The surface looked pale. With a pen in her right hand, she tried to make sense of the thousands of letters in front of her while her restless eyes kept going back to the surface of the desk. She was feeling an inexorable urge to put the tip of the pen on the desk; write down, sketch a little something; add strokes, highlights, more letters. She held her hand back, stopping herself from going back to her fourteen year old self; scribbling her heart out on whatever came in the way of her pen.
It was winter. The teacher stood, talking about Tsar Nicholas. She hated history. “Just one more year,” she thought, “one more year, and no more history textbooks.” She sat quietly, scribbling, while the teacher went on with his lecture, surrounded by the milky green walls of class IX-B. The bell rang, to her relief, and she looked up; it had been forty minutes since she last did. With drowsy eyes, she looked at Sarah. For more than three months now, Sarah had been a great person to share a seat with. Sarah smiled back, nodding in understanding. She looked beyond Sarah, to the neighbouring seats. Girls and boys, in groups, talking in a constant incomprehensible cacophony. She felt sick. She didn't like recesses anymore. Ever since she had that fight with Reina, she felt crippled and alone without her best friend. Recess time was tough because there was enough idleness for awkward glances to creep in. The other day, Reina had come to her returning the friendship belt that she had given her, the last friendship day, a few months ago. She felt empty. She decided to stay back and have lunch in the class. She hated recesses.
Smiling at the memory, she wrote her initials down on the desk and admired it, adding serifs and bolder borders, satisfying the overdue urge. She glanced up, around at the library populace. People sat hunched in their seats, over desks, reading, or writing, or probably imagining, just like her. The watch showed 5:30. “Am I hungry?” She looked at the door. “Though it has been four hours since I had that lunch.” She couldn't quite place a feeling she could call hunger, but she sure found a little of boredom. She closed her book with a tiny thud. That thud gave her a weird sense of achievement. Smirking, she strode out of the gloomy room. When she stepped out on the street, the air seemed to caress her cheeks, in a welcoming way. She loved that feeling. Taking a right, she walked to her favourite café. Subconsciously, she looked around for familiar faces. Sitting down, she thought about the human tendency of seeking familiarity; a known face to smile at, a word or two shared. It seemed so important, now that she had it tough, having moved out of her comfort, to a new city. She wanted to be free and adventurous. Even though she enjoyed her study, there was a lingering mist of uncertainty all the time. As the days had passed, she had decided on her favourite café, her favourite park, her favourite reading spot, her favourite shopping mart, but she was yet to find some favourites. The warm milk she had ordered, wasn't to her taste. “What is it?” She wasn't sure what she didn't like about the milk.
“More?” Mother looked at her with an expression that could be interpreted in a million ways. “Extra sugar is never good, love, you’ll end up being fat.” “I don’t want to be fat,” she thought, and looked at mother silently, with persuasive eyes. Mother smiled, emptying half of the spoon she had filled, into the cup of milk, as if to convince herself that she tried. “That’s it, okay?” She grinned and drank the cup away within seconds. She was late for school. She was late on almost all days since father bought her her own ride to school. The bus used to honk down the window and she had to run, no matter how much she hated it. Now, she had her own rules with her own ride. It was the last year of school and she felt grown up. She had always wanted to finish school soon and be on her own, away from home. That thought gave her absolute power, to storm through the last few months.
The waitress brought the check to the table and put it down, smiling. She noticed an extraordinary glow on the waitress’ face in the few split seconds that she looked at her. The purse dangled at the head of the chair as she pulled out money. There was this thing she had about paying with her own money. She loved the implication of self-dependence it held, yet it made her a teeny bit scared. With father paying for every little thing, all her life, she almost always thought about father while paying now. She stood up, making plans for the rest of the day, in her head. Despite the app stores on mobile phones now being full of a plethora of apps trying to help one manage one’s life, she preferred writing things down in her little notepad. It was a small book with thick unruled pages inside, and an embroidered green jacket. She had bought it on a college trip to a hill station. The trip had been wondrous.
In cities, the sky near the horizon is always rendered out of vision by the countless buildings. The hills did that part here. Yet, somewhere between two mountaintops, you could get a lucky glimpse of the white eternity, bordered by some greenery. The sun gave nothing but short impromptu trips through the sky, whenever the clouds let it. The weather had been just perfect; a warm kind of cold. She descended the steep stairs, leading to a garden beside their lodging. She called out to her friend who couldn’t walk more than three feet without stopping to breathe. The cold made it harder for her. At eighteen, they were full of a natural excitement for everything. She stopped and looked at the green expanse in front of her. The hills in the distance, shying away in the fog. She held her jacket closer as a gust of wind said hi. The scenery made her uncomfortably peaceful. She wanted to pull her mobile phone out and capture the view. Deciding otherwise, she sat down on the dewy grass. This was one of the rare times she didn’t care about her clothes getting messy. Beautiful places brought out a side of hers, that she didn’t quite understand, yet really liked.
She was enchanted by how the smallest of things could take one back to the best of times. Taking a cab, she started for the only place which almost qualified as ‘home’ in this city. On the way, she looked out, fascinated, as always, by the enormity of humankind and its creations, simply moving past her window, like a movie. As the cab took up speed, the vivid images turned into trails of colours, changing in width and depth, constantly, in an alien animation of sorts. She started falling down, through time, again.
“I really like red velvet. We can always ask them to add that flower to this one.” She brooded. This was the best cake store in the neighbourhood, it ought to have the ideal cake. It was her best friend’s birthday, after all. Everything had to go right. Leigh pulled at her cuff, throwing a confused glance at her. She had to decide. “So, red velvet it is, then?” She asked, waiting for a yes. Leigh always accompanied her, ending up agreeing with everything. An hour later, they gathered to decorate the room. “Where’s the yellow ribbon?” “Here! Also, I already did the blue and green one. Look, so pretty, isn’t it?” said the excited Sal. “Yes, good.” She was glad everything was working out well. “Bern is going to love everything.” Three hours later, as the energy in the party fell down to a dim, the girls lay sprawled on the furniture around the room. Bern turned to her. “Thank you. It was all really, really incredible.” She gloated inside, smiling in content. “We’re getting old.” It suddenly sounded like a bad thing to have turned twenty one. They sat back, exhaling in unison and then laughing. “I’ll miss this,” someone said, it didn’t matter who; they all agreed.
Paying the cab, she took the elevator to her apartment. The neighbour rushed inside, just when the door was about to shut close. Sharing obligatory smiles, they kept silent for the minute in the elevator. She reflected on the comfort found in the agreed discomfort within the four metal walls. Pulling out her phone, she checked for notifications. It was a common practice among the youth; checking the phone in awkward moments. She stepped out as the door opened following a loud bell; pulling the key out, one centimeter above from inside the bag, for every inch that her foot moved. The lock clicked open, with a warm, damp air rushing out. As she turned the lights on, the phone roared in the bag. I’ve got a pocket full, a pocket full o’sunshine. It was mother, calling right on time. She talked home once, every day. It was the few minutes that restored sanity in her. New places can be daunting at times.
The glaring horn irritated her nerves. She made a sluggish expression, not knowing whom to complain. Emotional complaints made no sense, she realised. “This place is so loud.” “I hate that girl, why doesn’t she die?” There was little anyone could do about them. Yet, she always murmured to herself. She was the only one who would care, you know. She pressed her head at the back of the seat, trying to stop the tears. College had been a lovely life. She hated to see everything change. She tried recalling herself of her goals; of the adventures she wanted to have; of starting a new life, in a new city. As the cab stopped at the respective terminal, she closed her eyes, as if to stop time.
It was just about a month ago, and yet seemed so far back in time. She was nostalgic, yet happy. Tying her hair up, she put on her comfies and sat to resume the work she had started in the library, hours ago. With a pen in her right hand, she made sense of the thousands of letters in front of her, peeking at the surface of the desk at times. The surface looked pale.
