Gauri

She had achingly beautiful eyes. Like eyes of a new born. Unaged. If that’s a word. Eyes which feel like they’ve seen only the good side of the world or has not seen anything at all. With or without the kajal, it worked and how.

“Oh hello”, she snaps her finger in front of my eyes. I wake up. “Where do you keep zoning out?” she asks. Now how do I ever explain to her where I was without thinking about 1000 other ways and ruining it forever what I actually want to tell her. “Nothing, nothing.” She gives me a ‘what even’ look before continuing with her story. The number of stories she has. I wonder if she has taken re birth as the Nani maa and is reverse ageing. 

But it works for me, I let her speak. It calms me down. The whole process of her talking and me listening or not, lol. But me listening overall helps me to have lesser thoughts running than they would ideally. The music has also stopped helping now. 

Neurologically it is said, that singing is the only activity that can help you stop thinking. Good singing or bad, it doesn’t matter. Science has failed in my case, I can’t stop thinking. The only thing that can maybe minimise my thinking is her voice and her stories. I’ve given in.

Okay, time for name reveal. Get ready. Im sure all of you have at least one name in your head, fitting the description. That is the beauty of literature, you find yourself and others in someone else’s story. 

The name is Gauri. Ya - pure, white, influential, Goddess like. She’s all of it. Apart from the gorgeous eyes and the talking skills, she’s smart and artistic. Has clothing aesthetic of a broken hearted artist who pledges to make every set of eyes to fall for her, as a revenge for one set of eyes who she couldn’t please. Cruel. 

Yes she’s like that but on the face of it, she’s the cutest piece of shit you’ve seen. You’d want to squish her, bomb a million kisses on her forehead. Rare, isn’t it? When you want to kiss the forehead more than the lips. Ya, she’s rare. There’s this particular way in which she moves her hands while she talks. Like she’s an abacus student doing mental calculations while speaking and thought filtering. Unbelievable with that much talking, she still has thoughts which have been filtered and not been said. 

Gauri is not at all a smooth talker though, she repeats more than she says. She loses thought mid sentence and retries. Like she’s just learnt sentence formation in 3rd standard. But there are times when she’s silent, silent that can remind you of death, silent. And she’ll never look at you when she’s silent. She’ll look at the unpainted wall, that ugly drawing, the infinite mess in your room and the ground like there’s a goldmine there. But she’ll never look at you when she’s silent. I know, for sure, it is when she’s silent, she thinks the most. Like a thousand galaxies running concurrently around her brain and she trying to give sun rays, energy and moonlight to all of these planets concurrently. You stop one planet and it’ll be the big bang. New order. So you let her be, in silence. 

Gauri has been loved so much by her parents. Always. Na, she’s not the broken kid you get attracted to. Broken is easy to get attracted to. Isn’t it? But it is as easy or shall I say easier with Gauri. She’s the striking opposite, so so loved by her parents that you want to enter the race and top the race of loving her. But you fail every time. “Mom dad did this today. They said this. They brought this.” And you end up thinking, ah shit. We never matching that. You lose everyday and that is what keeps you going. Waiting for that few moments of sweet victory to come. It’s like RCB fans waiting to win the IPL once for god’s sake! So you keep going. A smile here, a laughter there from that beautiful face and you’re done. She makes bare minimum feel like a mountain climbing feat. You might be tired by the end of it but you’re always aiming for the new high peak to climb. 

Gauri is that shortcoming which you always want to overcome. The habit which you always want to inculcate. The dream which you write and manifest every fucking day and wish that it’ll get realized one day. 

She snaps again and hits my arm hard this time. “Bro, one hit and you’ll fall on your face. You know that right?” I smile. The cuteass minion. Wish I could tell her, “I have fallen already.” But I let it pass. 

Back to the achingly beautiful, childlike eyes. The voice that will calm me down. Back to her talking and my silence. I have to give sun rays, energy and moonlight to all these planets concurrently. It was almost the big bang, new order when she stopped me. But we’re back to work now.