The Stranger

*FICTION*

Last Saturday, I was at British council, New Delhi center. I had gone there to collect my certificate. The receptionist told me that my teacher would arrive in an hour and only then I could collect my certificate so I went to the Charbagh there to spend my time.

Since all the tables were occupied (yes there is a good sitting arrangement too), I sat at one of the slabs surrounding a fountain which is there in the middle of Charbagh. I assumed it was a pleasant day but the wind was dry and temperature not as low as I had expected. There were people sitting on the other slabs too. As it was a dry day, I scooped some water on my palm from the fountain. Freshness surrounded me so I kept doing it again and again. After a few minutes I realized a girl was observing me. She was beautiful. I wanted to stare at her for a few more minutes but I did not want to look like an idiot. So I averted my eyes and then moved to the area where there is a sculpture.

The sculpture has always remained a mystery to me. Every time I see it, I find a different meaning associated to it. This time, I didn’t want to observe it, so instead I removed my footwears and started walking barefooted on the grass. The smell of moist earth and the wet grass, It was heavenly. Suddenly I noticed someone was amused at my Drama. I must have been looking an idiot. It was the same girl who was sitting at the adjacent slab earlier. I was feeling terrible at my stupidities. She was tall, must be 5’4”, fair, pretty. And all these things made me wince. She wore and identity card and was carrying her notebooks and some printed notes. I felt I had been enough of a fool in front of her so I tried to start a conversation. I went ahead.

“um..student no? which course?”

“umm..yeah. Creative writing”

“Oh! Me too. I mean I was. Came to collect the certificate. Charbagh story???”

“Oh! Yeah Charbagh story.” and she smiled.

“same stuff”

“yeah. Same stuff” she was still amused.

Now that we had something in common, we conversed for a few minutes. Then I realized that My teacher would have come so I told her and left. The way she was smiling between our conversation and had seen me doing all that, I must have been looked a joker to her

I met my teacher, collected the certificate but as I took a step towards the exit, I felt a strange urge to go back to Charbagh and meet that girl again. In a hurry I had even forgot to ask her name. As I reached the entrance to Charbagh, I realized it had started to drizzle. I saw the tiny drops on the ground which kept falling and vanished. I looked around. She had gone to the corner where there is greenery. She was looking really pretty in her blue long skirt and a black blouse. Her cheeks were pink. She was standing besides colorful flowers. That image is still alive in my mind. I took a deep breath, but as I took a step forward, something stopped me. I stared her for a while and then came back.

It’s just that strangers, sometimes, are best left strangers.

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