Why Did It Happen?

(2)

The next day, I met him in class. He waved at me so hard, it seemed as if he had been dying to see me. I went to my desk and was arranging my table when he came over and said, "Hi! You look good today."

"Thank you!" I generally have nothing else in response when somebody praises me.

"You're most welcome! Well, I was wondering if you were free for lunch. We could go to that cafe down the street. I have heard they make lovely pizzas."

"Yes, sure. That'll be our first outing as friends." I could bet anything to prove that he would have preferred calling it our first date.

To be honest, I was really looking forward to it. I didn't hear a word our professor said. I kept making up scenarios of our first outing in my head. Back then, I was too egoistic to even accept that I was very excited about it.

Afternoon came, and it was lunch time. Daniel met me near the college gate and we started heading towards the cafe. We did not talk the whole way. We felt too shy. I was getting a bit irritated at him since he was the one to plan it, and so he should have been the one to initiate the talk. We reached the cafe in about seventeen minutes and found a table for two.

"Would you like something?" Finally I heard words out of him.

"No, nothing for now." I didn't feel hungry, although I hadn't had a heavy breakfast.

"OK." Silence for two minutes. I could have probably sketched him out in those two minutes. He was a brunet with light blue eyes that reflected depth, wisdom and sorrow. He had a broad forehead and a long face with little bit of beard near the chin. His jaw-line was square in shape. He had thin lips and a very infectious smile. I always pondered about how a person with such painful eyes, could have such a bright smile? It's like gloom and glee walking hand-in-hand. His nose was long and parrot-like. My grandmother always used to say that people with long noses are very intelligent. She was full of such myths. Two minutes got over and he spoke, "So tell me. Tell me about your family, your Indian life, your childhood. Anything. But please let's talk. One of my dominant flaws is that I am incapable of keeping shut and I am not so good at starting a conversation." I chuckled and started, "We are a family of six with me as the youngest child and an elder brother, my parents and my grandparents. My mother is a Sikh, whereas my father is a Christian..." I rambled on and on about my family and my childhood friends and my school. He listened very intently to each and every word of mine and kept asking me questions. He had ordered a burger for himself earlier and now, since it was his turn to talk, I ordered myself a pizza and asked him to tell me about his family. The moment I mentioned his family, I realized I shouldn't have done so. His face grew sombre and the pain that he had been hiding, suddenly became too prominent.

"My mother hails from Maharashtra, India. I don't have a father. He left us when I was twelve. I have a sister, Mary, who is nine years younger to me and a brother, Charles, who is three years younger to me. That makes me the eldest son. Our mother raised us on her own - without anybody's help. She is an amazingly strong woman. When we were young, she used to work as a maid in two houses, then as a waitress in the evening. Yet, somehow, she would find out time to do the household chores, spend time with us and take care of our little sister. Charles and I used to give her a hand in whatever little thing we could but still, it never sufficed. She did her best to build up a heaven at home, and to an extent, she did. We had everything we needed. We never asked for anything but still she would give us little gifts on our birthdays or when we won a prize at school. Meanwhile, my father remarried and had a son. His new wife and son looted him and ruined his life. He had not a cent left when he died of a heart attack. He was an alcoholic, you see. His wife was a self-obsessed and a self-centred woman whose life revolved around parties and materialistic joys. His son, let's just call him a pig. He got into drinks, cigarettes and drugs at the mere age of thirteen. That had to happen when he had no parents looking after him or teaching him to differentiate between right and wrong." He paused to catch his breath.

"Our father left heaven to die a life of hell." Again, he paused and started playing with the ketchup bottle. I gave him time to recollect his thoughts and waited for him to continue. "Charles and I; we do part time jobs in the evening to ease the financial burden off our mother's head and to pay for our sister's studies. She is still too young to work. Being the youngest, she is the most pampered one of the lot; and being her elder brothers, we are very protective and very possessive of her. Once, she told us about a worrisome boy who was troubling her at school. We went to that boy's house and beat him up till he fell down to our sister's feet and beseeched her for forgiveness." We laughed so hard at this that people at the nearby tables started throwing us strange looks. I must say, he had excelled in the field of concealing his feelings. No matter how hard he tried, his eyes always gave him away. Even when he smiled or laughed, his eyes never failed to betray him. We stayed there for another twenty minutes and then decided to leave, since he had to go for his part time job and I had promised my friend to take her shopping. I wished I could spend a little more time with him.

I knew that day, that he is fond of wearing an invisible cape and concealing his real self.

I understood that he is much more than what he displays.

And I pledged that day, that I would take off his cape.

Hello! So this was a bit long... Hope you liked it... The next chapter will be updated soon... Till then, keep voting and please do comment :)