Prologue
Seated at the front row of the Russian Sculpture Art Classroom, I ended up in a course I never imagined would join, but today I am all for my Kavya. I thought silently, my eyes fixed on the door with anticipation, eagerly awaiting her arrival.
Just then, a soft voice broke through my thoughts, "Hey, I'm Adira," a beautiful girl introduced herself with a graceful hand extension, her modern charm evident in every gesture. Yet, my gaze remained fixed on the door, and I was too preoccupied to respond to her.
Adira, noticing my distraction, teased, "Are you practicing for a staring contest with the door? Because if you win, your name will definitely go down in record books. But for that, I should probably know your name first!"
Just then, a guy from the back bench, Arjun, hopped in, attempting to make his presence known with a greeting to Adira. She responded politely but quickly turned her attention back to me, indicating her lack of interest in him.
"How should I call you, Mr...?" she trailed off, scanning the name on my ID card with mock seriousness.
"Karthik," I managed to reply, torn between discussions as my thoughts kept wandering back to Kavya's impending arrival.
But you can call him 'the guy with the wandering eyes,' Arjun replied, attempting to make an impression on Adira.
The classroom, with its colourful tables and attached chairs, set the stage for creativity. Each table seated only two people, and the semi-circle arrangement fostered engagement.
Sunlight casted the room, illuminating a palette of colours and bringing life to the previous student artworks adorning the walls.
Adira, settled beside me without hesitation, asking, "Hope I can sit next to you?" It was impossible to refuse her, especially knowing we would be companions for the next six months in this program.
However, deep down, I wished my seat were empty, hoping it would provide an opportunity for Kavya to sit beside me.
The main reason I signed up for this 6-month 'Sculpting the Russian Soul' course is Kavya; maybe I will sculpt my way back into her good books.
The mere thought of Kavya catching even a glimpse of me with another girl, —especially now, during this delicate post-breakup phase—sends shivers down my spine. It's a definite recipe for disaster and a massive turn-off for her.
"Are you waiting for someone?" Adira's question interrupted my thoughts once again as she placed her mobile and belongings on the table.
"No, yes... I mean, Yes, waiting for the art instructor." I fumbled, masking my true intention behind a simple excuse of waiting for the instructor. As the Russian Art Instructor arrived and greeted us warmly and welcoming us, my thoughts were disturbed as Kavya was not here yet.
He took a brush and in a fraction of a second, he started scribbling on the canvas. What began as mere strokes quickly transformed into a beautiful piece of art, captivating everyone in the class. It served as a perfect ice breaker. While the entire class was mesmerized by his creation, I found myself gazing towards the door, lost in my own thoughts.
Why hasn't she come? A voice at the door interrupted my thoughts. Everyone's attention turned towards the person at the door. It was Kavya, stunning in an olive-green Kurtha, her arms filled with materials for Russian sculpture painting.
She stood there, a hint of sweat on her face, clearly in a hurry, apologizing for being late to class. From her body language and my familiarity with her, it was evident that she would have chosen to change two metros, take at least three buses, or even walk a few meters just to reach this venue. The instructor gestured with his right hand for her to come in, and then signalled her to take a seat as she walked slowly searching an empty spot.
Coincidentally, I was also, in an olive-green shirt with the look she always liked — a slightly trimmed beard and a formal appearance — hoping she would fall in love with me again.
"Arjun, switch seats with me," I quickly whispered, and Arjun and I interchanged seats. With a swift exchange, I strategically ensured there was a vacant seat next to me for Kavya to occupy. There were no other empty seats as they were all occupied.
Kavya walked into the art class with a mix of nervous energy. As she stepped into the room, the familiar smell of paints and the soft murmur of conversations filled her senses. She took a deep breath, ready to lose herself in the world of colours and creativity.
However, when Kavya scanned the room for a place to sit, her eyes widened in shock and anger on seeing me.
Would she sit next to me, or would she consider leaving the program upon seeing me here?
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