The unspoken gift: Shy steps

‘With timid eyes and faint smiles our fondness bloomed like pink tulips…..’

A few weeks after my heated encounter with Mrs. Kapoor, I desperately avoided locking eyes with her. For days, I peeked out from my balcony door, secretly spying on her. She usually followed a fixed routine. Her early mornings were spent watering and tending to her big plants. She left for her college around the same time as I did, so I left for mine five minutes earlier. Every evening, the couple returned heavily sweating from the walks with their ferocious German Shepherd, so I chose the mornings for my leisure walks and bird feeding.

I dodged her every time I caught the slightest glimpse of her, until one awkward Sunday morning when I bumped into her at the neighbourhood park. After waddling on the track, I calmly creeped to my favourite place, the pigeon feeding point (I called it the grand community breakfast for the birds). I sat on the nearby bench and started reading a book. Ah, how much I wanted to dive in a world free from the real chaos!

Just then, I noticed a familiar canine with an even more familiar master marching towards the bench beside me. She held a stick in one hand and a leash in another. Mrs. Kapoor’s face was clearly visible this time, she had a fair complexion, big protruding eyes and a sharp nose (just like her sword tongue).

Rumi once said, “What you seek is seeking you,” but in my case ‘what I was desperately avoiding, eventually sought me.’ To avert an eye contact with her, I kept staring at the birds for a little longer before the German Shepherd pounced on them. The canine madly wanted to chase them away. Now with those bobbing heads gone, what was left for me to fix my eyes on!

“No…..Rustam….sit down,” she commanded her pet, and turned her gaze to me. I hesitantly returned the gesture. Finally our eyes locked.

She then smiled faintly. Watching my manners, I smiled back half-heartedly with a ‘Good Morning’ greeting. It took me a few seconds to absorb this uneasy reconciliation after whatever happened at our ‘First Encounter’. I came home, overthinking that I will have to repeat the forced smile next time I bump into her. The chances are high when someone lives next door. And so did it happen!

Sunday after Sunday went by, we crossed paths and greeted each other. One morning I saw her feeding the pigeons. She was alone. Over this time, I had become comfortable sitting next to her. She looked blank, her eyes moist. After a few minutes of silence, she regained her composure. “Are you a professor?” she asked me in a low voice. “Yes. Communication and Marketing,” I replied reserving my dignity. “My husband told about me about you. I teach too, English Literature,” she said. “Oh! That’s good,” I acted as if I never noticed, the Professor Delhi University inscribed on her name plate outside her white bungalow. “I love to read classical literature,” I said. I also told her that I was a literature graduate from the Delhi University.

Opposed to her demeanour (strict and arrogant), she appeared calmer and mellowed now. Perhaps she resonated with our shared profession, our shared fondness for the soaring birds or our shared interest in books.

We talked about fashion, plants, food, fiction, and a lot many things while enjoying the morning breeze, but sometimes she would become stoned and walk away as if she didn’t know me. I never took offence, perhaps it was her age to behave erratically. She hailed from Shimla. She would talk endlessly about the Mall Road and the simplicity of the mountain people opposed to the Delhiites. And somedays we would catch up from our balconies, casually discussing John Keats and William Shakespeare’s mastery of words.

Once she told me that she was an active member of the Roshanara Club. “The Chinese is scrumptious there. But I have to take smaller bites, chew with mouth closed and speak very less. Oh dear! These dining manners are so overwhelming,” she spoke making funny gestures with her hands and mouth.

Is she the same condescending lady who snapped at me for parking my car in front of her bungalow! I wondered as I watched her talk like a playful girl.

And then, my days began with the GOOD MORNING messages from Mrs. Kapoor, err..she was my beloved Jyoti aunty now!

It was a Friday evening when I received a phone call from her. “I have made yummy sandwiches and your favourite beaten coffee. Come quickly!” she spoke with immense excitement. I knew she was overly sensitive and would feel bad if I denied. It was okay warming up to each other casually but visiting her home made me nervous as the strange stillness of her beautifully decorated porch still haunted me. The colourful terracotta figurines, the tinkling of wind chimes, and the tiny fountain silently screamed with pain!

I took a deep breath to tame my racing heart and rang her door bell…………………

To be continued….
Next Part: The pangs of loneliness and the book