The wall of serendipity

I sneaked a peak over the top of my newspaper to see her dawdling into the café at White Town, her four-inch stilettos screeching against the marble tiles. Her translucent, perfectly moon-round face creased mirthlessly as she searched for her regular place near the window overlooking the palm-fringed coasts of Pondicherry. Her smouldering liquid brown eyes bore into the room and her sensual mouth parted slightly to reveal her glorious pearl-whites. At almost six feet she looked like she had popped right out of the cover of Vogue as she twirled her lustrous tresses and made her way a few meters across from me. She had completely put me out of my stride for I now couldn’t stop myself from shamelessly gawking at her, silently wishing she would make the first move and approach me instead.

Normally chatty and spry, I had been at a loss for words, every time since the past five days that she had been coming here. So awestruck was I of her beauty that I felt as though I was a step closer to falling in love. It didn’t work in my favour that I was a 29-year-old motivational speaker who counselled the youth on relationships and the matters of love. Ironically, I was hardly able to encourage myself to walk up to a woman and utter some syllables. ‘Tomorrow would be my day,’ I would convince myself.

‘Aurelia’, her name I gathered on the very first day when the cashier announced her order was the only thing I knew about her. And yet she had captivated my mind. Her routine at the café which she would enter at precisely 7 pm consisted of her ordering a latte after which she would dig into her purse and pull out an Italian novel, or what I thought was Italian for I couldn’t quite make out. She had caught me ogling at her rather foolishly many a times but she had, in turn, grinned back sheepishly, making my heart melt like a dollop of butter splattered on a hot sizzling plate.

‘No! Enough with this cowardly behaviour already. At least get to know her!’ I scolded myself that night.

The next evening, even the crimson-streaked sky it seems was determined to showcase its true feelings. The sweltering temperatures of the day had given way to a pleasant dusk where the wind was a soft, sullen pull drifting mindlessly through the hush alleys of the former French quartier. Most of the tourists had resorted to spend the evening along the promenade where the shores were buzzing with the local food vendors. The Twilight café was dimly lit for they were preparing for some kind of a musical session.

My spirits rose and fell pondering over the numerous possibilities that the night would bring as I was waiting for her with a twitter of excitement and a storm of butterflies brewing in my belly. While she was usually on time, there was no sign of her even as I anxiously waited till 8.30.pm. Perhaps she too had ventured outside to enjoy the balmy night. I consoled myself that this must have been the case and retreated home disappointed. Yet, I was not willing to give up. I arrived at the café the next evening but in vain. No longer able to contain my curiosity, I desperately asked the cashier if he had seen Aurelia at all, all of today or yesterday. I was deeply stunned and saddened to know that she had, in fact, appeared only a few hours ago, ordering a large cup of coffee to go as she strolled in with her luggage. Aurelia, I feared, was gone, perhaps even from the country.

No woman that I met thereafter or attempted to meet half-heartedly could hold a candle to Aurelia’s beauty. Though it had been over eight months that I had last seen her, she was forever etched in my heart. I had even grown bitter over the course of the past few months, snapping at anyone and everyone. Even the people around me were growing irritated with my caprice. But I just wanted to be near her, talk to her and get to know her. And now she was gone, vanished into thin air, just like that.

A few months later, the postman dropped an envelope for me at the doorstep. It was from Carla- my pen-pal from London with whom I had abruptly halted our snail-mail communication of five years. I had found Carla on a pen-pal seeking website which I had joined out of sheer curiosity and instantly a spark of friendship was developed. She was now getting married and wanted me to attend her wedding. I tossed the letter away and cringed at the thought of meeting new people and sharing pleasantries. Reluctantly, I flew to London, hardly knowing that a letter was to alter the course of my life.

Carla welcomed me with an alluring smile at the airport and embraced me dearly. I partly felt guilty for ever having considered rejecting her invite and tightly hugged my friend back. Even though I was meeting her in person for the first time, there had been no awkwardness of any kind. I was suddenly feeling pumped.

‘I am dropping you off at the guest house for now. But I will take you to a special place in the evening,’ she said, her mouth breaking easily into friendliness, a mischievous glint appearing in her eyes.

I wanted to refuse her offer for I really wanted to be left cooped up inside the room but then thought it best not to mess with the bride, her wedding being only three days away.

After sunset, I got dressed and headed out to meet Carla. We drove for about 45 minutes towards the outskirts of the main city and then took upon a narrow path that twisted its way down through the trees. Carla was confident in her navigation but I was growing restless by the minute. Finally, we parked outside an odd-looking abandoned structure from where she picked up two kerosene lamps. We were in close proximity to the river Avon for I could hear the flow of the serene waters in the still of the darkness. We tramped a few meters towards an ancient cave winding around spires of rocks. When we arrived at the threshold of the cavern, I saw a spiral of a hundred stairs. As we reached the last step, I was astonished to see a huge chamber behind a tiny passageway, spanning several meters at a stretch.

Scattered across the floor were broken speleothems (stalactites and stalagmites), burnt rocks and charcoal. My heart went into a frenzy and yet I also wanted to venture further. Taking Carla’s guidance who assured me that all would be fine, I advanced ahead. After walking a couple of steps, I noticed a few people greeting Carla as she merely nodded at them. The walls, I realised on this side were covered with a million post-its which were colourfully shining and fluttering in the light. On it were scribbled some messages.

‘These messages are the deepest desires/wishes of star-crossed lovers. There are little notes on people they once loved/liked, description of their crushes and prayers for their loved ones. I have written these posts myself and displayed them as per their names, alphabetically. My team and I are gifted with a special ability wherein we can identify and read the minds of people who have loved and lost. I sensed your feelings about someone and I have now decided to help you,’ Carla said in a droned voice, squeezing my hand gingerly.

My face must have been riddled with utter disbelief because Carla dragged me ahead.

‘But how would I know she is the one. There are so many Aurelia’s here,’ I said after some time, rummaging through the letter ‘A.’

‘There might be some memory you might recognise or a moment you’ll must have shared. If she still feels the same way about you, you will find her here on my ‘Wall of Serendipity.’

After what felt like an eternity and after thoroughly invading the privacy of 12 Aurelia’s, I stumbled upon a familiar note which gave me the jitters. It read- ‘I think of him, why I do not know. We didn’t even share a word. But I itch to go back to Twilight café in Pondicherry, hoping to bump into him…’ – Aurelia.

‘I found her!’ I squeaked in absolute delight. I later learnt from Carla that Aurelia is still single and is a famous photographer based in Milan, Italy.

‘That is perfect. I will hire her for the wedding,’ exclaimed Carla in rapture.

I don’t know how Carla managed to play cupid but I was to meet Aurelia at the wedding. It was crazy to think about how things were unfolding but I was nevertheless joyful.

The day of the wedding soon arrived and I went downstairs in the morning to receive the bad news. Turned out Aurelia wasn’t going to be able to make it, after all, thanks to a last- minute important shoot.

‘Don’t give up now,’ said Carla ruefully.

‘Now that we know where her studio is, you can fly down to Milan and meet her.’

Since I was already in a quandary, Carla’s gentle words of encouragement did wonders. Determined not to miss another opportunity, I summed up the courage and decided to leave after the wedding. Six hours later, I landed in Milan. Whether it was the intoxicating aroma of the vineyards or the freshness of the city, I don’t know, but I could feel myself changing. One year ago, this woman had walked into my life, altering everything drastically.

As I made my way into the studio in the heart of the city, I knocked on the gravel stone door. Aurelia stood facing me with a big bright smile plastered on her gorgeous face. Before I could open my mouth, she said, ‘Carla had called me to explain everything. I had been waiting for you for a long time.’ She then planted a kiss on my rosy cheeks, her hand beckoning me to come inside.