This is the 155th night passing by, without your text, and also, this is the 155th time I’m revisiting those two years of my life which gave a different dimension to my existence. But the only difference is, this time I’m unfolding my story to these lovely people who care to listen unlike every time, where I used to send in texts, which would account for two pages straight that narrated every instance of you, saying: “I always wished to have a life-partner like you, but not you.” And, I know that this is the 155th time I’m left on read. Anyway nothing matters to you anymore, or it never mattered to you all this time, and maybe you were just pretending.
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12.8.2013 – I met her at the bus stop, next to my college. It was around 6:45 in the evening; heavily pouring down, with just one streetlight across the entire lane. I was there for a shelter and she was waiting for the bus to arrive. She stood right next to me in a burka, with only eyes kept uncovered — her eyes were shining like the morning sun, with those little drops of water dripping down her winged eyelashes and reaching down her chin. She suddenly turned around, and I was caught in the act! That look, that damned look of hers, with one light streak of kajal outlining both eyes, was what I fell for! I was that one guy who never believed in “falling” in love and shit. But she disproved me, in fact her eyes did. I had seen a lot of girls and their eyes, too. But hers was something special, like, totally. I saw a character in those eyes, which I hadn’t seen in anybody’s! They actually spoke to me. They told, “stop staring at me, and just leave once it stops raining.” I felt, those eyes had a gamet of stories hidden behind them. Damn. Just a few minutes later, she took the bus and left. I was stand-still, smiling like an idiot, rewinding that stern look of hers, which drove me crazy.
I don’t know what good luck I woke up to, but the very next morning I saw her in my college library –same girl, same burka, and the same bright eyes. I was very happy to know that she belonged to my college. And I sneaked peeked at her ID card to know her name. I somehow found her on Insta, and sent her a request. (That’s the first thing we guys do, right? :p) It’s quite Obvious that she didn’t accept my request. I sent a message saying who I’m, but she gave it a seen and never replied. I started sending texts everyday, which I never got a reply to, but I never gave in to my ego! But after 23 days of continuous texting, I felt the need to put a full stop, and I did. But, you know what? The very next morning she straight away came up to me to ask, “Hey? Why did you stop texting? You know how happy I was to read those texts everyday? It was so good to know that someone at least cares about me! You’re one awesome guy I’ve ever met. This might be surprising for you, but I’ve researched!” — I froze to shock. Literally, I had a virtual heart attack! And abruptly, she slid her burka down the face and gave a smirk. Aaah! That smile,which gave her a sharp one-sided dimple in her right cheek every now and then, was truly adorable. That day was one of the best days of my life.
So, she started speaking to me everyday. Months passed by, and we had entered that comfort zone to open up and speak about anything to each other. She used to tell everything to me. I was her diary — the hard times, good times, how strict her family was, and how conservative she was, and after all, how she found someone who she was madly in love with, but he was one asshole to ditch her. She was quite depressed about her breakup even after, more or less 5 months. I couldn’t see her that way. I always tried making her happy. Tell jokes and laugh at her jokes which certainly weren’t jokes. I made her get back to her normalcy, for she considered me as her best friend because all that she was aware of, was only that I had a crush on her, and I never let her know that I loved her more than myself, because what if You lose her? What if I broke her trust?
But, 3 weeks later, I finally made my heart, to go approach her and pour out all my feelings for her that day, and the very day, she comes to me to say, “Hey? Bestfriend? you know what? I got back to my ex. He apologised for whatever happened. I’m so lucky.”
I squeezed the letter in my hand, that I had written for her like a lemon and tore it in shreds. It was as though my heart stopped beating. It was burning me down. My heart was welled up, but eyes didn’t. When she said that she was moving close with me to make him feel jealous, it was so unnerving for me to even look at her face. But she referred me as her lucky charm; I didn’t want to see her happy face, charmless. So, I just put up a wall around the fire, blazing in my heart, and put on a neat exemplary smile.
Haha. Should I laugh? Should I cry? Or should I just have to die?
Didn’t she see that pure love in my eyes?
Didn’t she see how low-key I used to be, every time she fell sick?
Didn’t she notice my utmost care for her all day and night, after all? Or at least now, didn’t she see through my heavy-heart, sobbing in pain when she told about their reunion? Or did she see it all and overlooked? Because, her ex is a Muslim, so that she’ll not have any family issues? Is that fair? How could she even get back to a person who called her a slut? HOW?
She never loved him, and now neither. Because, he broke her trust, and once broken, forever broken. She’s just after one solemn fact that her family happily agrees to this marriage, but I swear to God, she doesn’t love him.
Anyway, I wish her happiness.
But let me tell you my love, I’ve always loved you, I still love you and I will always love you. And remember, I started loving you, looking in your eyes, unlike him — drooling at your figure. Nonetheless, you want HIM. Fine. I may stop looking for my world in your eyes, but I may not be able to stop looking for your eyes in everyone’s and I will not be able to stop loving you. I’m sorry.
And you know what? It’s great to see that you’ve even stopped speaking to me, after you got back together, just because that opportunist doesn’t like. Nice. Awesome.
Well, you made me realise that I was always right — must never believe in “falling” in Love because it’s all about “failing” in Love.
Life of Stories 