The Crush - Episode 5

The flow of her words was like a lullaby (the word ‘lullaby’ reminds me of the song “Laalee Laalee…” from K. Vishwanath’s Swathimuthyam, picturised on Raadhiga) I liked the sweetness in my beloved’s voice. I could also sense in her an overwhelming eagerness to talk to me. The soap-like aroma seems very durable. It kept casting its magical spell on me. I couldn’t concentrate. I didn’t fully comprehend what she said. I don’t remember what her name was. She continued talking to me. I continued listening to her. She now started her personal introduction. She is from Hossur. MARRIED. And has a 10-month old kid. She was working in Hiranandani too. She kept talking again. But I couldn’t continue listening to her again. My heart was ripped apart. My mind had a mind on its own. All my other organs were lifeless, my cells, my DNA. I was simply nodding at her with ‘umm’, ‘oh’, ‘yeah’ sounds acknowledging her sentences. She was normal, but I wasn’t normal anymore.

“Dude Swami, is this life or fun?” my inner sense asked me the influential question when the term ‘married’ passed through my mind. It was the question of the day. Infact the question of my life time. I didn’t have an answer though. I wasn’t even interested to know. I heard a female voice saying "bye". It was her. My honey. My sweetie. Didn’t even notice that our stop has come. Even I got down the bus. I was standing at the bus-stop, frozen, just like the ambedkar statue near Bajrang kirana & general stores closer to my home. She slowly walked away. She is leaving me now. Departing from me for ever.

I was dejected to the core. My dejection had no bounds.

Is this how love plays with innocent guys like me?
Why has this happenned to me?
Why me? Why only me? Common, tell me I say? I asked myself.

I expected my inner-sense to respond to these questions. But it didn’t. Don’t know why.
I was alone. Two miniature tear-drops from each of my eyes rolled down heartlessly and were hanging down the jawbone now. Was I crying? No. Never! Swami has never wept. Swami will never weep.

But now Swami is indeed weeping. Weeping with a vacant face. Weeping like a hungry orphan. Albeit, impassive. Only the two drops hanging down the jawbone will help someone know that Swami was weeping. “Swami, cool down. Please don’t feel bad. You are not only hurting me, but also hurting yourself” my inner-sense empathised with me from nowhere. I tried to gain control.

Life’s facts cannot be denied. Life’s truths cannot be ignored. Afterall, Life is not plaster of paris. You cannot mould it into shape of your own. Life just happens. Accept it. She is married. Yes, she is someone else’s wife. Thus far I had been dreaming of her as my life partner, but now it wounds my heart to imagine her as someone else’s woman. The pain is agonizing, as agonizing as piercing an infected pimple on your nose with a red hot needle. I felt ashamed to have imagined those eternal movements with her. Those morning walks down the street. Those pleasant evenings on juhu beach. And listening to those cute gossips from her while resting my head on her thighs (I mean lap). It hurts to know she is taking the other way and she is not even interested in knowing my name. Is this how all girls are? Am I right in generalizing girls this way? May be true. I don’t know.