Was her name Angel or Fantastico?
Each passing moment appeared as an hour. I was wondering what is her name.
She said her name is Angel. I said your name can only be Fantastico.
“What is your name?” I asked her.
She was silent for a while. I couldn’t bear this silence. The moments appeared to me as hours. I started biting my nails. That is a bad habit I have been carrying since my childhood. I don’t remember exactly when I had the first taste of my nails. But I am still carrying it even passing out my senior school. I am in my first year of college.
I met her for the first time at the time of admission to the college. That was almost 3 months back. Right now I am in the middle of my first semester. She was wearing spectacles. It was her orange colored jazzy frame that attracted me. And then the next thing that hooked me was her eyes. I let my sight travel from her frame to her eyes straight, passing quickly through her big glasses covering her eyes. Her eyes were sharp and a bit extra-wide. She was there on the interview panel. A panel of four professors was sitting for a quick scan through each candidate’s paper and a short interview.
Till I finished other formalities I was never able to take my eyes away from her. She was full of energy. Her eyes were sparkling like fresh soda poured in a neat thin glass. I wished she removes her glasses. I wanted to see her eyes, naked, for once. She was working in a rhythm. She had an unstoppable smile on her face, all the time, undisturbed by anything around. The smile on the face was in sync with the same intensity of smile showering through her eyes. It seemed as if someone in her childhood stretched her lips from both the ends and they permanently took this shape. Even when she was talking her smile never went off. Her eyes were extra circular in shape. I think the same person who stretched her lips sideways in her childhood must have done the same with her eyes too. The elliptical shape of eyes had changed to circular. I think she would be using her eyes to draw an exact round shape on a paper in her school days.
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“Well, my name is Angel D’Souza,” She replied.
“It can’t be,” I said.
“Why?” She widened her eyes further and so was her smile.
“Only name that suits you is Fantastico,” I said.