FIFTY NINE
Maya smiled as her phone rang. Esha noticed that she even blushed as she took the phone and walked out of the cubicle. She never used to answercalls in private.
Maya heard the energetic hello. It was Nimesh, who else?
“Hey girl, what's up?”
“Nothing much. How are you?”
“I'm fine. Can we meet for coffee now?”
“Now?” Maya sounded surprised. “I am at work!”
“So what! Tell your boss that you have a date!”
“Don't be silly. I can't.”
“You can't do this much for someone who loves you so much, baby.”
“Don't talk nonsense. I'm not your baby,” she said.
“I love you!”
“Yeah! I know. Besides horses can fly!” she said dramatically.
“Stop acting funny. Tell me what it is?”
“I want to see you. I want to show you something.”
“Can't it wait?”
“Nooooo. Pleeeeeease!” he sounded cute as ever.
Okay. Not now though. I will meet you byevening. Will try to leave a little early today.”
“I hate you!”
She laughed. It was funny to see how he used such powerful emotions so casually.
She came back to her desk where Esha was waiting for her with a curious expression.
“What's it?” she turned towards Maya. “Who was it?”
“A friend,” she answered.
“Hmmm,” Esha didn't say anything in words.
“By the way I'll be leaving a little early today,” she said.
“Is Vikram in town?” she asked, her eyebrows going up.
“No. I'm going out with another friend of mine for some coffee.”
“Is it that cute boy you met at the club?” Esha asked, not without a little jealousy.
Maya blushed at the mention of his name.
“He is too young for you Maya,” she declared.
“So what? Can't we be friends?”
“Well, that you can, I suppose.”
She looked pretty with her curls flowing down to her shoulder as she entered the coffee shop.
Catching her eye, Nimesh smiled.
Maya sat next to him reciprocating his energy.
“Tell me what was so urgent.” She straightened the crease on her sleeve.
“I was unable to breathe.”
“Which means?”
“I had to see you so that my lungs could function.”
“Is that a joke,” Maya tilted her head.
“Maya I am s..s…s…s.. serious.”
“Where's your camera today?” she asked him without reacting to his stammer.
“It's here.” He took out a Nikon SLR Camera. He focussed it on Maya.
“Oh my God, this light makes you look beautiful,” he said as he clicked her.
Maya's cheeks went crimson again.
“Did you sketch anything new?” she asked him trying to distract the topic.
“I did a portrait of you.”
He showed her a sketch of a woman with her eyes as bright as fire. She was surrounded with flowers and multiple hands come out of her.
“Is that me?” Maya asked him.
“Yeah, I find you multiple faced. Bright energetic soul trapped in multiple bodies.”
What a description, Maya thought to herself.
“I… I …. I … really want to know you better.” He held her hand.
Maya was slightly embarrassed.
“Whendid you start sketching?” She again tried to change the course of conversation.
“Well when I was young my parents used to fight with each other. I had a little troubled childhood. Mom and dad couldn't see eye to eye, without fighting. This stressed me so much that I started stammering.”
Maya had noticed that he used to stammer sometimes when excited. Yet she didn't think too much about it since it happened only once or twice. It is so ironical how much we underrate childhood memories since they are the ones who are responsible in building an adult. They are the ones who are responsible for the fears, anxieties and all our perspectives that we carry for life.
“Finally to de-stress myself, I started drawing and painting,” he went on. “At times I felt as if they fought over me. Then finally a time came when I started sketching only violent scenes. They even took me to a child psychiatrist,” he said.
She felt sorry for him
“That's life. Shit happens,” Maya said.
“The story is not over yet. My dad died when I was twelve,” he said.
“How did he die?” she whispered.
“The car he was driving was hit by a train. The impact was so hard that the car was crushed and his body was cut into two.”
“Oh.” Maya didn't know what to say.
“After my dad died, my mom was full of guilt. She had to be treated for depression. She recovered after a couple of years. During that time I was left in the custody of my paternal uncle, a really bad man. He used to beat me up and he left me hungry sometimes. Thank God my mother pulled herself together. She is a very strong woman Maya. I love her,” he said. Maya shook her head with understanding.
Maya thought about him and his mother. Tough life. Every person has a story of his own. His own demons to fight with.
“Hey! It's fine.” Nimesh pressed her hand.
“What were those balls around the dead body,in that sketch of yours?” she suddenly remembered that sketch from his file.
“Those were dreams,” he said.
Maya knew that dead body would have been his memory of his father. He pulled himself together and tried to smile, but the memories were evidently tugging at him.
Oh, what it is with our minds, she thought. They know how to remember, but not how to forget!