“I don’t know, I am not hungry.” said Karan, sitting on his chair. “Well, you don’t have to eat if you don’t feel like it.” Said Urvashi. That is true he thought, but mustn’t one eat at some point? Isn’t that what the world does?

The clock ticked by. She sat across to him. The room was bright, yet it felt dull. It was the kind of room that South Mumbai aunties would walk into and demand to know where each and every ornament came from- all while profusely showering compliments on its owner, now elevated to the status of a Godly decorateur. He never understood such rooms. He read books so he could identify the features of a good room.

Adequate lighting for various purposes- there must be main lights, night lights, lights for when you wish to focus. The furniture of the room must complement the colour palette. The furniture should be of the same style, if not make and colour, else there is a discord. Warm colours go well with wooden items. Cold colours with minimalistic designs. He knew this and more. Well, he had read more, but could not recall all of it. For he knew that to feel something is all you need. Feeling needs no knowledge. It just ‘feels’ right.

Ironically, this ‘feels right’ feeling is also something he imitated by learning of it from books. The room was a beauty he was blind to. He could not see, nor imagine. Yet he tried to think beauty into existence. How does it feel, to see things in the mind? To feel them truly?

Urvashi knew this, she also knew she could do nothing. How can you gift someone sight? If it is a muscle, then only he could develop it. If it is a revelation, only he could experience it. She did not feel guilt for not being able to help. That would not help anybody, nor did he want it. Strangely, this person who seemingly needed help the most refused it at every possibility. He did not think anybody could help him. He felt they do not understand him enough to help. He also felt he did not understand himself enough to help himself.

The idea that someone could love him in such a way that he reveals himself felt so lost. It remained another theoretical possibility. How did it feel? Could someone else do it, or it was his mindset? He began to believe in the latter. Then he believed in both- that his mindset determines how much someone could help him. He could be helped only as much as he wished to help himself.

After years of helping himself, he met Urvashi. It was at an exhibition. He felt he had hurt women and deep down, though he refused to acknowledge it, they had hurt him. Eventually the duality of either hating women or hating himself condensed into neither. Be neutral, do not chase painful women nor push away nice ones.

So he came across Urvashi. She was nice, happy and jovial. He had met such women and later on discovered they were not truly nice, happy or jovial. It was a front. If the law of attraction worked, then what was he?

So he kept his distance this time. He felt angry when friends told her things about him that day- for it meant he could not have a fresh start. He wished to leave the old ways behind, to leave all attachments. He did not wish to reveal himself to all.

He met her at an exhibit. She was far, yet she caught his eye. He did not pursue. Later on, she approached him. It felt like how he would approach someone in his happier days. They spoke, light banter. It was suprising how fast they began to make fun of each other, like little boys and girls do. All he feared was the onset of lust. That fear of pursuit which had ruined so many relationships before. He had come to recognize it as desperation for love.

This desperation had cost him much. To chase love he let himself go, always put himself second. He lost drive, passion and courage. It felt like how addiction takes away so much until all that is left is the addiction. At this point, there is hell. The addiction cannot give you anything yet you do it. No amount of alcohol helps, yet you are bound to it. You cannot quit.

So he waited. He wondered, if I keep waiting will I not be wasting chances? But he waited. That theory had been tested before and ended badly.

Through the long gruelling day, Urvashi would drop in and out near his exhibit. She would make fun faces and joke with him. This made him all the more withdrawn. In a way, withdrawing meant he cared. If going in too fast meant desperation, did waiting not mean care? It meant ignoring every voice. He had learnt to identify the women he liked, they had this beautiful tendency to reject his approaches. Not in a mean way, for his approach was not mean. It was just testing. He too had learnt to accept signs- what worked and what did not. Most often, what did not work was an act springing out of desperation. What worked was patiene.

So he waited. He remembered that he was not easy. That it took time. By handing himself over to someone blindly, he is abandoning himself. Does he not deserve someone to become worthy of him, just as he thinks he should become worthy of others?

Perhaps that is where Urvashi shone, she was patient. She did not rush in. She was friendly, the kind that he wished to know better. As she left the exhibit, she hugged her friend. It carried so much warmth that he could feel it from afar. He said “Man, I wish I could feel hugs.” as a joke, but there was truth to it. She smiled and tried to hug him. But he refused, he withdrew.

When he withdrew from her, his only wish was that someday he could express to her why.

How could he tell her that it was not the act but the emotion? That her hugging him meant nothing if he could not feel it. In fact, if he could not feel it he would be upset. He would be upset because he felt her warmth for another person but not himself. He left the room.

As the day came to a close, he worried if he would see her again. He considered asking her to a movie. The last time they spoke, after some banter, he asked her plans for the weekend. She said nothing, he thought of proposing a movie. Just then someone spoke to her, she turned. The conversation was lost but he was so relieved. Asking her out was desperation, he was spared failure. Fate had his back in the strangest of ways.

As they parted he told her he hopes they meet soon. She said they had already met. He was confused, but he believed that. He met many, and forgot many. She said she had seen him around often. Perhaps the greatest statement he said that day, one that was not desperate yet left the door open for a chance at intimacy, was “If you see me around next time, please approach me.”

For how could he rely on himself anymore? Next time he saw her he would have a million conflicts, whether to speak to her is desperation or that withdrawal is not trying. He left it to the universe.

With this, all burden was lifted. Their time could be enjoyed in memory, and never tainted by pursuit. It was like an experience you could no longer chase. Like unknowingly drinking a potion which felt wonderful, but there was no chance of it happening again. Such is an addict’s brain- in good times it seeks for ways to replicate the good times. It gets stuck in life, and gets attached.

But now, how could he pursue her? The idea he had, for all that was left was the day. Only the memory survived. It could only be reflected upon fondly. There was no contact, no phone number, only fate.

As they parted, he asked her was she truly happy.

To his relief, she said no.