She sat in the Starbucks
cafe, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knife
lay next to her handbag, covered with her blue silk scarf. .. A cursory glance
actually made people pause for a few seconds only to realize soon enough that
it was a very cheap red food coloring, a simulated theatrical blood and nothing
more. Kripa sat alone in the Starbucks café, fuming with silent wrath. How
could somebody ignore her to this extent??? Kripa with her captivating looks
and charm had never ever been ignored before and here was somebody who actually
did not give a damn. A few tear drops escaped her eyes and made way down her
cheeks, she wiped it with fearsome vengeance. This is not her.
Kripa sat in her track pants and faded T-shirt, her eyes smeared with kajal
applied a night before, puffy eyes from the lack of sleep. Kripa has never
faced any emotion like this ever before in her life. A sudden realization
dawned upon her, Kripa was in love and that too of all persons with the lanky,
bespeckled, dark skinned, Krish, with a slightly crooked nose. Krish with his
average looks could easily have gone unnoticed if not for the intense,
intelligent eyes. Kripa realized with helpless exasperation that she had
finally fallen in love with her mathematician, husband, Krish and the worst
part was she did not mean anything to him. A thousand guys were ready to lay
out their heart for Kripa but the one that had stolen her heart was none other
than her soul mate for life. He did not even bother to stop her or call her
when she had left the house in a fit of anger. But things had not always been
the same.
The year was 2010, the
last day of college. Exams were over followed by a fun filled party with
college mates. Kripa returned home to receive a shock, her dad wanted her to
get married and wanted her to meet his friend’s son, Krish the next day itself.
Kripa had observed her parents indulge in hushed discussions in recent times
but she never thought that they would indulge in such deep conspiracy of
squashing her dreams of building a modeling career. Kripa felt cheated, after
all she had confided with her mother about her dreams of becoming a model, ever
since she was a 16 year old. How could she let this happen? She glared at her
mother with silent accusation but dared not object to her strict father;s
wishes. However Kripa asked meekly what does he do, dad? “He is a professor of
applied mathematics in Stanford University, Krish has always been an extremely
intelligent boy, a topper all throughout, very good orator, extremely well
versed with the Vedas, a great sportsman….”. Kripa’s dad could not just stop
his praises for Krish. Kripa was not listening..a professor of mathematics,
that sounded horrid. Kripa had hated maths ever since she had learnt the
meaning of the word. She could almost visualize her life being entangled in an
overwhelming cloud of monotony. What would she talk about with Mr Professor?
Kripa was a student of literature and maths was no match for literature.
The next day was Sunday.
Kripa tried her best to look as ugly as possible. She tightly pleated her oily hair,
did not bother for any makeup. She got herself dressed in an old faded denim
and an equally faded T-shirt. Kripa ignored her mother’s cross-eyed looks at
her dressing; her father did not seem to notice anything. Kripa prepared
herself for two hours boredom..............
