Semesters had ended; I was at home enjoying my hard earned solitude when suddenly my Gmail Messenger blinked in the familiar green.
She: You’ve thinned out!
So many years sans talking and the only statement she had to make was the fact that I had grown thinner?
I reply sheepishly and gradually began talking…
It was her, my childhood love. I got goosebumps, the type you get when your favorite song reaches the crescendo. Yes, indeed she was like a song to me; her brief stay in my life help spread the gossamer of sorrow and just like any favorite song I wished it went on a little longer. We met at the tuitions, she the extrovert and I the introvert, silent as a statue.
She (saying her name): Hi
She was talkative; slowly I opened up to her and later wished never to stop. Tuitions soon became an excuse to meet her. We were both lucky to have mobile phones at such a tender age (we were in class nine); we would chat every night. And unknowingly I became her best friend only later to be pushed into the disgusting domain of friend zone.
She (over phone): This is not how you chat, you dumbo…
Me (laughing foolishly): Oh! You better teach me.
She taught me how to chat as well, for in my simplistic, nincompoop brain I conjured that chatting meant sending fancy texts having somewhat correlation to the instantaneous mood.
Over the years I preserved every one of her texts in a diary, for prone to regular checking I had to delete her messages. Days grew into weeks; weeks into moths and moths into years. That simple ‘Hi’ surprisingly paved way for impending proposes. I proposed her with a card and a chocolate as any normal guy would.
But she rejected with all her might, she had unintentionally shown me hope and all of a sudden snatched the hope away from me in a jiffy. But immature as I was I blamed her, cussed her profusely. Boards were right around the corner; all set to roll right over us. But I survived due to the taxing efforts by my parents. We met for tuition again, I could never be angry on her. She did me a favor, we started talking once more.
Saraswati puja had arrived! Undoubtedly called the bongs’ Valentine’s Day we set foot out towards school, with love afresh in our ripe hearts. She looked ethereal and stunning in saree. Holding my hands she giggled as she said, “Today I am going to meet you up with somebody special.” Imbecile as I was, I looked upon the time I would spend with her going to the pre-destined spot, as a lucrative offer and grabbed it at one go. “Who is it, the person we’re going to meet?” I poked. She remained silent, her wide smile satiating me.
A boy, well into his adolescent years greeted me with a baritone.
“Hi” he smiled as he extended his hand for a shake of courtesy. His touch ‘charred’ my skin.
“Meet my boy friend, she said into my ears” I smiled at him, my brain busy correlating between him and myself. Why did she choose him over me?
Facebook was still garnering acceptance in the world scenario, but she and myself were fast Facebook users. That night I cursed her with all my strength and cried all night. The keyboard attached to my desktop could no more bear my rhythmic forceful typing… I felt a strange calm once I stopped typing and with the ire within me finally dissipating; I noticed the screen filled with every profane word I learnt since class six. I smiled knowing there was going to be only repentance from now on for what I did to her.
Since next morning after the ominous night I could not find her, both in real life as well as virtual. Evidently I was blocked.
©Biswadeep Ghosh Hazra