THE STRANGE MAN

She was happy. Or at least she thought she was. But ever since she’d seen that fellow, the thought of him had been haunting her. Who was he? And how dared he come in front of her wearing that outfit? “Excuse me! Can I help you?”, she’d said trying to break the ice, as he glanced over the outfits on display in her boutique, and he’d had the nerve to remain silent. She could’ve slapped him right there, the very first time she’d seen him, had it not been for his empty eyes, which made it impossible. “How could he mock her like that, by showing to her the most hidden aspect of her self which she’d so carefully guarded? She’d buried it deep within herself; ten years ago, never to reveal it again... but now, suddenly, that strange man had brought it out!
Ever since she could remember she had wanted to be at the top, no matter what it cost her. As a student in the top fashion designing institute, she’d chosen to take the gold-medal by sacrificing her best piece of work. “Outrageously absurd”, fashion weekly, the most popular fashion magazine had written under the small picture of her design published in “aspiring designers” section. She’d shown it to Mehta, the head of designing department with a glimmer of hope. “Perhaps he could understand”, she had thought. “You’re the most promising designer in your batch. And, I can let you design whatever you like, but who will wear it?, he had remarked.”The Ideal Man”, she had replied ponderously. “Oh come-on girl, wake-up!, your ideal man does not exist in the real world.” Mehta was quick to retort to her fantasy. And that was the end of it! She had dumped it, her best design, without having a second thought, as it did not conform to the rules set for the final assessment test. “If you’re in the game, you’ve got to play it by the rules”, she’d told herself. And now, ten years later, the outfits designed by her were all the rage in the country. The movie-industry, the corporate world, people in the top echelons of bureaucracy, she gave them all what they wanted, and they wanted only one name in their wardrobes -TANYA BISWAS.
Sitting in her boutique, she was drowning in the deluge of old memories, when he appeared again, that weird man wearing the same piece of clothing. She’d never seen a man so full of masculine strength and yet so composed. As usual, he was looking through the variety of outfits put on display at her boutique with a faint smile on his face. She felt an air of sarcasm in his demeanour, a disdainful mockery, aimed so cruelly at her. She sprang up from her seat. “Hey, you! I’ve been trying to talk to you for the last three days. You come here and leave without buying anything. Why don’t you ever speak? You can’t simply walk out today without answering me”, she said, inwardly surprised at her own impatient outburst.
As he turned to look at her, the blank expression in his eyes and the calm on his face remained unstirred. “I’ve my own way of speaking which does not conform to anybody’s rules, and I’ve spoken enough, for if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been thinking of me for the last three days.” The man replied in measured cadences, looking intently into her eyes.