Ok SO THIS IS EXTREMELY RANDOM. Actually it has a part two and three but it's so WIP and I never finished and my writing style has changed but i think it'd fit bajaj too so here it is. Random AF LMAO
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It began the way every tragedy begins. With promise. The moment he walked into the auditorium a sizzle of awareness swept through the crowd. The insistent chorus of murmurs and faint giggles dissipated. A quietus spread. Electricity pulsed through the air. Lightning snapped under the sheets of our skins. Men in formal black suits parted and he strode through a sea of commoners. For a few seconds the stage disappeared. The actors became inconsequential. The music slowed to a lulling faint. The only presence coursing through our orbits was his. He didn’t utter a word but every man and woman present knew. He was a God amongst men. A king among peasants.
Steered by curiosity, I abandoned all social tact and turned my head to stare at him. He was seated in the royal box, second level, to my left. Three men accompanied him and one stationed himself at the door: back straight as a ramrod and face a stone wall. From where I was seated—down in the stalls, third row, left end—I got a vague idea. His coat was buttoned. The white shirtfront glowed against navy blue lapels. He had a Cuban cigar in his hand and his face was turned to the side, listening to the man beside him. A crystal chandelier hung over his head casting a bronze shimmer over his profile.
I knew I should have looked away. It was imperative that I did. I lived in secrecy. In shadows. And I couldn’t have afforded for anyone to find out the truth. Especially him. He was the one man who could never know. But years of stories and mentions had fueled my imagination like nothing else. And in that moment, in that theatre, nothing could have kept my gaze off him.
And then it happened. His face slanted, head turned, he cut a look straight across the auditorium, and his eyes landed on me.
And then they stilled.
The moment will forever burn itself in my memory. I sat there, unaware of the dominos that had begun to fall. In that single, life-altering second, I should have done a million things, starting with tearing my gaze from him and running as far as possible. But I couldn’t. Because I was paralyzed. Riveted, rooted still in my seat. Even from across the space, I could see the color. His eyes were the color of a thunderstorm struck sky on a funeral day. The color of ashes rising above a pyre. It was an incarcerating grey.
He didn’t look away. Neither did I. Somewhere on the stage a character made a witty remark and the audience burst into cackling laughter. Toward my right I heard the faint murmurs of a man. Clap, clap, clap. The staccato of marching feet rang as characters shuffled through a scene. People began to whisper again; music flared, gliding through the scenes.
But I didn’t look away. We were locked in a staring contest. In a battle of wills. Somehow looking away meant losing. Giving into the fear and knowledge of who he was. Losing. Bowing. And I’d never learned to do any of that. But if I were honest with myself, a part of me was simply hypnotized. It was a pull stronger than the tether of gravity and I was vulnerable to its force.
With every passing second, the blood in my veins began to thrum. My heart hammered against my chest, flapping like the wings of a humming bird. Something hot flared in the pit of my stomach. Hot air flooded the back of my ears, and with effort, I peeled my eyes from him.
For the next two halves I did my best to pay attention to the play. It wasn’t that hard. It was a tightly designed, well-directed piece with a supremely talented ensemble. They had chosen to do a rendition of Machiavelli’s mandrake. The stage design was both somber and cartoonish at given points. The actors burst into galvanic dialogues against blood red and dark black canvases. But even in moments when I was bursting out of my seat with giggles or was brimming with tension during major plot points I couldn’t shake off the awareness that was simmering through my blood. I could feel his gaze like a lick of heat branding my skin. Sliding down my spine. Ratcheting up my heart rate.
The moment the play ended the crowd broke in applause. The curtains drew and a pandemonium ensued. Like a rocket, I shot off my seat and merged into the crowd. Up, up, I climbed the stairs with all possible haste and rushed out into the grand foyer. I shuffled past languid steps and chattering cabarets and burst out into the open air. Running. Running.
Running… so he’d never catch me.
But of course, that was not what was about to happen.
Hindi TV Shows
Love Friendship Dating and Relationships
Udne Ki Aasha
