The Man Behind The Shadows

As I first stepped into college mess for dinner, I ran my eyes curiously in all directions. The place was completely new for me and so were the people around me. Complete strangers as I would like to call them. In the large throng of people rushing about for their dinner my eye caught the glance of some rare familiar faces; some of whom I had met on the admission day and some whom I knew only by exchanging smiles for a couple of time. The days were gone when I could just slip onto the kitchen and grab some food any time I wanted to. Clocks were all I could find, and actions that were totally timed. Standing in the queue I could hear murmurs of despair and sheer lack of enthusiasm. People missing homes, homely food, and all other things that one possibly could long for in a tied up hostel life.

Surprisingly the food was impressive because clearly I had expected things to be much worse… inspired from the spooky –funny and sometimes a little too intimidating tales of hostel life. I may sound crazy but I loved the food we were served. The most amusing part was that we didn’t need to do the dishes here, even that was done by other workers. Lack of amusing friends made the taste of my food go a little low … and quite obviously I was feeling lonely. Finishing the food I went to clear my plate off the leftovers, right then my eyes caught glance of a bearded man. For a split second he glanced at me and something told me that it wasn’t a normal glance, but a stare. I do not know what made me notice him, because there wasn’t anything extraordinary in him. As I washed my hands I forgot about it and made my way to the stairs that led to my room.

Even the next day while enjoying the food I saw him, sitting at the same place as the previous day. Taking it as a mere repetition of scenes I decided not to brood on it too much. Days passed and I developed a strange sense of liking for the mess and the hostel food. Well… some people might find it a little unusual… but I decide to break away from the stereotype of a complaining teenager and be an adjusting minded one rather.

It was one such day in the mess when I was there for the breakfast. Carrying two rava idlis and two vadas in my plate along with some coffee, I sat opposite to a senior of mine whom I had got to know on the second day in my hostel. We chatted about random things while I was breaking the pieces of idlis and dipping it in some curry that they chose to call sambar. I was battling with the second idli when I sensed someone standing beside me, I turned… it was that same man. He wasn’t saying anything, he just stood there frozen. That’s when my mind snapped at me and reminded me that I was sitting on the chair where he used to everyday.

“Do you want to sit here?” I asked.

He replied with a nod and stared at me as if I had robbed him off with all his belongings. Not wanting to be stubborn I moved to a seat beside. He sat on my ex-seat and munched his food scrumptiously. I gave him a rather rude look, he didn’t notice though. While eating he started talking, at first I thought it was to me but it wasn’t. Now that the senior of mine had vacated the seat there was no one opposite to him also. I looked for some Bluetooth device or a hands free, I thought he must be using... (Well technology can sometimes make you look insane at times.) There wasn’t any such thing with him… Whoa… this had to be something crazy. He was talking and talking in a medium tone barely audible to a person sitting next to him. His lips were moving but were not readable at all. I gulped my coffee and didn’t wait to finish the vadas… I just wanted to go from there.

When the lessons in the class started I buried this unusual incident in the corner of my brain to concentrate on something more important. From that day I started noticing him every day. He had grayish hair and looked a little too old for himself, he wore some sort of checkered tracks and a very old looking shaggy shirt along. In total he looked odd, and a complete mismatch to the surrounding. He never did blend in. it was only during the mess times that I saw that person whose name I am well not aware of. He never carried books along like the others or did look formal on any day. He was a total one man army, never talking to anyone, never mingling or socializing. His self-talks went on the same way every day and I think no one possibly noticed him , or may be rather chose to ignore. What so ever be it for me he was the man behind the shadows. With some sort of grave mysteries surrounding him, about which no one but the walls of this university were aware of.

He smiled at times in between his never ending murmurs and it seemed to me that those were memories that he cherished, something he could remember and be happy about. The words that he seemed to utter were undecipherable, his expression very serious, and at times they were accompanied by gestures too (slight ones). All of it added to the unknown truths around him and made him an important part of my imagination skills. I have never seen him walking into the mess or out of it either, neither have I seen him standing in the queue like the rest of us. All I have seen is this person sitting there every time I stepped in for food. His eyes are unreadable and his expressions doesn’t give away any secret… they are all hidden somewhere deep within him where no one can discover. I see lots of dark clouds looming around him, barring him from the world around.

He maintains his share of privacy in a crowded place like this and I certainly respect that. However I try there are things that my curiosity is hungry about….what might he be talking about, why is he so aloof, why he doesn’t talk to people and what is it that he wants to keep hidden. Something that he is afraid might come to light if he chooses to speak. Well this person boosts my inquisitiveness, my imagination and gets hold of those supernatural stories I chose to discard as mere myths. Quite a strange part is that I don’t want to know the entire truth about this one person. The day the secret gets deciphered, the web of thoughts that I had been weaving till now will be destroyed and there will be a truth completely different from my imagination.

I prefer not to ask anyone about him and try to know the least … there will be a day when his secrets get unveiled (if there are any, that is).

 But till that very fine day I would like to keep believing in the exaggerated stories that were woven by the curious being in me. I am contended in keeping him in the dark shadows where he is now and will continue to remain till either of us leave this place.