The City And The Strangers

Chapter 1: The City

The Monday mornings in the town-side were always a hustle-bustle of blaring horns eager to reach offices, chirping children carrying the future on their backs; with a sing-song rhyme that curved on their lips, the screams of newspapermen and the beep of insatiable and accurate

alarm clocks that snored along with their not-so-caring owners; who were busy dreaming, while half of the city roamed in the streets to earn bread. The sights skewed backwards like a bio-scope movie played in a reel that brought me back to the scape of motors running from

everywhere to everywhere, exciting and ravish; right from the comfort of the seat of a mediocre auto-rickshaw in the breaths of a busy street.

The developing metropolitan was a hush and gush of many estranged yet important things which could be segregated from the other half of the city; where the kids still wake up to the

coos of the village hen and roam in nothing but hand-stitched khaki shorts. Then, there was an invisible equatorial division among the downside people; the not-so-privileged half and the privileged half. The city was an unannounced three-tier division of comfort. I was always

envious of that little part of the privileged population who never had to heed in the rush of the morning to the nine to five circus of money-making because they had inherited literally every bit of penny to be filthy rich in the humble business hub that Vadodara was. The rest of the half was the one to suffer from almost everything... monthly bills, taxes, school fees of their kids and in some cases the medical expenses for their elderly parents; all with what a ten thousand per month salary could suffice! In such a dilemma, they had to either bury their dreams or their duties; and the vicious cycle was a tenacious one. Provided I had been a

witness of successive generations of being middle class and live testimony to see crushing dreams wrapped into briefcases to office; my bitter taste towards affluent half of the population could be called a 'by-product' of jealousy but my sky-rocketing ego always referred to it as 'societal disparity'.

The air breathed a fresh aroma of lazy, dew-wet grass and the easy-going tinge that the city wind naturally carried. The flora was not overwhelming though there was a unique flair to the bare beauty of it. This city had its pretty secrets, an indifferent part from the crazy mornings; absolutely silent, soothing and easily distinguishable from the crowded streets. Strangely, I had always been amused with that part of the city; which sculpted art in my memoir long back when this city was what my grandpa called- 'a four spaced wall that caressed life'...a time when Vadodara had the crazy number of banyan trees in every nook and corner when the city's name had been changed from 'Vatpatrika' to 'Vadodara' and then to 'Baroda' (courtesy of the British mates). Like everything that finds a way back to you as if fate was

entwined with your togetherness, the name came back but a few morals that its pride carried had faded away with the lessen Banyan trees and then Vadodara became as it was today...busy, developing,hopeful and twisted in some terms; but mostly hopeful with the hot sips of tea gulped in every morning that shunned the sleep from all-nighters of completing

assignments, binge-watching romcoms and simply overthinking.

 

The thoughts engrossed the best part of my mind when the sight of a queue got my attention. The watch on my left wrist had flashed at 10 am and by the looks of it, the hopeful string of people was waiting for the city bus to arrive. There was an endearment that I catered for the patience that brimmed over the lot. None of the eyes that stood there long reflected a sense of distress; they had a sole discretion of taking the bus and reaching wherever their tickets

would carry them to, but all the same they were prepared for the moments that the journey

will impart to them. The zeal that endures in every traveller makes it a memory to savour. I let out a sigh and tucked two, black, wild locks behind my ear when the rickshaw driver had synced to the local radio channel.

The rickshaw driver was an elderly man and humming with the popular ancient folk songs;

announcing volumes about the native aura he carried. The black and yellow of the canvas that thatched the vehicle had a heart-Kapil Dev illustration painted in Gujarati script. I smiled in reflex with the thought of the turbaned man playing street cricket and cheering over the radio when India lifted the World Cup for the first time…

The radio throttled, buzzed and with a crack after two punches atop that were landed by its owner and continued playing the prevailing tune. Times had changed...the radio was

ancient, the paint over the letters was scraped and the then young man has now tinted wisdom painted in grey under the turban. But, the hope in his eyes was just the same when he inched his vehicle down the lane. The radio played the most romantic melody of '90s...I saw the brightness of the sun furnishing into a smile as the three-wheeled vehicle crossed the Park Street and slow, practised hums of the lyric pouring in the vicinity made my dusky cheeks red with the thought of what sweet memories this song carried for him!

The spontaneous thought of what control certain memories procure over the deepest of our

emotions was alarming. To the very least, there was no means of hiding the immediate effect it instilled upon us. Life had always been about those tiny tidbits.

The melodies of nostalgia, sweet secluded smiles and the taste of the past all curled up into the present. Past could be beautiful, the past could be ugly, but it certainly is unforgettable and always knows how to find a way back to us...For some it's Karma, for others it is just

serendipity, for some, it's both. Past is the mentor, traitor and simulator for everything that governs one's present. I had learnt to make peace with that fact long back.

I asked the elderly man to halt the vehicle under the shade of the giant and seemingly ancient banyan; perhaps the last of the few the city had, and with a few ruffles across the length of my hair...I ensured I looked presentable. I offered him the forty bucks he had charged with a gentle smile as graceful as it would seem from a girl with dark bands under the eyelids. My purse tugged at one arm, the files on the other; I made it straight for the white-painted, towering buildings. My watch was ticking a precise 11 am and I knew I was five minutes

early. The pencil skirt made it nearly impossible to ascend the pavement and I regretted not changing over the pantsuit. A creepy and perhaps ghostly smile of foolishness adored my lip-gloss stained lips whose bitter jelly taste urged me to wipe it off the very next moment.

"Beauty enchants all."

I heard mom echo in my conscience. Obviously, it does but beauty is never predetermined, it is variable with the precept. I had managed to retort to the voice in my head. My eyes hopeful, CV in tow as testimonial sleeplessness curved in with a yawn or two; I promised myself I would make it to the day. My stomach grumbled in response to what I took as a 'yes'; ignoring the fact that I needed a bite.

After the job's done...I tricked my appetite with a hopeful taste, though the lip-gloss didn't seem to help much.

Chapter 2: Interview at the Acropolis

The five-storey complex across the street was an array of small and big shops, offices and residences arranged in a hexagonal symmetry. 'A-C-R-O-P-O-L-I-S' it read with an illegible subtitle for bespectacled people that said- ' A courtesy of Sharma and Sons Co.' Collagen white paint coating the exteriors and flashy billboards hung at the corner of the streets. The architecture would leave any passersby in awe with the luxurious and sturdy demeanour it

carried. Located in the mid-city arena, the locality had been a buzz from Monday to Friday and on weekends, it was all chilling music sweeping in the air with dangling guitars playing;

to please the maiden accompanied by their owners followed by the tip-tap and hip-hop at the clubs down the street.

This locality was the cumulative outcome of the glam and glitter that the city had gathered over the years. The part of the city where six-digit paychecks were signed and money was a fleck of dust resting on palms that were meant to be brushed away in order to maintain the hygiene of expensive egos that were modified amidst these walls. My black pumps made their way to the revolving door of the beehive that seemed so intimidating to my inner self that before I knew it, my throat had already turned dry. A burp came in reflex so as to remind me that the rats in my tummy were still starving. A crowded hub embraced my existence as I saw myself engulfed in the giant complex...if I turn out to be lucky, perhaps in the next four years or so I would get accustomed to the lavish and haughty air this building breathed. Perhaps.

The thought recoiled in my head when I reached for the elevator. "Excuse me miss."

I hear the words falling on my pinna with a raspy touch to the way they sounded, along with an unmistakable accent that an average Barodian can't pull off. I turned a total of one-eighty degrees to find myself facing a well-dressed, three-piece suit cladded man with a posh, velvet blue tie straightened around the collar as he talked his way towards the elevator. A sharp jawline marked with stubble and deep brown eyes that screamed 'rich' from what seemed like six- feet- high from the ground.An impressive sight. Though for how long...one cannot debate.

"Thank you!"

He mouthed in a small whisper and entered in as the door opened without waiting for me to get in and before I could gawk more at the audacity of his act, the elevator door closed and streamed up as the well-mannered jerk I encountered faded away in seconds along with the petite impression of his that I created in my head. If there was a phrase like 'beauty is blinding'; well this man aptly fits into it! The beauty he carries blinds the viewer while his own morals are dusted by his handsomeness.

 

My watch beeped at 11:05 am. I darted for the other elevator before I lose a minute more.

"Punctuality is the basic morale of a good employee" I recall the statement from the brochure I had got when they appointed me a time for the interview...and now I was late for that very interview. If not for three-piece suit bearer jerks with rude instincts! I cursed under my breath.

I punched the digits in the board and the elevator raced down and beeped open. I entered without a halt and with a clank of the chains, the elevator traversed up to the third floor.

The door flung open to the lobby. A right turn straight from the door and there it was...the room of fate. A gleaming inscription overhead read 'Sam& Sharma's- Editorial Office' and neon lights flashed around it. I pushed the door open and was greeted by a sweet lady at the reception. She had black hair tied in an updo with a cherry red lipstick smile that I believed was always constant since I couldn't spot the difference from the last time I had been here to ask whether they were hiring interns! I beamed back with ambience. Her long earrings made her face leaner than it actually was and she had drawn long eyelashes to look pleasant.

Anyone could tell she was doing a great job at pulling that look. Her red pantsuit added to the beauty and I almost appreciated my choice of a pencil skirt and cream blouse over grey pantsuits...neither I had long legs like hers nor the tolerance level of putting up with makeup; though the pencil skirt was a troublemaker with steep surfaces. The black pumps kept me going and I penned a happy note in my brain about why arguing with my sister about ditching heels was an excellent choice. My inner goddess did a one-on-one tap dance in approval.

"Aarohi Das"

I announced and extended my hand for a formal handshake as I put my CV and files on the desk.

"Sharanaya Patel. Please wait for a moment...you will be interviewed in a while. Make yourself comfortable."

She spoke in a gentle yet firm professional tone that she had honed over the years. I got seated on one of the waiting chairs that lined the rear window of the room. The room had

three doors lining the posterior part of the wall opposite to the counter table. The walls were a textured art of black and white strings drawn over in alluring patterns. The marble tiled floor

and the black polished ceiling with a posh chandelier in the middle imparted a simple yet elegant look to it. Two sofa chairs lined on the other side of the counter with a computer attested to the desk that flashed some eerie data.

I placed my purse aside and had a quick glance at my cell phone. No new messages or calls...I flipped it back in when Ms Patel had appeared on the desk.

"You are up next. All the best.A third room in there..."

 

She greeted in a warm tone with a smile that reached her deep black eyes and her hand pointed towards the last door. I collected my stuff and walked down those calculated twenty steps. The next few minutes were supposed to be the most important ones. I knocked at the wood when a voice granted me permission to go in. I stepped in to be greeted by three

well dressed, middle-aged women with sheets rummaged all over the desk. I took chances to shake hands with each one of them with a low nod and whisper of my name.

"Sit."

One of them announced. She wore a black sheath dress and shiny pearl earrings that reminded me of the interiors at the counter. The other two had some affinity to 'red and diamonds' though the shades of their dress were different. The three of them went through the CV I had produced.

"I am Ravina Rastogi, assistant head editor of Sam&Sharma Editorials and these are my peers Ms Susmita Biswas and Ms Naina Tiwari…"

The lady in black introduced me to the panel of interviewers and I gave them a formal nod of courtesy.

"So, Ms Das, what influenced you to apply for this post?" She continued in a firm tone.

"I have been reading for as long as I was in high school and then there was a time when I was deeply in love with writing. The love escalated to the point that I couldn't think of a better profession than to curate the love that paper offers with perfection."

They seemed impressed. I had long practised these lines in front of the mirror and beamed the feigned smile I was supposed to after I utter those words.

"Any earlier experiences you have with the work?" Ms Biswas asked coolly.

"As of now, none. But I hope to gain some soon. I know the first time is a bit difficult but I am ready to take the stance."

"Well said Ms Das ...now, is there any personality flaw that bothers you, that we are to presume would affect us?"

"Being honest, I guess I am an overthinker and would certainly reconsider my decisions before I make one."

 

I smiled briefly. The seemingly silent woman in hot-red, Ms. Tiwari chuckled.

"Very well. We will be calling you up anytime between the office hours tomorrow based on our final discretion. Hope you have a good day."

The lady with pearled earrings said. I raised from my seat to bid them a formal goodbye with a handshake and left with my purse and a satisfied smile over my lips. So far so good.

With due honesty to my pathetic self, none of the words that I had spoken was true; but one thing I was sure of was the fact that I needed this job eagerly and I had prepared for it for months. I had read plenty of books, not because I was interested in literature but because it was an escape from the dreaded reality of my existence. I wasn't an overthinker, on the

contrary, I was reckless though I always calculated the risks; there was no second chance in the life I had been living. All the responses were an outcome of practised pretence...the only authenticity was the fact that I would do anything to work here. My stomach grumbled in response to my overjoyed glee and I remembered that I needed to have a bite as soon as possible or there would be an avalanche in my tummy, uproaring enough to let others know that I have been starving myself all morning. I bid goodbye to Ms Patel over the counter who waved back at me.

I went straight for the elevator and had mentally made a note to barge in the nearest cafe and smooch over a large cup of cappuccino and munch on chocolate chip cookies...a better way to spend the little monthly allowance that my fortune of working as a part-time store helper granted me! Every moment in this city had been a whole string of adventures, some phenomenal, others disastrous. I sighed in reflex as the elevator door beeped with its arrival

and engulfed me in, all the way down to the ground floor.

Chapter-3: The Stranger...again. 

The elevator halted with a roar and opened up as I stepped out with a mental checklist of the nearest, affordable cafes. I had nearly exited the elevator when I found myself pressed against a firm chest, nearly tumbling down when strong arms held me in position. My eyes escalated to meet its owner as an apology accompanied by a string of 'sorry's escaped. My breath gasped for a second at the exhilarating scent of his cologne and the very next moment I

suppose I would have flinched. A taste of disgrace bittered my already raging hunger... partially of food and partially for the apology that I owed for the crude behaviour of this man earlier this morning. The deep brown irises wore a look of confusion and I knew my eyes

were glaring at him. I gained my equilibrium and bent down to collect my purse which had fallen flat on the tile floor. Before I could get a hold of it, he dived in and ouch…

His forehead collided with mine. All the eyes were on us when I let out a stifled cry of pain when his palm rubbed over his forehead. My rage had escalated to a level beyond normal...I grabbed my purse, a few things that have splattered out of it and with no further commotion, decided to get him out of sight or suffer an angry outburst in public with a seemingly filthy

rich, hotshot in the bustling Acropolis complex! The former was more affordable and I hurried out when I saw him follow close behind. What the hell was wrong with this man!

 

I stepped out through the revolving door when I heard his voice again… "Excuse me, miss!"

Not again. I turned around and tried to remain calm when his eyes stared into mine. Perhaps I had not noticed the scar over his right brow but that reminded me of someone very dear...and the very thought calmed me down.

"Yes?"

I tried to sound sane. "You dropped this…"

He announced in a sharp voice, handing out the wallet. It must have slipped out during the fall. I grabbed it and was about to leave when I found something tugging me to a halt.

"A thanks would sound fine!" He announced.

 

"Right...coming from a jerk who stole an elevator ride and then head-butted you; thanks might sound fine!"

For some reason, this guy was a total turn-on for the suppressed rage in me. "That was coincidental. As for the other thing

...Steal? Like you own it or something?"

He mocked with a laugh.

"Well, what about you? You think you know better. Thanks or whatever...Now, shall I leave?" I retorted with obvious pretence.

"If you say so…"

"Would you please care to leave?"

I said with gittering teeth as my jaw clenched with fury at his audacity and the added levity. "Lemme buy you a drink...as an apology gift."

He said with a calculated smile.

"No thanks. I am not in a mood to eat...or drink-"

Grrr. My stomach grumbled I'm reflex and he roared a graceful laugh. "Mood or not, you should eat

...The world's a better place with pretty ladies and a quenched appetite!" He said with his lips curving into a casual smile. How could he?

"Do they teach you, people, how to flirt instead of being polite at expensive schools with hefty fees?" I mocked him.

"So, this is about money now…" He laughed again.

"For anything in the world, I have got nothing to do with you. Just let me go. I shouldn't have said those things but please excuse me now…"

"Real smooth for a polite lady. My offer still stands."

He said briefly. I counted the risks of sharing a drink with this stranger... many but none that I can't deal with. Perhaps,I should give him an earful when I am sipping on coffee. Will serve him right for acting like he could do whatever he wishes because he wears a

three-piece-formal and seems spoiled rich! "If you insist. Let's go."

I said with a nod and he beamed a smile. What's with this guy and his flashy smiles...geez.

I hope I don't regret this coffee.

Chapter-4: Coffee, city and business cards 

My nearly hollow thoughts were lusting over the aroma of the smouldering coffee beans as we entered the 'Cafe Post' cafeteria- One of the most expensive ones in Vadodara' I had recalled from the internet surfing I had done a few minutes before we landed here. From the Acropolis, the cafe stands at a fifteen minutes walk. Mr Three-piece-formals insisted on coming over here and nowhere else for some estranged reason and I just didn't care as he was paying the bills and this one was the nearest one.

"One cappuccino and two chocolate cookies for ma'am. I will have an espresso." Mr Three-piece- formals announced to the Barista over the counter.

"How'd you know?" I asked.

"Just a random guess and you can always cancel it down…"

He said nonchalantly as he settled on the nearest table and dived in his cell phone to type a quick text. I took my time to sit down and study his face for a clue of what he was thinking but then decided to stare a while in the vicinity.

"Here...help yourself with the books."

He handed me a novel with 'Little Women' shining in a gleaming hardbound.

"No thanks...I am not into reading. Plus, it's exhausting to read while you sip for refreshment."

I said casually and he smiled briefly with mischief sparkling in his iris. Who says women are complicated! Look at this man and you'll know.

 

"So what brought you to the Acropolis today?"

"A lousy interview and a wish to sip coffee with strangers…" I half mocked.

"Lousy you say...Not your dream job?"

He asked his eyes deep into the magazine he was reading.

"Dream job? Ever heard of a job of convenience...or middle-class bills and the balance of their dreams?"

I let out a chuckle.

"Nope. Born with a silver spoon in mouth. Never so privileged." He spoke as his brows curved further to read the article.

"Hey...I might sound crude but I can't help it that way. Sorry for the remarks. But, yeah...I never aspired for the job I interviewed for. I am in urgent need of paychecks so I can move into a better apartment."

I replied honestly with guilt at the judgemental remarks I had made. "No, no. I was half-jerk when I stole the elevator...as you say!"

He let out a laugh. I joined in the mockery. "Here's your order sir."

The Barista interrupted us with the addictive aroma he carried on his plate. He served us

coffee and a plate with two deliciously baked choco-chip cookies. The next few minutes were filled with soothing coffee and chocolate chip cookies. The coffee and the cookies made my thoughts sane.

"So you are a native?" He asked amidst a sip.

"Yes and no...We are originally Bengalis but our great grandpas settled in the city long ago. So it's kinda ambiguous. What about you?"

"Better not ask…"

He laughed. I guess I was the only one willing to be an open book. I let out a sigh at the realisation and he might have noticed the disappointment.

"Hey, hey...chill. I am a native." He added shortly.

"What does this city mean to you?"

I asked him...with no idea why I did that. Perhaps I wanted to know the perception of a native about his own land and partially because I would never get to know how it feels to know the roots of the Banyan Paradise that the city was proclaimed to be.

"Nothing...it means nothing to me. I was raised abroad. Am here for a business deal, and will fly back home soon."

He said bluntly.

"Tell me what it means to you…"

He put in briefly between another sip.

"To me it's an arena of dreams. A hope that perhaps I will live by my own terms in the same streets where I once struggled to choose jobs. Perhaps,pursuing what I always wanted to do. This city is my ray of happiness and I wish to make the most of what it offers…"

He eyed me closely and gave a gentle smile.

"Well, try to enjoy the zest of the city as much as you can. Every corner of it hides some surprises."

I said out of habit. "Sure!"

He gave me an approving nod. My phone beeped in the purse and I pulled it out to see a missed call from mom. The time had passed so soon and it was about to be 1pm. I had to get going.

"I will have to leave now. Wish me luck for my job. Thanks for the drink though!" I shook hands with him.

"Wait...You are hired." He said and smiled.

"Hired?"

I asked in hysterics.

"Here's my card...Ashish Sharma. Founder and CEO of Sam & Sharma Editorials…." The whole world seemed to shake around me and I so wanted all of this to be a dream. "You are? I mean I am thrilled."

 

I stared wide-eyed in amusement,guilt,thrill and a fusion of several other emotions towering over my core.

"Chill…You look like you have seen a ghost! I was there but you didn't seem to notice which is kinda strange but I don't blame you."

He roared with laughter.

"Perhaps so. Does this happen often?"

"What? Taking potential interns out for a coffee?Then, no. If it were not for your wallet and straightforward and reckless accusations. Never.You were nothing like what you claimed at the interview ;but girl you are way more than that! The way you have expressed the honest embodiments of what the city means to you…I am way more impressed than the cranky one-liners at the interview. "

He said amidst the laughs.

"Damn. I am so embarrassed."

I flushed a deep red. Knowing he had monitored the interview somehow and then a fateful head butt had landed us in here with what started as my rage over the effluent people and ended up with the realisation that to everything that exists an exception.

"Don't worry. I enjoyed the coffee and the mirror talks. The city is beautiful." "Thanks. I guess. For the compliment,the coffee,the job and this card."

I waved his card with a smile and an ushered wave of enigma.

"Thanks to you for making me believe in the secrets of this city. Definitely,there are more secrets than one can count; especially in preety,angry and hungry ladies….See you at the office. Wait for the call if you want!"

He said and walked away with the bills paid. He paced out of the cafe while I stared at his

card and sat long enough to figure out the coherence of the events. Perhaps, it didn't need any figuring out. The city had been crazily lovable so far,the city had dreams and dreamers. The city had strange things and strangers. The city could be a home to the newbies or distant to the natives...this city is about what you make it. This city has its own magic. It breathes life

with grandeur of the royals and the smiles of the humble. I chose to call it mine. The City was about opportunities and it had given me mine. Carpe diem. This city...was mine.