August 2019 - continued
The city was buzzing with ingenuity, Kairav found as he exited the bar with Reyansh. Their investors left earlier, leaving Kairav and Reyansh to finalize the contract, citing another commitment.
There were street performers, magicians, dancers, and little stalls with everything from food to paper lanterns. It could've been overwhelming with so much going on, but it fits together. The band played mellow folk music that gave the city energy but didn't steal anyone's thunder. Fairy lights on the rooftops bound the different artists and their fans with a quaint aura under the evening's brisk breeze.
He pitied Reyansh, who preferred his monotonous routine - a quick shower, take-out, and Netflix - to the night's festivities. Kairav strolled down the street, simply watching the merriment until he landed on an artist. He wondered if he'd commissioned the artist to paint his self-portrait for a moment. The brush strokes were frenzied and rough when he smeared different paints onto the canvas.
Kairav didn't realize she had joined him until her silvery voice reached his ears. "I can't tell if you're watching the artist or the painting."
This time, though, he wouldn't let her get the best of him, and he shot back. It was so unlike him, but something in her made his inner maasti pop out. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're stalking me."
"Wow, Kairav, I didn't think you'd be the type to retort so sharply."
"What did you think I'd be like?"
"A deer. To be precise, a deer caught in headlights when you were at the bar."
He hummed.
"It's a compliment," she added quickly, worried he'd taken it the wrong way."
"I know. Just like mendak and sherni."
"Huh?"
"Nothing," he shook her question off. She watched as a calmness overtook his face, and he smiled to himself. Kairav savoured the moment, reminiscing his parents and their aliases: mendak, sherni, tadpole, aur choto sherni.
"Tumne mere sawal ka jawab nahi diya. Painting mein ghum ho ya artist mein?"
"Ek sharat pe bataonga," Kairav said.
"Kya?"
"Apna naam batao."
She was enjoying this—the banter, the flirting, the allure.
"Kashaf. Kashaf El-Sayed from Rajasthan. Nice to meet you," she extended her hand to greet him.
"Kairav, Kairav Goenka from Udaipur." Kairav prayed to the Gods that his hands weren't sweaty, as they often were when he was nervous or meeting new people.
"Kairav, tum mera haath chod sakte ho," she jested. Moments had passed since their initial handshake, yet Kairav didn't have the heart to untangle their fingers. Her touch was so palliative.
"Uh, sorry," he scratched the back of his neck; the plan to be charming and cool long gone.
"I was waiting for the final product, to see what story it sings," he shifted their attention to the restless artist.
"You don't have to wait for him to be done to understand. Look at his movements, the adrenaline coursing through him as he fills the outline with different colours. He painted the black upper body layout in haste because they weren't critical; they weren't the essence. The inside is since he's unabashedly rough with his strokes and bold with his colours." The effervescent girl Kairav first met turned into a firecracker, exploding with passion as she went over the painting with him. "I don't need the painting to be finished to know I see a man constrained by the expectations and responsibilities. Someone who desperately wants to let those pigments free for the world to see and for him to discover what lies within."
'She doesn't know how right she is,' Kairav thought as he watched her, with utter amazement, echoing his thoughts. His vision got blurry with a few tears stuck on his eyelash that he quickly wiped away.
"It's raw; I'll give you that," he quipped.
The invitation was unsaid as the two walked together down the street, basking in the festival lights and music. They shared some small chuckles as they fraternized with the vendors and watched the performers.
At one point, she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the center to dance. She thought he was joking when he called himself a bad dancer until he almost tripped on her toes. She didn't let him off easy, though. She pulled him in and whispered, "don't worry, I'll lead," and spun him around. The crowd had a blast watching them - a short dusky girl on her tippy-toes while her six-foot dance partner bent awkwardly to adjust the twirl.
She couldn't say for sure, but that might've been the first smile he cracked for himself. Who was it that Kairav lived for, she didn't know, but it wasn't himself. The man she saw at the bar went through the motions of life, living vicariously at best. He observed others with inquisitive regard as if he was trying to decipher what they had that allowed them to embrace the world.
Her laugh was treacherous, he thought. It could trick anyone into believing everything was alright - that the people you loved wouldn't be robbed in a heartbeat. He wouldn't mind believing the delusion as long as she was here with him.
I appreciate everyone's votes so much. I know this isn't the story every clicked on for (most people came here expecting Abhira and/or Neirohi), but it's a story I am enjoying writing so thank you for encouraging me. Your regularly scheduled abhira content (i.e., the trip series) will be uploaded shortly; just give me a few days.
Also, do comment because comments are so invigorating.
Anupamaa
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