Marking Her Love

She always used to walk late in the Classroom and sit on the seat next to mine, Staring in the eyes of Teacher, while he Juggled with Maths formulas and made it look like a cake walk, while none of his students could figure out how the fuck one is supposed to figure out patter between equations. She sat there, with her notebook and scribbled formulas and algorithms. There was too much of overhyped mathematics, at least for students because all of us had flunked our pre-board.  She scored a whopping 32, while aced her other subjects. But as soon as she was done copying the whiteboard, she would flip to the last page of her notebook and scribble mandala designs. Another Day she was drawing vines around the edges of the blank sheet and in between those, mathematical equations were hanging like any fruit.  She had very few friends in that classroom, as the class was uniquely composed of all the rock-bottom gems. And instead of Bitching and gossiping, she would design.

One day, she asked me for the pen. And to the weirdest of dare, broke the nib and used it as a free-flowing ink diffuser for her new design of bleeding moon. I hated her for ruining my stationary and looked her in an awe for the piece she created. That afternoon, after the class, we walked to the adjacent park and watched the ducks swim in summer. Then she offered me a smoke, first smoke of my life, a Djarum Black. While she puffed like a diesel engine and talked about exams. she burned her name’s initials on plastic bench. Maybe Vandalism was the new high. Another hour, three cigarettes down, she asked me if I wanted to catch a movie. I refused, purely because I was nervous about her company and justified that on grounds of Maths Assignments I had to do, which were never done.

We went out for similar experiences, twice or thrice before I left the city for studies and all.

Four Years later, I saw her in one of the Coffee Shops, designing complex jewellery on her hybrid tab, Even Joked about not ruining the furniture of Coffee Shop. She boasted about her NIFT and New Job at this online jewellery giant. I had nothing else but best coffee to offer as my story. While she talked, we jumped from coffee shop to Bar, from Bar to her Place, again with a pack of Black Cigarette. Words turned to actions, tobacco turned to ashes, and soon we were panting like a steam engine. And when I regained my sanity, I saw my chest covered with lipstick clad, blood clotted love bites. She waved off questions of my eyes, with a giggle.

I knew she loved leaving marks, wherever she went.