Oh, it's another day, another slay.
I wake up to the sounds of the drills of the constructing hostels nearby. It's really disturbing for students to stand that constant sound of the bore drill. They do it especially when we go to sleep. It becomes infuriating to us. We need peace to invent art. I wish I lived in the times when Leonardo Da Vinci made Mona Lisa or the Last Supper. There was so much less chaos back then. I stared at my ceiling fan, well I do that very often. Some kind of solemn peace it gives. I didn't feel like getting out of my bed. It just felt a drag. I looked beside to see my unfinished canvas. I did have a deadline but I was supposed to finish it today itself. I procrastinated hard last night. Looked at my calendar to realize that the time I thought I would finish my canvas turned out to be the time I had allotted to meet Mrs. Tyagi. Well, I started to weigh, is meeting her as important as my semester end's final project? Naah, I mean, my meeting could wait.
I forced myself out of bed. I looked outside; it was barely morning. I had ample time to finish. I once thought to myself that let's not procrastinate this further. Went to the washroom, freshened myself, and promised myself not to waste another day. I rushed through my paints and prepared to make something. I sat on my chair, looked at my blank canvas. What should I make? Well, I did not think of anything particularly. I stared at the canvas. It was blank. I stared more at the uneven textures of it. I touched it, and I felt an electric jolt across my body. I put my complete hand on it, and I suddenly felt like I touched his hand. It was the same feeling as if he was inside that portrait and he is touching me through that blank canvas. I felt his presence. I gasped in surprise. What was that? I had goosebumps.
The next thing I knew was that I had to meet Mrs. Tyagi no matter how hard it would be for me to fit my appointment in my hectic schedule. After finishing my classes, I ran to her room, my heart racing with anticipation. As I stood outside her door, I took a deep breath, ready to face whatever awaited me inside.
She sat there with her cup of coffee beside her, seemingly engrossed with another student. I had my earphones on, and she motioned for me to wait. I stepped inside the room as soon as the student left. I glanced at him; I had seen him before. It was Anant from my historic art class. I didn't expect to see him here. I felt a bit awkward as he noticed me entering. He also had his headphones on, staring straight ahead. Assuming he didn't see me, I crept inside the room and sat in front of her, like always.
She looked at me, "Hello, Ayla. How are you?"
"I am fine, well, I mean, not really."
"What happened? Is everything okay?"
I gulped, "I had a chapter this morning."
"Oh, I see. Was it a dream?"
"No, it was me feeling his presence on my canvas. Sounds crazy, not gonna lie." I gave an expression of suspicion.
She started to scribble something in her notepad again. I kept thinking, well, things are getting serious, it seems. She seemed rather serious about it. She looked at me through her glasses. Her honey-brown eyes stared deep into my soul. Her glasses didn't screen me.
"Remember I told you to trust me, right?"
"I do, and I will."
"Can you tell me how you met this gentleman whose presence you felt today?"
"Meet?"
Ten years ago:
I was running around before our school assembly started. I was in fourth grade, a chubby, enthusiastic kid and a literal bully. It was a typical day at school, and I was playing 'ice and water' with my two very distinguished twins—Mabroor and Mashroor.
"How far will you run from me?" I shouted while chasing them. Our school assembly used to be the most monotonous activity of my day. It used to be scorching hot in Mumbai during summers. My clothes would get drenched in sweat and drip into my eyes. For me, at that moment, all I wanted was to catch those two mischief-makers. I was at full speed when suddenly a hand reached out to my shoulder. I turned around to see a woman's shadow.
It was Mihika Khatri, my brother Ali's classmate. Beside her was a little chubby kid, half her size. She was holding onto him with her arms around his neck. He looked straight at me, his eyes sparkling and his face covered in sweat and chaos. He was so adorable. At that moment, my heart skipped a beat. I saw a pure, innocent soul staring right into mine. With the sunlight falling on his face, his eyes were a commendable shade of chestnut brown. His hair was ruffled and unsettled.
She leaned toward me and said, "This is Ali's sister Ayla. Treat her with respect all the time, okay?"
He looked at her, then at me, and gave a million-dollar smile.
"Okay, didi."
With a little pause in between.
I looked at him, and he looked at me. He was shy. Already it was hot and his cheeks turned red. He had pudgy cheeks, and all I wanted as a kid was to pull them at that moment. He looked nothing less than a fully ripe tomato.
He is Mihir Khatri, the younger brother of Mihika Khatri, my brother Ali Asif's classmate. I had heard about him from my brother. He was friends with Mihika. They were class toppers competing with each other. They would also discuss their siblings as we were all of the same age.
As a child, I never thought that would be "the encounter" with the first love of my life. I call it "the meet-cute" as it was utterly charming. I was in complete awe of the person I met just moments ago.
Back to the present:
I took a sip from the glass of water on the table. Mrs. Tyagi looked at me in awe. She smirked and chuckled as I finished recounting my story.
"Well, that's quite an encounter," she said, her eyes twinkling with interest.
"Yeah," I muttered, feeling a mixture of emotions.
"I'm truly invested in this. You need to tell me everything."
"But why? Why would I want to remember him or anything about..."
"The fact that you vividly recall the first time you met him is proof enough of his lasting impression on you."
"It's not necessary, ma'am," I hesitated.
"You have a deep connection with him, one that couldn't be severed even when you two parted ways."
"Is it necessary to go through all this pain?" I asked, my voice tinged with frustration.
"It is," she replied firmly.
I reminded myself of the pledge I took to follow her guidance throughout. This wouldn't be as brutal as it was before. I gave a nod, one convincing enough for her to continue these sessions.