Strange Encounters

At 2330 hours, I left my lab, unsure of my destination. It had been a long, hard and fruitless day. The kind of day that makes you wish tomorrow will be different.

Weary and hungry, I went to the one place I could get rid of both. Tea-Board. At this late hour, there is not much of a queue. So I could get my order pretty quickly. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind standing in a queue. What I mind is when the person in front of me makes his decision while standing at the counter. I mean, what was he/she doing all this while. Guessing what the person in front of him/her will order?

I collected my order in a huff and started walking towards an inconspicuous table in the corner. As I walked I sensed that I was being watched. I get this weird, uncomfortable feeling when I realise that I am being followed in the ophthalmic sense. I could see him from the corner of my eyes. Since he did not seem like someone I know, I did not strain my peripheral vision too much and went ahead and settled down at the table.

I looked up and suddenly saw him occupy the space in front of me. Apparently the “following” was not limited to being purely ophthalmic. I wouldn’t have been so surprised by his arrival under normal circumstances. But at this late hour, when a total stranger gets up from the place he was occupying, skips numerous other empty tables and sits in front of me at my inconspicuous table, I begin to wonder why. I took a closer look. My peripheral vision was right. I had never seen him before.

It was dark and he was darker. But I could make out prominent features. I definitely did not know him. He was not repulsive or anything, but there was nothing particularly attractive about him. He kept looking at me. I looked back down after an appropriate amount of time. He kept looking at me for an inappropriate amount of time.

There were quite a few things I immediately did not like about him. Firstly, I don’t like it when someone takes a place opposite me without asking me if someone is sitting there. What if that place is reserved for someone? What if I am waiting for someone else to join me? Could he not have at least asked if the place is occupied? I cannot blame him too much for this. In fact, I don’t think anybody asks me if the place is reserved before occupying a chair in front of me at my table. Perhaps they realise that someone like me couldn’t be dining with someone else. My appearance must be sufficient guarantee that no one was, is or will be joining me at my table in the near future. I really don’t think people should be judged by appearances and first impressions and panache and stuff like that. I hope you get the drift.

Second thing I did not like about him is the way he sat down in front of me. There was an air of arrogance in his body language. I may not be able to read the fine print. But the writing on his body language was clear. He sat down as if he owned the place and I was the one intruding on his privacy.

The third and the most annoying thing about him was the fact that he was still staring at me. I don’t like it when strangers stare at me. Not that I never give them reasons to do so. Sometimes, I do commit antics that deserve stares. But, currently I was not in one of those antic moods. Nor had I done anything to attract this visual examination.

The sudden intrusion, the devil may care body language and the incessant staring, generated a natural dislike in me towards him. I tried to ignore it, looked down and moved my hand towards the sandwich in front of me. I noticed a slight craning of his neck towards me. I looked up. He did not care to crane his neck back. He was looking at my plate. He turned his gaze back towards me when he realised I had looked up. He craned his neck back, lifted his head higher and looked at me as if to question what I was so interested in. His blunt manner and the authoritative, challenging look irritated me. Not to be outdone, I put my elbows on the table, created a fist with one hand, clenched it with the other and leaned forward as if marking my territory on the table. I could see a glint which I assumed were his teeth that he was beginning to display as if mocking me and my aggressive stance.

Males have their own ways of asserting their dominance to other males. I never understood it completely. For example, I never know, when to lean forward and be aggressive and when to lean back and act as if I don’t care. I wondered if I had over reacted. The continuing glint from his teeth began convincing me that I had not over reacted. I wondered if I would be more intimidating if I stood up to my full vertical dimensions. Or should I lean back and smile. Why should I smile? I should just lean back and frown? What about cracking my knuckles? Yes! I should crack my knuckles! I have seen guys do it in the movies lots of times. Bouncers, Gangsters, Henchmen, they all do it when they want to threaten someone. I don’t see how an ability to crack knuckles is a measure of ability to inflict physical damage but it seems to do the trick. So I decided to crack my knuckles. The leaning forward with elbows on the table position I had assumed in the previous paragraph was conducive for knuckle cracking. Only problem was, my knuckles were not conducive. In the heat of this cold war, I had forgotten that I am not a serial knuckle cracker. Few silent, unsuccessful tries and I gave up, not wanting to lose any (more) imaginary ground in this battle for supremacy.

I reiterated to myself, ability to crack knuckles has no correlation to ability to inflict physical damage. I took a closer look at his physical attributes. He seems a healthy, muscular male specimen fully capable of holding his own in any contact sport. There was a smug look on his face after my knuckle cracking antic. Oh how I would love to give him a closer look at my knuckles.

I began calculating the possible outcomes. I think its unsafe to strike the first blow without thinking whether I am capable of bearing the retaliation. What were the parameters involved? I had not seen him move much but from his built I guessed I cannot count on speed being on my side. Stamina? I recollected the time I had felt breathless by just rushing to the registration desk of the SnT run in an attempt to get there on time. I could not go and register myself. Not in that huffing and puffing state I was in. Strength? I cannot even crack my knuckles!! How does that even matter? What if he is actually stronger? But he is a bit smaller than me. Am I big enough? Does size matter?

Unable to find any clear answers, I turned my attention to the thing that was possibly the root of it all. I looked at the two sandwiches on my plate. All this contemplation had made me more hungry. The longer I looked at the sandwich, the more impatient I became. I decided it is not safe to strike the first blow. Regardless of the outcome of the battle, I will definitely suffer damage. I may not be sure if I have speed, strength, stamina on my side, but if I let him make first contact, I may at least have some rightful conduct on my side. Let me just pretend like I don’t care.

Having made my decision to adopt the ostrich approach, I decided to dig into the sandwich. As I picked up the sandwich and brought it close, I expected the gentle flavours to neutralise the bad taste this unwelcome companion had brought. Just as I was about to bite in, I saw him twitch. I looked up suddenly, my body tense and overflowing with mental adrenaline. He seemed taken aback by my sudden movement. As I took a closer look, I saw the gentle curiosity in those eyes that I had not noticed so far. He continued staring with the same intensity. Only this time, I felt like it was more a look of fascination and longing rather than malice.

I placed my sandwich back on my plate and closed my half open mouth. I cut the sandwich in half and offered one half to him. The astonishment in his eyes, if any, lasted only a fraction of a second. He ate with the same intensity with which he stared. The second sandwich was divided and treated in the same way. Before I knew it, both sandwiches were gone. The only remnants were the crumbs on my plate. He did not care to leave many crumbs. I was too amused to hold any grudges.

As I got up to leave and started walking, his eyes followed me. I looked back. For the first time, he lowered his gaze. He got up and started walking away in the other direction. There was nothing in his manner to show me any gratitude. Except for the wagging of his twisted tail.