The Girl Who Ate Decently

I always loved the way she ate. She always cleared everything on her plate. She was never greedy but did not waste food. She ate decently...she never hogged.

Every time when I saw her pass by my cubicle in office, I would wonder at the way she held up her head, a little higher. Her chin pointing a bit up. Her gait betraying a subtle grace. A sort of grace which only a classical dancer might have. I was not surprised when I came to know that she was a trained classical dancer. She also took a keen interest on the sketches on the pin-board of my cubicle. Did she sketch too? I wondered.

I do not not know the emotions for which we don't have names. I am lying. I know them. At least a few of them since my heart is guilty of feeling them. Thus is the story of this girl and me. It's not a story of love, friendship, camaraderie, jealousy...anything I can know of. The story is as mysterious as the facts governing this universe, of which we are one small speck.

I don't know if she can hear me and may be she can. I wanted to be the reason...a thousand or million or more reasons for her happiness and peace rather than being just one or half a reason for her pain. I wanted to give her what she needed rather than what she asked for. Who said, that everything is about 'give and take'? The part of me that is human wrenches out because it has the earth ingrained in it. But the greater part of me stands stoic about this girl, challenging the entire universe to stop me from feeling the way I feel about her.