She walked in, as I was about to leave. Medium height, a little small maybe. I didn't know her. She caught my attention. I'll probably never see her again.
I stood in line to collect a form for admission to a hostel. She was a little distance away. I found her... incredibly attractive.
If someone else asked me to explain it, I could not, in terms of words. It will be natural for them to think that I saw some fairy-tale princess or super model or a half/full caucasian (with me having some kind of white-skin-philia begin with-).
What was so special about her face? Nothing I guess.
Nothing? So just what else could you have seen?
Er.
Its not about appearance, I think. It's about the impression you make.
From the expression on her face, I know that she isn't 'nice'... that 'nice' that I find pathetic. Its hard for someone to be nice (the real one) by default, to people you barely know. A cold shell is easier to believe... less likely to be fake.
There was another girl in the crowd, from my coaching class, who had been 'nice' to everyone from the start, flocked to the most successful, then left them for greener pastures when they seemed to fall. She was one of the higher scorers of the class.
I saw her in the line behind me- she had been observing me, utterly conscious of my presence. I would have smiled at her just to be polite, but the wave of hatred that blasted into me from her expression left me blank, bemused (btw- bemused means confused, not amused, strange eh?)
I didn't really understand the hate from her... it wasn't contempt, were it- she would have ignored me. It was almost like jealousy, which I didn't understand- I was only a few ranks ahead as far as she knew, and even if she had heard my name announced earlier, it wasn't enough to warrant hatred- right?
What she hated... was me, I think. Its only my instinct speaking here- she knew how I was, quiet, lazy yet supremely confident in my own abilities- I listened to my teachers when I saw it fit, ignored them when I thought they were spewing shit. I tried to score but never used it as a barometer to measure worth. I stopped believing in coaching after my IITJEE ended up being rather ordinary. She had, along with her friends, attended coaching for the other exams as well- including the one that landed her here, at the Delhi College of Engineering, while I had decided that the only way I'd amount to anything was to take my future into my own hands.
That is why she resented me, I realize now, not only because I was more successful, but because the kind of person I was- because my silent confidence was something she used to hold a deep contempt for, but that contempt was turned on its head when my way of functioning was vindicated.
Haha, thank the night and my meandering, time-wasting style of writing. But for them I might have never understood this, and allowed it to puzzle me for a long time hence.
I was writing of another girl, after all, haha. The one I don't know.
Her back was straight, her poise impeccable, completely unlike the seething hunch-back trying to contort itself into a respectable shape as it noticed my eyes come across it. She handled herself with perfect grace, exuding confidence.
Her body was not unhealthily thin, but healthy without a single extra pound of fat. This, along with her posture, gave an impression of athleticism, of a person who maintained herself well.
The clothes she wore told me that she did not seek cheap attention, either that or she simply thought she didn't need help from clothes. They were simple, effective, form fitting, but giving away nothing to lecherous eyes.
The mere fact that she was here meant that she was intelligent. Sure it was an exam that I didn't exactly take seriously, but only because I had tortured myself for several days before it to be in a position to take part.
I know she wasn't shy, by the way she observed me from the corner of her eye and weighed me, without even turning her head, (Its at times like these that I feel... very... inferior, I guess.) perhaps she understood that she had my attention- or perhaps she didn't realize that I would notice hers.
The line I was in moved forward, and I moved along with it. Because we had both seen each other, neither could care to spare another glance, because that would give too much away.
She was nowhere to be seen by the time I finished with my work.
As I left, I had a desire to return. It was irrational, because even if I did, I would probably never see her again. Even if fate helped out a little, we'd probably never speak, probably have nothing in common if we did speak, and she probably wouldn't give a damn if we had anything in common.
Even so, I was intrigued.
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