I would like to take this opportunity to thank my dear friend Mohua (yeah, I know that’s a weird name) for giving me the idea of this story and the love fundas (she thinks she is a Love Guru) which an imbecile and nerd like me otherwise cud hav never known. Also, a hell lot of lines in this story are hers…I think this story well deserve the honour of being one of the most plagiarised work ever, ofcrse after Mahesh Bhatt movies….I know I haven’t been able to live upto your expectations……still……Thank you MD…..
February 14, Valentine’s Day.
As she pressed the red button on her mobile, a sudden deluge of memories flooded down her senses. It has been going on now for fifteen months. Fifteen months, three days and fourteen hours, to be precise, just like he was, he always was. It was not the usual run of the mill affair, Romeo seeing Juliet on a crowded DTC bus, bowled over by her beauty, she meekly surrendering to his physical charms, lying to parents to meet him, a movie at PVR, a disco party at RPM, a late night long drive, a little booze and they make out for the first time, then the usual fights, ego clash, suspicions, “roothna manaana”,….No, no,no, this affair claimed to be different and was, but wait just a second, was it an affair at all? They had not seen each other more than once, they had never talked face to face, they had never felt the warmth of each others’ touch, they had never felt each others’ lips pressed and trembling against each other, they had never been lost in each others’ eyes and they had never, so as to say, in the cliche` tongue of the modern Westernised youth, had a “coffee” together. But can’t there be love without this? A tear in his eyes moved her to the core, a silly smile on her face would make his day, an innocent “I like you” from his side would make her forget all the stress of a hectic Delhi life and he would often find himself smiling in mirror for no reasons. She would kiss the mobile while talking with him as if mobile signals could transmit those tokens of love to him standing in a PCO booth 1400 kilometres away. He had no particular interest in music but now he spends his nights listening to Radio City Mumbai….she glued to Radio City Delhi…an invisible bond linking them together on the air waves…She also had taken up Contemporary Fiction and Poetry as a subsee in her final year just because he was so much interested in poems. The words of the likes of Robert Burns…..
O my Love’s like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Love’s like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune….
burning their hearts and at the same time making them feel as if they both were strolling in a garden, hands in hands, listening to the nightingale…sounds too filmy…Yes, they also felt the same. It was all too rosy to be true. Ofcourse there were the usual problems. Weeks would pass without any phone calls, no chats, she would spend her nights sleepless, fearing the deadening silence of the night when even her heart would stop thumping, fearing that somewhere something has gone awfully wrong or even worse, finally the moment has come, the mere thought of which moved her to hysterical tears, which she has dreaded all these months, that Rishi is no longer interested in her, fed up of her, fed up of just being phone friends. They say, “Love never dies, but it rots away”. Maybe, they are right..Maybe there can be no love without physical interaction…May be..
May be not. The melodious ringtone of her phone, which he has sent her from a friends’ mobile on last valentine, Nsync’s This I promise you….
When the visions around you,
Bring tears to your eyes
And all that surround you,
Are secrets and lies
I’ll be your strength,
I’ll give you hope,
Keeping your faith when it’s gone
The one you should call,
Was standing here all along..
And I will take
You in my arms
And hold you right where you belong
Till the day my life is through
This I promise you
This I promise you
…..would again bring back colours to her life, would again make her feel that she was alive, would again make her heart beat and beat just for him. Again she would enjoy Love Guru’s cute mushy love fundas, the mystical voice of Atif, his melodious rendering of Kuchh is Tarah…piercing through her heart and his alike, an arrow…smeared by the love bug….by Cupid himself. The first arrow, however hit them on that beautiful evening of November 11.
November 11, Spirit of Mumbai Festival
She had come along with the dance group from her college to participate in the ongoing Spirit of Mumbai festival. He was not much of a dancer but was just hanging around with his friends to do some “window shopping”. Her dance performance was not what got him cleaned up but it was her cute smile and may be the glasses on her face. He had always been turned off by spectacles on pretty faces but this time it was something in those very glasses only that made his heart miss a beat. She herself found all the love stories (those love at first sight thingys) crap, how could love happen without knowing a person, without knowing his likes/dislikes, without knowing his mood swings, his dreams, aspirations, his deepest fears and desires….just seeing someone and falling in love…aaamm…seemed to be just a sexual infatuation, something more carnal rather than emotional, suited for a one-night stand, not a lasting relationship. But sometimes, when you see someone, something clicks. You don’t know what it is, but suddenly you find your mind preoccupied by his/her thoughts only. They didn’t talk nor exchanged numbers, there were just a few cursory glances, a little eye wink, a little movement of lips in a “Hi” before they were swept into the bustling crowd…Just like that…No, their friends didn’t turn out to be common friends, they didn’t happen to be on the same bus back home, he didnt chase down a robber trying to steal her purse…
30 November, Connect Cyber Cafe
When the aeroplanes came into existence, they said that the world has become a small place to live, when mobiles and internet were introduced, it became a global village but when Google came up with its idea of a social networking site ORKUT, the world became a love nest. Surfing through profiles of youth across the globe, making new friends, scrapping them, writing testimonials, maintaining a crush list, boasting the fan-friend ratio became the favourite time-pass of the Indian youth, didn’t matter whether they were raised on F.R.I.E.N.D.S. or the likes of Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi and Saat Phere. It gave the sex-depraved guys an open platform to flirt, the sentimentals got a means of connecting to their old friends; for some it was a forum to discuss their views, but for them it was the very incarnation of HIM. Doing some e-window shopping, he stumbled onto a community “Spirit of Mumbai 2007”. A sudden impulse made him search for her in the members. He didn’t know her name but she might have uploaded a picture. No…..Life has a big ‘if’ in its middle. However, he found Ananya’s profile who took part in the dance competition along with her. But how to ask? So he called a friend, asked him to start a new thread asking for members’s opinion on their dance presentation and then himself posted a comment praising it and especially the girl with the specs in the middle row. Then his friend sent the link to that thread to Ananya and he waited for the usual gossipy girls to do their job.
(to be contd.)