At the Party

I had been avoiding parties for long. They had seemed drab affairs to me. But thought may be the taste of the pudding was in eating it. May be I should try. I was also trying to write my next story and thought it could potentially translate into one.

Everything seemed to be depressingly boring. But then I remembered I had a purpose.

And it is a surreal feeling being the audience and a participant at the same time. Perhaps in that way you will ignore some of my own foibles. A few shots of alcohol did enhance the surrealist in me. In the beginning I was pretty normal and to my surprise even when I walked out I was only normal.

Dresses seemed to be calling the shots. Various hues were on display. Some dressed like mannequins or dolls and some body-hugging and some free flowing and some simply outrageous. I thought people had overdone the dress part. Normality seemed to be in short supply. At least some stood out. Simple but starkly effective in gravitating attention. Even blacks do look good at times especially when they fit you perfectly and you have a particular tone of skin; or the onlooker’s senses have been numbed by alcohol.

In all this chaotic display of human vanities my eyes seemed to search for someone. I seemed to feel a tinge of pain rush through my veins every time I thought about her. Was this an end to a journey begun only sometimes in the past? There are times you hate to go back to reality. I have always hated reality for sure. The idea of placement seemed creepy to me. Imagine working like a dog for the rest of my life. And now after so much drama, everyone was placed. Not much a case of dream job but rather making concessions with one's calling.

And what a feeling. The MBA was finally behind us. That 3-lettered acronym variously expanded as Master of Business Administration, Master of Business Apocalypse, Me Before Anyone Else or Mediocre But Arrogant was firmly stuck to our backs. We were moving from the world of cases to actually become a part of one.

And now we will be busy with our lives. No time to stand and stare as Davies laments. I remember you Davies. I am too feeling your pain. I particularly brood over your 4-lines.

“No time to turn at Beauty's glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.”

And what is my lament? Is it that I won’t be able to see her again. Her lovely face. Her soothing eyes. Her calming smile. And what not. But did I care about all these when I should have. Did I

ever try to see her at all? Perhaps I did not get the opportunity. Perhaps I did not want to. Perhaps I do not know what.

With some you can have a connect of mind. And with some of heart. We do have pretty much less control over our hearts than our minds. And for some mind dominates over the heart. They pride themselves as realists or rationalist and their list of self proclaimed jargons continue. And all pretty much fake. Today was the only day when I can convey what I always wanted to. Should I do it? Should I not? The fight over the head and the heart reached a crescendo. It seemed the mind was finally going to falter. I was completely exhausted in this tussle. The need for some fresh air outweighed everything else. In this internal anarchy I had forgotten that she had moved out long ago. My searching eyes took me to the steps of the hall. There she was. In all her glory. Smiling and talking as usual. Can I dare to disturb that state of ecstasy? Perhaps that was the most precious gifts I would ever get in my life. To see a smile lingering on her face. The most beautiful face I had ever dreamt.

I walked out in a drunken stupor and was soon engulfed in infinite stretches of darkness. The story was written.

But I did not pride myself on being rational or methodical any more.