Saturday, July 24, 2010

Of Yore and Of Hope [Emotional Atyachaar]

By Sadho Ram

Author’s Note: The below posted narrative is one of my personal experiences. It happened with me about a year ago. My motive behind posting it here now is nothing specific except that I’m participating in this month’s Indiblogger Emotional Atyachaar and Weblog's  Sleepy Sunday contest. Though partly sad, partly mad, but I enjoyed completely while writing it and I hope you all enjoy it too.

Have fun reading it, friends!

Part 1

On the 4th of June 2009, I was in Pune, about 170 kilometres away from the suffocating humidity of the furiously sweating city, Bombay, and it was warmly cold in there (yes, warmly cold).

And for the first time in 3 months I found myself almost so very close to shivering (in the season of summer), and so naturally it was unbelievable for me but it seemed like magic, I mean the feeling was something I had only experienced once in my life (I will get to that too). So the first thing I ask myself,

“Man, am I not supposed to sweat?”

And then this thought appeared into my mind,

“Maybe not”

Because I was in Pune, where the sky was frigidly blue and was smiling as vibrantly as my animated heart, which was so filled with the fragile but sturdy thoughts of that girl, Sasha, whose mere glimpse were enough to send me into the world of serendipity and romance.

I first saw her on the very first day of my new class in my college, which was held in our Auditorium.

I was sitting on the first row, waiting for our new faculty to arrive, and chatting with others quite loudly, when she walked in and while the entire auditorium went on just as it was before her arrival, I (trust me, friends) somehow went into an unknown state of quieten trance where calmness took over me and my eyes followed her to the third seat from the left in the third row and then remained constant there on her charmingly simple face. I had completely lost it… my senses were somewhere, while I was out of sync with the nearby happenings and my heart was drooling when all of a sudden (when the guy seating beside me kicked me with his leg) my beautiful dreaming world came to a screeching halt and brought me along with my senses to the middle seat in the first row. As I came back to my sane state I realised that the class has gone silent and everyone was staring at me (including our new faculty who, I don’t know, when had walked in).

Here I must confess, that I had to literally force myself to stand still (given my condition a moment ago) and at the very first glimpse of our new faculty further demanded that I now must force myself from laughing out loud while not to blurt out the obvious (WTF).

You see, our faculty actually looked just like the character ‘Jack Sparrow’ from the movie ‘Pirates of the Caribbean.’ (I know all this sounds weird but I’m telling you this is what happened).

And so from that afternoon, Jan 14th, 2009, I have been simply watching her, while she played games in her mobile and took notes simultaneously, though I did confess my instant feelings for her to few of my class mates and other friends outside but I somehow was not been able to gather the courage to go and tell her all that how her presence and absence, both, made me feel.

That how her confident voice made me nervous when she spoke in class (which she did very rarely), that how lucky I felt when she unknowingly looked at me even if it was only for a second, that how badly I wanted to go to her and just say, how special she is to me, but somehow I just couldn’t say.


Well, (including the above mentioned factors there was something else too) that I actually wasn’t ready to repeat the same scenario of my perplexed past, in which I once had felt the same emotions sparkling inside my 4 inch tiny heart and then was left to moan after being used like a mere toy for a little fun.

It was the month of December 2005, when the pathos came into my life hiding behind that innocence, which, without any qualm, ridiculed my days of adolescence.


Part 2

‘Excuse me, are you Gopal?’

A sugar like voice knocked at my ear-barrel and the spoon, with which I was feeding myself, stopped just inches before my open jaws (yes, pretty BIG mouth I’ve). I then looked up and for a moment I forgot to blink my eyelids.

There she was, standing just before me, on the other end of that round table in which I was busy gorging myself just like I did daily, but that day it was different and also new but somehow it felt surreal, because, I thought,

“This can’t be real”

And so just to make sure that she was actually standing in front of ME and asking if I indeed was who I was (Gopal at that point of time and Sadho at this moment), I looked on both sides off my shoulder and when I found no one there, my heart suddenly started pounding so heavily that it seemed like it was going to burst anytime now.

‘Excuse me, I am talking to you, are you Gopal?’

That sugar like voice once again knocked at my ear-barrel and this time it slowly made way towards my heavily pounding heart.

‘Oh, ‘m sorry, what? No, I am not Tejpal.’

(Yup, bloody me) it was the first line that flushed out of my (BIG) mouth and in reaction to it, her face displayed the signs of disbelief and her eyes got widened.

‘Are you deaf?’

She shot at me and in reply this time it was I, who had to widen my eyes.


I shot back at her.

‘I asked …are you the Gopal?’

She threw another question in reply.

‘Of course, I’m Gopal, the or not, that I don’t know.’

I said it with a tone that even surprised me (don’t know what it did to her), as I thought,

“Dude, I sounded pretty arrogant there, didn’t I?”

And which could have been enough to send her off on any other day but as I said “that day it was different.”

‘Listen, I need your help. Can you please ask your friend, Zahid, to stop following me? I have tried telling him myself, but he seems least interested in listening to me.’

She said and was about to turn and leave (I guess).

‘Wo, wo, hold on, lady, Zahid, and my friend? Who told you so? I don’t even know him properly.’

I, in complete company of instant surprise, immediately shot back at her and she at once stopped and looked at me, with only innocence in her eyes.

‘But that girl in my class said, you two are ...’

I cut her in middle.

‘Listen, I don’t know why the girl in your class told you so, but the truth is that, you can ask anyone out here and each one of them will say that We, Gopal and Zahid, are not friends.’


Part 3

It was fine till there. And my life would have been as smooth as it was minutes before her ‘excuse me’ approached me, which infected me with the terminal bug called love. But, I guess, it was not supposed to be like that and so I promised her that I will try to talk to him (even though I really didn’t know the guy at all).

She smiled and turned to leave but instead stopped abruptly and said,

‘Thanks, hoping to see you around sometime.’

And I stood there like a box watching her leave and fixed my hypnotised eyes on her (she had the most curvaceous figure I’ve seen in my entire period of life) till she disappeared into the crowd outside the canteen.

Three months went by, we became friends and then one day on the eve of Valentine’s Day, I finally proposed her in front of the entire college. She said yes and I felt like, I have conquered the world.
But the euphoria lasted only for few weeks, as one day when I accidently bumped into her and the Zahid in a pizza store.

I was shocked (understatement) to see her cuddling in his arms and when I went near to their table in the corner, she after seeing me, didn’t seemed to care enough as if… as if I was a total stranger to her.

‘What the hell is going on?’

I, after standing there for like almost 5 minutes (which in reality seemed like an eternity), shouted at them and pulled her away from his arms by grabbing her hand.

‘What do you think you are doing?’

I once again shouted at her.

‘Seems like you are as blind as deaf you were on that day in canteen, Tejpal.’

She said while jerking her hands off mine.

‘Hey, Zahid, look at his face, poor baby, I broke his heart, touché.’

She continued her verbal attacks on me, while Zahid continued to enjoy the show along with others, who seemed as insensitive as those pizzas, that they were piling themselves on.

My mind had lost its basic understanding and so it wasn’t able to decipher what was happening and I could not believe what my ear-barrels were listening, and so I thought that I am dreaming, yes, I’m dreaming (oh, how I wished and still wish that I was dreaming) and it will be over as soon as I shall open my eyes, but I wasn’t actually dreaming and neither could I open my eyes, because, I don’t really know how to open those things which never ever closes (you see, my eyelids remain half opened even when I am sleeping).
‘But why, Neha (yes, that was her name), why did you play with my heart?’

I somehow asked her, while trying to garner the audacity to stand still.

‘Huh, you still want to know? Well, I was a bit bore by my monotonous life, where I only dated hunky guys, so just to freshen up it a bit, I, as you said, played with your heart for a little fun.’

She delivered her last part of dialogue as innocently as if I was a mere plastic toy straight out from her cupboard and so has no feelings whatsoever, which stays as its owner keeps it and remains silent even if its owner beats it.

But I was not a toy and so I finally fell on my knees, tears dripped out of my red eyes and I chocked as if I was about to die (this is true… you see, I had genuinely fallen for her and given the factor that she had the figure any woman would be jealous of and any man would kill for, besides, I’m an emotional man, so this – chocking down – was bound to happen).

She left with Zahid, hand in hand, leaving me alone more than I was before she had come.

And so, since then, almost half a decade have passed by, but those blunt memories of my yore are still so sharp that it leaves a cut mark every time I try to walk by it, ignoring unknowingly and sometime even intentionally (can’t help it), with a companion which I quite often choose in these days of my chilling solitude.

And, I know my past was like a bad dream but unlike the bad dreams, I’m yet to get over it, and so the pain of yore continue to haunt my times of hope.