Caculated

emotional plain true

Calculated:::

Insecurities �" the ones that you hide under the touch of your jeans, the tuck of your hair behind your ear, the suppressed smile.

 

How long has it been since you raised your arms and let the spring air brush through your bare underarms?

 

How long does it take for you to finally see your reflection?

 

What picture do you paint in your mind before you capture your physical being in a digital frame?

 

Does it camouflage? Probably not.It has been years since I left the school that you taught in, but still, all that you taught stays with me even today, buried deeply in my mind, and also, in my heart. I say heart, because you were unlike any teacher that I have ever met.

I still remember the first class that I had with you. It was the first day of my seventh grade, and I was sitting in a corner, doubtful of my abilities, like always. And then, you entered. In the perfectly ironed peacock-blue coloured saree, perfectly lined kohl, hair strands that wouldn’t stay in place, there was an air of perfection about you, which contradicted the mess that you seemed to be. Honestly, I was very intimidated by you at first. You were strict, and were infamous in school for the favouritism that you were said to show.

Six years on, when I look back, I find that the person that entered in seventh grade as me was totally different from the one that left.
You believed in me when I was unsure of myself, when I felt like I couldn’t do anything good in my life, thanks to the company of certain people in the previous years of my life who had made me believe so.
You never refused to clear any of my doubts, no matter how stupid they were. You were always willing to even put in extra hours of teaching, ones you weren’t paid for.I am a successful young man with a seven-figure salary, a car, and a house. In other words, a prospective groom. But why do I marry someone random and then entitle them to my assets which I have built after years of hard work?

 

And then I do what I am best at, calculation! She ought to be beautiful, no doubt about that. In fact, let’s make it tall, fair and curvy. She should earn at least seventy percent of what I do, rest thirty percent can compensate for my average looks.

 

She should be at least twenty-three for I cannot stand immature persons.

 

A mole would be preferable but I would not fixate on it as much as I want her eyesight to be perfect. I do not like spectacled girls and I do not want my kids to be born with that kind of genetic defect.
While I am calculating health of my future generation, I shall better write diabetes away as well.“Where did I go wrong?” I asked my mind.

 

“Love is not a calculation,” heart spoke for the first time in all these years

Author's Note

feel free cheers

Reviews

[Kathy Van Kurin]

"Calculated"
danny,
This was refreshing! You have given the honor deserved to a teacher from the impressionable season of seventh grade. The sari, the finely place black hair but for a loose strand and kohl lined eyes; she sounds pretty. Anyway the complete reminisce was interesting as you continue on to consider what is acceptable for your future life. A blast to read. Left me smiling.
Blessings,
Kathy