Before I fall out of love

That one night I lay awake wondering why I loved you. It was 5:20 in the morning and you were asleep. I couldn’t think of any reason strong enough to possess my mind and heart in such a manner that the mere thought of separation sent a chill down my spine. 

I couldn’t remember the day when we met, or the day when I fell for you. But I do remember the night when you possessed my soul, trapped it in your charm, and locked it within the fragile walls of your enigma.

Sad truth is, I know you don’t feel the same for me, and I’ve realised you never will. 

A distant and composed melody echoes in my mind, and tells me that one day you will feel for me. It is hope. Against all odds. 

A deafening whistle tries to suppress it, and tells me that one day it will wear away. It is reason. 

It tells me that my hope will stay alive only for so long, until it vanishes as a result of your apathy towards my love. Apathy is a strong word to describe your feelings towards me, but it’s what my heart says tonight. 

Before that happens, before I fall out of love, I wanted to pen down what I feel. Months from now, I might read this, to realise how I’d walked through a sandstorm once, and survived. I wanted to make a note of my feelings before I stop feeling anymore. 

There was a time, when I’d built an iron wall around me before you found your way through it. You’ve sneaked your way inside, not to tear me down to ashes, I suspect, but to give me memories I might cherish?

But memories are not always pleasant. Sometimes it is just the opposite. It is a reflection of all the things that meant a lot to me but not to you. A reflection of all the things we could have accomplished, but we’re afraid to. A reflection of the words unsaid, actions untaken, and feelings not shared. 

Imagine going into a room full of fond memories shared by the two of you. It soothes you, carves a pleasant smile, eases your mind, until you realise that you’re the only one who visits. 

I’ve not fallen in love with your beauty. I’ve not fallen in love with your jovial nature. Neither with your enchanting smile, nor with your shining eyes. I’ve fallen in love with your presence, and your perfect imperfections. Everything else is secondary.

Your presence around me makes me light as bird, floating above, oblivious of any stress or sadness. And it shatters my heart to realise that it’s just temporary. 

Before I fall out of love, I needed to confess how I loved tucking your hair behind your ears which kept falling in front of your face. How I drown in immense pleasure when you rested your head on my shoulder. How I felt like walking in paradise when you walk beside me holding your hand in mine. 

The way you tilt your head and speak in hush tone at 3 in the morning sitting beside me under a tree, I can keep looking at you until eternity. 

It is in your sweet smile that I have found solace. It warms my heart, and sends an impulse in my veins. 

Looking at you, I feel as if I am looking at the sunset towards the horizon, when a mesmerizing breeze caress my body. Though it feels soulful and looks beautiful, I couldn’t endure the distance that separates us, and when the sun finally sets, I am left alone in the darkness, waiting for my eyes to adjust.

You, my dear, have made me break every protocol, every promise I have ever made to myself. You came into my life like a hurricane and demolished my rules like a house of cards. 

All I was left with, were ashes which once were feelings disguised in the form of the smiling mask I wore everyday. 

Before I fall out of love, I'd to tell you that I’d imagined my life with you, living under the shadow of your radiance. I’d imagined myself talking about my scars and finding warmth in your consolation. 

There are no two ways of saying this, but, before I fall out of love, I’d like you to know that you’ve consumed my heart and one day I would like it back. 

I would lock it within an impregnable fortress never to be let out. Chain it with memories, and shut it behind the doors of my outright disgust.

Employee of the Year

"Look Dad, I made it!". She said, proudly revealing her trophy, staring at the stars dangling from the heaven, with bright moistened eyes.

Fool's love

Sitting paces away from her, I realized that the only thing that hurt more than her apathy towards my love, was her laughter. Not her laughter precisely- which was poisoned with the holy water from the lakes of the kingdom come- but the fact that someone else could make her happier than me. It is selfishness, I admit, but it is also an assurance that she could live a better life without me.

If Only...

“I am sorry”, she said out of the blue, cutting through the noise of metal clashing brutally against each other as the train rocked in its rhythm. A raw scent of grease, garbage, and leftovers lingered in the cold air.  Arvind looked at her reflection through the dusty mirror while washing his hands in the basin. Clad in a yellow kurta atop green leggings she looked down as if apologizing to her heels for putting too much weight on them. How very tender of her.

“Sorry. I don’t understand”, he lied, remarking upon her emerald eyes behind the frameless glasses. 

He saw that her eyelashes were strangely glued to each other and it took him a brief moment to realize, they were moist. Her shoulder length hairs swayed gallantly with each gust of wind that ambushed the corridor.

She looked at him and then motioned her gaze towards the door which led into the compartment. The piercing sound of snoring still reverberated in his ears. Even at the distance with a door in between, the noise was so loud that he could almost feel it running through his veins, banging against his skull. Almost an hour he struggled to sleep, failing to which he had walked to the corridor and stood at the corner near the wash basin, to have a smoke. A hawker opened the door all of a sudden. Balancing the tea container on one hand and a minaret of clay cups on the other, he toddled past them stealing a brief gaze at them. As the door gently sprung back, Arvind caught a brief glimpse of a senile man cozily stuffed in his bed.

“Your father?” he asked as if he had a doubt. She nodded with a gentle stretch on her lips, “Not getting any sleep?” he turned against the washbasin to face her, patting his wet hands on his hanky.

“No, and my father isn’t helping much,” she let out a frisk laugh and then her face colored back with embarrassment again. The same face he had been noticing for the past couple of hours.

Ever since she occupied her side lower and upper berth along with her father, they had become people of interest. All credit goes solely to her father. His arrogance and stubbornness added extra toppings to his rudeness when he rebuked an elderly lady who asked politely to trade seats with him. She was too old to climb up the upper berth. The girl sat adjacent to the lady, helplessly looking out of the window pane with an unmistakable hint of dismay. A man, probably in his mid thirties, kindly offered the lady to take his seat instead. He then munched rowdily on groundnuts and threw the shells on the floor while complaining about his brother at the top of his voice. In a fraction of minutes, everybody in the vicinity knew that his baby brother was a dim-witted fellow who had no respect for his elder brother, and that he didn’t even came to see them off. A few of them shifted uncomfortably in their seats when he spat a few curse words for his sister-in-law who gave him one chapatti lesser than usual, and to add to his flames, his brother didn’t even scold her. Had his daughter not changed the conversation, everyone around probably would have known a little more about their family history than one should. The coach attender returned with the fourth pair of bed sheets and blankets and the old fellow still found it dirty. The soup vendor never dared to stop near their seats after he was denied his money for the soup being too sour.     

“Lady”, he said “Don’t put it too hard on you. You don’t have to apologize for anything, at least not on behalf of your father.”

“Yeah, I guess”, she carried her gaze towards the door and stared at the dark aisle “He wasn’t like this when I was young. I still have some of my best memories with him. He wasn’t like this at all.”

A gentle vibe of disheartening sensation escaped her eyes which held tales of teenage jollity, “Not everything changes for the better.”    

“Absolutely not. We just have to accept it as it is.” He took a brief pause “You must be too close?”

“Inseparable,” she replied and turned towards the partially open door.

They held a heavy slab of silence between them for much longer than they could recall. It was hours since his watch struck midnight. He stood patiently looking at her while she fixed her eyes at her father through smudgy glass of the door. He knew that he could bid adieu and head for his not so cozy bed and lay idle until sleep falls upon him. But, something made him reluctant. Somehow, he felt himself relate to her condition. The thin air around him whispered that she wanted him to listen to her. A stranger who he barely met a minute ago told him so much through her silence. Circumstances play strange games in their leisure hours.

“Actually,” he broke the silence, “it was just the opposite in my case.”

“How so?” she turned to him. He almost laughed at the way her eyes widened in a start as if she was shook off a dream.

“When I was young, I didn’t like my father much. In fact I used to despise him for what he put me through on some occasions. To be honest, he had absolutely no sense of judgment when to behave and in what manner. I was a kid, and that too an introverted one. To me, everything, everyone, every thought mattered. I still remember one day when my father dropped me for my music class. Although I don’t remember the reason for which he was mad, yet I can still recall the embarrassment I felt when he yelled at me in front of the whole crowd. The parents looked at us in awe and the children giggled. I felt as if I was under a spotlight dressed as a clown.”

“I know the feeling. It seems we had our own period of faux pas.” she pressed her lips to stretch a cold smile.

“What is your favorite memory, if you don’t mind sharing?” Arvind asked carefully.

She pressed her lips again and rolled her eyes as if to look inside her mind. She tried to recollect the fragments of broken memories as they conjured up in a form of delusional motion pictures. She turned back to the door, cracking knuckles absent mindedly. Arvind stood vigilant looking at her and occasionally checking for RPFs on either side of the compartment. It was not a good sign to stand near the door past mid night, and that too with a girl. It was considered unethical for some reasons which are too weird to explain. He knew that it would be almost impossible to avoid them if they bust in from the other side of the coach, but he considered himself a maven in thinking on his feet. 

   

Her eyes glowed with a divine aura when she spoke, “I was eleven. I remember because it was my birthday the day before and I received my first love letter that very day. Eleven red roses too,” she chuckled, “I was busy doing my homework in resentment. I don’t actually recall if it was my mother’s scolding or one of those devastating battles with my brother. A soft chime caught my ears, one of those which every bicycle had for horns. Our house was on the corner of the street so it was not an unusual event.” Arvind bore down on his waist and stretched. She stole a quick glance at her father, “Then he called my name. I walked to the door of our veranda. He stood there, my father, wide eager eyes and a smile stretched so drawn out that it contrasted his wrinkled face. I’d never seen him more happy and anxious. I cupped my mouth in astonishment. I wasn’t accustomed to surprises then.” Arvind noticed as a subtle smile creased on her face “After all those years, it is still fresh in my memory, right before my eyes. I don’t remember if he asked whether I liked it or not, but I am sure I loved it. Five years later, something terrible happened. He lost his mind. He has recovered a lot ever since, but he is not the same anymore.”

The train slowed down, and gradually halted at a small station. No one got in or out, at least not from their compartment. The eerie stillness of the night was broken occasionally by the door of compartments and toilets when they were pulled and released to spring back. They noticed a few people unsheltered in the ruthless cold, covered in thin blankets, sleeping on the platform floor. Children in rags running about while their mothers called on them. A cry of a child roared through the silence all of a sudden. An old disheveled man, barely clothed, held himself tightly while he shivered in the cold, his hands dug in his arm pits. A small living being enveloped in warm heavy blankets flapped its tiny hands while resting on his lap. He was trying to shush the child. Maybe he was singing a lullaby, or simply revealing his helplessness to her/him. After a brief stop, the train advanced again, making a peculiar noise as if it was pelted upon by stones. The cry persisted, diminishing gradually as the train moved ahead.

He caught a glimpse of her. He noticed that although her face was bright as day, yet there was a dark film behind it. A layer of memories which one yearns to replicate. A layer which held thousands of tales, blended with expectations, sorrows, and regrets. It flashes in the conscience constantly and reminds of the times which were much better than the present. Not everyone has the capability to move on, and even if one did, sometime, for a brief moment, even for a second, it returns.

“My name is Jyoti, by the way,” she held out her hand.

“By the way, I am Arvind,” he smirked and obliged.

And that’s when three constables of the RPF stepped in. Right on the cue. They looked at them as if they found a pair of masked thieves working their hands on an ATM machine. Jyoti broke their handshake and stood against the door as the trio inched towards them. They stood still for a moment switching their gaze from Arvind to her and back.

“What time is it Tiwari ji?” asked the senior constable to the one on his left.

“Two ‘o’ clock, Sir,” responded Tiwari ji.

“Morning two ‘o’ clock?” he asked again.

“No sir, at night. Past mid-night, when almost everyone falls asleep, sir.”

 “Why do you think would two people of opposite gender elope out of their seats when everybody is asleep, Mishra Ji?” he asked to the one on his far left putting extra weight on the words ‘opposite gender’.

“I have no idea sir. Why on earth would someone do that?” responded Mishra Ji.

“Maybe, they weren’t getting any sleep and decided to have some fresh air,” Arvind clarified.

“And the air conditioned air isn’t fresh enough for you?” Mishra Ji shot back.

“Sir, we want no trouble. It is my father; he is snoring loudly, due to which we weren’t getting any sleep. We would get back to our seats right away.” Pleaded Jyoti.

“If that’s the case then why can’t we see anyone else from the compartment rendezvousing with you two? Or is it that you two have the most susceptible ears here? What is it, huh?” he eyed at Jyoti. She lowered her gaze, Arvind could clearly tell that she was shaken, terrified. He was about to step up to them when suddenly their walkie-talkie spoke in an indistinct voice. The trio exchanged a frustrated look at each other as if the walkie destroyed their fun.

“I wonder how you sleep at home, if you can’t tolerate your father snoring,” said Sharma Ji as he left.

“When I come back, make sure I don’t find you two here, or else you might fall into trouble. Go back to your seats and sleep.” Said the senior one as he left and the door slid behind him. 

“Aren’t we supposed to feel secure in their presence?” she remarked wryly.

“I think we should better get back now,” said Arvind. Jyoti nodded, her face still blue. She was about to turn to head to her seat when Arvind interrupted, “Before we leave, there is one important thing that I would like you to know.”

She stopped short and faced him. The train blew the horn which reached out far away and resonated in the dark. A mid-aged lady passed past them and entered the toilet only after looking at them with keen eyes.

“I know exactly how you must be feeling due to you fathers behavior, and perhaps you know that. But what you don’t know is that, it doesn’t matter. The people around you, me, anybody else; their opinions and thoughts doesn’t matter a penny. In a matter of hours you will reach your destination and you will leave behind all of these. They too will forget about you, except for a few of them who would need a topic to gossip later on. But your father, he will be the one who will stick to you, and that’s the only thing that should matter. I was like you once. I was always mad at him for his behavior towards me. That minute annoyance started as a spark which accumulated and turned into an enraged fire in form of hatred. But then a thought struck me. What about those times when I used to cry like anything on top of my voice. He rocked me patiently on his arms. He was never bothered about the crowd around him. When I so stubbornly asked him to buy something which he can’t afford, he had to pull me all the way through the market while I wailed and yelled regardless of the people around us. I asked myself, hasn’t he done a lot for me? How could I of all people forget his little sacrifices in order to provide for his family?”Arvind noticed that her face was illuminated again, just the way it did when she reminisced about her favorite moment. “Now when he grows old it should be my turn to return the favor. The least I could do is to understand him, patiently. To elicit what little battles he is going through and be a part of it.”  A delicate smile carved on her face like the final stroke of brush of an artist.

“Now, we really should get going,” he smiled back, “Can’t risk getting caught again.”

“We should, yes.” She chuckled behind her cupped palm. Her eyes dazzled with a glare while she considered for an apt manner to extend her gratitude “Thank you, Arvind. I am really glad we met. I never saw him the way you made me see. Your father is a lucky man. Not every father gets to have such a son, who not only honors him tremendously but also forms a foundation of inspiration for others.” She turned to the door again, peeking through the same smudgy door and found her father asleep, shifting beneath the preferably clean blanket. “Thank you,” she whispered.  

He looked at her as she walked past the door and climbed up her seat. He turned back to the mirror and saw his dusty reflection. He fished out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. With each puff of smoke her words echoed in his mind- your father is a lucky man. A father whom he despised, abused in his thoughts, wished he were dead. He recalled the night when his father was scolding him over some matter too vague to recall. An overwhelming cloud of guilt engulfed his soul when he saw the picture of how he lost his cool and stood up against his own father. A heavy lump formed in his throat filled with guilt and regret, of the words unsaid, actions undone, apologies unexpressed.

He had been so straightforward to Jyoti that he was bemused at his uncanny courage. He had told her an appalling truth; however it was only a partial truth. A thought did strike him as he had told her, but only too late. Too late to apologize, too late to make amends. It struck him while he sat helplessly by his father’s death bed, while his father lay still with numerous IV injected on his shrunken body as the countdown closed in. Arvind talked to him occasionally, but on realizing that he was just talking to himself, he buried his face behind his palms and sobbed, in silence. Tears fled his eyes, assimilating within it a huge pile of remorse and guilt. Just like Jyoti, he also had a memory so vivid as if it were right before his eyes. But it was not of an unexpected gift he got from his father on his birthday, but of the time when he was in his deep sleep. He remembered how he had prayed for him. A sea of tears erupted from his eyes while his hands were joined in prayer. He begged for his father’s life, but in reality he begged for his own emancipation, his absolution. The greatest hurt in the world as someone said, is the failure to bid a proper farewell.  

If only he had met someone like she did. If only that someone would have made him to see his father like he did. He saw his bright face in the mirror; and behind it, the dark film of remorse was unmistakable. He took a last puff and threw the stub into the dark abyss outside. Not every father gets to have such a son, who not only honors him tremendously but also forms a foundation of inspiration for others.

   

    

 Picture Courtesy: Ideas Wu

          

       

A Quarter Short

He looked contently at her plum tender hands. Adjusting her half moon glasses she lifted the spoon filled with floating corn flakes. He could sense an intense aura of compassion for him in her, something which was completely alien to his otherwise pale soul. His trembling lips parted. He almost giggled when she pushed the spoon through his mouth. She parted her own lips as if to induce a sense to him to open his mouth. Like a mother does to her child. Although he never got to experience any such circumstances when he was a child, he could conjure a vivid picture of how he would’ve have felt. The thought made him feel sorry for him. Not for the numerous memories he failed to produce, but for the great horror he inflicted upon his parents unwillingly. No parents deserve the fate that his parents were given. No parents deserve to be offered a child with depravity, defacement or abnormality. No parents deserved a child with amputated arms.

With his mouth filled, he mumbled something in vowels. The lady leaned herself to decipher, failing to which she gave a confused look.

“Water”, he said swallowing the partially chewed food.

“Just a second, dear.”

He loved it when she called him that. He had grown up listening to all kinds of names conjured up to make him realize how different he was. Some of them were too weird to discard off his memory. He could never blame them though. It wasn’t their fault they found his condition funny. A bystander cannot be blamed to scorn at the product of a potter. If they dislike it, they have every right to let it out.

But, she was different. She never felt disgusted, nor did she ever show any sign of pity for him. At least not in front of him. He had never felt so normal his entire life behind him. Ever gleeful, she greeted him every morning, helped him out of his bed, fetched newspaper for him, and sometimes even read it for him. He never felt that she got tired of doing what she did, every single day. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that years from now, he was thinking of rejecting the offer from an NGO to help him. If he did, he would never have met Elina. And that was, ten years ago.       

“Here”, she returned with a glass of water.

While he gulped the water he looked at her eyes. Two emerald crystals radiated something holy from within. Two distinct vessels filled with love, warmth, affection, and various promises. He often wondered what made her so different, why wasn’t anybody like that towards him.

The thought made him repulse back to the days when he was at Safe home, an orphanage where his parents left him when he was five. Apparently they must have thought that where they found themselves incapable of looking at their own son, some other messiah might find some charm in him. They were wrong, unfortunately. He felt guilty for shattering their dreams. The dreams of a mother to see her son walk for the first time, to cheerfully throw his fluffy little hands in the air, and most of all, the touch of a new born babe. His father never got a chance to see his son pedal away in his bicycle in a false belief that his father was still holding him, while in reality he stood far away smiling, his heart heavy with joy.

He did to their dreams what a hurricane does to a sparrows nest. He was dazzled to absorb the thought that they tolerated him for such a long span of full five years. Though their image had blurred form his memory but he remembered Joy, their dog, as stark as reality. He never minded the fact his curator was arm-less. He recalled the days when he hugged Joy between his legs and he dragged him through the house.  

Elina placed the glass on the table and picked the corn flakes bowl again.

“I am full, Elina, thanks”, he smiled at her complete veracity.

“No you are not,” she slid the spoon past his lips anyway and smiled at his innocence.

“Why have you been doing this Elina?” he saw her smile fade away gradually.

“I don’t understand”, she did understand. She always suspected some day or the other the question might surface “Doing what?”

“This. You could’ve done anything. I mean, I know it’s your job but I also know that you could’ve abandoned me anytime,” he caught her looking at her slender fingers as if it held some answers “Ten years Elina. What made you stay with me when even my mother couldn’t?”

He waited for her response impatiently, which was not long. She took her time to decide where to start from.

“You know,” she paused “when you were born, there was complete stillness in the room except for your cry, which was usual. What was not usual was the fact that it took courage for your father to take you in his arms. However, your mother never took you in her arms that day. Not in front of me she didn’t.” She witnessed his face wrinkled with a confused frown “I was the one who brought you into this world my dear and nursed you throughout your stay at the hospital. I was there in the room, I held you by my chest dearly when your father finally realized that you won’t bite. I could’ve adopted you that very instant. But it took them five full years to do what they should have done that very day.” 

Picture Courtesy - @dokkan

My Valentine

 In a long wasted journey I met a girl, a girl who raised my soul with her unconditional, undemanding and genuine love, a girl who came so close that now I feel her inside me as if we merged as one soul in two bodies. Her kiss makes me feel alive, fills me with life and stimulates me to love her with all my heart. Her touch takes me to another world, a world which cannot be any more beautiful. Her company makes me forget everything that exists in my life, including me.  I feel as if it’s only her who surrounds me entirely and is the sole purpose of my happiness, as if my sun rises when she wakes and sets when she rests in sleep. When I think of my past and watch my present, I realise that in the twenty years of my life I’ve never been alive as I am now.

Semester vacations prevailed and everyone was off their home. A week had passed since I returned home. I was cut off with every link that attached me to my studies, busy enjoying the boon of the vacations-long hours of leisure. I woke up with the aroma of moms delicacies and slept with a tummy full of them. I was down on the dumps as I was going through a bad phase of relationship with my girlfriend. Half of my day was spent surfing internet and the other half were spent with my mom. I lay still with my head on her lap and we talked for hours.  At night I logged into my facebook account and had chats with my pals.

It was one such night. I was not getting any sleep so I took my cell phone and logged into my facebook. No friend requests, no messages, one notification,

“Charu Sharma accepted your friend request”

It was my second friend request to which she responded. The first one went blank. Fortunately for me, she was online at that time. I did what I do usually

“Hi”, I threw the first cannon of conversation.

Fortune favoured me again. She responded to my message. Hours passed by, we exchanged messages as we tried to know about each other, although it was me who was more interested to know about her. We talked for a while when I ran out of questions. I didn’t see what else to ask, or to talk about. The graph of the interest of the conversation started sloping downward from that point. I was clever. I stopped our conversation before it turned anymore sour in order to conserve its enthusiasm.

The next day I waited for her to get online. I checked the online listing every second minute, faced nothing but dismay. Then came the moment when the beam of my luck enlightened. The tiny circular green spot lighted indicating that she was available then. Exchange of messages commenced again, only that time it lasted longer with much more to talk about. These series of chatting continued almost daily as we started to get closer to each other. Our relationship converged and in no time we became very good friends. Talking about people, sharing secrets, caring for each other, playing supporting shoulder for one another we closed into a strong bond of friendship. We grew fond of each other as time bypassed.

After a long cycle of chatting over facebook I mustered the courage to ask for her number and she gave it to me. It was 4th of January and though the memory has been blurred out but I can still feel the ecstasy. I could still sense the nervousness which ran through my body when I talked to her the first time. Though I tried my utmost to hide my uneasiness but I believed that she knew. It was a brief conversation after which she hung up. I found myself cracking my knuckles for a moment.

As the days progressed I came to know more about her, much more than most of her friends- about her dire past, her terrible ex boyfriend, and the sadness that she hid deep inside her heart. She trusted me enough to open her heart in front of me. I could see through her eyes and reach for the spot where she had locked her tears to hide the void created by the guy. I felt an itch to fill that void. I could feel her agony, her pain, because at a crucial point of life I had experienced such suffering. Such feeling is like a parasite. It sticks to you and consumes you from within unless you become weak enough to care anymore. It eats up your tenderness and makes you nothing but a living dead. Unable to love, unable to fell, unable to trust. But she trusted me. Neither of us knew why though.

It was a Saturday evening. We were enjoying a ride on my bike. Atmosphere was pleasant as if god had made it so, purposely for us. The blue sky was painted with crimson and the sun was descending in the horizon. The gentle wind made the evening more pleasurable. It was a narrow road which ran through the woods in between an umpteenth number of trees. Few stalls of delicacies were there at random intervals for such wanderers as us.

She was a darling, a very good company. I could be with her the whole day and still would not get a tiny indication of boredom. She never got tired of speaking and I never got tired of listening. Her simplicity awed me. In addition to her simplicity she was still a baby from within. Her body language, her manner of talking resembled of a child, an adorable baby. I rebuked her every time she asked me to change her, teach her to become mature. I didn’t want her to change. I liked her the way she was.  She would laugh at my silliest joke and praise my tiniest efforts. I was starting to lose my heart to her. Time spent with her seemed to be the shortest hours of my life. I never felt like leaving her behind. I could hear her voice in my loneliness and see her face when I closed my eyes. I was falling in love.

Our conversation seemed immortal. She kept on speaking and she never felt short of topics. The conversation was dragged so long that I forgot its beginning. I was enjoying the conversation until it turned sour. It was the first time that she introduced me to her pain. I had parked my bike at the roadside. She narrated me the entire story and in no time I could see tears tumbling down her eyelids. I went beside her and put my arms across her shoulder. She placed her head on my shoulder and wept. Hardly a minute had passed when I sensed a vehicle approaching us. I turned my head to confirm. It was a police patrolling vehicle. I lost my air and my body turned cold.

“Get on the bike”, I said. But, it was too late. The vehicle halted right in front of us. She was frightened like anything. I asked her to calm down pretending to be totally cool about it. There were two male officers and three lady constables. One of the male officers summoned me and Charu went to the other one at the driver’s seat. They purged a sequence of questions at us and I answered them honestly. The interrogation was going like my conversation with Chatu.  Neverending. Then the officers swapped their convicts. I went to the officer at the driver’s seat and vice versa. After a series of question, he asked me “Are you intending to marry this girl”

“NO”, I said, “She is just my friend”

“I asked the same question to her but her answer was otherwise”, said the inspector with raised eyebrows.

“What?” I was confused.

She looked at me with her wide eyes.

“You ruined everything you dumb”, she might be saying in her mind I reckoned.

After few more brief questions he allowed me to go but the one on the passenger's seat wouldn't stop. He kept babbling. Charu was looking at me and that’s when I noticed she looked really cute when afraid. The lady constables at the rear were pleading for us to leave.  I mounted on the bike apologizing to that officer but he continued talking. Charu hopped on the seat behind me and he still kept talking. I hit the engine and twisted the accelerator and his words dissolved in the atmosphere.

Halfway through, I couldn’t hold my laughter anymore.

“What’s so funny?” she yelled.

It took me a moment to arrest my emotions.

“It was a good experience, no?”

“Good experience?” I could sense the confusion in her tone, “It was a nightmare, you stupid”, she said, perplexed.

“You know, when you get old and you lay awake on your bed, these are the type of moments that would come to you in a series of flash backs. These moments, a memento of your past would adhere to your memory. You would think of these times and before you know it, a smile would have been carved on your face already”

She kept silent.

“I would give you a lot of such memories”, I said to myself.

As I penetrated deeper into her mind, I realised that she was digging deeper in my heart. Her space in my heart was sacred. I could sense her dilemma from her voice itself. I was so occupied with her that my pain began to erase itself from the deepest corners of my mind. I admired her, worshipped her simple and tender nature. It was not until few weeks when I comprehended that we were so involved in each other that our sun raises and dawns as one. We gave most of our time to each other when in college, at home or anywhere else. Whenever I woke up early in the morning, I seize the opportunity to wake her up. I call her and when she picks up after a few ring, my heart warms up hearing her husky sleepy voice. I feel as if a little nightingale is singing her finest songs to me. She loved the little efforts that I put to cheer up and make her happy. I developed a habit of listening to her very closely. I took a note of every single wish that she desired to obtain.

One such memory is stuck in the brightest spot of my mind. That evening was not supposed to be as memorable as it turned out to be. I believe that a friendship is not a true friendship until it possesses quarrels over small matters. Fortunately, we quarrelled a lot. We had devoted our evening to each other and were having a good time. It was one of the usual evenings until it turned bitter. She was yelling sitting behind me and I was responding at the same pitch. Our anger had already triumphed over our reason.

Unaware of the fact that we were riding on a road full of people who could clearly hear us, we continued our war. I was furious. My anger diminished my senses. I wanted that argument to end as I couldn’t take it anymore. I accelerated my bike and headed for the spot where she had parked her moped. I did not utter a single word and stood silently. She understood the indication. She dismounted, got onboard on her moped and accelerated leaving me behind. I stood there, on a pale hope that she would return. When I regained my senses I realized that she won’t return. I left. Halfway, I realised that I’d hurt her very badly. I felt bad for her. I saw her eyes when she was leaving. Her heart whispering through her eyes how badly it was hurt. I failed to hear the whisper.

Then, I was searching through my mind of the various means of apologizing and making amends when suddenly I was struck with an idea. Not many days ago, at college, I saw her sitting by the parking lot. I was noticing her for quite some time. She was looking elsewhere. I followed her vantage point and discovered that she was admiring a bike. I approached her

“Never saw you looking at a bike with such admiration, there are guys in our college too, so to speak”, I said

“I wish you had that bike, I’d love to go on a ride on that one”, she said.

That was my plan. One of my friends had the same bike. I called him up and asked for the aid. He agreed and my plan was set to flourish. After getting hold of the bike, I dialled for Charu but she didn’t respond. I tried again and she picked up.

“Hey, I am sorry; I know I’ve hurt you. Please meet me once. Now”, I pleaded

“I won’t come, forget it”, her voice had a tinge of anger mixed with sadness.

“I will be waiting for you at the same place and I’ll keep waiting until you come”, I said and I hung up.

My first stoppage was a gift store. I selected the cutest teddy bear which said “I am sorry” .I bought it immediately and paid in a hurry as I was getting late. When I reached the place I saw that she was waiting for me instead. She reached even before me. I blew the horn but she didn’t recognize me. Only after blowing the horn for few more times she finally saw me and came towards me. Although she was wearing a scarf around her face but I think she smiled. I saw her eyes narrowed. I held my hand towards her, holding the goodies but she refrained, pretending to look elsewhere. I said how sorry I was to hurt her. She knew what she means to me. I apologized with the most sincere feelings of my heart. Flattered by my apologies, she got on my bike and I was successful in appeasing her. We rode on that bike for hours. Her wish was fulfilled. She was feeling special and I was feeling happy to make her feel so.

All’s well that ends well.

 I’d arrested my feelings for her. Although I felt a strong urge to confront her but I was afraid to do so. I was not ready for another relationship. The time I’d spent with Charu had healed my wounds. I was a happy person and she had become everything for me. I tried my utmost to suppress my feelings and remain as friends with her. But, sometimes things happen which you’ve never dreamt of.

It was a Monday morning, 13th of May. We had decided to catch the morning show of a romantic movie “Aashiqui 2”. I was all joyful. I put on my best attire that I had in my wardrobe followed by few accessories, spray of a new perfume which was gifted by my sister and finally put on the shoe which I had cleaned overnight. A green shirt checked in white, pair of blue denim, a clean suede leather shoe with untidy laces, a brown leather band on my right hand, watch on my right and the mandatory spectacles completed my appearance. I texted her that I was on my way, pulled my bike off the parking lot and headed for the meeting place. I had already waited for about twenty minutes when she arrived.

She looked gorgeous, beautiful to a fault. Dressed in a pink top, a pair of blue jeans followed by a black sandal, it appeared as if she was standing on the spotlight and everything around her had faded in the darkness. Her hair was neatly combed and kept in place by her hair band, clutched from behind. The thin line of mascara at the circumference of her eyelids made her eyes more vivid and radiant and the shiny lip-gloss made her lips irresistible. I felt an impulse to compliment her but I didn’t find the appropriate words to match her charisma. I was not good at complimenting, to be honest. She hopped on the rear seat and we drove for the multiplex.

Look of her face indicated that the movie had succeeded in entertaining her for sure. I had put my arms across her shoulder and she was resting her head on my shoulder. She was savouring the movie while I was watching her cheerful face from the corner of my eye. She looked more beautiful from that closeness. I turned my face towards her to take a better view of such a beauty. She turned towards me and looked into my eyes. She was looking with the same tenderness as I was looking at her. Her eyes amplified my heart beat. The atmosphere was silent and cold and the lights were dim. The echo of the dialogues from the movie was diminishing gradually. Slowly and steadily I pushed my lips towards her. She laid still. As I reached nearer, she closed her eyes. I placed my palm behind her head and pressed my lips against hers. I kissed her. She was numb for a moment. She did nothing. I kissed again and felt her lips trembling. I held her hand and then kissed her. I felt her lips rubbing against mine. She held my hand tight and impressed a soft and delicate kiss. I didn’t believe my senses. I felt intoxicated. She hid her face under my shoulder out of shyness.

“You are my boyfriend from now on”, she said in a low soft voice “I love you”

It was out of the blue. I had never imagined on my wildest dreams that she had the same feelings for me as well. I didn’t care about my pact of not getting into any other relationship.

She lifted her head and looked into my eyes “I don’t care about your past neither do I care about our future. What I know for sure is that nobody can make me happier than you. You are mine now and we will be together as long as we can”

I was silent and dumbstruck for a while. I gathered my nerves and responded

“I love you too Charu” I embraced her and kissed her forehead. We stayed lost in each other for a long time. I didn’t know what else to say so I kept quite as usual and let the newborn relationship dawn into both of us.