Cover me, cover me not.

That’s my face in the mirror. The first thing I notice is the slight bend on my nose. Then I notice my turquoise earrings.  Maybe, not so bad as I thought, when I look at chandelier like earring dangling on either side. I convince myself that the attention will divert. Of course it will. And then, I proceeded to wear my kajal. Still, my face looks puffy. I move the lamp a little, adjusting the shadow. Maybe it’s the light. It never is.

Oh no, I forgot perfume. I've read in psychology that aroma adds a big deal to first impressions. Why take a chance?  Oh and did he say he likes bangles? Of course, my hand cups to shape like a beak. In goes the bangles.

My heart beats fast. A mental note I make to speak slower, calmer. My mind runs reels of how we’d run across the length and breath of streets. How I will be more careful this time, maybe play a little hard to get. I rehearse my laugh. I've been told I laugh like a guy. I couldn't possibly show him that, can I? This was no lie. It was my first attempt at making friends after a really long time. And I had my cautionary list ready.

My clutch closes with a snap. I climb down the stairs of the bus and trip over a stone. “careful, you can’t be klutz's front of him” , my inner voice echoed. I stopped. Gather my breath. I say a few words of encouragement in response to my voice. I decide that the nervous quaver is for my own good.

I redo my hair and dust my cheeks. I smell my shirt. I smell Coolwaters. Perfect. There, I spot him now. His heads bobs above the crowd in a half smile. I sense the excitement. As the train parallel to us picked up pace, so did our evening. The cling of cutlery blended in with our laughter – as if raising a toast.

“You look gorgeous” – he says, without a break in his sentence.

My cheeks turned red. Was he complimenting me or the woman I saw on the reflection of his eye balls?

“Thank you” , Your red jacket compliments you too. I blushed.

This is exactly what I needed. Like in the movies – heartfelt words, beautiful faces and great dialogues. All I needed to do was play my part. As long as I don’t let reality hit me. Like I do, every single day, at the metro when I smile at random strangers, at my boss as he requests me to take that extra load of work, at friends who don’t call for months. I had mastered this art. At least, that’s what I thought.

Although, the lens grew bigger and darker and kept zooming in and out at the corner of my eyes, I lied to myself. I smiled.

A few months, lines and body language façades later, everything seemed like magic. Except, the façade was scraping off the walls of familiarity. You couldn't run, you couldn't hide. I tripped over several times, swore and wore socks with tiny holes. I times I forgot and laughed like a man too. I screamed, I voiced my opinion.

The gravity of the mask pulled to my face while I desperately wanted to remove it. But can I risk it? We lay next to each other. Our eyes on the ceiling. We had nothing to say. Sentences were accompanied by pauses. Our hands to ourselves. I tried to smile, but I couldn't. I looked at the mirror parallel to us. Our masks were stripped off. My face looked plain, there was no kajal and there was no Coolwaters. “It’s over” he said

Merry Go round, once again.