the Thinker

Tired and exhausted, he walked out of his office, towards the parking lot for two-wheelers. It had been a busy day at the office. His colleague, Nadim informed him yesterday about the latest rumours circulating in the office.

“The new promotion list is being finalized, it seems you are in for one. So when do we get our treat?” Nadim had asked.

“Come on yaar! They haven’t announced the list officially as yet,” he shrugged off.

It was almost 6:30 pm, as he started walking out of his office.

‘Two-wheelers to be parked here,’ said a board as he approached the parking lot, which was situated towards the backside of the main building.

Some of his friends thought that it was a luxury to drive on one’s bike everyday to office, covering a distance of 12 kms, both ways.

“You drive from home to office and office to home everyday on your bike, that might be costing a fortune,” asked Shikha, one of his collegues, the other day.

Whenever these people came up with such comments, he used to laugh it off and they would misunderstand him.

“That guy has got so much of attitude.” He overheard one of his colleagues yesterday. All those conversations and remarks buzzed in his ear as he drove back home.

“How ignorant could people be, refusing to accept a person for what he is,” he thought as he drove silently. Evenings were pretty pleasant. The cool breeze kissed his skin, soothing his senses. It always relaxed him, and in a strange way reminded him of his home.

As he speeded across the flyover towards his home, and turned right, he came across the dingy slum. He crossed this slum every morning and evening. It was a complete contrast to the place where he was coming from.

Compared to the neat, sophisticated air-conditioned space, which constituted his office, this appeared to be some kind of a dungeon. These were small chain of small dwellings, huddled together. The people living here were a sharp contrast to the kind of people he interacted with, throughout the day.

The dark surroundings of this area appeared suffocating sometimes, and at other times, mysterious. He used to slow down his bike purposely, whenever he would cross this area. He knew it was a strange habit. But he could not help it. There was this strange attraction he felt towards this area and it squalor.

The slum covered a long stretch on this street. Sometimes while traveling he felt that it would never end. His senses would experience different vibrations simultaneously. It was a synesthetic effect that aroused him. As he went ahead swiftly, he heard a woman screaming cantankerously at some fellow. He could not relate to her tone somehow.

However, as he moved ahead, he saw a bunch of kids from the slum playing in the middle of the street. Their screams and giggles captivated him, every time he would pass through this lane. He did not know why or how they managed to drag him 12 years down the memory line, back to his school days.

Somehow, in their voices, echoed the voices of his classmates who would rush out of the classroom at the sound of the closing bell. While everyone used to pack their bags and walk out quickly with their friends, one boy would remain seated in the second-last bench of the class, silently. He used to do that everyday.

The reason for his delay was standing near the first bench, far away from his bench. A girl stood near the first bench, picking up her books slowly from the desk, ready to leave for home.

He did not know whether she was beautiful or not. He did not know much about girls. Most of the times the girls whom he found beautiful, were the most ordinary ones to his friends. When he saw her for the first time, he could not guess whether his friends would consider her pretty or not. Sometimes, he could not understand why people were not liked for what they are.

But he knew for sure that he felt differently about her than he has ever felt for any other girl. He could not define what he felt for her, but it was certainly something he had never experienced before.

For the past one year, he used to quietly sneak a view at her, from the last bench. It was not that he was bad in studies, because of which he sat at the end of the class. In fact, he was very likable to everyone. His class teacher had told him several times to sit in the front bench.

“Arun, why do you sit at there, come and sit here in the front row, you were the class topper this semester,” his teacher would tell him lovingly.

“No sir, I am fine here, actually I can see the board better from here,” he replied quietly. The girl’s would giggle at his words, and some of the guys would snigger. He could never understand why.

He was not acting modest or anything. In fact he hated when people raised him to a pedestal, and then kept pestering him to perform better and better. His father would force him to stay awake till twelve in the night, during his exams.

The results were clearly reflected in his report card. He stood first most of the times. Everyone would look up to him with awe, as if he was some kind of an extra-terrestrial creature or something. Some of the guys in his class would view him with an expression similar to envy. He had only a few people, whom he could call friends.

He silence sometimes gave some of his classmates the impression that he must one of those typical arrogant guys. He knew about them, and he really wanted to break their illusion. He wanted friends badly but not the ones, who wanted to be with him only to get hold of his notes.

He was tired of being the class topper; he wanted a respite from it. He hated it, when his father would interrupt him, as he would be leaving for the football ground.

“This time your marks were slightly lower in Chemistry. Certain chapters in Geography too need revision. Come back soon from your match, I think we need to work on these two subjects,” said his father.

Somehow he always felt that his life was bonded with conditions. He had to excel in studies, even though he did not want to. He had to be in the good books of the teachers, though he wanted to stay away from them most of the time. He had to be the role model for all other students, as one who could be pointed at as an example, by their parents.

He desperately needed a breather. Hence he made the first move by shifting to one of the last rows in the class. However, his disgust against his star status was not the only reason that made him sit behind everyone.

It was also because; he could steal a glimpse at her from behind. She got into his school a year back. The day he saw her, all his desperation suddenly melted away. God had answered his prayers by sending a very unusual distraction.

He had seen her for the first time, in the library. She was asking the librarian whether he had some good reference book for Economics or not. God bless the fellow, he could not understand which book was being referred to, and therefore he directed her towards him (Arun).

“He is the topper from your class, go and ask him, he would know,” said the librarian.

She walked up quietly to him. At first he did not even realize that someone was standing before him. He was engrossed in his assignment. Suddenly he heard someone cough, as if to attract attention.

He looked up and saw her.

“Hello, I am Nishi. I am new in your class,” she said and paused looking uncertain, as if she did not know what to say next. He waited patiently. She handed him a small shred of a paper, on which the name of a book was written.

“I was searching for this book, I asked the librarian, but he said he has never heard of this book. Can you tell me, where can I get it? Or if there is some other reference book which is better?” she looked at him hopefully.

“I have this book at home, I shall get it for you,” he said. Suddenly, he was amazed at himself. He had never been so spontaneous, when it came to helping people with their notes, books or assignments, before this. He always refrained himself from doing so, in order to escape from all that flattery and superficial comments that they would confer upon him.

But what had happened to him all of a sudden. Why didn’t he react similarly to her? After all, she was also another one of them, asking for his help.

“Are you sure that you can give it to me? I mean I wanted it for the test we have, day after tomorrow. Won’t you need it,” she asked with genuine concern in her voice.

He found himself listening to her voice very intently. He looked up at her eyes. She had light brown eyes, which were filled with concern at that moment. Her voice reminded him of his mother’s voice. Whenever, he would rush in the morning for school without finishing his breakfast, his mother would ask him in a similar tone, that whether so little breakfast sustain him till the lunch break?

“I have read that book several times, so I do not need to read it again. I will get it for you, tomorrow,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, and slowly walked off away from him. After she left, he looked back at his copy and tried to concentrate. But, his mind kept dwindling here and there. He had looked up at her only once.

But her face and voice were registered in his mind. She had a yellowish-wheatish complexion, one that reminded him of fresh corns. He felt weird, but he could not find any other comparison.

The next thing he thought about, were her eyes. He had never paid any special attention to anyone’ s looks before this. But then, she had this fairly large, light brown pair of quizzical eyes. He kept remembering them all the while, he could not understand why.

The next day, he clutched the book that she has asked for protectively in his hand, scared that someone else might ask for it.

When the recess bell rang, people ran out of the class, half in the school playground. Others took their lunch boxes and walked out in a merry mood. Only he was tensed. Somehow, he always thought that thinking makes a person hungry.

Previously when he used to sit and ponder over a problem or sum, after sometime, he always felt like munching something. They had a double math period before the recess bell, but still he was not hungry that day. He walked up to her slowly, and tried his best to hide the tension, which was transparent on his face.

“Excuse me,” he said.

She turned at him.

"Somehow he always felt that his life was bonded with conditions. ... "

Liked this para! Nice start, Amrita! Waiting for more!  

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You are a natural, Amrita :)
This particular para .. it comes out to be so real and something that readers can relate to ...

"He did not know whether she was beautiful or not. He did not know much about girls. Most of the times the girls whom he found beautiful, were the most ordinary ones to his friends. When he saw her for the first time, he could not guess whether his friends would consider her pretty or not. Sometimes, he could not understand why people were not liked for what they are."  

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hi gayathri. I am glad u liked this para. i would say that such a bondage is felt by many of us in our lives. It is very conspicuous nowdays, since people pester their children more and more, in order to perform better. In the process, some precious moments are lost.


Hi snehal,

glad u liked the para. Actually i guess there are lots of us who tend to think like that. they say that when u like a person, he/she appears beautiful only to u, and maybe not to the others. i personally believe in such a thing. therefore when some of my very good friends claim that they are not good to look at, i rubbish it. In other words beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.  

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sweet... wonderful...
and the situation where u have stopped the story just leaves the reader to wonder what happened after this...
Everybody in life must have gone thru situations where one recollects the past...
The past suddenly comes in front of the eyes...as if its happening rite now....

Good work amrita...  

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Thanks art, and yes u are right sometimes the past just comes back to us, through certain things we could not have even guessed of. byways, this is a real life story.  

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This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.  

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Amrita,
So from now on u r going to write such stories. :).  

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Hi reflex, good to see u again...it is not necessary that i will continue to write such stories. there might be other interesting topics which may come up in future. just wait and watch.  

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Waiting for such posts Amrita. Howz ur work going on .  

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you have got to be kidding me!!! how many days did you take to write this post?  

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Wonderful piece of work! You are really talented!  

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I was browsing around Ranga's blog and came across this..
Lovely post..
The ending leaves us craving for
more and that's the way it should be.  

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it was nice. you have made every line in an pictorial way.every actions of the actors are clearly reflected.but do you know what happen when it goes over a limit.
it doesnt become nice.rest is good.you can become next rowling  

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hey ... what happens next?  

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guys, I am really sorry...I know my blog is terribly outdated. could not post the rest of the story. work is coming down really hard on me. few days back i got fired real bad. Did not dare to open my blog after that. But i promise, I will be back with a bang!! see u guys!  

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Hey Amrita, remember we'll be here whenever you decide (or are able to come back), so just do what you've got to do now and take all your time... Hope you are doing all right... Best wishes from Barcelona!  

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Where are you? Been a long time since I got to "see" a little of you.... :-)  

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Hi eroteme, i am missing my blog and all u guys terribly. I guess anu is better off. Job pressures. Your first issue of alvibest was really good. I guess i need to take some lessons from you as to how to squeeze in time for blogging.  

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Hope u come back soon!!!
Long time no posts!!!!  

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hi guys, really happy to know that u guys (some of u at least) remember me still. i am really missing my blog, butwork pressure is really putting me down. we have fierce deadlines to meet.  

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hi guys, really happy to know that u guys (some of u at least) remember me still. i am really missing my blog, butwork pressure is really putting me down. we have fierce deadlines to meet.  

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first time at ur blog..very well written, so what happens next???  

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