Destiny's Gamble

A Flood Of Memories

"So, Mr. Good-For-Nothing, I'd like to ask you something." I say, as Manik fishes out his wallet to pay the vendor. 

"Ms. Life-Saver, I think we've progressed enough to drop all formalities between us." He replies, flashing a charming smile at me. "Ask away." 

"What's Aiyappa?" I ask, the word flowing smoothly off my tongue. I watch Manik like a hawk, trying my level best to read his expressions and see through the curtain of darkness he's keeping me in. I don't care what he says, I know for a fact that Manik and I knew each other before my accident. His voice, his touch, even these words he's brought up - Aiyappa, and Angel - they all slam me with waves of Deja Vu. What I don't understand, however, is why he's feigning ignorance towards knowing me? Were we not on good terms in the past? 

"My Angel." Manik begins to explain, cutting my thoughts. "She was extremely close to her religion, and so instead of referring to the Lord above with the ordinary words we all use, she came up with this term of endearment for Him - Aiyappa." Whenever this man speaks about this woman, affection is dripping from his tone and body language. I wish that their separation ends as soon as possible. It's quite obvious that she's his world, and I know what it feels like to have one's world snatched from underneath their very feet. 

"Aiyappa," I mouth. The word sounds oddly comforting and familiar to me. Perhaps I was friends with the woman Manik's talking about.

Who is Aiyappa? A man's voice rings against the interior of my head. God. He's my Aiyappa, a woman replies.

"An..." Manik trails off, squeezing his eyes shut. "Um...Considering you've helped me out so much in purchasing all these." He says, holding up the plastic bags in his hand. "What do you think about accompanying me to my mother's house and gaining the gratitude you rightly deserve?" 

"Manik," I let out a surprised laugh. "We've barely known each other for a day and you're ready to introduce me to your parents. Moving a little fast, aren't we?" I tease. 

"Have we known each other for a day?" My friend asks, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. I frown. "What I'm trying to say is, doesn't it feel like you and I have known each other for years? I guess we just click, right?" Quite frankly, I wish for this new friendship of mine to progress at a quick rate because I have a feeling that the more I get to know this man, the closer I will be to uncovering my past. The waves of familiarity that cascade off of Manik are simply too disturbing to ignore.

"I like being appreciated," I confess. "I'm in. Let's meet your lovely mother, who is so kind as to throw you into this unfamiliar environment." I gesture at the stalls of fruit and vegetables around us. Even a stranger could tell just by looking at Manik that he seems like a fish out of water in here. Maybe that's why I could tell he was out of his element when I saw him staring at the eggplant in utter confusion, as if it was an alien. Yeah, that could be it. Perhaps I'm overthinking this entire scenario. Manik could truly just be a new friend, and not someone from my past. Honestly, nowadays I look at everyone and everything dubiously, as if they are all a part of my history.

"She's going to love you," Manik says. "After all, without you by my side, I would've never been able to get the ingredients for tonight's dinner."

"Well, I truly hope you'll remember today's lesson. I won't be around to reinforce it everyday," I joke. At once my words cause Manik's face to fall; all signs of jest gone from his demeanour.

"I know," he mumbles. 

"So Manik," I chirp up excitedly. "What do you do for fun? I mean, tell me something about your hobbies." Clearing his throat, my friend glances away from me. Have I said something wrong? When Manik's gaze makes contact with mine after a few seconds, his face once again portrays a smile. However, I can tell it's forced. In fact, I am so used to faking my happiness that I can immediately tell when another is doing the same. The trick is to read a person's eyes; they're truly the windows to one's soul.