CHHAVI'S POV
It wasn't lewd- the way he stared. It wasn't romantic, either. God forbid a teenager look at me like that.
Yet, it wasn't a casual stare like others did, usually due to boredom- heads propped on hands and minds elsewhere.
This was different and...intentional.
When I called him out, he didn't look startled or embarrassed like most would. His eyes remained locked on mine, unapologetically.
"What're you staring at?"
"You."
Not only was I shocked at his blunt, nonchalant response but the entire class turned back to look at him. But he didn't flinch, neither did his stare.
Even though I didn't let him see it's effect on my face, he didn't fail to send shivers down my spine.
It was odd, very odd for a student to act like that with his professor. But it didn't feel disrespectful either. It didn't even feel like he was trying to get my attention. It was just weird.
Of course, he apologized later, thinking he'd creeped me out. But truthfully? I wasn't creeped out.
I was...caught off guard. I was dumbstruck.
Nobody has ever looked at me like that. Not once. And certainly not a student.
It made me want to look back at him. But every time our eyes met, mine flinched away.
I avoided looking his way for the rest of the lecture but I could feel his eyes settling all over me- my brain, my skin and my spine.
Strangely enough...it didn't make me uncomfortable.
Just aware. Too aware.
After I walked away, I realized my heart was beating like a drum.
Ek to uske aankhon ka rang hi kuch alag hai- jaise dhuaan, jo aankhon mein utar kar saanson tak chha jaaye.
(The color of her eyes is something else- like smoke which blur your vision and choke your breathe.)
I shouldn't have noticed that. But I did. And now, I can't seem to un-notice it.
The rest of the day, our paths never crossed. But that didn't stop him from lingering in my mind, in my thoughts, like a stubborn perfume clinging to my skin.
How could some eighteen, maybe nineteen-year-old kid stir something in me like this?
What is wrong with me?
In just a few days, I'm going to be married- to a man in his thirties. A mature, stable man.
"Tsk."
I clicked my tongue in frustration. Not at him but at myself. At the way my stomach had flipped earlier.
God, I was pissed.
It was early evening when all my classes finally ended. I was exhausted, my feet ached from standing at podiums all day.
And then there was Professor Gupta. He got suspended for breaching the college's trust by committing illegal actions- not clearly mentioned in the circular issued by the institute.
His nonsense is the cause of my packed schedule.
Why are some people so dirty, so deeply unethical?
Is it that hard to do your job honestly and be content with what you earn? How does someone like him sleep peacefully at night after exploiting his power?
I thought of my father. Not once in his lifetime did he cross a line for extra money. Not once. He stood tall, even when things were tough.
And maybe that's why I find it unbearable to see someone so shamelessly immoral.
I walked into my office. Keeping the registers on a table by the side of the window, I walked to my main desk and sat. I was about to unclasp the tip of a bottle of water when i noticed a brown paper card.
I reached for it and opened it to be jaw dropped! A blue rose!!!
Sincere apologies for today's nuisance, Miss Rosy.
With respect & love.
Yours,
Drishye.
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