In love with Manoshi – An Excerpt

Manoshi. An enigma, an illusion, a deception, an orgasm, a thought, a dream, a void. This is Manoshi’s story. Don’t know where to start though. You see, I have a curse. I know everything about everybody. It’s a curse to know all, I am telling you, it’s a curse. Above all it’s a curse to know Manoshi and still be in love with her. 

Honestly, Manoshi comes across as a loser.  She is 30, single. A maiden experience of sexual intercourse, in her 29th year with a guy she never really liked much, saves her from being ostracized as a virgin. Manoshi works. She earns an amount decent enough to be able to pay off her car loan, house rent, phone bills and some eating outs on the weekends. That’s it. No savings no investment.  

She isn’t exactly ugly but most of the times she is very clumsy. She is never wearing the right dress to the right occasion. She bites her nails so they are all chipped and uneven. She wears all kinds of dress in no particular logical order of fashion. She has no decent accessory, has never bought a piece of gold or silver. Earlier, she used to wear these junk jewelry she would buy from the Fashion Street but post 30 she gave that up. She visits the beauty parlor only for getting her eyebrows done and for waxing. She isn’t interested in any other steps of beautification, no facial, no cleansing, no pedicure, no manicure. That’s how clumsy she is. 

You’d think may be she is already pretty so she doesn’t need all that. She isn’t, she has these weird patches on her face, which I don’t know came from where, that are like real weird. In fact when I first met her I thought she was quite ugly.

I would never have been in love with her had it not been for her eyes. She has a beautiful pair of eyes. A pair of deep sensous and haunting eyes. There is a song in her eyes but you don’t know what. Those eyes, they tell you something but you can’t be sure what, when you stare at them you think its a void, like the black hole in the universe, a fear of unknown would haunt you looking into her eyes.

…

There is just one thing she would die for, that is her freedom. She hates impediments. When we go to a restaurant, she takes the table which is like at the centre of the hall, rather than the corner ones. “The walls, they look like impediments to me” she says.  She would probably only work hard to over come the obstacles in her path. Once she told me, “I hate impediments so much that if there was ever an impediment between me and my death, I would want to over come that”.  That’s how much she loves her freedom. Scared the shit out of me though.