The Gap - Part I

Thirteen floors up. The penthouse. The ‘pent’house. The pun wasn’t lost on her. The view out of her window was breathtaking. You could see the lawn, beautifully decorated by the city’s best landscape artist, the flowerbed in its geometric perfection. One lone dark-skinned man, looking the size of a cockroach from up here, watering it desolately. ‘That guy could do with company,’ she thought. The irony in that statement escaped her. Past the walls you could see the city expanding outwards. Spreading, sending its fingers searing along the landscape, growing. From this far up, even that was beautiful. Greens mixing with the dull grey of concrete and the pot pourri of colours the average modern city wore, fading away in the mist on the horizon. But she only saw one way. Straight down. ‘Naina!’ came the call, and this time it was louder and angrier than before. She sighed and closed the French window to follow the sound.

She loved the wooden floor. It made that sound when you walked on it. Beautiful, she called it. She walked the halls, letting her fingers run along the wall leaving wavy streaks uncovered by dust. She really loved this place. The way the windows every six feet let in so much sun. Brought those beautiful angles of light. The ones in which she could see little particles dancing without a care, blown this way and that, happy to just keep moving. ‘Who really cares about street noise?’ she thought as a car honked loud and long. She drew a little figure in the dust on the windowsill. A ballerina. Rough, but distinct. Clean lines. She was just about drawing the crown when she heard a baritone softly whisper into her ear, ‘Nicely done, Netu.’ She jumped, quickly erasing the sketch with her fingers.

It was beautifully crafted. Cupboards along the top, plug points under it. Wood panelled sunmica and ornate handles. Naina sat at her desk, books spread out before her. This stuff barely made any sense to her. ‘Why do I have to do this?’ she thought desperately. Sighing, she picked up her scale and pencil, measuring her page, marking out the centre and two other spots. She slid the ruler down an inch or so and repeated her markings. Then flipping it around, she drew three perfectly parallel lines down the page, dividing it into four. She picked up her earphones and plugged them in. Set her iPod to the song she wanted. This was the only thing that was going to keep her sane. He’s a real Nowhere man/Sitting in his Nowhere land rang in her ears as she filled in the headings ‘Liabilities’, ‘Rs.’, ‘Assets’, ‘Rs.’

Netra looked into her reference book. She was at her study table. Standard 90s metalwork office desk, complete with creaky drawers and cracked, pale grey-green paint. She'd asked for it. Thought it would look cool. ‘Why the hell do I have to do this? Why does it have to be so exact?’ Sighing, she picked up her pencil again. She held it about an inch off the point and held it against the image in the text. With her thumb, she held the measure for the thumb bone. Then, without losing the measure, she brought her hand to her page, marking off a point towards the bottom straight away. Then bringing her hand upwards, she brought her thumb level with the marking and made another one, and then repeated the action yet again. She released her grip on the pencil, reaching over to the computer to set the music playing. Help! I need somebody/Help! Not just anybody… her head bobbed in time with the music for a moment. Then looking into her text again, her head bent at an angle and she began to draw.





***Blogger's Note: I don't have the time to finish this right now, what with exams and all, but as they say, keep watching this space...***