She stumbled upon an invisible rock for the umpteenth time and froze staring at all the spectators. Embarrassed like always, she gave reasons before any one could give a lecture on why she wasn’t careful while walking. She smiled and replied “My legs got no eyes, you see”. Another stupid alibi and she was spared the horror of a big lecture from all her friends.
She was considered as one of those talcum powder boxes which contained nothing but was kept because the container would be of some use someday. She was like the cream on the milk which was avoided by calorie conscious people. She was supposed to solve all the programming errors in a single go. She listened to the entire news, also about economics, which she hated the most. She was a weirdo.
I had only heard about her from Shashi aunty, until I met her. She was supposed to come and stay with us in our apartment for a few weeks. She was Shashi aunty’s niece.
I wasn’t very keen on adjusting with her, because I did not like modifications and I would have had to change certain things so as to maintain peace and good relations. Somewhere deep inside, I knew this would be one good experience. With apprehension, and excitement I waited for her arrival.
The next morning, I heard some strange sounds outside my door and thought it would be her. I opened the door and realised she was desperately looking for something in her handbag. After some amount of investigation she looked at me. Her eyes were one of the most beautiful pair I had ever seen. Her nose was not quite perfect. Her lips existed, but I couldn’t make out where they were. She looked like a giraffe to me, with a slender neck. “Hi, I am Meera”, she exclaimed. Her smile wouldn’t fade and her eyes retained the size of a 2 Rs. Coin. I understood that she was waiting for a reaction. Gathering my wits, I replied back “Hey Meera. Welcome”. Suddenly her expressions changed and she frowned cursing herself. I asked what the problem was. She said she wasn’t able to find her ID card. I said she could come in, relax and then look for it. She replied,” How can I come in without one?” She pondered over what she’d said, for sometime, and then hit back saying “Damn, I am sorry, can you help me with my bags”. Finally she stepped in. I couldn’t believe she was looking for her ID card to get into the house. Things were indeed getting interesting. But I was strictly asked not to bully her.
As days passed by, I got used to her, her addiction to peppermints and also the smell… oops…fragrance of her musk perfume. She would say “Some peppermints are really deceptive. They are yellow in colour and they taste like orange. Naughty little coloured mints. But that is how life is… Don’t you think so? “
She was tacky. She was weird. She was an IT professional, yet she did not know how to store email ids in outlook. She always spoke the opposite of what she meant. She would always speak a lot trying to convince people about her opinions on certain things. Speak the wrong thing first and then correct her mistake, laughing on her foolishness.
I became used to her. So did many others. So did she. The game of confiding began. I won hands down. I was her best friend. She told me all the nonsense she thought and did. And one fine day she told me how she fell in love and how she made herself fall out of it. People made fun of her, because she never stopped stumbling on invisible things, making fun of herself. Her workplace was cheerful, probably because, she made an attempt, knowingly or unknowingly, to look at life from a funnier perspective.
The three weeks with her were a treat; she is that talcum powder container which people retain because the fragrance never dies, even if the talcum powder gets over. She is that cream of the milk which turns into a delicious sweet to be savoured. She is that spark which lightens up your life. It lightened up mine.
I still relish upon the peppermints she left for me, and I cherish her musk perfume fragrance that brightens up some of my cardigans, I live the moments of laughter and fun that I spent with her.
“The peppermints and life have a lot in common”, she’d always say. I agreed…. I still do… : )