Long back I met this guy at the Kala Ghoda festival. He was clearly a foreigner and sauntered to where I was seated with two others. After introductions, I don’t know what got into me.

“I am good at reading faces”, I blurted.

He retorted with a smile, “Really? Tell me what’s written on mine”.

“You have twinkling eyes, a warm smile, an openness that puts strangers at ease.”

“That’s it? You are just describing my facial features.”

“A sensitive, kind soul lurks behind that façade.”

“B…S…” he guffawed. “I am an actor and wear many masks. Gotcha!”

He had a European accent I didn’t quite recognize.

“You are also a liar” I shot back. “You didn’t like me reading you through and through. You are feeling vulnerable. Shall I go on?”

With a sheepish grin he stood up; “Well okay. I have to push off now. I am glad we won’t be meeting again, though I enjoyed spending some time with you”. A conspiratorial wink and he disappeared into the crowd.

******

“Let’s go to the art gallery,” suggested Sunil.

Manish had something else in mind. “I think we should take in the handicrafts center first; my sister will kill me if I don’t get her something from there”.

Just then I spotted him again, a challenging smirk and a friend in tow. They made a beeline for our table. His friend’s head and face could have been carved out of stone. Non-committal: eyes guarded more heavily than the inner chambers of a zenana. A grunt in reply to our welcome and he sat down, eyeballing a group of youngsters.

The rest of us chatted casually, non-existent for Mr. Stonehead. Our talk chit-chat was accented by the tinkling conversation of ice with our glasses. My stranger friend caught my eye, gave his companion a sidelong glance and non-verbally asked me to read that almost inscrutable face.

The weatherworn ruddiness attested a sailor or an outback person. The latter, he conceded. A grid of hard labor and emotional upheaval arranged itself around his eyes and mouth. I caught him exchange an I- don’t- like-this look with his companion who shrugged nonchalantly. Ah! So the extreme poker face was an act and I had caught him out!

“Your smile is belied by a wary, protective glint in your eyes that tells me you do not trust easily”. His eyes once more became closed windows; he shifted in his chair.

To his discomfiture, I continued with unwavering confidence.

“You’ve been on a rough, poignant roller coaster most of your life and are alone by choice.” His increasing resentfulness gave my words credence.

My friend Sunil had a question. With a scratchy edge to his voice he asked, “Did you decode us too so easily?”

“We didn’t know you had x-ray vision,” chipped in Manish.

 “There’s an inbuilt lie detector too” I laughed.

Mr. Stonehead shot up from his chair. He bristled, a cornered animal. Mr. Stranger held out his hand triumphantly, “My 50 bucks! I warned you would lose. You were too sure of yourself.”

“No, I didn’t! You are not getting anything out of this” His expression blended into disbelief and anger. “Tell me what I am thinking right now.” It was directed at me in a voice of someone woefully stung.

“I am a face reader, not a mind-reader.” I gave him an ingratiating smile to diffuse the tension.

He stomped away. Mr. Stranger came over to me and winked.

“We could make a fast buck while this festival lasts. What say?” We laughed like old friends.

He pressed my shoulder warmly and put a small gift box in front of me. “This is for you”. Before I could react, he had disappeared in the crowd.

Inside was an exquisite resin pendant of bright blue, dried forget-me-nots. Also, a chit with his email-id and phone number.

A tectonic shift took place. It changed the contours of my life – our life.