...CONTINUED

Students were called inside the interview room one by one, as the boy eyed the fat woman. He liked her not because she was attractive, but she was funny. She giggled a lot with a gaping mouth. The other woman present in that group was elegant. She was what normal male would call sensuous, sexy would be the exact word. Her hair was well done, it was silky; her face was painted as smooth as a burnished mahogany table, her eyes were big. She had lips the size of a red chili and her breasts were on the verge of exploding from her skin tight shirt. Her jeans clad legs had a fine shape that most of her charmers (i mean girls) would envy. She resembled a Japanese doll. Not only because of her attire, but also the way she spoke and carried herself. There are so many weird things in heaven and earth than himself, the boy thought.The plum boy was called in. It was at that very moment that a pair of eyes fell on a pair of eyes that was standing at a distance.The boy was in the 10th year of his life, when his father took him to see 'Shonar Kella'. It was a film by Satyajit Ray. Before that, the boy had read a few adventure novellas and had emerged as a dreamer. The film opened new boundaries for him. What is life without a slash of adventure, some risks where the fun is only to take them straightaway.It was much later that the boy started avoiding school. He, like a well mannered studious boy (he even looked that way!!) would go out of his house, bye bye his mother and walk to his school. But nearing his school, he would always choose the other way that went straight to the cinema halls. He would take ten bucks in his pocket and an extra shirt in his bag. Halfway to school, he would change his shirt, put on a cap and get on a bus to Esplanade, where there are numerous cinema halls and most of all, all kinds of people that he would observe. Every night he would come back home and write about them in his diary, a red-brown covered book with a smiley for a page marker.



They say, good things come in small packages.

I have to go, since now I am unable to remember anything about the boy that is worth writing. When I remember, I will write. As for the pair of eyes, they had still remained as part of a body, a soul that inhibited inside that body, that had helped me to survive, had taught me much. It was a man's pair of eyes; he was to become my teacher and best friend for several years to come.