Love is crazy. Love is all about going boing, boing all over the place. Love is the magic potion that makes you talk to yourself. Yes, if not similar, very close. And what am i trying to do here? Narrate a story of a lifetime (i promise it will be boring enough to make you people snore midway!) in a blog of 2000 words…?
But Love Is Crazy….what to do…?
We have long been used to childhood sweethearts… infatuations, crushes that linger around for a few months, and then suddenly..Poooof! A new crush, the same V-day card, but with a different name..eh..!! Sounds seductive! The kid, who goes in and out of the storyline…is a face in the crowd, hated studies, loved junk food at the road side stalls, didnt have much of a world beyond home-school-playground-home, disliked mushy love songs, entering adolescence. But why the author chose him, remains a mystery. Anyways.. The story unravels in a very boring atmosphere.
Year 1998. A city school. A crammed classroom. A big, menacing, dirty blackboard. A psychic algebra teacher with flaring nostrils, who came to class 5 minutes early every day, and left 10 minutes after the final bell!! Who recited more horrible poetry, than algebraic formulas, who at the slightest provocation, would make us stand on benches with hands held high, for full one period. The back benches were however, blooming with enthusiasm; starting from book cricket to pen fights, there was no dearth of amusement at the back. Hence, the kid in focus, being a strong contender for the noisiest back bencher, became this psyche’s favorite boy(for all the wrong reasons). Every class a chalk would come hurling down, directly at his head, and it was time to get out of the class! He was not alone though, he actually a group of trusted friends who would always join him outside the class. And oh, my god, the punishment was fun…(until the vice princi came for rounds…uh!) Life was beautiful…Our kid played the waiting game…school would soon be over.
Little did he know that school wouldnt remain the same for him; He didnt have the slightest idea that cupid was lurking behind him, ready with the bunch of stupid arrows. One sunny morning, the inevitable happened. cupid struck! aww! that hurts…%$$## How stupid can the cupid be. Hitting the wrong person. The kiddie who hardly ever talked to girls(he considered them to be dumb) Ohh! those girlish gossips, the shrieking and the giggling over trivial matters… how he hated those.. Girls and he are not peas and carrots.. how the hell is he supposed to propose the girl, leave aside the dating part…. He shuddered at the thoughts of these. Still life was beautiful… He played the waiting game…its just an infatuation… it will pass.
As days turned into nights and nights to another bright sunny morning, the cursed arrow, seems to be spreading into his veins. He never thought, even in his worst nightmares, that of all people, ‘HE’ would fall in love. But love just happened to him. The birdie was already making him fly high… Love was in the air. How he planned his approach to go and talk to the little birdie… how he rehearsed infront of the mirror…ha! But nothing’s going right for him, this crap-header couldn’t even ask for a pen from her. There were plenty of love-gurus, from whom he often turned for advices… But sadly, he was left all in the dark. By this time, he had developed all the serious and the dreadful symptoms of love. He had started daydreaming, started liking mushy love songs, staring at the history book, with his mind somewhere else. Sigh!! How he missed the lunch break at school when his trusted clan of friends were busy bird-watching! There was always this strange butterfly like creatures fluttering inside his stomach, whenever he looked at his girl. Life sucked… but still in some sense, unknown to him, life was beautiful. He played the waiting game… one opportunity and he would talk his heart out.
Well, that opportunity soon came. The girl being tired of the furtive glances, and the dreamy stares, came to him. FREEZE!! Talking to a girl was like talking to the president of India. He was tongue-tied-twisted. Still, our kiddy managed to gurgle, and bubble out something, under his breath. They became friends… they chattered useless things (to him it was), he soon become aware of the art saying dumb things. But he learnt fast. How he wished, there would be no boring algebra and history lessons. He rued over the crappy 40 min lectures, when he couldn’t talk to his girl. But never for a moment did he move his eyes from her. Suddenly his hands seemed too tired to take down the history notes, it had learnt to pen down poetry… ! The furtive glances, mid lecture, the meeting of the eyes, the mischievous smile, the turning back. It was seventh heaven. He never imagined life was so beautiful… He still played the waiting game…. one day he would be dumbstruck with the three horrible words, with a rose in his hands, kneeling down…and she would oblige.
By now, the tale of love has delved deeper than he had thought. He had started missing her, like anything, and suddenly to the surprise, of our kid’s parents, he couldn’t wait to go to school. The weekends were surprisingly unwanted. The phone calls started getting longer. The musings of a stolen heart had begun. There were some sudden bouts of sleepless nights. He started dreaming even when wide awake. Oh…what the hell is this rotten feeling that nearly caught him off guard, sucked the ground beneath him, his heart, turned inside out, pumping blood like mad, He felt the effects of this horrible feeling, physically, psychologically, anatomically and in every possible way…that exists. He would look at his love bug… How mysterious, how enchanting. As she walked, his heart would drop, start churning into the stomach. And those frightening butterflies would come from nowhere. He would watch her mystified, always wary of her eyes, her furtive glances, so that she never caught her abruptly staring at her. Love just is… is…? Suddenly he cared not! All he cared about that he was in it, sinking! The days of preparation seemed longer than he thought. The perfect way of proposing his dream birdie. Childish it was, but at that time, for him, it was worth. He couldn’t think, that how a crackpot, a dumb head, a jackass, like him would ever propose a girl, of all creatures. (Eeeikkss!!) But cupid had even planned for this. (One more crack header like him.) She did the hard work for this hero of ours. But here’s the twist. This kid would never grow up…. He was repelled by the idea of a commitment. He had seen how his already committed friends were struggling to keep their respective girlfriends at bay. The idea… suddenly delved into his mind. What would happen to the after school play outs… the bird watching.. the brawl at the school buses… the reaching home with the white shirt, crumpled and dirty like the dark monsoon clouds. NO,NO, NO…. he cant die so young. He loved the wilderness of his teenage. He repelled at the idea, of roaming around jobless with his new found committed relationship, peacefully. Suddenly he was confronted with the hard reality. His independence! He turned her down. Love died abruptly. But he was once again alive. Life was beautiful as it never was. He just played the waiting game… till he was ready to take love…in.
Year 2000. They hardly talked in between this time span. It was the school leaving day. The last day at school. He still remembers… the nostalgia, his jaws ached…may be …may be…There were some unforced drops of tears running down. But hell, it was not for love. The separation was painful…. That was the last day that he saw of her, her shining face, the eyes that brought sunshine to him, the smile for which he would run around Victoria memorial thrice without resting.. Childish it was though, but he still loved her, at some corner in his heart. Three more years went by… night after night, day after day, she still somehow came in his thoughts. Plundering him of his sleep, his awareness, but never his happiness. He couldn’t muster enough courage of looking up to her eyes… once again. What if the eyes didn’t shine for him anymore? What if the smile was sarcastic? What if….what if….what if….The birth of a dreamer. Life was beautiful in the painful way. All he could do was to play the waiting game.
He never looked at love, the way he looked at it before. He had seen both sides of love. The two faced coin that love is. It was music as well as noise. But he learnt to differentiate. He had found love and lost it. Oh crap!! So then came the day that was supposed to come 4 yrs back. But there were too much silt that has been deposited between their friendships. There was too much mud, too many sentiments. But he vowed to himself, he would remove them all. There were friendships, once again. It was painfully slow, but it was there. The sunshine began glowing through the long standing dark clouds. There were smses, missed calls; it’s after all about sweet nothings.
But what our kid missed out was the real feelings. Love doesn’t rise from ashes. His empty dreams may rise… But not love. He anticipated this after a considerable long amount of time (as always a jackass) He has traded his dreams, peddled to his success… buried some abruptly. But relationships are on the physical plane. They are predictable. Not some “after school football”, nor they are the “school bus brawls”, neither they are “dust on his school uniform”, ready to be washed off by mom. He had admired love. He had respected love, but it wasn’t on time, and love doesn’t wait….for mood swings. Its a different kind of independence, and thanks to our kiddy’s late realization, he definitely is independent. Suddenly life couldn’t be more beautiful…. He had stopped playing the waiting game… May be its against his male chauvinism, may be against his super ego, but he doesn’t want lose in love again. He had kept the friendship. Sometimes a loss is more sweet than a war won. Its the sweetness of submission, that captivates the essence of love.
The kid has grown!!