Tall, Dark and ....

Shreya was really excited about the move. She always wanted to go to Mumbai, the city of dreams, so they say. She had been there once, just for couple of days on a business assignment few years ago. She did manage to squeeze in some free time for herself and went to the Marine Drive. The weather couldn’t have been better. The clouds only allowed a little fraction of the sunlight, just the right amount. And it had rained that day, just enough to make you fall in love. She liked the freedom women had in the city. And the people too.

So here she was, in her new apartment located in a busy suburb of the city with buildings risings like mushrooms on freshly drenched fertile land after the monsoons. There were so many of them and yet there were so many people still looking for them. All these apartments were so close to one-another, that one might easily jump to the balcony of the next building.  This compactness of things did bother her a little, given that all her upbringing was in some spacious house of a modest township. But then she could give that up for a place in this maximum city.

She had no idea how the whole week had gone past her. New office, new people and new assignments had kept her on her toes. And as she woke up late that Saturday, she realized she had not yet unpacked. Her head was still shaken with the heavy booze from her welcome party last night. She opened the drapes of the French window in her drawing room and sat against it sipping lemon water. That was the only source of natural light into the apartment and unfortunately it faced the neighboring building. Also with a French window.

There was so much to do that Saturday. She spent the entire day placing her possessions at the best place possible. She was very particular about things in her life. Even the smallest of things. She liked being referred to as a perfectionist. Of course, by that people actually meant she had OCD. This even trickled down to her love life. She had never been into a long term relationship. How could she, with the first sign of weakness surfacing in her partner, she would move on. She wanted a soul mate, not a partner. She wanted a price, not a squire.

After the day’s hard work, she sat against that French window on her favorite bean bag with the glass of red wine. When it came to music, she was from the old school. Soft, soothing and sensuous. That was her flavor. And the same was being played on her audio system. Suddenly the room right across in the next building lit up. Bright yellow light coming from something on the floor perhaps. But the drapes were covering most part of it. Nothing was to be seen. But then a shadow appeared. She sipped some more wine as she prepared herself to play the game of shadows.

Definitely a tall man, she told herself. She loved tall men, especially in uniform. She herself was pretty tall for a woman. He was also very well built, one could tell. He had curly hair, a bit long for a man but they did look to be complementing his body. He was talking on the phone. Something about the faculty of volition, the freedom of expression and such similar philosophical abstracts. She had never had the chance to read or discuss philosophy but she knew, it excited her like anything. There was nothing sexier than an intelligent man telling her the nuances of life’s philosophy. It swayed her, completely. Beyond her imagination.

And before she knew, it had become an obsession. After coming back from work, she would sit across her French window with the same wine and the same music, eagerly awaiting that seductive voice and those absorbing words. Most of the time, he would talk on the phone. Sometimes he would have company. But the talks were always intriguing. Of life and its purpose. He would at times also discuss the facets of Art. What is Art but a manifestation of one’s philosophy, she thought. As the addiction grew further, all she could think of during the day at office was what he would be talking about that evening. Was it love she was experiencing, or magic. Sometimes it is so difficult to differentiate.

She was in love, she confirmed to herself. But why had he never removed those curtains, she pondered.  She needed to see him. Desperately.  She needed to know more about him. Immediately. The shadow was not enough now. The words were not enough now. The philosophy wasn’t too. As that building was similar to hers, it was easy to figure out which apartment was his. As soon as his room was lit that night, she was on the move. She was wearing her favorite red dress. A dress for the kill, she had secretly named it. With her hair all open and those black stilettos, she was the damsel no one could resist.

She was at his door. She was smiling. She knew that the man inside was the man of her dreams. Her search was finally going to end. The door opened and there stood a man half of the size of that shadow. Her eyes widened in utter shock. His place was very abstract filled with paintings of all kind. And it was very abnormally lit with flood lights on the floor shining on to the canvases. One such light was placed against that window,  flooding it with that yellow light. He looked at her with amusement and said, “How can I help you, my lady?”.  It was that same voice she had fell for. Weighted and melodious at the same time. To her amazement, she still wanted to go in, give it a try. She had already fallen for him or perhaps his soul. But she couldn’t . He is almost a dwarf for god’s sake. Pride and prejudice prevailed over love. Like it always happens.

She said, almost apologetically “Sorry…. to bother, I ….. I took you for someone else”.  She was too embarrassed to stand there any longer. She turned and almost marched back to her apartment. He was there again too. Tall, dark and just a shadow. Frustrated, she closed her window and went into deep introspection. These are the ways of life. People are judged by their appearances. But we must remember what Lord Varys had to say, even the smallest of man can cast a very large shadow.