Under The Mango Trees

Chapter Forty-Two : In Between The Love Predictions From A Single Girl

"Life would be beautiful if we didn't have to see people doing that every morning," I voiced everyone's thoughts in the train which had stopped fleetingly, to give us a lasting image of a man making the railways tracks his urinal. Images like these always imprinted themselves in my mind like a stubborn, uninvited guest who refused to leave. I should have been accustomed to it now since it had been a year already, but somehow, each time it drew my eyes to the shining bottoms of squatting men and children under the broad daylight.

Jazz scrunched up her nose, personally offended by the spectacle. "God needs to answer my prayers of sending me to study in a first world country!"

"Do you even know what you want to study?"

My question irritated her and she grumbled, "That doesn't matter. If I go abroad, I'll do anything, but study."

"Mc Donald's will be happy to hire you," I teased and seeing her glower made me laugh. "What? You love Mc Donald's!"

Jazz was grumpy because sleep had heavily sat itself on her eyelids, but that image of the man had beaten sleep upright and she didn't know what she wanted to do in this awakened state of mind. To add to her grumpiness, our first morning lecture got cancelled and we dragged our legs to the library, dropping our weary heads on the desk and questioning our entire existence. Our finals were from next week and there wasn't one bone in our body that was keen on studying.

Perhaps, it was to stir the boredom away that made me talk, "Do you know my sister's husband's brother? Sorry, ex-husband."

She lifted her head up in sudden interest, her blonde highlights had faded to white and hung lifelessly.

"Of course, you don't know," I continued, letting out a short and nervous laugh. If I were to be honest with myself, I was desperate to know what she had to predict about Dev and my blossoming (at least that was what Hope told me) relationship. I retrieved my phone from my pocket and showed her his WhatsApp profile picture, confident that she would find him handsome, yet my fingers were trembling when I did that. "He's my sister's husband, sorry, ex-husband's brother. Some months back I bumped into him on the train and we have been sort of going home together."

It slowly dawned on her what I was hinting at and her eyes brightened like two bulbs, an exhilarating smile that pulled her lips to her ears and blood tickled the tips of her ears. "OH MY GOD---!" I harshly hushed her, nearly toppling over the desk to muffle her shriek since all eyes darted towards us in the library. "OK, OK sorry!" Her voice reduced to an angry whisper, "How can I keep quiet after you drop such a bomb?"

"It's not a big deal," I said, trying my best to convince her because of how unconvinced she appeared at my words. "It's not like we're dating or anything."

"But look at him!" Her angry whispers never ceased. "I would fall in love with him at first sight!"

"If you fall in love at first sight, you aren't in love with that person. You're in love with your imagination," I said and she pulled a sour face at those words before her gaze flew back to his image.

She smiled slyly. "He does give a lot of things to imagine."

"God, no. Don't put things in my head."

"What things?" Her pretence to be innocent made me want to snatch the phone back, but her grip was as firm as a baby with mud in its fist. "How did you both meet? Are you going to continue meeting this summer? What's he like? Does he also quote wise words like you think you do?"

I ignored her first question, too embarrassed to answer that. "I don't know if we'll meet this summer. I don't even know if he wants to date me. So long, it has been a casual friendship."

That was what I kept telling myself even though I had never felt such a strong intellectual connection with anyone. He evoked such a curiosity in me about the most random things, he knew about everything from the history of railways in Mumbai to the rising prices of petrol, not leaving his love for literature. Above all, I had become curious about him. The way his hair curled from the back by the end of a tiring day, the stubble that grew on his strong jaw when he was immersed in his studies, the dark birthmark above his collarbone which looked like a tea stain and the ironic look in his eyes which were windows to the fascinating thoughts that drifted in his mind, no matter how brief, they were worth being heard.

"Friendship, my foot," she muttered, still admiring his picture. "You need to marry him before I do. He looks so perfect, actually, I know he IS perfect! He gives such gentlemanly vibes. He'll never break your heart and if anything, you'll be the one to break his heart. He's too good!"

"I didn't know you did face reading as a side-business," I remarked wryly, despite my pleasure at hearing those words of approval. "For a girl who never has dated, you had a lot to say about him." Her eyes were fixed at his picture, unmoved by my remarks. "Alright. That's enough drooling for today. Now give my phone back!"

The moment I reached to grab the phone, she leaned back, wiggling her eyebrows. "You get jealous so easily."

"Can't help it, now give it back!" I slid my chair, getting up as a threat and she pressed the phone against her chest. "Come on---"

"Please leave the library right now. You're disturbing the others," I heard the librarian's irked voice behind me and my eyes swept through the room, getting hateful looks from everyone. In the sea of antagonistic faces, Jazz's face was grinning in victory. Sighing, I picked up my back in defeat. That was when the old lady librarian turned towards Jazz and said, "You too, the girl with white hair."

"It was blonde," Jazz whispered angrily in my ear, picking up her bag and leaving with a deliberate huff, not before flipping her white hair.

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