To trust or not

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

THE MAN

He had been watching her too. Standing in one corner of the road, half concealed in the shadow of a tree and somewhat by the shadow of the wall that extended down the street. He was tall, athletic and well-built. A dark, broad-shouldered 30-something man, handsome by the book, hard to take one’s eyes off type of man. He stood there gazing at a plain-looking woman, a compatriot in a foreign land. She was medium-heighted, with an easy-to-miss-in-a-crowd type of face.

He gazed at her for a while and had almost written her off when his intuition told him not to do so. He looked at her for longer and his thoughts began to curl into contorted, twisted ideas. He pulled out his ever-faithful, steadfast companion, his professional camera. Adjusting the lens, he set focus and took a few shots……of her.

He had keen, alert eyes and sharp reflexes. His gaze darted constantly in each direction, his observant eyes catching each movement, whether near or far, imperceptible to others walking along the path. He could see she was an Indian, someone very new to the place. She was naïve (though definitely did not appear dumb). She needed help, was vulnerable, unsure, unaware, lost……..the perfect muse, or should she be called a pawn, for his work.

He swung his camera back into action and took closer shots this time-the tears-stained face, the simplicity of manner, the gullibility. The disheveled appearance, tired gait and puffy, swollen eyes made her a prize catch. Each expression was caught expertly, his eyes and hands in deft co-ordination with each other. He caught each expression fleeting across her face.

But something about her made her strangely appealing. He wanted to go up to her and take her wherever it was that she needed to go to. It was unlike anything he had felt for a compatriot, or even a woman, before. Though gullible at the moment, she didn’t seem to be the type who would fall into a trap of false help being offered by a complete stranger. Her strength sparkled in her moist eyes, shining through the tears lurking at the edges.

He decided not to approach her, surprised at himself for having thought of doing so. He was one of those type of people who are not wont to connecting with others easily or quickly. The nature of his work pushed him further down that alley.

Oblivious to her surroundings, Shikha had stopped crying and was rummaging for something in her bag. She pulled out a tissue and wiped her face. She took a deep breath, looked at the screen of her phone and began reading the map again. He could see she was able to make sense of whatever she was looking at for he saw her walking up to a sign board, tugging her luggage behind her. He was surprised to see how she had got hold of her emotions and was expertly handling her luggage, unlike most bumbling women he had seen.

She peered at the signage, trying to read the directions but couldn’t make head or tail of them. For one, the board was too high for her and also because they were given in Japanese. She stood there, exasperated, waiting, and he watching…….her. Presently, his phone rang and he got involved in the call. When he looked up, she was gone. For a fleeting second, he felt disappointed but let the feeling pass and went on his way, looking at the treasure his third eye, his camera, had caught. He walked away, satisfied with what he had captured.

As he walked down the road, still keeping to the shadows, he, strangely enough, recalled the time he had come to the city 5 years ago. It had been a confused, chaotic six months before he had begun to get his bearings together. The homesickness (about which he wondered that day…….he’d never really had a home), culture shock, unpalatable food and alien language, the cold, empty apartment, fast-paced life of the locals--everything had broken him.

His own line of work was unpredictable, demanding, merciless even, allowing him no time to get to know the people, make friends or have any social interaction, whatsoever. He had no office to go to, only a barely furnished flat which he was forced to call home. His work began and ended with a phone call, for which he had to be ready at any given point of time. No hour of the day bore any consequence to his work schedule. A phone call and he had to report, no matter what.

The loud blaring of a car horn broke his chain of thoughts. Startled, he looked up to find himself walking in the middle of the road. Such an episode had never occurred earlier. He had not, ever, sized up his life or taken stock of where he was….it was an alien feeling. He could not fathom what had triggered it. He, consciously, began focusing on the traffic, not allowing his thoughts to wander any more.