Whirlwind quixotic dream

He couldn't breathe. He sat down, holding his head in his hands and letting the feeling of exhilaration just sweep him off his feet. In fact it was not so much about being swept off the feet as it was about letting the feeling sink in: The feeling that he had finally given in.

He prided himself in being different from the crowd, in fact not just him; he felt his friends of both genders felt different too and why not?  They all had an extremely healthy, balanced and well, to use a cliché, a different upbringing. Thanks to that and the fact that he was a boisterous creature, with a natural knack for making friends, he had managed to keep Cupid at bay. To put it more aptly Cupid had been quite unsuccessful in afflicting him with even a single arrow, dipped in the so called potion of love.

Whether he had managed to hedge the arrows, or they hadn't really been aimed his way, was a debatable point. He hadn't succumbed in school or college either and even at work though he was the cynosure of all eyes, a yearning or need to be with another hadn't really attacked him yet. He had his head and heart in place as one,  would say and hadn't allowed anyone to tip the balance, until...

As he walked down the street lost in thought, a quick movement to his left arrested him midway. He suddenly felt in the grip of a strange but powerful aura, something he had never felt before. He continued to walk briskly, a little uneasy. He stopped short at a cafe and bought himself a steaming hot cup of strong coffee. He felt that this would help him to overcome the strange feeling that was creeping in on him the past few days.

That is when he caught a glimpse of those eyes again: just her eyes. He was bewitched, transfixed to the spot. He fumbled to find the change in his pocket, smiling strangely at the girl handing him the coffee. She thought him queer, but then according to her, it wasn't really her business, but the guy seemed to be in a different world. He had a plastered, zombie look. And in just a flash she was gone, those eyes were gone. They had a piercing look and froze his heart, not out of fear but a feeling he’d never experienced before…He thought of running in the direction where he thought he’d seen her, but it wasn't really him, so he calmed his nerves and just let it be. Balancing the hot cup in his hand he walked slowly.

He sat alone at a table facing the street. A vantage point in a way, as he could scan the entire street in one pan movement and could act as lost or oblivious to the crowd, if required. It wasn't an overtly crowded place, in fact there was a slow motion feel to the place, as if it were a separate entity suspended somewhere in time, amidst the otherwise busy city street, abuzz with constant activity.

Feeling a tad grounded, he continued to sip the strong coffee, savouring the heady aroma, trying hard to shrug off the feeling that seemed to be so much a part of him now. He started doing what he often did on certain days when he was overwhelmed by this mysterious intoxicating sensation.

He couldn’t share his predicament with anyone. All at office thought he was just busy finishing new projects and didn’t seem to be too concerned with the faraway look in his eyes that had now almost come to stay.

Going back to the time it had begun, he reminisced, focusing on the slew of events that had led up to this gnawing emptiness he felt deep within. He had tried to increase his work hours, asked the boss to let him slog it out. He went regularly to the gym and worked out like a man possessed. The young instructor was quite impressed with his diligence and often prodded him to take on tougher exercise regimes. They shared a unique bonhomie though they rarely spoke to each other. He wasn't on drugs, didn't smoke or drink, and rarely hung out with party goers. Soon he began to be viewed as hot property in the matrimonial market but not for him was any of this possible.

Day in and day out he was consumed by those eyes and the look. If he actually counted the number of times he’d seen her, it would amount to barely seven odd fleeting eye contacts. Not a centimeter more had he seen, and he was smitten. He was obsessed.

He knew nothing about her, she always had her face wrapped ever so gracefully in a scarf, all that he saw whenever he did were her eyes, at the traffic lights, on the escalator, in the subway, but always, obviously always they were in opposite directions and before he could react she would be gone as fast as she would appear like an apparition from nowhere in front of him.   

Days passed by. It was now nearly six months since he had last seen her, more appropriately seen those eyes. How was he going to even manage find her in this huge city was a riddle he was unable to resolve. But he knew, that in those seven brief but electric eye contacts there were eons hanging. There was chemistry, there was fire; there was unadulterated plain and simple desire. 

He thought frequenting the coffee shop would perhaps give him a chance to spot her again, for it was here that he had first seen those honey soft pools as they stared at him for what seemed like eternity.

It was exactly eleven months since he’d seen her; he had lost all hope until…

She was right in front of him as he looked up from the newspaper he was trying to read as he sipped the hot coffee. She pulled up a chair and sat down opposite him. She wore the same red scarf that covered her entire face except her eyes. They were honey coloured. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. He was indeed tongue tied. He felt he was made of stone. All he did was stare, awestruck by the softness in the expression, she extended one hand and touched his hand lightly, and with the other pulled off her scarf. Now he couldn't stop staring. She was the most exquisite creature that he’d ever seen, as if made from porcelain, delicate and perfect, except…there was something ethereal about her…he withdrew his hand and tried to get up but couldn't.

He couldn't breathe. He sat down again, holding his head in his hands and letting the feeling of exhilaration just sweep him off his feet.  She took his hand in hers again and whispered, all those days when you searched for me, will not go in vain. Seven eye contacts, fleeting though they may have seemed, cupid had struck then and has now too, so don’t walk away it has been a year and I know it has to be just you and me. Not just today and tomorrow, but till the Sun stops creating shadows, till the moon stops shining bright you are mine and always will be.    

In fact it was not so much about being swept off the feet as it was about letting the feeling sink in: The feeling that he had finally given in.

They stood up smiled as if they knew exactly what to do next and walked off into the sunset, hand in hand, the scarf was back in place and all he could see were her eyes. She had come to reclaim him.

©Copyright Suverchala Kashyap