Once Upon a University Campus

Ma belle

Walking her way back to her hostel from the main gate, the warmth of his hand still lingering on her's, Annika reminiscenced about his parting words for her.

"I want to believe all is well between us and that together, we have great potential. But somewhere, something tells me that my insecurities will rest only when you own me enough to ask me something."

She had just smiled, exhausted after having convinced him to drop her at the gate instead of her hostel to avoid unnecessary attention. Finally, of the ten excuses she gave him, the only one that worked was that of her muscles needing some work out for her to regain her strength. The lone Kadamba tree stood adorned with its profusion of heady, fragrant but weird looking blossoms. She smiled at the thought that like her own feelings, these flowers need adverse circumstances to blossom..her sweet sensation of love to their sweet fragrance. Now she had time to dwell upon what he had said so casually, what did he mean when he said 'own' him? She did not want to own anyone, much less him. He - the calm ocean, deceptively pacific that belied the might concealed under his smart suits. He -the mammoth inferno when angry, something very hard to control, to make one's own. Was her reading wrong that it was against his nature to be owned by someone else, much less her? Would he want to 'own' her similarly? She wondered as she walked back, a little apprehensive, a little confused.

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She continued to ponder well into dinner hour, next a noisy cooler that hardly made any difference except making it hard for them to hear each other.. Om and Sumo the usual accomplices were at the table as the trio dug into jeera rice and choley, a treat that materialized thanks to the mess secretary's munificence.

"What do we really own?" Annika abruptly asked the other two who were enjoying the surprise treat.

"Oh! By golly, what is my brother doing to you that you should come back to ask us this serious, philosophical question" Om gave her a rare quizzical look.

Annika fumbled. "..Nothing to do with him." She lied. "..I was just thinking."

"I currently own 5 pairs of footwear, may be 20 pairs of earrings... a bunch of clothes.." Sumo declared.

"5 pairs Sumo?" Om looked at her with his eyebrows raised.

"Alright bhaiyya... May be more, I don't keep count" Sumo rolled her eyes at her unexplained fondness for footwear. "But then unlike my clothes, my footwear never refuse to fit, they remain the same size, that does not help me keep track of them. " She cutely tried to justify.

"I own nothing.." Om declared, "however, my art owns me. I am nothing without my art." He said in a cold uncalculated manner as he shoved another spoonful of rice and choley.

"Your art owns you?" Annika was bewildered, how can anything or anyone own us? Are we not free, creatures driven by our own will?

"Yes, my art is my compulsion, my pleasure, my pain, the reason for my existence. Otherwise I own nothing, not even the air I breathe."

Annika munched on the green chilli between mouthfuls of rice. It was convincing, was it not? She wondered. Om was after a man who had chosen his passion, his art over his father, over money, over his inheritance, over the woman he had loved.

"Does the converse hold true too? Something that gives us pleasure, pain, makes our existence wonderful, does it own us?"

Sumo stopped eating and stared at Annika perplexed. Om thought about it for a few minutes.

"Actually Annika, I tend to agree with the converse. If something other than our own self is giving us pleasure or pain, it is owning us. You see what I mean? If it did not own us, then our pleasure and pain would be in our hands. Now it is not in our hands, it is somewhere else, so that thing is owning us..right?" Om too pondered aloud.