... so we were told in High School Economics class. How many times do we stop to ponder over foregone opportunities, wondering what may have been if we only had seized that moment back then? One consoles oneself later with matter-of-fact pop wisdom: What matters is what is and not what could have been, so essentially get on with life. Makes sense. Also it’s perhaps the only option when there are no certain answers and no ways to ever find out. But for all its worth, it helps to recognize when these moments of indecision and self-preserving restraint have indeed gotten the better of you, leaving you with little more than regret, self preservation and, yes . . . pop wisdom. You hope you’re more confident next time you’re in such a predicament and know better than to be too coy.
If only it truly always did work so. Here I am stuck in another should-I-shouldn’t-I situation, and time may well run out before I may do anything to address the dilemma.
One particular vacation a few years ago, when I was back in Delhi from university, and had gone out one evening with a friend for shopping in CP, a rather prominent incident took place. There I was doing my own thing, feeling cold, bent over a Janpath footpath and looking right, inspecting its display of ethni-kitsch wares. And then along came this fine gentleman. I smiled at him whole-heartedly all by instinct, and to my surprise he did too. He was in a dark blue shirt and despite the twilight reducing him to a little more than a silhouette, I could tell his striking features. And that million-watt smile! My head turned from light to left as he passed by me, and now with me still bent over, and he standing to my left looked me straight in the eye, stretched out his hand firmly and mumbled something like a name. Overcome by the suddenness of it all, I busied myself with a closer inspection of those embroideries, and then quickly looked in the other direction and called out to my friend…
What a rude snub it would seem if I were at the other end. I would feel shortchanged at the unrequited hand-stretch/name-mumble after somewhat initiating the thing myself with flirtatious smile. And here I was being a coy, timid self; smug in the security of not talking to strangers, equally unaware of the number of times later I would later wonder what if I’d only…
And now these days… On my first day of work at the current job, I was surprised at how huge the organization really was, how engrossed everyone was in his or her own worlds. I wouldn’t probably ever get to know anyone outside my immediate team, I deduced. On my first break from work that day as I was getting back from the quick walk in the Lodhi Gardens, there stood at the gate this gentleman we shall refer to as Doctor. Having just about seen him on the same floor as my office earlier in the day I recognized him and smiled. He returned the smile, introduced himself and asked about me. After a pleasantries-exchange, we walked off in different directions, me hoping that many more such conversations with this Tall-Dark-Handsome-with-disarming-smile Doctor would follow. Of course that’s the maximum we have ever spoken till date. I know his name, I know his department, I know where he lives. I have befriended the lady with whom he shares room at work, and subtly quizzed her about him. The impressions and pedigree don’t disappoint. I’ve used his desk while he was traveling (we’re allowed to if we don’t have an assigned place which I don’t). He’s meticulous, and works a lot I could gather, though his handwriting, telling from post-it reminders on his desk, could do with some improvement. On the days I have seen him at the office, I find some necessary work to visit the administrative section, which is right outside his room. Usually the door is shut and I hear perfectly enunciated words being spoken loudly, presumably over a faulty hotline connection to the international headquarters. On other occasions, he geekily stares through those reading glasses into his monitor, unaware of me being around, or notices me and offers a perfunctory smile/wave. Months have passed, we always say hello when we pass each other in the office, but not much else. I don’t know if he’s married or single, of a certain disposition or not, but even so, I’m a little nagged by my aloofness. My chatty self, which has otherwise lent much help in creating a social circle at work, beats me when it comes to him. I mean how hard is it to drop a quick “Hey! We haven’t really ever chatted, so was wondering if I could join you for lunch?” at the canteen? Or feign some official purpose to speak with him and after some convincing pretense-talk, unleash the chatty Cathy and see how he responds? It’s no undying crush, there are no great stakes involved, but increasingly I feel this uncharacteristic shyness has to go. If the previous instance left me with regret for not shaking that outstretched hand, I hope this doesn’t become a foregone opportunity to seize my turn to extend a hand.
No one may be counting, but the opportunity cost probably does add up sometime?
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