Knowing Soya

The Inscrutable Soya

I must admit I didn't think much of Soya the first time I laid my eyes on him (The start, though not too apt as I had no special reason to "lay my eyes" on Soya nor was there anything so extraordinary about his manner or countenance or aspect that could catch my eye, has been chosen as a tribute to that haunting voice of Morgan Freeman's in "Shawshank Redemption" which with its firmness and conviction despite being agonizingly nostalgic almost defies the ephemerality of human memory). Its something about his face. He has these sleepy, stoned-out eyes well-placed on his stolid landscape which makes it impossible for the eager and impatient face-reader to get any sort of cues about his disposition. Trust me when I say that I pride myself at figuring out people with unnatural ease and precision within the first 5 minutes of their society but with Soya I have had little success even after 2 years which is actually rather commendable. It took a lot of picking and pickling, prodding and nudging. Quoting Shawshank Redemption again, like Red says, all it takes is pressure and time. Pressure and Time.

Soya's Paranoia

A bashful deer, you take a step closer and he jumps two away from you. A touch-me-not plant, you reach for him and he rolls himself up in a neat looking ball. He life - his bed, the daily crossword, his daily quart of sauce, Gold Flake Kingsize, his favourite pornstar and a select few people who have managed to convince him with repeated assurances that they would just hover around him and wouldnt dare to do anything to disturb the constancy of his existence. Apparently, he has gotten into his mind that getting emotional and talking about it indicates the highest levels of impotency and spinelessness. Very true if you ask me though I have a long record of expressing myself unashamedly and crawling like a spineless worm. Though I agree that being candid with your emotions can be extremely humiliating at times, I think it doesnt really matter because neither do people have such lasting memories nor do they have the time to recall and mock at your maudlin self but Soya does not believe in taking chances. Inspite of all this his shield did get breached once. Ofcourse, by a lady. To our great surprise and bewilderment, she not only managed to keep him out in the open but also cuddled upto him and got him all wet and soggy. It was a good try for it was not long before Soya realizing his fall, pulled himself together and promptly asked the female to pack her bags and leave. He is a bit cruel that way.

A style called Soya

You look at Soya and it is almost as if he screams back the word "hangover" at you. Weary eyes, half-shut. Drooping shoulders. The Nascent tummy just big enough to hide the buckle of his belt. A bovine gait. But dont be mistaken by this sullen, feeble, emasculated impression that he throws upon you for behind this gauche exterior he hides his super-energetic, cunning, graceful and flamboyant self. It is only during those wonder moments in frisbee or football or badminton when he flicks the ball with his backheel or fakes a smash to execute a perfect drop does he exhibit his flair and natural elegance. It is then that you see a style; a groove called Soya.

Soya, Bacchu Kharghosh

For once i was blind, now i can see! - Soya's face and aspect leads you from one discovery to another. The first time you look at his face you dont quite find anything special about it. Then one day, despite the receding hair line and bloodshot eyes, you find that there is something child-like about his countenance. You start working on the thought and figure that it has got something to do with the way his upper lip curls. The thought dwells. The next time you start thinking that it has got to do with his eyes. May be the way he looks hither and tither. And then suddenly, he smiles. You catch the smile and instantly jump lists. From the list of people who see Soya as just-another-face to the list of people who see Soya as a sweet cute kid. Everytime he jumps in jubiliation after cracking a particularly tough crossie clue or throws his hands up in the air after executing a ingeniously cunning return on the baddy court you find yourself looking at him rather amusedly saying to yourself, "It is so sad that he smiles so rarely".

I think I'm getting a little senti and almost romantic so I'll just end this here.

Happy Birthday Sweetheart!! :P