BaloneyOpus

The Black Eye

"Black eye? Whose gift is it?" Deepak quizzed me while gorging on a samosa that night as we met after dinner. I was relieved that it was only an unsentimental enquiry with no real concern for my despicable state or well-being, but only for the gossip-value it brought with it.

"Don't even ask, buddy. I got into a scuffle with an unruly rickshaw puller on the way. We even traded blows. I at least have only one black eye. You should've seen him after the crowd intervened and pulled us apart," I bragged and picked up a samosa.

"You? Scuffle?" Deepak smirked. "Wait," he said, looking intently at my black-eye, with his eyebrows furrowed and without batting an eyelid. "It doesn't look prominent. Looks more like a dark circle, a streak of kohl. Hey! Did Kajal give you the black eye?" he asked the very question that I did not want him to ask me, but thought he would anyway.

"Bloody bastard. You're Sherlock Holmes, man," I said and we bumped fists, celebrating a rare moment of ignominy that we were privileged to celebrate together after a long time. Such instances were common when we were in college, but had sadly dwindled after we stepped out into the real world that demanded we behave and behave well.

Deepak and I have been friends for over two decades, our bond forged and strengthened all along by sacred virtues of shamelessness and crass disregard for each other. Dignity, self-respect and other such heinous vices were never allowed anywhere near us, for fear that they would adulterate the very essence of our friendship and cause a rift. Praise for anything praiseworthy was unheard of while unblemished, soul-kissing insults were the order of the day, and we were proud of it.

"So, you got punched in the face by your girlfriend?"

"Yeah," I said and beamed, shaking my head to a catchy tune playing in the background.

"Cool. What did you do?" Deepak dropped his half-eaten samosa and was all ears, hoping to hear from me of the inappropriate act that earned me the black eye. The cultured gentleman that he was, he let his eyes ask if I had tried to cosy up with her, while letting his lips to merely smile. After all, he wouldn't allow himself to speak in a cringe-worthy manner about my girlfriend, although he couldn't help imagine every detail of how I may actually have.

I sighed longingly and was briefly lost in a vortex of montages from the evening until a singeing sensation under the eye brought me back to the present.

"The evening was beautiful. Just as the sun was setting, I reached the park. Kajal had already arrived, dressed in white from top to toe. Her hair was untied and several strands were swaying gently in the cool evening breeze."

"And how did you get the black eye?" Deepak cared to know only about it and I, about everything else too.

"Shut up and listen. Kajal was seated on a bench that was on a mound, her legs dangled casually and her feet caressing the ground - and they looked like a pair of grazing deer. She was sitting chin up, the breeze blowing gently into her face and the edges of her clothes flapping about. Suddenly, the wind picked up, and her untied hair now rose and flew behind her, like swelling black waves in a stormy night sea. Silhouetted against the evening sky, she looked every bit a warrior princess clad in white, riding a stallion into the horizon, taunting the elements in her path. It was a sight to behold and I froze where I stood, mesmerised."

Deepak was scratching his tummy already. "Don't trigger my imagination. You know how wild it gets at times. Tell me how you got the black eye," Deepak cared only to know about my black eye and I, presently, only about curtailing his imagination that was probably running wild and deep. It worried me that he was driving his finger into an ear, a convention of his, when not wanting thoughts to escape through the ears.

"I am coming to that now. I got out of my trance, walked up and sat next to her. She asked me why I seemed stuck for a while. I told her I wasn't stuck, but awe-struck." Deepak pursed his laps and scratched his head, having grown even more impatient.

"She asked me how she looked and I said she looked like a warrior in white. And then it happened."

"What happened? Did she invite you to a swordfight? Or, did you do..." Deepak's mind was on overdrive, even though he was back to samosa-gorging and talking to the empty plate in monotone.

"No. She asked me if she reminded me of someone. I told her she looked like Gandalf."

Deepak looked up suddenly, snorted, almost choking on a large bit of samosa that he had stuffed into his mouth. Tears streamed down his cheeks from his wide open eyes, as he laughed uncontrollably.

"Gandalf? You silly goose. You almost killed me with that. Did you say Gandalf? You couldn't think of anyone else? That's a cool one man. Gandalf," he said and we bumped fists again.

"See. The ring is doing it to you too. Throw it away, buddy. Get out of that world and read some mushy love story. Dump your fantasy world if you don't want me to usurp her," he said and I clenched my fist.

"Hey! You know I am kidding. Come, let me buy you a frothy cappuccino." Deepak's offer was too good to resist. I also knew very well that he wasn't serious, as his black eye from me wouldn't be the insignia of glory that mine from Kajal was, at least to me.

We bumped fists for the third time and headed for the steaming cups of coffee that awaited us with no regard whatsoever for Kajal who would probably be cuddling her stupid, stuffed polar bear and crying her heart out to it.