The thing is… no, it is not just one thing; truly, not just a thing. Well, there are certain things; you know what I’m talking about. No, you don’t. Gosh! How you surprise me. Okay, should I spell it out? Yes. Then allow me, oh please do, to say a few words – words that may not so much as displease you – after all, you don’t know what the things are, do you? You Don’t. Of course you don’t, why else will you stare at my words with so blank an expression.

The most important thing, above all other things, is that she (Miss Somebody) is pretty. And, oh, someone once told me that all pretty girls are bound to have someone in their lives. I’m not sure how desperate girls are to have a man, but surely most men, but not all men, want nothing but pretty girls as their girlfriends and wives. I’m fine with anyone – pretty or not – who has a good heart. Once, there was one such girl, who happened to be pretty as well as a good-hearted women, but it occurred to me that she preferred someone unlike me, and so did I find out later… heck, let it be. That was past and past is past.

I’m concerned about the present. Miss Somebody works in the same organization as I do for the past two months, but I with all my eccentricity and reclusive nature didn’t so much as socialize with her or know what her name was. But, I used to look at her from the corner of my eyes, and whenever I did that I found her looking at me.

A friend of friend is a friend of hers. Now, after the exchange of a few words with that friend of friend, that friend of friend is my friend as well.  The friend of my friend, as we became friends, told me what her name was. I started doing a little research about her. I tried to find as much information about her from as many sources as were available; never did I do any such thing throughout my college life when the point was about my studies, had I done so I might have as well been a topper in the College if not in the University or something like that, you know.

Her relationship status on FB said she was single, but that didn’t tell me if she was ready to mingle. So, I clicked on her photos and read all her status updates and the comments that followed. I ignored the comments that girls made, however, I meticulously read the all the comments made by men to get a hint that she was close to someone… that, I thought, some or the other man maybe bold enough to write something private in public. But, no, I could not find any such comments.  I was pleased. Other social media didn’t reveal so much about her.

What if she is married, I wondered. I saw she wore a necklace on her neck, but luckily that wasn’t a Mangal Sūtra. When I looked at her more closely than before, I saw her eyes were golden, she had a mole on the left side of her forehead, she had a tattoo on her wrist, and she wore a ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. “Is she engaged?”My heart started beating faster at this very thought. “No, no, no!” I assured myself, “That can’t be, that can’t be.”

If I wanted I could have asked the girl if she had a boyfriend or something, but I brushed aside that idea because if I did that she would have got the impression that I was interested in her. What an awkward situation it would be if she’d told me that she had a boyfriend, and asked me the reason for asking the question. I know she would be flattered if I asked her that; she might also think that she is too beautiful and think highly of her own appearance. I didn’t want her to be puffed up with vanity of any kind.

Once again I asked the friend of friend, who is now my friend, if the girl in question was engaged or has a boyfriend or something. “And, may I ask,” Said he, “why do you raise such a question?”

“Curiosity,” said I, and he grinned, the grin that makes you think you are a liar, “the devil called curiosity got the better of me.”

“Oh, I see.” said the friend of friend, still grinning, “She must be lucky to be the only object of your curiosity in so big a company as ours.”

Such teasing! I thought. I liked the damned fellow less and less. “A simple question I asked and, my friend, a simple answer I would prefer, that will suffice,” I remarked.

“What a coincidence it is,” said the friend of friend, whom I started liking less and less, “that she bothers me about you, and now you’re asking me questions about her.”

“She bothers you about me?” that was news for me; I was surprised to hear that.

“Yes, yes, bothering, bothering and bothering! I have no intention of playing the mediator between you two.” What an emotional outburst, will he start crying now, I thought, “I’m making it clear, absolutely clear, that you should take care of your own stuff before anything begins from the beginning.”

What a fatherly advice he can give, I thought. “I understand,” I said and tried to console the fellow for I started liking him once again.

Copyright © 2013 RAMU DAS