Where Wandering Eyes Found a Moment

“Choopulu Kalisina Shubhavela.”

The auspicious moment when two eyes meet.
Some moments start exactly like that — quietly, unexpectedly, and without any reason at all.

For today’s blog, I wanted to write something light. Something soft and a little cute. Others might think it is foolish or immature, but this is simply how I feel the world. I am a smart person, but I also feel certain emotions deeply. Sometimes a tiny moment can stay with me for years.

This is one of those moments.

I must have been around sixteen. Our town wasn’t particularly religious, and neither was I. But, that year, a visiting Swamiji arrived to conduct a multi-day ceremony. He was a gifted orator, charismatic, magnetic, and honestly, very handsome. Naturally, the whole town suddenly discovered an interest in spirituality. Everyone found a reason to spend their evenings at the temple.

My friends and cousins dragged me along every day. We were not looking for enlightenment. We were looking for fun, whispers, and inside jokes. Some cousins had harmless crushes on him, so we also hoped for a glimpse of the Swamiji.

One day, inside the temple, they closed off part of the hall with thick curtains for a special ritual. Only the Swamiji, priests, and his young disciples were allowed inside. The rest of us sat just outside the curtain, listening to the fervent chanting from within.

I do not know what came over me. I was never the mischievous type. But I picked up a straw lying nearby. I softly poked one of the bare feet I could see under the curtain. It was a random little impulse.

The top of the curtain instantly lifted. A shaved head first, and then a pair of light brown eyes looked straight at me. For a brief second there was irritation, sharp and clear. Then something shifted. Curiosity. Softness. A hint of recognition that made no logical sense.

In that moment I felt my own eyes speaking for me.
An apology for the poke.
A flicker of shock.
A little fear.
And beneath all of it, something warm and unguarded.

Those eyes seemed to catch every bit of what I was feeling.
The irritation faded almost instantly, replaced by a gentler, quieter emotion. I didn’t know what to call it, but I felt it reach me. And when his expression changed, something in me shifted too. It was as if his eyes softened and mine softened in response. For a heartbeat, we met in the same strange feeling without meaning to.

It lasted only a few seconds, but it rooted itself inside me. I still can’t fully explain what it was. When I revisit that second, it feels like a quiet, poetic romance flowed between our eyes. It was the kind of romance that exists only once and never again. Just one brief moment where two hearts melted at the same time.

For the next three days I went back looking for the owner of those eyes. I never found him. And strangely, even at sixteen, I understood something. If I met him again, the moment might disappear. He would become ordinary, flawed, real and the magic of that tiny connection would dissolve.

So I carried the moment with me instead. A small, shining memory kept safely to itself.

Over the years, I have experienced more of these sudden sparks. A simple glance felt larger than the person who gave it. And almost every time, meeting the actual person erased the magic. Personalities can dismantle what a moment creates.

So I taught myself to treasure the moment and release the person.
Some memories are not meant to grow.
They are meant to stay suspended in time exactly as they were — sweet, surprising, and untouched by reality.