Rediscover

1. circle

It's funny how life works—making us dance around in circles and playing us like puppets on strings. Only the smartest ones amongst us manage to break free of the traps and lead their lives the way they want to. I used to think I was one of the smart few. One of those extraordinary people who took fate and destiny into their own hands and shaped a life according to their will. I let myself live under the illusion that I was the master of my fate and nothing, no one could alter the path I wanted my life to take.

But of course, I hadn't taken into account that sometimes, life just had its own amazing way to lead us back to where we started.

So here I was, stepping out of the Kolkata Airport, flinching as the hot and humid air hit me. Pulling out my sunglasses, I put them on and studied the atmosphere around me.

It was any other day for these people. The busy airport still continued its duty, and the officials strode with confidence as they occasionally barked into their handheld-transceivers. All around me, there were people rushing about to move forward. I had been one of those people five years ago when I left without a word to my family. But my impromptu decision had pulled me back to my former home. The moment I got word that my campaign was being dropped, I ran with my tail between my legs.

Shaking my thoughts away, I grabbed the handle of my trolley and approached the yellow pre-paid taxi booth. A large man with an enormous gut sat hunched on a narrow stool that looked strained under the weight. His shirt was tight on him and the buttons looked just about ready to pop.

I rattled off my destination once I got to the front of the queue whilst he grumbled, typing in something on the computer before him. A whirring sound emerged from the tiny printing machine and he handed me the bill, looking up at me expectantly. I handed him the cash before taking the ticket.

I approached the road that was clogged up with vehicles—taxis and personal—cars whilst muttering the taxi number under my breath. A while later, my taxi rolled in and stopped a few feet ahead of me. Picking up my bags, I headed towards the standard yellow and black coloured car when I spotted a man heading towards it.

Both of us reached the taxi at the same time, moving to open the door. I stopped short and finally took a good look at him.

It was one of those moments from the stupid soap operas my mother used to watch where two strangers clash and everything slows down as their eyes meet.

Well, in my case, time didn't stand still. Nor did our surroundings fade. But I did stare at him, eyes wide as I took in his features. He was handsome. Really handsome. And that was saying something because I had worked with a lot of models.

Like me, he sported a pair of shades that obscured his eyes from view. But if his sharp features were any indication, his eyes were probably as breathtaking as the rest of him. His face was perfectly proportionate with a sharp jaw and high cheekbones. A few strands of his black hair strayed over his forehead, making him look all the more handsome.

He was broad-shouldered and his dress-shirt fit perfectly over his obviously honed body.

I blinked, trying to refocus, and said, "This is my taxi."

The man shook his head and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. "It's mine," he replied. "Look."

I scanned the ticket and frowned. It had the same taxi number as mine. Signalling the driver, I asked him to come out. The middle-aged man dressed in the custom brown uniform got out of the car and looked at the two of us in confusion.