An article i once wrote...

SMITTEN….

I've always managed to hear his voice above the din. The antenna of my ears are like almost forever tuned to him, to the faintest of his whispers that manage to stir my soul each time in spite of the scores of deafening noises fighting to be heard above one another, drowning everything else into a humdrum. Yet his groans have never failed to convey his presence to me. His chuckles, his whistles, the bells on his key ring that go tinkling on their free Merry-Go-round ride each time he swirls the ring on his fingers, the pop with which his lighter comes alive to announce the demise of yet another Classic that I’ve always hated to see on his lips behind the veil of smoke-I've never missed hearing any of these characteristic sounds of his that tell me...he's around!

I've always heard everything he's said, and remembered most of it. His words always ring in my ears loud and clear except... except for a couple of them. Those were the couple he shot at me this evening at Nescafe. He'd parked his bike and was walking straight towards me, looking right into my eyes even as I was, well, staring at him. I could hear his footsteps clearly even though he was walking on mud; I could even hear the clinking of the zippers on the pocket of his jacket that collided frequently as he walked. The incessant chatting about me had stopped, the birds had quitted chirping-everything was silent, still, and I was numb...

He said something. I saw his lips move (rather i was staring at them) but i didn’t hear anything. His lips motioned again. I waited for the sound waves generated to reach my ears and the perturbations to inform me what he was trying to say, but nothing happened. I waited, forever it seemed, until I felt a gentle shove on my right shoulder as he stepped aside and moved past me taking a detour .I stood like that for some more seconds, when the world came alive again. He was ten steps past me by now, loudly chatting with his friends. People all around me were talking, laughing, exchanging HIFI's as usual-some I thought stealing meaningful glances at me, while the man at the counter yelled “Maggi!!!” in his usual nonchalant tone. I heard him comment, “Arrey chhod yar, IIT mein absent-minded jantuon ki kami kahan hai!” as I left the place and dragged my heavy footsteps towards the RR. My friend feels I’m completely smitten with him, and a big fool because he probably doesn’t even know I exist. I don’t think so. Or maybe she’s right….