I don't intend for this post to be a long one but then again according to Dr.Grant "some of the worst things imaginable in the history of mankind have been done with the best intentions"...
Today I write about how the tale ends. Well I made a mistake and then in a typical Indian male fashion I made a few more in an attempt to prove how much I cared...and to spice things up, both of us had dangerous levels of “self respect”. To be honest I did some pretty lame stuff to woo her back and I admit some of them might have been a real pain in the ass for her. For instance I ended up spending a night in front of her house and I am thankful she didn’t call the cops on me. I wrote long and lame mails. I waited for her in a particular place every Sunday from 8pm to 9pm.I wrote a collection of short stories on us. I sang a song.I did my version of Pysanky...and when nothing worked, I tried to forget her.
The first time I realised she wont be coming back, I was on a bus and I was exercising all my self restraint to not burst into tears...an epitome of manliness that I was. Guess what happens next? A god damn Auto-Rickshaw with her name inscribed in huge capital letters in the back, drives past the bus!Sonovabitch...are you not supposed to name auto-Rickshaws Dhanno Rani or something? That was the beginning and 2 years hence I still find it difficult to shake myself free of the memories of the girl I fell in love with or the name of the star after which she was named. God my friends,did always have a wicked sense of humour!
I remember making a fool out of myself the 1st day I met her.I remember her 3 moles. I remember her two small feet. I remember the way she smelled. I remember her making fun of me. I remember her telling me that I used to make her laugh. I remember the walk back home and my hand occasionally brushing against her. I remember being happy...and I remember the hurt in her face the last time I saw her. I remember everything as if it happened yesterday.
I once asked her which flowers she liked,she said she liked cactus...I gave her a pineapple. She loved flying...I made paper planes for her. In the end the last thing she told me before she left was that she hated my stories,my gifts,my flowers...
That is how my story ended and I know that a part of the boy I was will always live in that story...a boy that I'll always envy.
Life was great when she was around and to be honest with her gone it may not be perfect but it's not too bad either.The last I heard...she was getting married and the only thing left for me to do is earnestly wish that she has a great life ahead and fervently pray that her child doesnot call me a “mama”.
What next?
Maybe I will go on to write something more matured...write a best seller... win the Man Booker Prize for Fiction...bag a movie deal and become a multimillionaire overnight OR maybe I volunteer my services to solve all the problems in the middle east and bring peace and prosperity to this world
OR
I can just go about flying my two RC helicopters, learn to play the guitar and earn some more pounds in sterling for fulfilling my whimsical wishes!
P.S: Honey Singh I never was superawesome..and I will always miss you.
****The END****
@Dreamer
ReplyDeleteCheers to that. :)