Ishan was having his coffee, scrolling mindlessly through news articles, some of which mentioned his name. He was attempting to establish a normal routine that didn't involve sitting in his bedroom pondering what had gone wrong or getting wasted in bars.
He somehow managed to refrain from drowning himself into the intoxication of liquor for two days, which was a significant achievement. It really was.
His phone rang.
"Can we meet up? I want to have lunch with you, Ishan, and also you can sign the deal," said Mr. Malhotra on the call.
"You don't have to bother yourself, Mr. Malhotra. You can send me the papers, and I will sign them," Ishan politely attempted to refuse.
"Come on, Ishan. You have agreed to my offer. Let me at least treat you to lunch," Mr. Malhotra insisted.
After a moment of silence, Ishan agreed, "Okay."
Ishan wasn't usually like this-a person who avoided going out or socializing. He was usually vibrant, someone whom people enjoyed being around.
But life had its own way of taking away your lively persona and turning you into someone whom you yourself didn't even recognize.
---
Ishan sat with Mr. Malhotra in a restaurant as the CEO praised the delicious food it served.
Ishan was not just familiar with this restaurant; he was painfully familiar... He had his first date with Mayank here, or rather, it was more like an impromptu date. Ishan didn't even know he was going on a date; he was supposed to meet his friend, but with a twist of fate, he ended up meeting Mayank. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he hadn't met Mayank that day.
After that, they had their fair share of dates in this restaurant. Of course, it was amazing, and not just that, it was based on an artistic theme. So Ishan couldn't have liked it any better.
But now it was just a place that held some beautiful memories for him, which made his heart even heavier every time he thought about them.
Mr. Malhotra handed him the paper in which he had to sign. Ishan started reading the document; everything was fine except for one thing.
"Why does it say that one of the five paintings should be based on the description given to me?"
"What's the problem with that?"
"The problem is I don't draw based on descriptions. Art comes naturally; I just can't draw something based on someone else's description."
Ishan said all this calmly. He was not someone to lose his calm easily, but this thing was starting to irk him a little.
"Is this your way of making me draw people? Or faces?" Ishan stated the obvious.
"We can say that."
"I already told you."
"I want the reason behind it."
"I just never get enough inspiration from someone."
"Not even from your husb- I mean, ex-husband?"
Mr. Malhotra surely knew how to hit the right nerve.
"I can observe the changes in you. You're no longer the carefree person you once were." He looked at Ishan with sympathy.
"Change is the only constant, Mr. Malhotra" he said with a blank expression.
"And I also know that the reason behind you doing this art gallery is not the money or reach that you'll get; it's like a distraction for you."
Ishan didn't say anything, but he felt something-a gaze, someone was staring at him. He looked behind Mr. Malhotra, scanning the people who were busy in their own world. But no one was actually looking at him. He might have imagined it.
Then he fixed his focus back to Mr. Malhotra, "I can't sign this."
The CEO wanted to persuade him a little more, but deep down, he also knew that it was all going in vain. He ran his hand through his perfectly gelled hair.
Okay, Ishan," he conceded, retrieving the documents. "As you wish." He then made a call, and after two minutes, a man appeared with a similar-looking document.
Mr. Malhotra exchanged the unsigned document for the new one. "I anticipated this might happen, so I kept the other document ready as well."
Ishan read it and pick the pen to sign on the paper. When he was done, he closed the document and when he looked up, he saw it.
A pair of eyes, looking into his own.
Those eyes held Ishan's gaze for a fleeting moment.
And in that brief moment, Ishan felt something; he couldn't name it, but he definitely felt something.
He was able to see only the eyes of that person because the person lowered his head after the brief encounter of their eyes.
When everything was done, they both got up to leave, but not before Ishan glanced towards the direction where he had seen those eyes; now the chair was empty there.
It might sound very silly, but the thought of not being able to see those captivating eyes again made him sad, another sadness to add to his life when there were already plenty of them.
In the evening, he entered his home studio for the first time in weeks, but one thing was unusual: whenever Ishan decided to draa something, he had a clear idea of what he was going to draw with those strokes of the brush or pencil.
He knew how a brush would go in a particular direction, how thin or thick a line would be-everything was calculated.
But today was not like that; his mind was blank, he had no idea what he was going to do.
He rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, pulling his soft wavy hair back to tie them, making a tiny ponytail. Which indeed suited him, giving him a look that screamed "artistic" and finally wearing his glasses.
He sat with a blank canvas in front of him, pencil in his hand, playing with it with his fingers. As he started, he found himself drawing something that looked awfully similar to a pair of eyes.
Ishan thought that his mind was blank, but it actually wasn't. The image of those eyes was floating in his thoughts, and maybe not just floating, but engraved deep there.
And Ishan hated the fact that a mere pair of eyes, whose owner Ishan didn't know about, had this impact on Ishan that he would start drawing eyes, which he had never done before. He felt frustrated with himself and instead of completing the drawing, he just left it there unfinished.
As he made his way to the balcony of his room where Ishan could stay for days, he stood there. He loved to watch the sun dipping below the horizon and he loved to see the sky changing its colors from pink to orange and finally dark.
The gentle cool breeze that was hitting his face, he could hear the bustling of streets. Moments like this where he could just stand on his balcony and admire the night sky or appreciate the liveliness of the city.
His peaceful time got interrupted when he heard some commotion. As he looked down, everything seemed normal.
But was Ishan so lonely that he now started feeling that someone was following him? Watching him?
~~~
Shubi is going to enter in next chapter, but didn't he already entered ?
