Xeno, The Human Connection

Xeno, The Human Connection

n. the smallest measurable unit of human connection, typically exchanged between passing strangers—a flirtatious glance, a sympathetic nod, a shared laugh about some odd coincidence—moments that are transitory and random but still contain powerful emotional nutrients that can alleviate the symptoms of feeling alone.

Oh, those brief moments, hang along a lot longer than you might have thought. Those fleeting moments of bonding, that blend themselves so effortlessly in your thoughts. Xeno, sets ablaze the inadequacy you might feel in isolation, or add to your charm of living; recognized more in solitude.

Remember? Sitting by the window, listening to the drizzling rain in the bus, you glance up to see your mother looking at you. A smile artistically fits itself on her face, you smile too and that fixed moment when you wordlessly express love. That particular day, when your mischief gets caught in school, and you are punished, your friends catch your gaze, momentarily teasing the culprit, and hearts full of laughter burst themselves. Perhaps, the most heart warming one would be ‘the love at first sight’, when your eyes clash into his, and ‘sparks fly’, how transient and yet sweet does it feel like, when you associate love only to sight? The most flattering would perhaps be, answering a question in the most eloquent way; and the teacher would pass the glance of being impressed, that you couldn’t admire yourself any more than that as you would.

The glance of assurance, and hope filled eyes of parents, when a child runs its first race, there is wonder and awe seeping in those glances, of a new flower blooming on itself. Then there are delightful plays of the eye, when you squint them up, in clear disapproval of mischief, and the act of luring the lovers into desolation of their unrequited love. What becomes a necessity sometimes, is the aloofness locating itself on your face, only eyes to betray the slightest emotion you might have to say.


The shared laughs of childhood when we dressed up as teachers and mothers, failed attempts of seriousness bestowing our face, somehow also fail to erase themselves. Do you remember the coincidences? When we freeze simultaneously at the surprise, looking into each other’s eyes, and pass the all-knowing smiles? You hold onto them, the xenos, the entwined connections, even to unknown people, and they to you. Encompassed in those frozen moments is awe, delight, love of its own kind, disgust sometimes, splendour all the while.

“I like you; your eyes are full of language.” – Anne sexton

Aren’t they? these eyes, expelling the magic of dooms and love, with all its might…

Prishanti Pathak

Prishanti Pathak - An Oxonian in making, with immense love for classic and feminist literature, and a true potter head.