Perspectives

He saw her across the corridor. He was certain it was her. He was about to swipe his card to enter his room when he heard that laugh. It was too familiar for him not to look up and turn at the direction from where it came. And then he saw her. With her husband. It was just a fraction of a second before they both entered their room but that was all he needed to know it was her.

He couldn’t believe he’d be seeing her. After all it had been three years. The last time they had met was at the park. On their regular bench where he’d been waiting for her and she came and flung her wedding card on his face and left. He had not seen her since that day. The memories came rushing back to him as he entered his room and collapsed on his bed, blankly staring at the hotel ceiling.

“She must be here on holiday with her husband”, he thought to himself. What a coincidence. He was here for a couple of days for work. And what were the odds that he would bump into her here. They lived in the same city and hadn’t met in three years. And here they were, both in a different city sharing the same floor in the same hotel.

That evening he went down to the oriental restaurant of the hotel for his dinner. He was lost in his thoughts stirring his soup unmindfully when he heard that laugh again. And once more, there she was. This time he got a clearer view and confirmed it was indeed her. She sat facing him, with her husband having his back towards him. He quickly put his head down and took a few sips from his steaming soup. He hoped she hadn’t seen him. She was too engrossed with her husband anyway. From the corner of his eye he looked at her. She was animatedly explaining something to her husband. So typical of her, he thought to himself. Always animated, always excited. Passionate about any and every point she had to make. He could see her husband nod from time as she went on with her words. As always she seems oblivious of the world around her. She was talking to her husband and only saw him.

He remembered their last meeting. It was with the same passion that she spoke to him that day. “You will always remain a loser in your life. You are and always will always remain incapable of taking a stand. Taking a decision. But know this much, I cannot go on waiting for you. I need to move on with my life. And I am moving on. Here see”, she said condescendingly, as she flung her wedding card on his face. He sat there motionless. Stunned by her words, shocked at her outburst! Shattered by her ultimatum! The last he remembered was seeing her brown and light-brown streaked mane bouncing as she stormed off the park and got into her car. He would never see or hear from her again in the next three years.

He was brought back from the past by the waiter asking him if he’d like a main dish after his soup. He hurriedly asked for his bill to be sent to his room as he moved away from the dining room.

He was thankful she hadn’t seen him.

*****

She was happy to see him. The moment her eyes turned as she and her husband were about to enter their hotel room she saw him across the corridor, trying to enter his own room. Fumbling with the swipe card, true to his nature! She laughed out loud. It was a spontaneous laugh and yet part of her also wanted to attract his attention on her. She felt a tad disappointed when he didn’t notice her and entered his own room instead.

As she entered their room, her husband had his arms all over her. She responded to his embraces and kisses alright but her mind was thinking of him. She had seen him after 3 years. It had been that long.

She knew she was the dominant one in their relationship but yet there were some things she wanted him to take charge. For seven years they were together and yet he showed no signs of coming up to her family and making things official. He kept on delaying it for some reason or the other. Finally she had to give in to her father’s wishes. Actually more than ‘give in’ she gladly accepted. She was fed up. 

She remembered the same fumble, the lack of reaction the unwillingness to react that fateful day when she flung her wedding card on his face and walked away. She half-expected him to get up from his slumber and follow her. Cajole her, plead, beg her to stay, to change her mind. But he didn’t. As she sat in her car, she waited for a couple of seconds before turning the ignition on. Hoping against hope he’d make a last minute appearance asking her to stop. But he didn’t. And she drove away. As she made love to her husband, old memories came rushing back to her, as she stared blankly at the hotel ceiling. A solitary tear, rolled down her eyes.

“Chinese or Indian”, her thoughts of the past which stayed with her in the dining room, were broken by her husband’s enquiry. “Indian please”, she replied almost instantly without a thought. She didn’t want to be disturbed from her past. She had seen him sitting in the other corner of the large dining hall. Contemplating whether to take a sip from his soup or not. Unsure, undecided, hesitant as always. She saw him and once again, like at the corridor, laughed out loud. Then she turned to her husband to explain animatedly why she preferred to have Indian that night instead of her usual favourite Chinese. Her husband kept nodding away, used to her nature by now. But a larger part of her excitement was to try and catch his attention across the room. Throughout their dinner, she spoke to her husband, held his hands at times, but her mind was on him all the while. She hoped against hope that this time he would see her. “At least make eye contact” she pleaded in her thoughts. His dinner was short. He finished his soup and got off the table. 

She was disappointed he hadn’t seen her. 

*****

As he was checking out of the hotel strains of a Dylan song wafted in from a distance. He heard the lines oh so clearly:

Me, I’m just on the road

Heading for another joint 

We always did feel the same

We just saw it from a different point of view

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar