Pessimistic Romantic

I wished to move my arm but did not; I feared she, who was leaning on it, might wake up. Thus the arm remained in situ through out the bus journey. The joy of juvenile affection.

Yes, I was juvenile in college. Freedom they say is a difficult bird to cage, well so is a man’s heart. We gave our hearts’ out for free. Every girl could take it, it was up for sale. And then there was this beautiful female in our batch. They say a thing of beauty is joy forever, even if she is committed to some other guy. She was a joy to watch, to talk to. But then I stood no chance with her. You see I had gained sense by my second year of college. I had realized life is not about running after dreams. It is about realizing achievable goals and, god damn, achieving it.
She was an achievable goal. We did hang out in the same group and we had spoken before. But now things were different, I had an aim in life, temporarily. (In the future, I wanted to open up a coffee shop cum pub in bourgeoisie Mumbai but more on that later.) I wish 12th standard biology also explained the process of attracting human females, I had no clue. How is one supposed to change your daily banter in to love-talk? When does friendship become love? What the hell is this love anyways? I made efforts. I am ashamed of them of course; I was juvenile as has been mentioned earlier too. But boy, I did try. To be fair though, she didn’t mind it. I wanted her to. I wanted her to ask me to fuck off. She didn’t. I fear she was half-waiting for it.

Locate Target. Aim target. Shoot.

I love McD. Cheap food, upper-middle class crowd and A.C. I held her hands, looked into her eyes and spoke my brains out. I knew not what, but speak I did. What else was there to do? And so, was the aim achieved. Houston, the eagle has landed.
And then what? What’s a boy supposed to do? We spoke a lot. I had asked her to not to make a public declaration of our co-dependence but it seemed the college were co-signees. Everyone knew, everyone gazed. Pretty soon everyone started speaking, but then so were both of us.

Days passed by. Talking continued. We knew each other a lot. This is not good. If you stare at Monalisa a lot, you will eventually find a flaw and then whenever you look at it, the flaw will surface. The flaw will dominate the view. The twitch in the movement of brush across her face will destroy the magic of her beauty. It did for me.

I didn’t want to hint anything to her. I wasn’t in love but I wasn’t a heart-breaking ogre either. Distances increased. Pauses became frequent and talks smaller. Days passed by. CAT happened (but that’s a tale for some other day). And then one day abruptly, in cafeteria she said she didn’t love me. I didn’t break her heart after all. But suddenly the glow on her face was gone, the sparkle was lost. There was a hint of moisture in my eyes. So this is how it ends. So this is it. It’s over. When did it begin? 2 weeks after the McD episode, I think. And that folks was the end of second love story of my life.

We are friends still. Not a good position though it is. There’s always that hope. That lingering question. Don’t matter though, ‘coz I ain’t gonna ask it.

Hopeless Romantic Fool

The wind blew hard along with its close friend, dust.It had been almost two hours waiting at the junction. Sunday afternoon ensure the absence of crowd on these roads.He re-read the letters with a vague hope that some hidden code or password lay somewhere but the words hadn't changed, they never did. No matter how many times he read the letter the stood intact, after all they were the sole guardians of the letters intent. If only they knew what difference they made to the poor boys life, the beauty they were capable of bringing to him, they might have relented.

He suddenly heard the noise of an upcoming vehicle. Stooping from his position he peered through the corner of the shop to view the vehicle on which rode his love. At that instant he realized,he had no idea of what he would speak to the angel. He felt dazed. Trying desperately to think of a line worthy of the beauty, the charm was an arduous task & the blazing afternoon sun was no help either. He staggered for a while.Then another thought crept into his mind, what if he became speechless as he had on previous occasions? The mere presence of such a probability gave him shivers in the sweltering heat. 'What would she be dressed like? A million possibilities roamed freely in his head, fighting for attention when their owner had none. The coach was fast approaching. This had to be her. To pass by at this time in this place. He thought he detected the sweet smell of her perfume blowing in the wind. All thoughts vanished from his mind and a picture reigned supreme.

The letter in which he proposed this meeting had been a difficult one to write. Written late at night, when the town slept and the wine house woke up, written under a tree in the backyard of his house with the moon for his only companion. It looked upon as the little boy undertook a perilous journey across the 40 pages he tore before he finalized a small and concise letter, not lacking the intent but devoid of profuse poetry. The coach had almost arrived He straightened his bow tie, brushed off dust from his coat, tried to undo the blemishes of the 2 hour vigil. The coach arrived in front of him. He stepped forward, was at a hands distance from the coach when he realized the coach hadn't stopped. He stepped back waiting for the coach driver to stop the vehicle. All he wanted at this moment was to be worthy of the love that waited inside this magnificent vehicle.Not wanting to rush into the matters, a trait he inherited from his father along with the coat, he waited. The coach kept moving. 'Stupid, coach driver couldn't he stop at this spot itself.' Now he would have to walk to the coach. But the coach did not falter in it's path & kept marching ahead. 'Of course, the coach driver must be taking her to the next junction.' He thought of running along with it but did not do so. Remembering a short-cut to the junction , he ran as fast as he could. Almost out of breath as he reached the new destination, he stooped with his hands on his thighs, his hair falling all over his face. A vehicle had just passed the road, it wasn't the coach he was sure. The road was dusty, the wind seemed to be a futile sweeper destined to clean the roads all it's life. The sun was setting, spreading the paleness of a summer dusk all around.A young boy sat near the road, waiting. Childish passions, alas, know no limits. That night the moon sighed, wished it could speak and not just be spectator to these spectacles, for few kilometres away a girl lay sick on her bed, begging to her parents to let her go out. Strange are the ways of life and the pawns don't decide the moves.