By Mansi Shanbag
It was a nondescript evening. There were no colors in the sky to encapsulate a beautiful sunset. And yet it remains etched in my memory forever. Orion remains etched in my memory forever.
It feels like a dream, and most days I think it is. But then, something passes me by: a smell, a color, a picture, a person. Suddenly, I am made very aware of the fact that Orion was as real as me. Maybe I am fictitious too.
It was a couple years ago. I was younger, by body and mind. I was visiting my uncle in his hometown. It was beautiful, of course. It was always beautiful; beautiful and mundane. The nondescript day made me want to leave the enormous grounds and go for a walk to the local market my uncle was in charge of organizing.
The market was fabled to be the best in the area. People from five villages over would drive up here, just to pick up artisans’ products. I’d heard from my uncle that they’d been interviewed by the local newspapers about the market, it was that much of a success. I was just looking to distract myself for one afternoon. Not talk to anyone. Not socialize. Just walk, and look at pretty stuff.
I told my uncle of my plan, and he offered to drive me there. “I have a meeting in the area, I’ll pick you up later in the evening,” he’d said, packing his stuff neatly in this briefcase.
I was a little miffed by that plan; I wanted to figure out a way by myself and get to the market. But I didn’t want to upset him. So, as soon as he was done putting his shoes on, we left in his car. The scenery that passed us by as his car drove further and further away from the house would’ve been impressive to others I think, but they didn’t impress me. I've seen too much of them in the last couple of weeks. The air was confusing; sometimes a cool breeze would pass by, making me grateful for the sweater I had on, and sometimes a warm gush of air would make me squirm in my seat uncomfortably.
We finally reached the open space where the market had been held for the last 20-odd years, and as soon as I got out of the car, I realized how cold it actually was. Hugging myself, I waved my uncle goodbye and started walking towards the beginning patch of the market. The cold had now reached my spine and I needed a scarf or something alike. My sling bag was regrettably empty. I almost turned around with the intention of tracing my steps back to my uncle’s house. But, a jacket hanging on the outside of the second stall caught my attention. It was simple. Gray, with large blue buttons. The only thing that caught my attention about the jacket was that there was one solitary yellow button in the center of the jacket, while the others were midnight blue. I walked on to the shopkeeper, and asked him the price. He barked it at me, and even though it was a little over the top, I purchased it.
Necessity aside, it was adorable. Thank god I bought it. Otherwise, I would’ve never had the chance to talk to Orion. And I would’ve really regretted not talking to him.
I put on the jacket and went around the market for another hour or two. The place was vast, I knew it. But, I hadn’t comprehended the amount of walking around I would have to endure. I wanted to leave and go home, but I also didn’t want to be a bother to my uncle. For the second time since I’d gotten here, I had the urge to leave and figure out my way home. For a second time, I turned and almost left.
And then I saw him.
He was nothing out of the blue. He wore a black t-shirt, black jeans, black vans, and a red checkered shirt he had tied around his waist. His dark hair was a mess. He had a huge backpack that looked like it would explode any minute now. He had his back to me, so I couldn’t see his face. His outstretched hand had a thin black band tied around his wrist.
I didn’t want to leave anymore. Not because I saw him. No, it isn’t that cheesy, my story. I didn’t want to leave anymore because I wanted to know his story. For he had, in broad daylight, snatched up a notebook with a lovely print from the display, and shoved it inside his already filled-to-the-brim backpack. He then looked around for any witnesses to his crime, and walked ahead, whistling a tune I knew but couldn’t place.
Unwittingly, I followed him. I know how this sounds. But wait, it gets worse. And better.
I followed him to the next three or four stores, where I saw him pick something up, something absolutely trivial, something not worth stealing, and shove it in his backpack or his pockets. A decorated pen, an embroidered handkerchief, a quaint bracelet, a whistle. Quickly these things disappeared within him. My favorite was when he took an apple off a cart, and replaced it with a guava from another stall. The pop of green in a sea of juicy red apples was a sight in itself. I was having a great time shadowing and stealthily following this complete and utter stranger.
“You haven’t said a word, you know,” he commented, suddenly turning around and facing me directly.
Stealthily, my ass. Good job, Kaya.
I decided to go the clueless way. “I’m sorry?”
“You haven’t said a word. You’ve been following me for quite some time. And you haven’t introduced yourself or anything,” he said in a condescending manner.
“Yeah okay, I’m getting shit from the guy shoplifting at every stall!” I shot back.
“Touché,” he whispered.
We stood there looking at each other for half a minute, not really knowing what to do or say. I had never been more uncomfortable in my entire life. Own up to your mistake. You followed him. You owe him a proper conversation.
“Hi. I’m Kaya,” I said, offering my hand to shake his.
He looked at my hand for a bit intently, like he was studying it. Just as I was about to pull it back because of the awkward pause, he shot out and caught my hand. He shook it twice and let go. He then turned around and started walking away.
With my hand still outstretched, I looked at him walking up to the next stall. What a weirdo.
I looked back to see if anyone else had witnessed this perplexing conversation, if I can even call it that.
“Well? Come on, then! I’ve heard this market is quite huge. We haven’t even covered half of it,” he yelled out, like we’d known each other all our lives.
I wanted to pull my hair out. This exchange was the strangest I had ever encountered, and I’d once taught a man how to talk to his ‘Chinese’ dog. Do not ask.
He tapped his foot against the hard ground, indicating urgency, and I rushed to his side as he started walking further.
I wanted to look away, I swear I did. But, he was so odd! How could one not look at him and wonder all sorts of things?!
“Hi Kaya. I’m Orion,” he spoke up, after we’d silently crossed four other stalls. I’d noticed he hadn’t taken anything from those stalls. But eh, who am I to question?
“Orion, like the constellation?” I asked, looking ahead for a change.
“Orion, like the Greek hunter,” he answered in a bored tone. I’m sure he’d been asked this a million times.
Thinks he knows everything about everyone. Silly.
“Huh. Wasn’t the constellation too named after the Greek hunter, Orion?” I asked, looking innocently in his direction.
Orion stopped in his tracks for a second, before resuming his wandering eye over the next few stalls.
“Not many people know about the hunter. How’d you know? Did you Google it?” He asked, drawing his eyebrows together.
I rolled my eyes at him and answered, “Within the last three seconds of you telling me? Yes.”
“Okay then,” Orion said, smiling.
We walked for a while in silence. I noticed Orion was still not snatching up items from stalls. The suspense was killing me.
“Why?” I half yelled.
“What?”
Oh good, out loud this time. Good stuff. Clearly, you win ‘Social person of the year’.
“Nothing, sorry,” I muttered out.
“It’s okay, you can ask me why I haven’t taken anything from the last few stalls,” Orion supplied.
I grinned sheepishly at him and asked, “Well?”
“I didn’t feel like it.”
And that was it for the next twenty minutes. The market was getting better. I stopped at a jewelry stall to check out a gorgeous oval locket. I saw Orion walk on by me. I wanted to stop him. I don’t know why. We hadn’t had a real conversation. We had nothing. But, he was different.
I wanted to stop him.
I didn’t.
I turned my attention to the locket with a heavy heart. The colors in the locket seemed to make the heaviness a tad better. I took it off the counter, well aware of the shopkeeper’s watchful eye following the locket, off the counter, into my hands, and onto my neck. It was resplendent. It caught the light in the perfect way, emanating more colors that fell upon my face. I knew I had to have it.
“How much for this, sir?” I asked the man, not looking away from the locket for a second. Obviously, he understood my infatuation with it and charged me twice the market rate.
I had never been a haggler. My mother would often joke that if the world’s survival depended on my haggling skills, we’d die a disappointed and broke species.
I let the locket slip out of my hands and into the velvet case on the counter. Even as the chain slipped off my fingers, I felt so immensely sad. I mean, materialistic pleasures are all that worked here. Everything else was so beautiful. People were all so peaceful and happy already.
I walked away from the stall before I had a chance to reconsider my very adult reaction to the price. I started looking around for Orion; maybe he hadn’t gotten far?
He had, apparently.
I decided to finish the market tour by myself. Walking briskly, I had crossed almost five stalls in ten seconds, when an arm shot out and caught hold of my elbow.
I jumped a little and turned around to see Orion holding out the locket I had fallen for at the stall.
“Wha-- How?” I asked, dazzled by the locket again.
“It’s a present. Take it,” he said, shoving it into my palms.
“Did you steal this?” I asked, looking at him accusingly from the side of my eye.
He held out a crumpled piece of paper at me. It was the bill for the locket, handwritten in hurried letters.
My eyes widened at the price and I held out the locket, “Oh, I thought you were kidding. I can’t take this!”
“Why? Did you not like it?” He asked, tilting his head to the side a little; something I found adorable. Obviously, I didn’t tell him that. His ego could live without it.
“I love it!” I exclaimed.
“Then keep it. It’s not that difficult to comprehend,” he said, teasing me.
I took the locket back and put it on. What is this guy?
We walked in silence for a bit, before I asked, “Do you want to get something to eat? A pretzel, maybe?”
Orion looked at me, amused, and said, “Only if you steal it.”
“Or.. Or I could just buy mine, and steal yours,” I said, pretending to be in deep thought.
“That would be nice,” Orion joked, grabbing my hand for the first time as he pulled me towards the pretzel stand.
The rest of the day we just walked around, exploring stalls, artwork, and decorative pieces. It was different. It felt very comfortable. He felt very comfortable. Even though we never talked about ourselves. I didn’t even know his second name, and I don’t think he knew mine. We just talked without talking, if that makes sense to you. It shouldn’t, it barely made sense to me even.
It wasn’t long before I got a call from my uncle. The shrill ring of my phone annoyed me a little, and I picked up the call with an attitude.
“I’m ready if you are, Kaya,” my uncle’s muffled voice reached my ears.
Already? It can’t be. It can’t be evening already?
I looked up; the sky was covered with tints of orange and purple. It was, indeed, an evening I wasn’t meant to look at from this market.
“Be right there,” I sighed. I didn’t want to cause trouble, and especially because of someone I’d barely know for a day.
“Leaving so soon?” Orion asked, looking at a pashmina hung near a stall.
“I have to. My uncle’s picking me up at the entrance in five,” I said, smiling sadly at him.
“Come on, I’ll walk you,” he replied, not looking at me at all.
Odd little shit.
We walked side-by-side in silence, me fidgeting with his present that was now clasped firmly around my neck, him with the edge of his bag that had been worn out, probably because of him playing around with it a lot.
I didn’t know if I would see him again. He was, afterall, a stranger. An odd stranger who bought me a necklace, and made me steal him a pretzel.
We were about five stalls away from the entrance, when Orion suddenly stopped walking. I almost bumped into him.
“Hey!” I called out.
“Well, off you go then. Come on,” he said with an authoritative tone.
“I thought you were walking me to the entrance?” I asked timidly, suddenly very conscious.
“And there it is. Right in front of you. You want me to lift you up and set you in your car seat?”
“Rude..” I mumbled, walking away.
“I am,” he answered, smiling just the littlest.
I walked up to the car and got in, without sparing a single glance to him. As soon as I greeted my uncle, and closed the car door, this sudden emotion emanated from my being. Like I needed to do something about Orion or I would regret it forever. Like it would be a terrible, awful mistake to let him walk away. I whipped my head back, and looked.
He was walking away, slowly yet surely.
He didn’t turn at all, and I couldn’t stop looking at him. I couldn’t understand this urgency to see him again, or at least make sure I had the means to see him again.
“Would you hold on for a minute? I forgot something,” I said to my uncle as I clapped off my seat belt, grabbed my cell phone, and exited the car. Shoving the phone in my back pocket, I started jogging around the path I saw him last. I couldn’t spot him anywhere. The necklace jiggled violently as I picked up speed in a frenzy to find him.
As I turned a corner, there he stood at the same stall he bought my necklace from, admiring an old wooden pipe, like he was a sailor. I didn’t stop running till I was five feet from him. My panting must’ve been louder than I thought, because he turned around slowly, and eyed me in a nonchalant manner.
“You,” he said, crossing his arms.
“You,” I breathed.
“Came back for your jacket?” He asked, pulling out my new gray jacket with the midnight blue buttons, and a solitary yellow button.
I was suddenly aware of the fact that I’d given him my jacket to hold when I was struggling with my soft pretzel. I was also suddenly aware of how cold it’d gotten, and how my brief run had helped very little to warm me up.
I felt this tinge of embarrassment creep up suddenly, and get bigger and bigger, till I could feel my face getting warmer and redder. What were you thinking? You’d run after him, and then what? He’d ask you out? You’d ask him out? What was your game plan?! Idiot.
“Haha, um, yea, my jacket. That’s why I’m back, yes,” I muttered, pulling my jacket off his arm. Orion had no expression on his face, which made things so much worse for my anxiety.
“Well, you got it,” he said.
“Sure did.”
“You better get going, then, huh.”
“I’d better.”
The awkward banter was cringe-worthy to such an extent, that I prefered the truth over this conversation.
“Your number!” I whispered.
Orion touched his ear and leaned forward with a mischievous smile, “What?”
I calmed myself down, and said, “Your number. Can I have your number?”
Orion then smiled the widest I’d seen him smile all day, pulled out a page of his fancy (stolen) diary, an old pen and wrote down his digits for me. He then slipped them in my jacket pocket.
“Cool. I’ll call you, I guess,” I said, shaking my head and shrugging. Not the smoothest of the lot, are you?
“I’ll be waiting,” Orion called out. And in the littlest voice that he thought wouldn’t reach me, he said, “You’d have to. I have the last blue button.”
I shrugged it off, not quite understanding it then. But, it would hit me a few days later when I am taking a walk around the park. The last midnight blue button. Orion’s habit of meddling with displays must’ve finally paid off. Because not only did a stranger buy the jacket he ripped the blue button off and stuck a bright yellow button over, but she also ended up reliving the day every single day for a very long time.
It’s a wonderful thing, stories. It makes you feel alive, like you were a part of that wondrous moment. Like you witnessed it first-hand. Another wonderful thing is that every story is a universe in itself. If and when you meddle, you risk exposing the magic. You risk risking the magic.
I don’t know if Orion is real, or if he was a figment of my imagination. Maybe that whole evening was a figment of my imagination. But the crumpled paper with his number on it exists, like a parallel universe tied to ours with a single string.
It was a nondescript evening. There were no colors in the sky to encapsulate a beautiful sunset. And yet it remains etched in my memory forever. Orion remains etched in my memory forever.
As does his number.
By Mansi Shanbag
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