I walked into class late again. This was the third time this week… (Damn! Those BMTC buses and Traffic jams all along my route). I took my place way ahead of the rest of the class.
Yupp… I was one of them nerdy front benchers… but it didn’t actually matter cause the prize I was about to get… was way bigger than these small petite nothings.
He walked in, striding like a war hero… My Greek god impersonation.
My heart skipped a beat as he stood right in front of me, and looked down smiling.
Could I have asked for more…? (Yess! Lots lots more!)
He seated himself on the bench (He never used the chair), and got down…
To taking our attendance. I loved the way he crossed his legs, curtly, yet with all the authority a man would want to show in such a gesture.
The window beside him was open, and amidst his thunderous pulsating voice and sweet bird chirpings emanating from the trees beyond, the light from outside reflected in his eyes…
“Suttum Vizhi Chudar-dhaan Kannamma, Sooriya Chandiraroe?”
(These piercing rays from your eyes my darling, are they of the sun or the moon?)
Bhaarathiyaar (Classic Tamizh Poet)
(Kill me! Bhaarathiyaar… Kill me!)
They twinkled!
I was melting, and didn’t want anyone to notice the warm tears rolling down my cheeks. I turned my head away, for I couldn’t take anymore of his fatal ethereal beauty.
This beauty was something I believed I saw alone. His every movement stirred passions so strong in me, that I wished I could have screamed aloud almost in orgasm.
He was my personal Jesus Christ.
It all began a year ago…
I was still an unbeliever in love, and ridiculed most of my friends who were in love, to limits that sometimes tore the poor couple apart (I was not to be blamed, nor was I guilty, for a couple in love who can break away over some mild incessant teasing, is no couple at all!).
My life was all happy and peaceful…
And then one fine day, when I wasn’t even prepared… He came into my life.
He barged into it rather!
For heavens sake how was I to know, Men can be so unbearably adorable at times…
I walk into the staff room, like a Rabbit walking into a trap, unaware that I’m dinner… And… There he was…
A man, in every essence of it, yet feminine in some vague un-penetrable sense…
Perfect!
He was EVIL… standing there…smiling at me (He didn’t even know me… God!)… Dressed to kill.
I pictured myself stabbing my own chest over and over again. The twinkle in his eyes, the jagged look (And I thought only men in Hollywood could carry off, Sheesh!)… And the Kurta (Did I mention I have an unfathomable love for Kurtas?)…
I was floored… literally!
I was moist (and I meant in the eyes… You little pervert!), as I walked out of the staff room. I held on to the wall, or I was sure I would have been on the floor any minute then. I felt sick in my stomach, butterflies… more like I was going to puke.
Things only got worse…,
He soon began invading my only left stronghold and refuge; my class.
And began teaching us!
Teaching? (Yes! You heard me damn right...! Teaching!).
My classes became nightmares, I couldn’t face the abomination. I would turn my face away almost like I was protecting myself from some evil gaze… waiting to burn me up from inside…
It was terrible!
It went on for weeks; I wouldn’t look him in the eyes. I would talk to him only looking down at his feet, if I had to (I gave up on the idea lest he misunderstood, I was checking out something else… Ahem!), but later shifted to his ‘hairy’ (Very kink... Only on him!) chest to be on the safer side.
The occasional glances I threw at him, when he was at a ‘formidable’ distance, made me go weak in the knees.
It was wrong for God to do this to me during such unforgiving times.
Ah! Me… the sacrificing martyr… so ripe an age… just perfect for love…
But I had to keep my distance for both our sakes (Sacrificing… yadda yadda…)!
Heaven forbid anyone found out about this crush of mine… insanely driven by passion.
The more I avoided him, the more I was confronted…
And then… that day… that unfortunately exceedingly beautiful day…
He flirted with me so outrageously that I gave up on trying to ignore him…
My fondness grew… and grows still…
It’s been a year now… he still teaches us, and today he’s in one of those deliciously fruity orange Kurtas. I cant seem to keep my eyes off him… and even if I close them, his voice would anyway distract me… as thoroughly as humanly possible.
I’ve always wondered how he seems to carry his droopy bedroom voice all through the day (It sounds even more luscious when he’s got a cold… I turn drool-pot then!).
I stare at the blankness on the wall dreaming of things that cannot be discussed here (Ahem!).
And even if I did try, I’d be treading on treacherous paths, un-treaded by any writer before.
I can feel something burn on my neck and so I wake up with a jolt, to the amusement of much of the class.
He is staring at me, looking at me with those brilliant eyes, almost inquiring, on how I managed to put myself to sleep during his class…
I look back as sullen faced as a character from Ramanand Sagar’s ‘Ramayana’… begging him for mercy, to be forgiven but once, for it shall not be repeated…
And in his typically magical sense of irrational responses he looks at me…
A smile slowly curving at his lips…
And he winks at me…
I shudder…
Not that I was taken aback… but at the sheer un-timeliness of the flirtatious behaviour…
My heart did skip a beat, and my mind tried to make sense of the whole happening…
But it was best left at just that…
I had received my quota of his attention, and the wink would drive me on till his next class… “That will do for now, that will do…” I remind myself…
Lets see what he has in store for me next time…
And I’m keeping my fingers crossed… that it somehow involves lips in the plural…
(Yess… Naughty, Naughty Me!)