It felt good this time, like it had at times that came before this. In fact, it always feels good to be in love. This time, not unlike on earlier occasions, it felt as if it were different. All my previously experiences had made me feel the same way. ‘This time,’ I had always said to myself, ‘it is different’.
Different. This was how it really was this time around though. The feeling, though fleeting, was refreshing, something very unlike anything that I had experienced before. The person I fell for this time was ideal for me, or at least that was how I felt when it first began.
I met her at a book launch, which she was coordinating. It was serendipitous, the way I simply happened to cross her path. I had decided to attend the event, I could as easily have chosen to skip the event altogether. But I did, eventually, and when I got there she was talking to groups of people who had gotten there before me, engaging in chit chat, politely socialising before the official launch began.
She had looked nice in that black dress of hers. She had duly caught my attention. Our eyes had met in due time, and for a moment, I had been unable to take mine off of hers.
But I am an introvert, and for all my effort, I couldn’t approach her, even for a short conversation, a casual sharing of pleasantries. She had been a stranger to me then.
Rajiv and I were of a similar age and both of us had not faced a situation such as this one before. Yet, I could understand how he might have been feeling. Choosing to stay silent, I ambled to kitchen and boiled water for tea.
I was in the garden basking in the winter sun when I saw Rajiv barge in, his countenance giving an impression that suggested he was furious. He slammed the door before disappearing inside the house. I tried to think of what might have happened to upset him at this time in the morning. But my ruminations could not persist for long as I went back to enjoying the sun soon after, especially now that it was getting warmer with each passing minute. A while later though, I decided to go inside and check what was the matter with Rajiv, my friend and my roommate for the last few years.
“What is the matter?” I asked.
He was still fuming. He did not say a word and kept looking down at the floor.
“What is with you?” I continued to ask, intrigued by the sudden burst of anger, and started to flip through a daily newspaper, left a while ago by a local distributor.
“My mother is getting married,” he said after a brief hiatus. The confession nearly shocked me as I diverted my attention to Rajiv. I couldn’t think of any right, proper words I could use at the precise moment to communicate with him, and hence waited for Rajiv to resume the talk.
