Nivedita would stare at his picture, leaving the consciousness of time behind. It was the profile picture of Ayog Nandi on Facebook. He was in a casual black t-shirt and a blue jeans, sitting magnificently, resting the left leg on his right thigh. The half sleeve shirt exposed his fair arms with gentle hair as he would keep them on the coffee table, further decorated by some loose sheets, which perhaps contained his hand written scribbles, tilted about seventy degree right side. He changed the profile picture after almost four months. During those days, she would often visited his profile, just to have a look at his recent appearance. But, she had to be disappointment, every time. Now, she was happy, looking at him, his picture, which suited his profile the most, as she could think. He looked little older on his carelessly maintained beard and black framed thick spectacles. That new appearance made him a charming stranger to her, a stranger who seemed to be very known.
But, somehow, she felt comfortable as she kept on staring at him. Something was there in the picture. What was it? she wondered; was it his bright smile to make the other person feel at ease, was it his unfathomable eyes that seemed to be the source of hope, was it his facial calmness, so soothing as if enlightenment is not impossible or was it... She was reluctant to give up so easily. To her, discovering the implicitness of his existence would be like attaining nirvana as his existence in her life caused her very own existence to be, to herself, as an individual, at least.
Who the hell was there with him, Who could have taken that snap, it occurred to her suddenly. It must have been by one of his beloved students. As if not through the lens, but through us, our eyes, he became visible. Not by the light from the flash, as if, by our acceptance he was illumined.
Flashes of his class lectures started to pop up before her eyes. It was an introductory class on Indian Constitution and they all expected a senior teacher, bulky, short tempered, unapproachable kind of being. He entered, at last. His very appearance was the biggest lesson to the students; a young boy, ready to challenge you gracefully. He came to break the convention, orthodox tradition of their mind.
Nivedita never seemed to be visible to him. She attributed that misfortune to her ancestors, the ugliness that was bequeathed to her by her parents. Even intellectually, she never existed to him. She did not utter a single word to him in the entire session. She would look up to him, awe stuck, sitting quietly in the middle row of the classroom, trying to take notes of every word he would speak. Often, she would miss a couple of sentences to take a psychological note of his expressions.
The news claimed tears in her eyes. She could not hide it. She had to rush to the washroom as she heard that he had resigned. Some said that he had joined another organisation. Others said that he had promised not to be back in that profession. She said nothing, only stared with a blurred vision. Deep inside, she was losing her every strength and happiness. An unknown emotion was nibbling her inside. She had difficulty to breathe. An intense pain was rising from her naval portion, going up through her chest, chocking her throat. The pain made her eyes red. She tried to anticipate how would it be to miss some one, for the rest of her life!
Some ten, fifteen days passed. they spoke about him. Some of his students got connected with him on facebook. She rushed back home and logged in with a strong determination to send him a friend request. Would he not accept her request? He was so open to all, so friendly, easy approachable, ready to make new friends always. That was what she knew about him. So let her be his new friend!
After seven days of waiting, when she was about to lose hope, that charismatic Ayog Nandi, a short height erudite, subtle blend of attitude and humility, revised the valuable lesson, he had emphasized throughout his semester,- 'don't lose hope so easily, it's never to late to start afresh', by not only accepting her friend request on facebook, but also sending her a personal message;- 'let us speak on FB, at least!' It all ended, or perhaps started, with a happy smiley, as usual.
But, somehow, she felt comfortable as she kept on staring at him. Something was there in the picture. What was it? she wondered; was it his bright smile to make the other person feel at ease, was it his unfathomable eyes that seemed to be the source of hope, was it his facial calmness, so soothing as if enlightenment is not impossible or was it... She was reluctant to give up so easily. To her, discovering the implicitness of his existence would be like attaining nirvana as his existence in her life caused her very own existence to be, to herself, as an individual, at least.
Who the hell was there with him, Who could have taken that snap, it occurred to her suddenly. It must have been by one of his beloved students. As if not through the lens, but through us, our eyes, he became visible. Not by the light from the flash, as if, by our acceptance he was illumined.
Flashes of his class lectures started to pop up before her eyes. It was an introductory class on Indian Constitution and they all expected a senior teacher, bulky, short tempered, unapproachable kind of being. He entered, at last. His very appearance was the biggest lesson to the students; a young boy, ready to challenge you gracefully. He came to break the convention, orthodox tradition of their mind.
Nivedita never seemed to be visible to him. She attributed that misfortune to her ancestors, the ugliness that was bequeathed to her by her parents. Even intellectually, she never existed to him. She did not utter a single word to him in the entire session. She would look up to him, awe stuck, sitting quietly in the middle row of the classroom, trying to take notes of every word he would speak. Often, she would miss a couple of sentences to take a psychological note of his expressions.
The news claimed tears in her eyes. She could not hide it. She had to rush to the washroom as she heard that he had resigned. Some said that he had joined another organisation. Others said that he had promised not to be back in that profession. She said nothing, only stared with a blurred vision. Deep inside, she was losing her every strength and happiness. An unknown emotion was nibbling her inside. She had difficulty to breathe. An intense pain was rising from her naval portion, going up through her chest, chocking her throat. The pain made her eyes red. She tried to anticipate how would it be to miss some one, for the rest of her life!
Some ten, fifteen days passed. they spoke about him. Some of his students got connected with him on facebook. She rushed back home and logged in with a strong determination to send him a friend request. Would he not accept her request? He was so open to all, so friendly, easy approachable, ready to make new friends always. That was what she knew about him. So let her be his new friend!
After seven days of waiting, when she was about to lose hope, that charismatic Ayog Nandi, a short height erudite, subtle blend of attitude and humility, revised the valuable lesson, he had emphasized throughout his semester,- 'don't lose hope so easily, it's never to late to start afresh', by not only accepting her friend request on facebook, but also sending her a personal message;- 'let us speak on FB, at least!' It all ended, or perhaps started, with a happy smiley, as usual.
