Josh Weinstein's Theory Gone Awry

Vinoy had asked Jacob to accompany him – that dude sure had a talent with video cameras. Vinoy had been up all night preparing for the shoot. Highly charged, he had thousands of ideas on how the project could be done better, but today was not the day to think about them. The professor guiding his thesis work was in his field too long to go wrong in his calculations; Vinoy had faith in him.
But to think four years of hard work had to be topped up with silly things like these! Not that he was pooh-poohing the merit of such qualitative, on-the-fly ideas but, he thought it was too simplistic.

A bright sunny day welcomed them; the park was always crowded on Sundays. This gave him a chance to get the best of out of the lot. Initially he was hesitant, but surprisingly people were open to the idea of being interviewed – about the man who was interviewing them. He had a standard set of questions – the respondents were asked to infer about Vinoy’s age, occupation, family background and his interests based on the impression they formed from his appearance. Jacob would capture their expressions and responses on video while they interacted.
By the end of the day Vinoy was exhausted, but the results were good: they managed to get about seven people to provide inputs, the responses showed a pattern (which was important for the study) and he had enjoyed the sessions. Of course, he needed eight more respondents to finish this mini study. They planned to visit the museum next day for completing the rest of the shoot.

Later in the night as he watched their expressions on the screen, he smiled sardonically. The trouble with people is that they take themselves too seriously. They are so impressionable yet they confidently believe they are good in judging others. He recalled the responses – except a few, most of the answers were inaccurate. There was an old woman who predicted he is close to his parents, a man with the beard thought Vinoy is a marketing executive, and a teenage girl was impressed by his height and gave him full marks for being an athlete. Is it so easy to fool a human being? He wondered.

Mondays were the best time to go to museum; the guide on duty was very knowledgeable and had built a reputation, drawing more crowd than usual. By the time they reached the gate, the first tour was complete and the crowd was milling around the huge columns at the entrance. Vinoy was more confident this time. After two hours, they were almost done with the shooting – they required just one more to complete the study. The duo decided to take a break and headed towards the coffee shop.

The coffee shop was sparsely filled. They ordered for light refreshments and relaxed in the cool ambiance. Vinoy scanned around for potential respondents. There were two or three young couples, an old man dozing off – they didn’t appear interesting enough. He noticed a lone woman sitting by the window. At first glance, she wasn’t much to look at: a frail body with an ordinary face. Curiously, it was her curly hair tied into a bushy ponytail that made her appear ageless. She wore a long necklace with huge beads that seem to shine in a very odd manner. The moment he set his eyes on her, he knew he had found his last respondent.

It was weird; he had a strong sensation of someone propelling him towards her. He had to ask her. What about, he knew not – not yet. There were unformed questions slowly bubbling in his brain, creating a strange tingle; it almost felt like a headache. He slowly rose from his chair, at the same moment she turned towards him. He sank back in his chair, mouth agape.
He could not believe it: her eyes were a deep shade of violet. He knew that nobody in these parts of the world had such exotic coloured eyes. Brown skin and violet eyes? He was sure they were fake – coloured contact lenses probably. He desperately willed it to be.
Suddenly it felt as if his entire existence depended upon knowing the true colour of her eyes. Her gaze was dangerously honest – a ray of light so strong that it lit the darkest corners of his soul, bringing out hidden colours of his personality and making him completely transparent to her. His head reeled.
A small voice within begged him to get out while there was still a chance, but he was following the instructions all wrong – he slowly got up and walked towards her. She was going to be his last respondent. He didn’t know why he was nervous yet he could not stop himself.

As he stood in front of her, he stammered about the study. He could not remember the correct sequence of the questions, worse, he forgot the questions. He felt stupid. She was quietly staring at him with an expression that baffled him. She slowly got up and smiled at him. When she spoke, the lilt in her voice was a lullaby “I will not waste my time on those questions, but I will tell you seven things that you really wanted to know about, all your life.”

“First things first – yes, the colour is violet and they are real”

He stared at her with disbelief.

“No, it was not your class bully; it was Amit - your best friend in fourth standard who had stolen money from the teacher’s bag. You got beaten up for that and later wondered about the real thief all your life.”

“Yes, it’s the same pup you haunts you in your dream. The one that your neighbour thought fell into the well accidentally. Well, it was not an accident at all – you have always avoided thinking about it.”

What the hell? How does she…? He was not sure where this was going.

“No, your mother never had an extra marital affair, she loved your father dearly; you hated her all your life for no reason.”

“Yes, Joycee was the only one who loved you with all her heart. You could never decide about her, could you? She still does, but she won’t break up her marriage for you.”

“No, Geetha didn’t get pregnant: you can feel safe about it, although it was two years ago.”

He knew where this was leading now.
He wanted to melt away yet he stood there rooted to the spot. His face a kaleidoscope of broken spirit, grief and terror, was twitching uncontrollably.

“And finally, Yes, I feel sorry for you young man because the only real accident that you had no intention to cause, will cost you dearly. Remember your fight with your sister about Geetha’s plight?
In your anger, you pushed your sister a little too strongly – the terrace wall could not stop her falling into the arms of death. It will soon be found out and then, you will have no place to run or hide.”