I met him for the first time when we were being inducted for the school we had both volunteered to teach. The principal was very vocal about the rules and regulations. In no way, were we allowed to hurt the local sentiments of this small town of Kashmir and hence we were not allowed to drink alcohol. Being a Delhi girl, I was a bit disappointed about this rule.
Initially, I did not notice him much as I was astounded by the beauty of the surrounding hills, the innocence of the kids I had to teach and was a bit unsettled by the newness and change of things around. Hailing from Delhi, I was used to comfort and luxury at my place. I believe not only me but any other girl from Delhi would have been unsettled by such a vast change.
But then I could not help noticing him later, as within few days he had become the hot favourite of all the students. After the classes, all the students ran to him to play with him. Even the little girls went and played with him. I wanted and tried deeply that I was their favourite teacher, their most loved cool mentor, but this bastard pied-piper I am talking about had stolen them from me.
Well, the classes he conducted seemed noisy but if one heard them closely, it was a bit poetical. It was some sort of a music. The laugh of the little students, the giggle, the clappings, the singing it out loud, the stomping of their feet and the banging of their desks. It was all musical. After the class, when I noticed him playing with kids, he let them win. And it was the major trick why all of them loved him.
On one of the sundays, when I was walking with my iPod in my ears around the serene hills, I saw him sleeping with a book on his head. Although his face was covered with the book, but he looked himself, that arrogant swagger of nonchalance. I hated him more at that moment not only for stealing my students, but mainly for that he did not care.
Every saturday and sunday, he was found there on that spot overlooking the sun and the hills, with his book, reading, sleeping, mumbling to himself. And one day, I could not help but interrupt him and sit near him to ask out that why did he not care. He gave me a crazy philosophy of infinite equal to zero and that he cared infinitely although it seemed that he did not care. I asked him about his family, his upbringing, whether he drank alcohol. To all the questions, he was pretty normal and answered satisfactorily. I asked him whether did he miss alcohol to which he answered that there were so many pure things to get high on. I realised he was not that bad as he seemed.
I started talking to him more and more. I asked him lot of questions, about the music he liked, about books he read, about places he had traveled to, about girls he had dated. He was pretty open in answering and was a good story teller (no wonder students loved him). But the bastard never asked me anything. I wanted so desperately that he also asked me about my family, my boyfriends.
I started noticing him more: his classes, his teaching style, his books, his ability to change himself as a kid when in class and as a grown-up when with me. Whenever I called my friends in Delhi, I was surprised I could talk so much about him. You know how typical girls are: they all replied the same thing that I was in love with him.
I did not know whether he liked it or not but he was accommodating to me. He took me to the local parents of the students and we had sumptuous dinner and interacted about the local stuff. He even allowed me inside his room, but again I hated him for not coming to my room voluntarily. I realised that contrary to my thought that he did not allow people to come close to him, he "did" allow people to come close to him but did not allow himself to come close to others. He did not choose to be alone, but he chose to be left alone.
During the last days,I realised that yes, i was in love with him. In all my previous affairs, guys had come to me and offered me flowers and an expensive asset and I had condescended. But this time, this guy had offered me zero which was yes equal to infinite things.
On the last day, he came and gave me a big hug and a parting smile. While I was in tears, the bastard had that same arrogant nonchalant smile, he had on day one.
" To love someone who you will never see again is to love like a flame and to cry out for self-annihilation into the bargain. One lives only in and for the moment, in order to achieve the brief and vivid union of a tempestuous heart united to the tempest." -Camus
Initially, I did not notice him much as I was astounded by the beauty of the surrounding hills, the innocence of the kids I had to teach and was a bit unsettled by the newness and change of things around. Hailing from Delhi, I was used to comfort and luxury at my place. I believe not only me but any other girl from Delhi would have been unsettled by such a vast change.
But then I could not help noticing him later, as within few days he had become the hot favourite of all the students. After the classes, all the students ran to him to play with him. Even the little girls went and played with him. I wanted and tried deeply that I was their favourite teacher, their most loved cool mentor, but this bastard pied-piper I am talking about had stolen them from me.
Well, the classes he conducted seemed noisy but if one heard them closely, it was a bit poetical. It was some sort of a music. The laugh of the little students, the giggle, the clappings, the singing it out loud, the stomping of their feet and the banging of their desks. It was all musical. After the class, when I noticed him playing with kids, he let them win. And it was the major trick why all of them loved him.
On one of the sundays, when I was walking with my iPod in my ears around the serene hills, I saw him sleeping with a book on his head. Although his face was covered with the book, but he looked himself, that arrogant swagger of nonchalance. I hated him more at that moment not only for stealing my students, but mainly for that he did not care.
Every saturday and sunday, he was found there on that spot overlooking the sun and the hills, with his book, reading, sleeping, mumbling to himself. And one day, I could not help but interrupt him and sit near him to ask out that why did he not care. He gave me a crazy philosophy of infinite equal to zero and that he cared infinitely although it seemed that he did not care. I asked him about his family, his upbringing, whether he drank alcohol. To all the questions, he was pretty normal and answered satisfactorily. I asked him whether did he miss alcohol to which he answered that there were so many pure things to get high on. I realised he was not that bad as he seemed.
I started talking to him more and more. I asked him lot of questions, about the music he liked, about books he read, about places he had traveled to, about girls he had dated. He was pretty open in answering and was a good story teller (no wonder students loved him). But the bastard never asked me anything. I wanted so desperately that he also asked me about my family, my boyfriends.
I started noticing him more: his classes, his teaching style, his books, his ability to change himself as a kid when in class and as a grown-up when with me. Whenever I called my friends in Delhi, I was surprised I could talk so much about him. You know how typical girls are: they all replied the same thing that I was in love with him.
I did not know whether he liked it or not but he was accommodating to me. He took me to the local parents of the students and we had sumptuous dinner and interacted about the local stuff. He even allowed me inside his room, but again I hated him for not coming to my room voluntarily. I realised that contrary to my thought that he did not allow people to come close to him, he "did" allow people to come close to him but did not allow himself to come close to others. He did not choose to be alone, but he chose to be left alone.
During the last days,I realised that yes, i was in love with him. In all my previous affairs, guys had come to me and offered me flowers and an expensive asset and I had condescended. But this time, this guy had offered me zero which was yes equal to infinite things.
On the last day, he came and gave me a big hug and a parting smile. While I was in tears, the bastard had that same arrogant nonchalant smile, he had on day one.
" To love someone who you will never see again is to love like a flame and to cry out for self-annihilation into the bargain. One lives only in and for the moment, in order to achieve the brief and vivid union of a tempestuous heart united to the tempest." -Camus
