Romi sat on a stone bench, facing the Place de la Concorde fountain and the Eiffel Tower, thinking about everything around her. She tried to filter out the everyday sounds and scenes and smells to focus on that which truly, truly resonated inside her but somehow, she couldn't. She wondered if it was because of the man sitting beside her. She had come to view herself and the world differently ever since she had first heard Samay's poem.
In front of her, she saw a couple holding hands spilling out of the famous Luxury Hotel de Crillon, wearing what appeared to be expensive, new clothes. She was sure that if she went near, she would smell the pricey, succinct cologne on them. As the ring on the lady's finger sparkled and gleamed in the fading light, Romi's attention was drawn to the sign behind them. The sign was battered and hung on the side wall of the hotel's building. It read, "PLACE DE LA CONCORDE" and above that sign was an even older, faded, almost crumbling plaque that read, "PLACE LOUIS XVI". Of course! How could she have forgotten that? This spot had served as a guillotine for so many figures in history and as a place of revolution for the million every day people who had put their faith in the wrong people.
She thought of Marie Antoinette and King Louis XVI. What would they be thinking as they were about to die. Were they contemplating how painful it would be? How swift? Or was Marie Antoinette thinking about all those silk dresses that she could no longer wear? And why were here thoughts drifting to such inconsequential things? She could see Samay taking pictures on his camera from the corner of her eye. Rishi soon joined them with lattes in Styrofoam cups, which was possibly a crime for all those who lived, breathed and loved Paris. Nonetheless, she accepted her cup from him and scooted over so he could sit down.
"So what next?" Rishi asked.
"Laudree?" Samay suggested.
The three of them got up and began walking. Laudree was probably the most popular bakery in Paris. After a couple of minutes of walking and talking about everything they had yet to do, Romi could make out the pastel green exterior of the shop with the word "Laudree" crawling on the roof in a fancy, gold font. There were tall towers of multi coloured macaroons and Laudree's dessert gift boxes in the display glass. She felt something inside her shift when the smell of strong coffee and the sweet scent of chocolate invaded her nostrils.
Samay called for a cafe au lait and all of them ordered for macaroons. "What were you thinking? At the Concorde?" he asked, biting into a macaroon.
"About Marie Antoinette," Romi answered. She wasn't exactly lying.
"Oh. All right," he replied, sounding almost disappointed. She wondered what had she done to disappoint him? And then what had she done that hadn't disappointed him? She never answered any of his questions in a straightforward manner; except that one day when she had shown him her opinion on the imitation debate. She had felt naked, showing someone what she thought and believed. Showing that was like exposing your religion. The one thing you absolutely asserted to yourself is what she called religion. Why? What had made her? And why was she asking herself this when she shared almost everything with Keshav? Well, Keshav was different. She had practically grown up with him. But hadn't Samay earned the right to now know her as a friend and not just a mere acquaintance? Perhaps even more than a friend?
She ate her macaroons in silence and observed the friendly banter between Rishi and Samay as they headed back to the hotel. They were discussing Sarah and Kabir and the topic hadn't been exhausted even as they entered the lobby. Boys were the real gossip queens, she decided. She went into the single room she shared with Kiara and saw Keshav and Kiara sitting opposite each other on the coffee table, giggling away. She wasn't even surprised. Keshav was a real charmer when he wanted to be. And with someone like Kiara, she knew he would definitely want to be charming. They briefly told her about how they done some dancing thing at the gardens. Dancing. No wonder Kiara was happy in his company. Keshav and dance were best friends. If she was his girlfriend, she'd definitely be jealous of the importance he gives to dancing. And then she shivered with repulsion. God, she couldn't think of Keshav in any other role save as her best mate. As Kiara stood up and said something about soaking in the tub, Romi took her seat.
"You've been doing some thinking," Keshav drawled. He was familiar with every facial expression of hers.
"So I have," she replied. She was glad there was at least someone she was open with. She was honestly starting to question herself and whether being this closed off was wrong on her part.
"What do you think of people who over share?" Romi asked him.
"I am not very fond of them. Probably why I am friends with you." he joked. She gave him a glare so he finally sat up and said, "I am not sure, Roms. I wouldn't think very highly of those people and that would probably be because they would take everything lightly."
"You mean like how you do?" Romi joked.
"Yeah yeah. You keep telling yourself that. So what's this about?" Keshav asked, sitting straight.
Romi shifted in her seat before replying, "I'm not sure."
"Oh this seems serious. You've never quite squirmed before me."
"Well," Romi began. "I think it's a boy problem."
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Poetic Sensibility
General FictionA round table. 5 poets. 1 teacher. May the muses be ever in your favour. Samay hates any kind of disruption in his life. He hates being curious about things because then he loses all common sense and has to sate his curiosity. But he can't stop hi...
