Chapter 3 - Meeting Again (1)

It was nearly two months after "The Disco Episode" that I ran into Firdaus Mehta again. Nirvesh wanted to draw a nocturnal cityscape, and we ended up at the very end of Marine Drive – Nariman Point - one of the most expensive places you will ever see; most of it is commercial these days. So, armed with special "late-night" slips from our respective dorm-leaders, we headed out to Nariman Point. We were quite thankful that it was the student bodies which took care of these things – teachers or wardens may not have approved of our adventures, but the dorm-leaders were art-students themselves, and quite considerate of Nirvesh's eccentricities – he was already making a name for himself with his paintings by then, and artists usually do not want to restrict genius. I got to hitch along because Nirvesh claimed I was his muse, and half the college thought we were dating anyway, including our dorm-leaders.

So, around 2 AM, I found myself sipping a clay cup (we call them kulhad) of hot tea and staring moodily at the dark waters of the Arabian Sea, while Nirvesh painted away, lost in his own world. Wanting to look farther than I could see, I stood up from where I was sitting on the wall, and then climbed on to it. I cast a quick glance around – Nirvesh was absorbed in his canvas, and I could see no one else. Sometimes, people get jittery and reprimand you for standing or walking on the walls. Convinced that no chidings were imminent, I turned back to the sea.

I am not sure if it happens to other people as well, but the crashing of the waves against the rocks fills me with a strange melancholy. But then again, I am slightly weird that way – water bodies seem to beckon me to their depths (which sounds innocuous enough unless I add that I cannot swim – at all), high places make me want to take a plunge (and no, I am not afraid of heights; I actually love being in high places and looking down), moving vehicles make me want to jump out or push out my limbs – and so on.

So, anyway, the outline of a story began to take shape in my mind as I gazed at the dark waters, fuming and fighting against the rocks. The sea was furious, as it is wont to be during high tide days. A bit like women and their "time of the month", I have always thought – which often leads me to wonder why none of Varun, Poseidon and Neptune happen to be female. They should be, right? Fluid, moody, flexible, serene yet capable of great fury, tolerant of your vices, even abuse, till you incur her wrath – how is the sea not a woman?

But I digress. I apologise. It is just that my thoughts from that day – that wonderful yet terrible day – are etched on to my memory, possibly for the rest of my life.

Let me go back to how I was standing on the low, narrow wall and looking out at the violent, murky waters and wondering what a drowning man feels, promptly followed by the idea of mermaids, a flash of Disney and a soft, amused voice saying, "You really shouldn't stand there, you know.; it isn't a good day for a dip in the sea."

"I can't swim anyway," I murmured absently.

"I wouldn't have taken you for an idiot," the soft voice continued, but there was a hint of annoyance in it.

And then someone grabbed my wrist.

Torn out of my reverie, I whipped around to face "Furry" Mehta. For a moment, I could literally feel my heart stop beating.

"Hello," he said.

I blinked. Then my senses started crawling back in and I realised he was still holding on to my wrist, and I was back on the pavement again.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Live in the neighbourhood." A strange, not very pleasant smile appeared on his face. "Well, close enough, anyway." He eyed me curiously. "What are you doing here anyway? Don't they have curfew in the hostels these days?"

I nodded towards Nirvesh, who had, miraculously, not even noticed the new arrival.

Firdaus laughed – almost viciously. "Your boyfriend is quite something. Painting away, without a clue, while his girl jumps off into the sea."

"He's a genius," I snapped. "And he's not my boyfriend."

Nirvesh finally looked up, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Hello," he said evenly. "Sorry, I've been out of it. How long have you been here?"

Firdaus smiled at him. "Just arrived. Do carry on; I'll keep Jagadhaatreyi company."

Nirvesh nodded happily and blocked out the world again.

The beautiful creature turned to me. "So," he said quietly. "What were you doing, up on the wall?"

"I was thinking," I said. A nervous giggle escaped me at the childish response.

"It looked like you were about to jump." He was not smiling. Oh, dear.

"I wouldn't have." I looked up into the sylvan eyes. "L'appel du vide." The confession stumbled out before I could curb it.

He nodded gravely, and then smiled. Really smiled – not those fake ones that you see a million times a day. His eyes brightened and the corners crinkled, and his lips turned up unevenly – a slanted, boyish smile.

I found myself grinning in response.

"You are a very interesting woman, Jagadhaatreyi Malik," he told me.

"I'm flattered," I scoffed.

"You should be." He frowned. "My life consists of a series of actions to evade boredom."

"Oh, you poor dear," I retorted.

A flash of hurt flickered through the verdigris eyes. It was amazing how green his eyes looked at night. I bit back a desire to apologise. Why should I apologise if he was bored with his privileged life? It was not my fault!

Involuntarily, however, my face must have softened – after all, boredom was something I was quite familiar with, for he visibly brightened. It comes with a gifted mind, I suppose – and I know this from experience. And this guy was a prodigy, after all.

"Do you get bored?" he asked.

"Of course," I shrugged. "Who doesn't?"

He laughed. "Believe me, plenty of people."

I could not help smiling back.