want to see a dance?”

He looks at me, and I am holding my breath, my heart will shatter if he doesn’t want to see me dance. He looks at Akriti, “Sure, I would like to see you dance. If that is possible of course.” I look at Akriti, she smiles and says, “Why not, the practices are almost over, I don’t think you could get anything done anymore to your solo in your mood. Go ahead, dance for him.” I had as much grace as I could muster to the speaker with my phone. I lift a princess’s bandhani dupatta and tie it around me like a saree that barely reaches below my knees. I hear Akriti say, “She’s really talented…She knows Kuchipudi, Mohiniattam and Odissi. She jokes that her mother always found her a handful so she made her hoppity daughter join all sorts of dance forms she could.”

I introduce my pieces of music and the dances I am perform. My supposed five minutes break elongates to half an hour, my audience grows, as my dancing princesses, after having changed, step back in the auditorium to see me dance on my favourite piece of music as I have admitted to them. They had called their classmates they had boasted about me too.

But all I am aware of is Saransh’s gaze who is following me with his eyes. He seems awed and amused at my traditional dance’s meaning and music. He laughs with me as do the others, and they turn excited when I am expressing it. He seems to enjoy my performance, and it fuels me even more. My instructor lets me dance my enthusiasm out. Lord bless his sublime soul. My teammates are clapping for me, but all my eyes search for is his reaction. He seemed to be rendered quite speechless, for he just stood and looked intently at me. I walk towards him. “So? Did you like it.” he smiled at my question as he shakes his stupor off, “It was brilliant. I can’t express how great it was…” I smile shy again. Blushing. I hope no one else notices it. I hope, even if they do, they take it for all the exhausting dancing I had just done.

He was a maths genius like my parents, doing a major in Physics Hons. He was the most handsome man to me with his sun-kissed wheatish skin tone, I had been right, the intelligence that shone through his person wasn’t all in my head. He was perfect, at least to me.

----

I had to complete my assignment. Sitting in the cafeteria with my ears plugged into Carnatic classical music. I didn’t mind writing a paper. I loved selecting and explaining my perspective on an idea or theme. I relished it. Someone lifted my first sheet, I reached out for it when my eyes met Saransh. “Homework?”

I nodded…smiling, feeling sheepish. I hadn’t slept properly last night over the incomplete assignment, thinking about it. He said, turning his attention to the paper he held, “May I read it..?” I hand him a pencil. “Since you are reading, proofread too … Please? I make terrible mistakes all the time. Spelling errors mostly but help if you think there is, punctuation and grammar to be corrected too.” he smiled taking the pencil from me. “Sure.”

We just sat there saying nothing. As he read my paper correcting my spellings mostly and occasionally made a full stop or a comma. I couldn’t help stealing glances at him from time to time…I realised I had a huge crush on him. The realization made me feel helpless and afraid. Not a good set of feelings to have, I don’t have time. He wouldn’t either…Love, am I even old enough to know it? Understand it? Or am I just wanting a connection with another person to compensate for me missing my ma? Now that I have come to Delhi, away from Ma…Or my lack of actual closeness to people all around me? I keep stealing glances at him. By the time I'm done he is waiting for my latest sheet to proofread and I have to correct the mistakes he had pointed out with pencil. My coffee is cold. When he is done, he gets me a fresh cup of coffee…He says, “I like your perspective.” I smile back tired, “Thanks, it took me an entire night to verbalise it.” he grins. As I remove my spectacles and palm my eyes, he asks me, “Your solo is done?” I nod.

“What does your name mean, Adya?” I look up at him and smile. I’m irrationally happy at his need to want to converse with me. I must have leaked some of the I’m-tired-leave-me-lone sentiment, out because he said, “I bought you coffee.” I burst out laughing. He laughed with me. “My name is a word from the Durga Stuti, I don’t know, but it could be a synonym of Goddess Durga. What does your name mean?”

“The submit or goal I figure, Not sure… but in Bengali, it means the crest of the waves though.”

I smile, resting my face on my hand, “You are not Bengali.”

He smiles, and I find my caffeine superfluous, “No, are you?”

I shake my head, “Well, I’m a Madrasi.”

He smiled. “How come you haven’t learnt Bharatnatyam?”

I can’t help but laugh, the sleeplessness is messing with my brain big time, “Oh Ma couldn’t have me learn the dance form which was taught by the woman who ran away with my father.” Ok, that had not meant to come out in the conversation. I’m suddenly not comfortable. I draw back from the table and retract. He notices it too; he is probably trying to evaluate how to deal with that slip. I start, “That was…” He is observing me. I couldn't help, but sigh as I collect my stuff and leave. “Please keep it to yourself. I don’t like sharing such things or talking about them. Please don’t make me.” He is still looking at me trying to figure me out. He said softly, “All right…So Akriti told me that you are a bit of an economics geek!” I smile slowly and shrug. Guilty as charged, I felt like a kid found out by her teacher with her hands in the cookie jar. I smiled, “I like economics, it’s interesting in it’s overly simplified reality which is complex and how it treats psychology of humans. I couldn't pursue them both with my dancing…but that doesn’t mean I can’t do it on my own.”

He smiled and said, “You are cute.” That made me blush hard.

I am suddenly discombobulated, I need to get away from him, “Um, I have a class. I’m sorry you need to excuse me.” When I really want to cool my cheeks with my hands, look at him and say, you are handsome.

Saturday was an off day for me in college, but with my performance tomorrow I have to practise. He came only with Akriti, and Akriti won’t be coming today. She wasn’t performing in these tepid early fests. I didn’t want to see him, and strangely enough, I wanted to see him at the same time. Sometimes I feel like I want to surrender all of myself to someone and have someone feel like they can share their burden with me too. Then there were times when I didn’t, for I didn’t feel like I could. Trust is a difficult thing. How am I to know, what is right? How was I going to figure out if my judgement is right? What if the worst thing happened, I would have the most to lose. I couldn’t do that because these parts of me are some of my mother's too. I realise i am my mother's daughter wanting the very thing i can't seem to bring myself to trust.

But the worst happened only when I assumed that everyone was the worst. Didn’t it? It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts. Trying to avoid the worst only seem to make me feeling lonely… I was listening to my music and warming up, thinking along these lines when I heard him walk in.

“Are you going to perform now?”

I shake my head. He is surprised. I am just peevish, and the truth comes out on its own volition, “I won’t dance anymore for you.”

“And why is that?” he asked simply. He seemed to demand truth from me, with an ease that I think came from his simplicity.

“When I dance I express my heart’s secrets and desires, for anyone to see. In fact, it is the most truth I ever speak to anyone at any time.” I look up at him feeling, a sense of irony. “…so you end up knowing more about me than I do…along with that with my strange urge to be uninhibited around you, I lose my best-kept secrets.” He is chuckling, and it’s another sound I am starting to like seconded only to his laughter. My face heats up, albeit with a blush of anger.

“I seem to have provoked a bad mood?” he smiles.

I sigh and sit at the edge of the stage. Saransh sits next to me. I can feel his warmth, it envelops me in itself. I feel calmer…How about a leap of faith by trusting the subconscious. Which wouldn’t have made the suggestion, without taking into consideration all the clues i had gleaned so far from my little interactions with him. His warmth intoxicates me.

“I am just… nervous…I don’t know you at all, and i feel…” I look at him not completing the sentence. “I feel I don’t know you and can’t understand you. And you feel like you seem to see through me…quite easily!”

He smiles, “That’s strange in a nice way, for I sometimes feel the same.” I feel annoyed and irrational, happy again for some strange reason that I can’t fathom, maybe I don’t want to go on hearing his confession. He laughs at my mock annoyance expression of sorts.

“You seem to want to understand me, you don’t pressure me into having to share myself. You tell me about yourself, and I want to know more about you and have you know me too…” His voice has gotten low as though he is thinking aloud. His voice is soft and deep, of a calming timbre. He looks at me as though he has a newfound puzzle he too doesn’t know how to solve. I don’t know why I think that…I honestly don't even know if this is truly his confused face. I must have a worried expression on my face, too.

He smiles, “It’s not anyone who can match my steps after a morning metro at 7 on a Sunday morning.”

I feel my cheeks burn with my blush. He knew about it, he remembered it too..! I looked at him, wondering whether it could be a coincidence…He simply continues. I feel like a little girl wanting her present and not wanting to open it either to ruin the surprise, after all, it was a surprise the exhilarating anticipation was…invigorating? Besides surprises tended to go either way. The what if’s cloud the sky. These clouds add to the beauty of the sky not take away from it…sometimes the excitement the clouds cause can be more satisfying than the endless empty blue it is meant to be or the darkness that reveals the very insignificance of humankind. I could have stopped him if I wanted to. But I needed to know, this was going to be an example of curiosity that killed the cat. Damn it will be a hard lesson to learn.

I just listen to his soothing voice, “We had a physics assessment that day. I came early to help a few friends with it.” I am looking at him, almost staring. He is laughing. “I know it’s demented, the amount of chivalry I showed to be up and about at that hour. It wasn’t all that bad either you know…” he is smiling at me. I feel myself burning up. He leans a bit back to be at my eye level. But I can’t meet his eyes. I feel like fainting. Yeah, that would be as wasteful of everyone's time, but that’s exactly right. My hearts beating faster, I probably have rusted some synapses somewhere in my brain which want me to jump hope and skip all around! I could run around the school ten times over. The being so close feels close enough and not close enough at the same time. All of it is making me nauseous, almost. I guess it feels like I have smoked up pot, I feel like letting go and enjoying the experience, or maybe I am drunk. I don’t know I have never been drunk or done drugs, i don’t plan to change it. Who needs it, when I've got him? He is still talking to me, I should stop being in my head… I wonder what he said, I like the way he looks at me…

“…so I’ve lived in Delhi all my life, with my parents teaching here…My elder sister, well, she is an economist…I like doing Physics and Maths. I’m decent at them too…” I finally murmur. “Yes, I’m sure you are, every decent person is called a genius.” He laughs throwing his head back. Heck people do do that! Who knew? I thought it was made up expression of exaggerated emotion to get the point across. I am smiling too I’m sure after the crazy thoughts I have been having in my head. I’m sure they would make him laugh harder.

I reach out on an impulse and inspect his hand for some reason. His laughter dies down…I look at him. I think he is blushing too…He looks flushed.

His hands have ink stains on them. I smiled mine have them too…I’m surprised he’s letting me inspect his hand this way. His finger tips are calloused, rough for some reason. They feel dry and warm. Strong, making my own feel soft. I find my fingers keep going over the calluses. His eyes glaze as he looks into mine. He shivers as he answers, “I play the viola.” My eyes get big with fascination. I can see them in his eyes. He is smiling. I feel his pulse, looking down to see his lesser tanned arm. “One of these days you will play for me?” He chuckles. “I’d play today.”

His pulse is fast, almost as quick as mine. As I look back into his eyes, I’m lost. I give in my control, and try to follow my instincts. My instincts make me feel like I’m being pulled towards him like gravity, his warmth, his firm lips.

I seem to startle him. Heck, I’m shocked. He feels warm and strong, there is a softness in his lips that isn’t visible…His lips had been shaped for a smile…and now they are frozen. I pull away immediately. That was my first kiss…I stared at him. He looks so shocked and… hurt? I jump off the stage and turn to face him. I mean to say sorry, but I feel my eyes tearing up. I just end up covering my mouth…pulling my shrug closer, crossing my arms and hurrying to the bathroom. I feel like a world-class idiot. I have been dreaming up disillusions in my head.

I was probably reading too much into everything he said to suit myself. I felt like a pervert! I forced myself on him. I kissed him! Oh god please, don’t let him be embarrassed to talk to ever again. I’m probably never going to see him again. I didn’t care about what he would think of me…I don’t know, and at the moment I don't want to know. I am crying. I feel like bursting out! Throwing a tantrum, but what good would that do if no one was around to watch it. That would be expensive and stupid. What am I saying? I have lost it. I avoid looking at the mirror. I quickly wash my face and satisfy myself with slamming a cubicle door. I sit down trying to collect my thoughts and deep breath. Thankfully these washrooms are so little used. I smile at my errant thought. I chuckle and soon I’m laughing away. I just assaulted a guy! It was funny! I don’t realise when my laughter dies and end up crying again. I wipe my tears. Stupid, stupid girl!

I am so overwhelmed! With the day already.

I want some sweet chocolate. I taste the bitterness of my usually energising black coffee. I would have never needed it when I was around him.

“Adya.” It was Satvika calling out my name. I clear my throat. “Yeah, I'm in here…just give me a moment. I’ll be out.”

She asks softly, “You, ok?” I freeze. Well, I’m not ok.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just a second.” I wipe my tears and take another calming deep breath. The instant I get out. I see her guilt in her eyes. She probably saw the whole thing. Before she even opens her mouth, to say a word I shake my head. I walked out head held high. I’m a lot of things, but not a simpering fool and I will not be behaving like one. So sure, I didn’t have the time to get over it.

---

It is the day of my performance. I am to perform the last solo of the day. I am not as nervous as I should be. I feel…detached. It was like the opposite of all the feeling of when I had leaned on to kiss him. Maybe I am depressed, the dancing princess think so, I kept getting lots of chocolate which I eat like a greedy pig and do not share. Satvika kept my secret. I don’t care. It’s embarrassing, and that is life. I’m sure I’m going to remember it someday and laugh at it. It’s just that at the moment, I can’t get myself to laugh about it right now.

It hurts, but only till I start remembering to pretend. I don’t need to work too hard to pretend. I have been pretentious most of the time, haven’t I. So I forget that I have to and the habit takes care of the rest. I feel tired as though I’m breaking up as though I’m fighting off the flow of a river.

I did apologise to him, he had been waiting near the washrooms for me. I started off without giving him a moment. “I’m so sorry. I really don’t know what came over me. Please forgive me.” He had not met my eyes, probably feeling uncomfortable and, I think, angry. He ran his hand through his close-cropped hair and said in a soft voice in a tone I had never heard come from him so far, “We need to talk.” Did he feel like he had done something wrong when I had been the one to kiss him?

I had said immediately, “No, not really. It was a foolish thing I should have never done, and you don’t have to talk about it. I’m sorry. I really am…” Satvika dragged me to practise then. I think I heard him groan.

I don’t know what i have been upto, my autopilot mode doesn’t have precise relays because I don’t pay attention to anything. I just think about my performance…

My turn to perform, as I stand facing the crowd I don’t see the faces. I just feel the lights glare on me, my skin. The stage lights seems to be capable of melting me almost. It’s so hot, even though all I have on is my flimsy simple white conservative cotton kurta with simple chicken work on it, my Patiala salwar is too conservative and sober for this audience. They probably find my uninteresting solemn posture where I am gazing down and holding myself, boring too. The music starts, and it is its sadness I am finally able to relate to, I don’t have to pretend. I can dance my heart’s truth. I am hurt. I am sad, I did lose something dear, however, minute it might seem. I seem to have finally gotten the audience’s attention as I dance, there is silence so unshakable it hurts even more for some reason. It feels like a liberation. I want to let go of my sadness, but it comes crashing back. When I finally finish my performance I’m on my knees. Wiping my very real tears in the curtain of my own now open hair that falls all around me. My messy bun had been a lousy idea.

There is still the silence when I take a bow with a weak smile and leave the stage. I walk to the dancing princesses saying, “Maybe it was too simple?” They are staring at me. Do they hear the sadness I don’t want to accept, ringing in my voice? They hug me tight in an embrace that is as warming as it is suffocating. Vibhuti pulls me away from the crowd and takes me to the stage, to face my standing ovation. I smile out of politeness and bow again to her, to the judges and the crowd. I quietly exit the stage.

The princesses are endlessly chattering around me. I am laughing with them.

When the results are announced I get my first dance trophy of college competition. Apparently, it was an easy decision. They say that there would have been a riot if they hadn’t given me first place. I laugh as Vibhuti says, “I personally would have broken the judges face had you not gotten this.”

Did they really get my sadness? Was it a pretty expression to perform? If it was, I wonder if they knew it was kind of painful beauty.

I was thinking along these lines as I walked to the green room. Akriti stopped me, “Congrats, little dancer.” I smile at her and hug her too. I chuckle, “I am taller than you! Who are you calling little?” She laughs. She hands me a black overcoat to put over my sweaty kurta. I do, and I take the trophy back from her. I am about to pass her by then someone catches hold of my wrist and easily turns me around. Saransh looks nice in his kurta and Nehruvian collared cut sleeved coat. I blink. I say a polite, “Hi.” He clearly doesn’t care for it. He just pulls me along. I could be telling you that I am cool with him taking me anywhere, but that would be lying, and I don’t like to do that too much. I have lied enough to earn a guaranteed seat in hell. What can a small truth do to dissuade it? I am afraid for a moment. I ask him in the most normal voice I can muster, “Where are you taking me?” he turns and says, “Somewhere you can hear me and we aren't interrupted.”

If we are going to be entering an isolated classroom, I am going to hit him on his head with the trophy that is growing more substantial in my hand. Had I misjudged him so badly? Had I been this deluded?

Fortunately for my almost desiccated pride but a rational mind, we are seated in the front lawn of the college where anyone passing could see us even if there were too few people around. He starts, “I think a lot.” I don’t know how to respond to that. So keep shut and think about thanking Akriti for giving me the coat. It is too cold for me outside to be hanging about in my sweat wet kurta.

I fiddle with my trophy, and he repeats. He lifts my face to meet with the fingers strong slender fingers I’m familiar with, to meet his eyes, “I think a lot and many times end up living inside my head…i can’t dance my emotions for everyone to see…I’ve never really regretted that until now. I talk to you, a lot and yet seem to say nothing at all.”

I see him for the first time. Really see him, he is good looking but he is rough and coarse and handsome in a very different way than what I had imagined him to be. He is strong, but he is just as vulnerable and self-doubting. Satvika had called him a nerd, too tall, having too broad shoulders and too slim a waist to be real. He lets go of my face now, but I guess I do want to look at this man who seems so much more handsome by the setting sun's light. All I see is him. His voice is the one that calms me down, his form excites me. He brings out the voila from a case he had been carrying on the other hand which I had been too nervous and preoccupied to notice until now.

He begins to play. I know this, understand this. I understand the feeling his music seems to emote. The feeling of being rooted all of a sudden on a spot, speechless, and wordless. Wanting to say a million things and ask a million more. Shed the darkness of ignorance and meet with the brightest of the light that shows everything. I know this I understand, to not say anything and yet express everything.

I wipe my tears off my face and try to calm my heart and my goose pimples. He puts his Viola back in it’s case and looks at me once more. Awaiting a verdict, ha!

I tilt my face and manage to whisper softly, “Thank you that was very beautiful.”

But I suppose that’s not what he had wanted me to say…or do for he pulled me against himself and kissed me! He somehow managed to lift me and place me in his lap, before he let me come up for air. I straddle him feeling excited and calmed at the same time. I rest my head on his forehead. I kiss his eyebrows and his eyes, removing his specs. He says softly, “I feel sorry for myself…when we had been at the auditorium. I don’t know why but I had thought you were with Nakul. It angered me, made me feel like I was betraying him too…i don’t know why I had thought that…maybe because of that day’s auditorium philosophy lecture…I don’t know…Till I realised that you hadn’t asked to perform for him. You asked me. You liked me enough to dance for me, …not him. Then I knew, if I let you go, you’d leave and leave me hollowed somehow.”

I chuckle, he smiles.

“You should be proud of the fact that you have something to lose.”

He snorted and captured my lips again.

“You aren’t as bitter...” he says breathlessly.

“You aren’t as sweet.” I couldn’t help but reply.

By Shreya Dixit