Chapitre 6: Chapter 5 - Meeting Again (3)
"Jagadhaatreyi?"
Turning my attention back to the real world, I looked at him. He looked sad, resigned. He must be surrounded by vapid gold-diggers, I thought – they would be drop-dead gorgeous, though. Still, sometimes you needed someone to talk to, someone to understand – a friend. Did he have friends? Proper, real friends? I was new to the big city back then, but I was quickly coming to realise that proper, real friends was quite a luxury in the urbane world. Oh you have plenty of friends, of course – but the kind that become family – or often, more than family – those were much too rare in cosmopolitan environments.
"Your turn," Firdaus prompted softly.
"Right." I took a deep breath, shaking out my thoughts. Why was I here? Ah, yes, Nirvesh. "Nirvesh is a fantastic artist," I said truthfully. "It is fascinating to watch him work. He sometimes claims I am his muse, and to be honest, he goes to such beautiful places, and makes such a lovely subject, I end up writing my best stuff while he is painting away. He is my muse, too, I suppose. And whenever we need to take a break, we just chat. He has lived in Mumbai before – explored it, even, and he really loves the city. He knows all the hidden gems, which I would never find by myself in a thousand years. Besides, he is a wonderful person and extremely good company."
Firdaus smiled ruefully. "And yet you say he is not your boyfriend?"
"No," I said honestly. "He isn't. Why should we muddle up our friendship with a romantic tag? I value him too much."
Firdaus frowned. "Are you saying that you will only date someone you don't value? That doesn't make sense."
I laughed. "I am not saying anything about dating at all."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you not saying anything about dating?"
I stared at his serious face. "I see no reason to," I said quietly. "I will date if and when I fall in love with someone, provided he loves me, too. Since I have barely any control over who I am in love with, and absolutely no control over him loving me back, why should I torture myself with the what-might-have-been scenarios?" I hoped and prayed he would not detect the tremor in my voice. It had taken every ounce of my strength to keep my voice calm and steady.
He looked gobsmacked. "How old are you?"
"Nineteen." I paused. Suddenly wishing I was older. "Twenty in a few months."
"And how many romantic relationships have you had?"
"Real-life or the ones in my head?" The question slipped out before I could stop it. Mortified, I looked away.
Firdaus chuckled. "You have never dated a real boy, have you?"
I shook my head, too embarrassed to look at him.
Mercifully, Nirvesh finished his painting and came to my rescue. "Jags! I'm done! Come and see!"
I ran.
His painting was breathtaking. Oil on canvas, it was far from complete, but Nirvesh would put the finishing touches much later, after the first coat had dried. He rarely brought out his paintings for that; his photographic memory helped. The dark sea lashed angrily at the city's boundaries, while the city lights twinkled proudly. He had even put in the road we were on, and there was a vague silhouette in the corner that looked suspiciously like me.
"Brilliant," I whispered reverently. Nirvesh beamed at me.
"Brilliant, indeed," Firdaus said, coming up behind me. "I see Jagadhaatreyi was not exaggerating your talent."
Nirvesh blinked, clearly not recognising him. Eidetic memory, and he forgets people faster than you can say "people".
"Firdaus," Firdaus Rana Mehta said, holding out his hand.
"Nirvesh Jagad," my artist friend replied, shaking hands with the older man. "Sorry, do I know you?"
Firdaus laughed. "No, not really. We met once before, very briefly, but we were not introduced to each other."
"Are you a friend of Jags?" Nirvesh asked innocently.
God bless his soul, the boy is a genius, and yet a child when it comes to real life. I often resist the urge to pat him on the head or to say "good boy".
Firdaus levelled me with an intense gaze. "I hope I am," he said quietly.
Oh, damn the melancholy in his voice. If he wants a friend, I would be the best friend he would ever have.
"He is," I said brightly.
"So, you like art, too?" Nirvesh asked Firdaus. Of course, it would never occur to him to ask what the man was doing out at this hour.
"I do," Firdaus said. "This is remarkable," he waved at the cityscape. "I would like to see your other works, if I may."
"Of course! Come by the college anytime! I'll give you my number."
And Firdaus Mehta walked away with a scrap of paper with the hastily scrawled number of my friend on it.
Before he left, however, he shook hands with Nirvesh again, and kissed my hand in a very medieval fashion.
The kiss that I could feel even days later.
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone