That thing called love

“If you have it [love], you don't need to have anything else. If you don't have it, it doesn't matter much what else you have.” -Sir James M. Barrie

That thing called love. Time and again, I have been captivated by its beauty, attracted by its serenity, blinded by its romanticism ,got many an arrow from Cupid  and   miraculously, each time, the outcome has been the same. Another corner of the heart band-aided, another day spent listening to the sounds of Grunge/Metal (read: Kurt Cobain, Breaking Benjamin), another set of comforting words/ideas/philosophies eventually leading to the foregone conclusion- Love is a luxury not many can afford.

 Tonight however, I want to surrender myself to my emotions .I want to justify my feelings for a someone with the sole purpose of extinguishing a few beautiful cherished memoirs which perhaps  had ‘love’  written  all over them. I want to revisit those bygone lanes, recollect the sweet nectar of nostalgia   one last time and thereafter, this doc file remains the testimony to their sole existence.

I loved being with you. Your absence never   meant a thing to me because I knew that no matter how far you are, you are always very close to me-in my heart. No wonder why it felt so heavy when, at times, you forgot to remind me of your presence in my life by not replying to the silliest of sms es. It did not matter if you had replied to the previous seven. Your presence always meant a world to me-because that would ensure a few scratches with the pen on your hand followed by squeals, whines and counter attacks, tic-tac-toe games in the Distributed OS class, lots of innocuous gossips/whispers and the best of all- your million dollar smile. I have always wanted to tell you that you look so beautiful when you smile. One could die to see a smiling you-so did I.

I loved to see you smile. Even if that meant going over the top and making a fool out of myself. Or going to Park Street and experiencing the worst egg-chow in the world! Or walking with you by the footpath-adorned-with-brasserie stalls near esplanade! Or seating beside you on the stairs that lead to the Shyambajar Metro. Time, Place, never meant anything. As long as I could keep you smiling, I had no regrets. That reminds me. I had the privilege of watching you laughing your guts away at Alibaba, Baghbajar. And in the process, a few tears came into your eyes too. Bizarre scene, that! Another reason to justify my nickname “dispute” for you. You always went red in the face hearing that. And how I enjoyed it. Wow! Here comes a tear. That’s amazing. Its been a long time.

I loved to  play pranks on you. Whether it was teasing the hell out of your white bag, finding yet another reason to justify why people form Siliguri are nerds, making incessant marks on your notebook, sprinkling water droplets on you while standing under a carpenter’s shop in Sealdah amidst some heavy showers (the poor shopkeeper got pissed off because we were, according to him, dampening his furniture), or making a mimicry of you in the class, or explaining the “disputes” of your digestive system. You being such a sport, it was such a pleasure to play all sorts of pranks on you. And the fact that you re-iterated each time, made my heart flutter around with pleasure. A pleasure I could have done for, all my life. There goes another tear.

I loved to look at your face. Two twinkling eyes that exude an unearthly combination of mischief and calmness, a rather humpty-dumpty-ish nose, two genie like ears and the infectious smile. Oh and the tils had their say too in the making! I remember the expressions they portrayed in my company—in the citizen’s park while watching the visually stunning dancing fountains show(that day how I wished  to hold your hands and  rest your  head on my shoulders. I couldn’t) , at College Street when some stranger stepped on your new footwear(ha ha!), at Chetla Park while sitting and giving adda on the day we went to hunt a new pg for you and at Esplanade when we got separated by a fucking mob caused by a fucking michhil, God, that day I  really thought I might lose you. It was amateurish of me to take that route knowing that a micchil is going on. My callousness could have resulted in something for which I could have never forgiven myself. Those eight minutes I spent trying to spot you in the crowd and continuously praying to God, till this day gives me Goosebumps.

You always saw a good friend in me. I guess I betrayed your friendship. I wanted you for the rest of my life. I never wanted to lose you. That’s so selfish of me, isn't it? All the sms es that I sent to you every night sharp at 11pm inquiring whether you have had your dinner or not were to remind you that there is someone to take care of you. I wanted to see to it that you do not think about your mom and shed a few tears for missing her. Your mom wouldn’t have been happy hearing that, would she ?

 Care. is that supposed  to be another synonym of love? Who knows? I just wished to see you smiling. Perhaps you missed out the fact that beyond the salt and pepper hair and the not –so-good-looking –looks, the jokes and the pranks, the sms es and the addas, there exists a heart which cared for you. Actually, there were so many people in Kolkata to care for you. And I felt that  I was the only one taking all the troubles in this world to see you smile. That’s pretty stupid, na? It’s ok. But I miss you yaar. I miss skipping a few dadu’s cutlets/byomkesh er mishti doi’s  in order to recharge my sms card every 3days.Worst of all,I miss your smile. Whoever you are with, may he keep you very happy and ever-smiling for your entire lifetime. I am sure he will. Even happier than me. Thanks for giving me all these wonderful memories which I have hereby dumped in this doc. Have a great life.My career is indebted to you. Adios.