He slid his hand into his pocket and lit up a smoke. Had it not been for the acrid smell that hit her all of a sudden, she would not have even noticed! This wasn’t one of his usual moments…she pondered. In the last three days he has only reached for a cigarette after meals. She had found his postprandial pangs unusual even when she saw him light up the very first time. That’s a strange habit! She had felt the urge to ask him about it then, but had held herself back. They had barely known each other and what if he took it wrong?
She stole a glance at him just to confirm that he was actually smoking, and quickly turned away…continuing to watch life outside as visible from the auto rickshaw in which they were travelling. Absorbing the sights and sounds that hit her consciousness, at some level she tried to identify the character of that place. Nothing that could set it apart! They could have been traveling through any other town and it would have still felt the same.
The image of him holding the cigarette elegantly between his fingers wafted before her eyes. Her gaze fixed at the buzzing activity that surrounded them, she wondered …there was something about him that was very unlike what she had imagined of a typical man. The way he moved his slender fingers, the manner in which he sat cross legged at the edge of the bed but most of all his sensibilities. Effeminate was not the right word to describe him. Perhaps a man in touch with his anima.
What was the trigger for that light?....she asked.
He looked at her bewildered not having a context to what she had been thinking.
That light…she suggested with her eyes….what was the trigger for that?
He mumbled a few indiscernible words before saying… Ummm. Just boredom…and drew in some more nicotine. She was not entirely convinced by his explanation but decided not to pursue the matter any further. Time moved at an unusual pace that evening. It was difficult to judge how many minutes had lapsed though the passage of time was evident by the fact that the auto rickshaw they were travelling in - had covered a certain distance.
Do you smoke?…he inquired of her.
This time she was cornered into silence not knowing what to say. A part of her wanted to reach for the cigarette in his hand and take a drag. Though the last time she had held one to her lips was seven years ago! What if she had forgotten how to smoke….lost the knack of holding it? What if she inhaled and her lungs rejected the fumes? Would that make her seem like a rookie? Though there was something so alluring about the very thought…of experiencing that heady rush…brought about partly by nicotine and partly the sheer act of bonding over a cig.
Why did you ask me that? She answered his question with another - still wondering to herself – had he not noticed in the three days they had spent together that she does not?
Ummm…nothing…he mumbled again - mumbling was the defense he used against confrontation.
She stared outside yet again….thinking whether the reality they would live and experience ahead could have turned out any different had she nonchalantly taken a fag.
He…wondered to himself…whether he did the right thing by resorting to the warmth of a cigarette to break the ice between them.
Rings of smoke filled the air…as she watched him from the corner of her eye – and made a mental note. Must practice smoking…to make the most of moments like these!
