I had bought an indoor plant for my lab the day I started my practice here. A Dracaena Reflexa. It's commonly called the Song of India, more of a reason to choose it from the nursery. The yellow striped plant brightened my lab along with it's gloomy residents. By residents I mean the living things in the same room, which includes me and my bacterial pets. It may also include others who come in to our small world without permission - lizards, flies and currently, Shaurya Harshenn.
"Are you talking to yourself, Tara?"
I was in between my daily ritual of reciting ten nice things to the plant when I was suddenly interrupted. It's a habit I created after watching a movie when I was a kid, where the female lead gives the male lead a plant to take care of before leaving and asks him to say ten nice things to it everyday for the plant to grow big and healthy. And it works. The list of my nice things changes almost everyday depending upon my mood. Chocolate and coffee have reserved seats though. I tried to plant an apple tree in my native home in Kerala, telling it nice things and hoping it would grow like it did with other plants but that one time it didn't. I was ten and stupid back then. Little did I know apples preferred a cold environment.
Today's nice things are - chill breeze, latte, the bicycle kids I met today while walking to the university, the smell of a book I took from the library this morning, the new song released by 5 seconds of summer, truffle cake piece I bought from the canteen, the smell of aldehyde mixed with the fragrance of rose, 7A.M - the time when my parents video call me, tree tops blocking the blue sky, yesterday's bus ride.
"Nope."
I turned to face him totally pretending nothing had happened. He did not hear me sweet talking to a plant and especially did not hear the last point of the list. Nope. Not at all.
"Ah. Well, then."
He shifted his attention away from me. Why do I feel like I'm being attacked with my own weapon? A smile appeared on his face and I know exactly what he's going to say.
"Next time you do it, I'll make sure to record it." He waved his phone at me "For proof."
"Hey, that's my line."
"Suits the ambience, doesn't it?"
It suits perfectly. I am surprised he didn't record it as soon as he caught me. Did he even hear me?
"But I didn't lie like you did."
"You weren't talking to yourself then?"
His eyes drifted from me to the sunbathing green leaves near the window.
"No."
He scanned me as a whole, from head to toe.
"Were you talking to the plant?"
I want to deny it so bad but it is very much evident that I was. I don't have my ear pods to make an excuse of being on a call. I was literally kneeling down to talk to Draca, it's the name of the plant by the way.
"It's called sound therapy."
"Sound therapy experiments are done by fixing speakers around the pot and playing music. All I heard were some unrelated gibberish."
Oh, so he did hear me. Heat filled my face with anger. How dare he call my preferences gibberish?
"Those are not gibberish. I say ten nice things to it everyday." I snapped at him.
"Nice things?"
"Yeah, they help them grow bigger, faster and healthier."
He considered it for a moment before breaking into a wide smirk. Dimples, please show yourself. They did not waver at my request.
"I heard something about yesterday's bus ride."
Dammit.
Dodging is the best option here. I slowly turned away from him, took the spray bottle and sprinkled some water on Draca.
"What brings you here, Shaurya?"
"Didn't you ask professor Benjamin for Carl's reports?" After a moment's pause he added.
I turned to face him again.
"Yeah, I did."
"I've organized them at table C17 in our department library."
I let out a tired sigh. I shouldn't have asked for them. Now I'll have to prepare a report for that as well. But I get to see my senior's view points of professor Gerard's experiments, most of which he had redone like me, as I had heard. But there must be a lot to cover and I can't spend all my time on that. I wish I had someone to help me with it. A dangerous idea occurred in me.
"What is it, Tara?"
"Are you free now?"
"Mostly."
He is currently having a battle in his head, that much is clear to me. His thick brows are furrowed to the center, busy in deep thoughts. He glanced at his watch once, then at me, and back again at the digits displayed on his watch.
"Mostly?"
"I mean, yes. I'm free. What is it?"
"It's okay if you have anything else to-"
"No. There isn't anything."
This time around, his decision of being free sounded final. Then, I might as well take advantage of his free time.
"Great. I was hoping if you could.."
He waited eagerly for me to complete. Asking for help from someone you were sure you hated is not easy as I thought it would be.
"I could?"
He arched his eyebrows in a knowing way.
"Like, you know..."
"I don't."
He knows what I am trying to say but he wants to play with me till the end, make me ask it myself.
"Just help me summarize it, alright?"
It didn't come out as a request, did it?
"Is it an order, Ms. Tara Menon?"
His monstrous smile was threatening. I felt panicked and embarrassed.
"Ey, alla- I mean no, I didn't mean it like that-"
Well played, myself. Here comes my L1 interference.
After landing in California, English was chosen as my default language for communication, even with Ridha, Hera and Ryan. I was fed up of talking in Malayalam, which is my mother tongue, at my house. And that's totally a lie I made up to cover my English speaking. I am depressingly homesick and I hate to show it out. My south Indian accent is really strong and I do have a very good control over it. I exactly knew when and where to let it out, my mother tongue and the other languages I know. But when times like these showed up, Malayalam comes out from me, like it is a very natural thing to happen. I didn't think he would be the first one to witness it. I did show Czes and Laura how I spoke in four different Indian languages, which was totally intentional and I was fully aware of myself. But this...
Shaurya started walking out of my lab. Did I upset him somehow?
He stopped at the door and turned. Am I supposed to say sorry or something? It looks like he is waiting for something from me.
"What?"
"You are not coming?"
I am still standing, looking at him with doubt.
"You are helping me?"
"I can't say no to that. It's an order."
I bit my smile hard, my face reddening with blood rush. As the saying goes, you smile when you know it is true. It was not a request and I knew it.
Table C17 is my usual spot when I come to read in the library. And how does he know about it? Something I can worry about later. The setting of C17 is perfect, a far end lonely table facing the window, both the sides of which is covered by book shelves. Very private and with a dark academia vibe. I could sit at this table for hours, just looking out the window, sipping iced coffee and writing down notes from references. I'm not so sure if I can achieve the same with this man sitting next to me, not so close but close enough for me to feel the remnants of heat radiating from him. He does not do the death stare anymore, but his sideways glances now and then, brings about the same effects in me. I thought the whole act of helping me was actually supposed to help me complete this as soon as possible but his mere presence is a mental distraction. When I try to focus on the paper he is holding, I end up staring at his long slender fingers and the strong veins running back his palms. His honey toned skin is deliciously smooth and distracting. If I try to listen to what he's saying, after two to three sentences of concentration, his voice takes me back to the concert night. Should I just ask him about that night? Window, look at the window, Tara. But no says my brain as it forces my eyes back at him. His face itself is a center of attention, a perfect one hundred and twenty degrees angular square jawline (I didn't need the use of a protractor for this), a small and nearly invisible scar at the end of his right eyebrows, thick eyelashes that women die for. And for the way his lips move when he pronounces myelin sheath and impulse... I might end up preparing a thesis on the dynamics of his Adam's apple.
"Is my lecture that boring?"
Since I was too busy staring at things I shouldn't be staring at, I couldn't remember what I was going to say. Thank god, he thinks my reason of being in some other multiverse is because of his boring lecture. A grin appeared on his face, engaging the dimples. Dimples. They're beautiful. I brought myself back to reality, my eyes still calculating the depth of the hole in his cheeks.
"I'm not sleepy." I say defensively.
Awkward silence. I took the papers from him and started to give it a read on my own. Now, this I understand.
"So, these ten nice gibberish, do they really work?"
Now it's nice gibberish, huh?
"Those are not gibberish."
"It sounded so."
He's criticizing my vocal chords. Believe me, he's true. I hate my voice.
"Look I'm no seiyu-"
"What?"
"Voice actors in anime. I know my voice is shitty-"
"I didn't say that your voice-"
"Let me complete, Shaurya."
"Okay." He said with a surrendering smile.
"It doesn't matter how you sound but the content you talk to them about. My mom used to tell me to talk to the trees, they are lives living in the same environment as us, they are observant and they know better. Also they are great listeners and they don't judge you. They are a nice branch to cry on. And if we say nice things to them, they take on the positive vibes and bears fruit faster. To say it in human language, it's more like encouragement."
He nodded with a smile. What's there to smile? I thought he'll fire a neurotic reply in return, but he's scarily kind today.
"Moreover, they prefer female voices."
"Really?"
"Yes. If you and I start growing a seed at the same time and we tell ten nice things to them each day, or even sing songs for them, I bet mine will grow faster." I say with a conscious smirk.
"How about we test it out?"
"Stop kidding-"
"No. I'm not kidding. I want to test it out."
He just suggested a rival betting. Evil Tara started laughing inside of me. It's final that I'm going to win this. I have the upper hand in experience as well as the basics.
"That's a nice idea. What does the winner get?"
"Anything he wants."
"He? You seem pretty confident."
"You should be careful. I might win this." Now it's his turn to smirk.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself. I'm winning this. Also we should discuss the rules."
"Rules?"
"Aren't you worried I'm going to cheat?"
"You have the advantage of having a female voice. So, it's more likely for me to cheat, don't you think?"
He's true and so straight forward.
"You can choose the species and accordingly the duration of this bet. Let it be a flowering plant, the winner's flower will be the first to bloom to the fullest, alright? Then, no agricultural manures, fertilizers or pesticides."
"You'll make a good dictator."
I rolled my eyes at him.
"I like it systematic."
He showed an impressed smile and added.
"I have a rule."
He's totally into this.
"Shoot."
"We do this at our apartments, not here."
Where is this coming from? Right, he's a professor. He can't go around talking to plants in the university. He's afraid of his image, I guess.
"Sure."
"You are not asking why?"
"I know you have your reasons."
He nodded again. He nods a lot to be honest.
"We can check the length of the plant each week or so, just to see who's in the lead. And no playing songs for them. You can sing, though. Oh, sorry. You are not a music person, isn't that what you said? Well, then there's nothing to worry about. For me. But you will have to worry, cause I always carry around music with me so I might accidently play my seedling some songs."
Aw, shit. I'm talking way too much and I can't get myself to stop because of the excitement. I'm not taking this seriously at all. After sometime, he'll obviously forget about this and-
"Do you have personal experiences as to the plants growing faster when subjected to music?"
He seems unnaturally interested. But he sounds so formal and professor-y, I might laugh any time soon. Scientific talks are laughable, now I know why.
"At my home, the speakers in my room is always working so I've never paid attention to how the music helps them. Also I usually use air pods when I'm out so I didn't know about it until recently. One day I forgot to bring my pods and played music in my phone, Draca felt spookily extra alive when One Direction's Little Things started playing-
"Draca?"
"The Dracaena Reflexa in my lab. I don't know if it was just my feeling. Then I started playing her all kinds of songs out of curiosity. I was surprised, she does respond to different music vibrations. She gives off the more alive vibe when she's listening to Louis's and Conan's songs. But she doesn't like hard music bands with drums and stuff, especially that of Maneskin- "
He looked at me in indifference. That's when it hit me. He must not have understood anything I was chattering about. I was talking too much about my taste of music in the name of Draca, thanks to his interruption that I stopped. Or I'll be subjecting myself to a viva session on my personal history soon.
"I'm so sorry, Shaurya. I'm wasting your time."
"No, it's okay."
Suddenly some kind of ticklish quiver rushed through me from my pants. It's my phone ringing and I already knew who was calling. It's Daksh and I'm angry all of a sudden. It's been a week since he last called me, never picked any of my calls and didn't texted back for any of my messages. Two days back, panic stricken and worried about him, I called his mom to enquire. That's when she said, the company he's working in is starting a new branch and that he's been given charge to take care of majority of the events. His mom said he'll be free after a day or two and as she said today is day two. I took out the phone from my pockets and placed it on the table sending the vibration all over the paper and wooden atoms. I'm so angry that I don't want to talk to him and I'm so angry that I want to scold him to death for not informing me. The professor's eyes read the name visible on my screen.
"I need to take this."
I walked out of the library. I ended up shouting at him for most of the call and listening to his excuses for the rest. He sounded pretty busy and urged even now, so I told him to call me only when he is completely and utterly free to listen to my stories as well as tell the ones from his side.
After ten minutes of ridiculousness, I returned to C17 to find it empty. No trace of Shaurya at all, not even a note saying something came up or whatever the reason for his leave was. Whatever. Where is his basic manners? At the least wave me a bye before leaving. I'm not disappointed at all. I should have asked Czes to help me. It would have been better.
I sat down and ruffled through the papers to find out the set of topics which I already completed reading. I gave it one last read before opening up my notebook to write the summary. It is easy to type it in the laptop and create the report, but I'm a little old fashioned in my studies and work. I prefer writing with ink, however long the report is. A hard copy is my type. The left side of my notebook is covered with different types of scribbling, mostly drawings and calligraphy letters in black gelled ink, which I must have did while listening to the professor. More correctly, I I multitasked this while being distracted. I can never get out of this habit, the practice of doodling while studying. My hands worked on it's own freedom, printed things in paper that my brain captured as interesting in between the classes. Suddenly, in between those blacks and whites, I noticed a writing in blue which was not mine.
I think we should move forward with the bet.