The Potrait Of A Lady

The Classmate

There was something different about him, I noticed as he entered the class unusually late. Evidently, the black eye was enough to turn some heads and trigger a series of whispers, which continued till the teacher cleared his throat. An indication for all the students to keep quiet. He took a bench in the far corner of the class, away from everyone's line of sight but directly into mine. The whole lecture I, unintentionally, sat staring at him, trying to figure him out. He was the most mysterious boy in my class. After an hour of thinking, I could only deduce that he had got into a fight with a senior who gave him the black eye.

I am not a popular girl in the school, though that is not a general opinion. The unnecessary attention from boys makes me sick to a horrible degree. Sometimes, I agree, I'm jealous of that boy. No one judging his every move. He can do everything he wants and no one will even care. Which brings me to my point, I don't know his name. Making a mental note to ask him later, I settle down with my friends  in the cafeteria.

After the break, the class got a free study session, where we do everything but study. Eyeing an opportunity, I approached him. It was already an awkward situation which was further added by me asking his name.

"Yash." He replied without minding.

Saying just a word, he got back to his book. He was not studying for that would be impossible. He was scribbling in his pad. I looked over to catch a glimpse, but he shut his book immediately.

"Yes?"

Again just a single word.

"Can I take a look at that?" I replied.

"No."

Can this man ever say a full sentence.

"What is it?" I had to see what was inside it.

"Something private."

At least he graduated to 2 words.

He got up to leave, irritated by this sudden attention. I quickly held his wrist to stop him. From the corner of my eye, I could see a few heads turn, judging with those cruel eyes. Submitting to their mind power, I loosened my grip and he fled away into his solace. That day I learnt something about him. He is not an introvert, he just loves his solace more than anything or anyone.

The next day, I promised myself that I won't go home until I see that notebook. Finding him in a lonely corridor, fully immersed in his notebook, I sneaked on to him. Surprised by this sudden appearance, he dropped his notebook. Accustomed to his loneliness, I think even humans seem ghost to him.

Snatching the book, I opened it. I was awestruck by its contents. Pages after pages, the same artistic flavour flourished. He just stood there beside me doing nothing. Now that his secret was out, he was helpless. The notebook was filled with drawings and sketches of people I didn't know. A small girl in tattered clothes with eyes full of sorrow. A middle-aged woman hanging by a rope in the middle of the room. These were just some of the things in the book. He had said only five words to me before, but now was pouring his life story to me. Not using words, but by these drawings. I couldn't speak anything. Giving him the book, I left without a second glance. Without even saying sorry.

The next day all returned to normal. He once again went back to his solitude and notebook, me, to my table in the cafeteria.

After the break, a teacher came in to announce an art competition to be held where our school was to represented by a student.

"Yash!" I yelled.

First they looked at me, then at him and for a last time back at me. The expression on his face suggested that he was going to kill me in a really unimaginable way. A lot of convincing and a little blackmailing on my part finally made him agree to it.

On the day of competition, I was there for him when no one was. Waiting, while he completed his task and emerged victorious. No doubt he won, but it did surprise those judgy people back at the school.

It was nearly lunch time and so I asked him to accompany me to a nearby restaurant.

After a starter of incomplete glances and a main course of uncomfortable sitting, ending with a dessert of awkward silence. I was glad that lunch was over.

Speaking for the first time after lunch, I asked him, "You never did ask my name!"

"I never needed too." He said with a smile on his face. He took out his favourite notebook, opened the last page and pushed it towards me. It was a potrait, my potrait. Dated for today and signed by him, it was titled - "The Irresistible - Rhea"