Disclaimer-
This story is a fictional one, though the characters have been modelled upon real people, behavioural traits are all made up.
She was not extraordinarily pretty, But could be if she wanted to, high cheek bones, sparkling eyes, bad Eye make-up and uncared for hair, it seemed to me that she was making a conscious effort to hide her good looks, dressed in a gray wool sweater and faded jeans she paused before crossing the road, a sign of questioning, if any appeared on her face for a split second.
With her high stature she took long strides and was out of sight in a minute. I felt a tinge of familiarity, a sense that I knew that mysterious woman who could be a real beauty if she wanted to. Maybe its because iam a fashion journalist but I think up of ways for a complete make over when I meet a new person and that woman had given me an image that dint seem to be that of a normal working woman, in my make-over brain she looked like a princess, the kind that wears a pink flowing gown and a sparkling tiara. I hadn’t had the time to assess her age but to a careless eye she had a mature sense of dignity.
My phone beeped, it was Aachi, as I called her, my aunt, actually my long lost aunt the person I was here to meet.
Long lost aunt, sounds dramatic Doesnt it? Well anyway I was an hour early, the excitement in me hadn’t let me sleep and I was determined to meet her as soon as I could.
“Vidya” I heard her say.
“Where are you?”
No introduction, no greeting, just ‘where are you’.
“Iam near the fountain, the fortune fountain, iam already at the piazza” I heard myself say.
“Oh” I heard from the other end, “iam there in a minute, are you ready for this?”
But apparently she wasn’t keen on knowing if I was ready, as before I could answer I heard the phone click.
I could see no one around, where is she? I thought to myself, but before I could compose another thought I heard my name called out by a crisp clear voice. I was monitoring the entrance, how had she got in? I thought to myself.
I turned and almost gaped, before me was the mysterious woman I had just given a makeover in my head a while back, she smiled, a smile that daunted me for days to come.
“It is good to finally meet me after all those emails, and hey! Your pictures don’t do justice to you” she said.
I blinked, photos, I had seen none of hers, but yet I knew I wasn’t expecting this kind of a beauty in the true sense of the word to be standing in front of me, I smiled at her, my brain laughing thinking of all the days I had an image of a fat woman clad in a sari, what was I thinking? She looked like a pageant winner who had stepped out for a stroll. Brain to me – stop zoning out, Talk to her!
I gave her the bouquet of white roses that I has bought and then we began talking… of the weather, the flowers, the seasons, books, poetry and I don’t remember what else, there was this spark that I could feel, the kind of belonging one can only feel to a relative.
Later in her chateau style house nibbling on soft rotis, Naadan style Fried Okra, Falafel and a bottle of champagne, she told me her story…..
I sat there dumbstruck, just managing to nod once in a while, sometimes she made me chuckle, laugh and other times gape and then shed a tear.
Oh what a story it was!
12 comments
