Excuse me …

Rosaline has been sitting at the table with her friends for more than an hour now. Laughing and sharing stories with her friends. It was the birthday of Sarah, her best friend and this was her treat, despite the fact that Sarah had already thrown a party. This was how she was though. Segregation was her habit and she felt that it was necessary to classify her friends as well by giving her “friends” a party and her “special friends” a treat afterward the party in the café for a coffee. But to be honest, Rosaline was never like this.

For her things has always been simple. It’s either a friend or not. She was never one to judge others or even classify them as a “special friends” and “friends”. She always found joy in the simplicity of her relationships and cherished every person the same. That was how Rosaline was. Despite the fact that Sarah was so judgemental, Rosaline was still her friend and I guess that is what the old lore of “Opposites Attract” is all about.

Rosaline was sitting right next to her best friend, who so strikingly opposite to her that people often wondered how are they even friends. Sarah was plump and stout and Rosaline was tall and thin. Sarah was the strange one, with her baritone voice and all floral and bright clothing whereas Rosaline was the one with a feeble voice and darker clothing. They were the Laurel and Hardy of the school, just blown up to an excessively large level. And here they were. Sarah drinking her Americano and Rosaline already high and buzzing on her espresso.

Rosaline was lost in her laughter, induced by a joke a friend of Sarah cracked when she felt a tap on her shoulder. The group at once fell silent and when she recovered herself and recollected her senses, she saw that even the smirk of some of the people around the desk has been wiped off.

She turned to find a boy, maybe a little over her age with his hair a tad too long for him to carry properly, His hair seemed as if they had all the freedom in the world and yet like an undisciplined class trying to not make a sound at the arrival of a teacher, his hair seemed to be fixed in a hurry. His eyes were black and his blue jeans were dirty. He wore a black sweatshirt and matching canvas shoes.

“Excuse me,” he said to her and she could feel the tension rising in the air.

“Yes,” she replied.

“I did not mean to irrupt you and your friends here and I am really sorry for that but I just entered the cafe and I could not stop me from coming over here and telling you something which I think that you should be aware of and you clearly are not. You see I would not have disturbed you but I couldn’t help but notice that Julia Roberts looks exactly like you” he said in a single breath and acted as if nothing happened. He stood there and looked at her with an expectant expression but she did not know what he wanted. And in confusion and irritation, she turned to Sarah.

“Do I look anywhere near like Julia Roberts?” she asked but before Sarah could reply, he spoke again.

“I’m sorry but you look like yourself. She looks like you. People will always say to you the other way around but the truth, in fact, is what I just said. Can I have a cup of coffee with you?”

Sarah might have judged him. She might have shouted at him or ridiculed him. She might even have used her pepper spray or called the security. But there was something about that boy that made her feel, weird! Something peculiar. Something which was his own. Unique. Unprecedented. And while Sarah would not have gone for a coffee with him, she found herself collecting her things and leaving her things.

P.s. Happy Valentines Day.

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The Lunch Break

Leandre was your average joe, with average qualities and an average life. An average job. Average wage. I need not continue about his life right, you get the picture. Leandre was the guy currently running inside a diner in the afternoon with his sleeves rolled till his elbows, half his shirt peeking out his trousers and his laces undone. His blond hair a mess and dripping. A messenger side bag hanging at his hips, carelessly thrown across his shoulder. A pen held between his lips and sheets of paper in his hands marked red and blue in places.

Leandre rushed inside the diner and sat at the nearest empty table he could lay his eyes on. He wrote frantically with his right hand and rose his left hand in the air as if he was the studious student of the class who had just a single minute till the end of the period and he wanted to make a note of what the professor was saying and ask a question in that one tiny minute. His hour-long lunch break was again bound to pass with him working and drinking a ton of coffee and his stomach empty. A waitress soon attended him, though, much to his comfort.

“What can I do” she began but was cut short by his smooth and unabused voice.

“I need a Cappuccino. Please. Quick. Thank you.” said he with his eyes never leaving the paper. The only difference was that before he had his hand in the air and right now, they were in his hair.

Mumbling figures under his breath and crunching figures in his head, he felt his stomach grumble and revolt. His stomach clearly threatened him to file a case against him in the labor court and like a perfect boss he looked for the waitress to ask for his coffee again. He called her and went back to his work.

“Please,” he said. “Save my life. Cappuccino. Hurry.”

His mind was well trained to look past all the distractions and troubles. He had trained himself to be void of all emotion. He was no longer irritated by the loud speaking and verbal diarrhea-suffering co-worker. He was well trained to look past the construction noises and into his hieroglyphics worksheets. But when another couple of minutes passed and his coffee was nowhere to be found, he lost it. He lost control over himself and he couldn’t control his anger. His anger aimed at himself that he got himself in at work released at the poor waitress. His frustrations released themselves as a river breaks the dam built on her and escapes.

He quietly capped his pen. And waited for the waitress to pass him by, like a rattlesnake waiting for his prey to come near him. And when she did, he pounced. He stood up and look at her in the eyes and raised his voice and said, “MY COFFEE!”

The coffee shop came to a stand still and everyone turned around to look at him. The sound of his voice sent something breaking inside of him. It broke his current state and he noticed that the poor waitress was shivering. Her eyes were brimming with tears and she was scared. Unable to apologize for his actions, he turned to the table and picked up his papers in preparation to walk out of the store. But then, the magic happened.

“Stay here,” a feminine voice said to the waitress and pulled at his elbow; forcing him to turn around and face her. Her circular face with her cheeks puffy, a tiny girl stood in front of the man who was finding it hard to find his words. Her black hair were neatly tied in a bun but a few strands had broken free from the restraints and were caressing her cheek on the right side of her face. She wore a pink chapstick in the name of makeup and her cheeks were red. Wait. Flushed red, in anger.

“What is your problem, sir?” she asked clearly angry. “Can you not see this is a busy day and we have other customers to attend to as well?”

“But…”

“But what? You cannot wait for your coffee? Even if you cannot wait for you fix of caffeine, you could at least be gentle about being rude. Was it necessary to shout on the top of your lungs?” she screamed at him. Which flushed her face a deeper shade of crimson.

“I.. I. I’m sorry.” he said his head hung down.

That cooled her down but still it was not enough to bring her comfort. Her face was starting to lose the recently acquired flush but her gaze was still cold. “You say that to the other girl Mister.And no coffee for you.” she said and walked away.

“Thank you Louna” the other waitress whispered to the girl as she went back to the kitchen.

As Leandre walked out of the coffee shop, the shop filled with applause for the girl who stood up. Strong and confident. And Leandre found himself daydreaming of Louna ever since.

Colorless Rainbow

When you walked in the door and sat next to me, flicking your hair around and about me. With every movement, you make tiny droplets rain over me. When you leaned over to kiss my cheek and I embraced you instead, you asked me a question meant to be a tiny little joke.

“How much do you love me?”

My reply by then was, “I love you so much that you mean everything to me.”

I remember you blushed which meant you were satisfied with the answer. But I am not and I ask you for a chance to let me elaborate what I meant.

You put the color in my vision. Without you, my world would end up black and white. You are the reds my roses and the blues in my orchids. To me, you are the sun in the sunset.

The orange tint of the sky as the sun sets. For me, you are that tint.

The smell the earth makes when the raindrops kiss them. To me, that smell is you,

The cackle that the river makes as it flows.

The whistle that the wind does as it blows.

The tartness of the strawberry. The shivers down my spine which emerge as the goosebumps behind my neck. The way the pillow feels after a long day at work?

To me, you are that.

The happiness of parents when their toddler laughs for the first time. The sense of pride after a masterpiece. The tears after a musical. The screams on a roller coaster.

To me, you are that.

The anxiety you feel in the pit of your stomach before addressing a huge crowd. The butterflies in your stomach before the first kiss. The tension before meeting your to-be in-laws for the first time.

To me, you are that.

You mean so much to me that without you, the world is a colorless rainbow.

 

But…

 

I am still not satisfied enough. I still can’t explain you well enough.

Sleepy Head

“Hey Sleepy head, wakey wakey!”

You rub your eyes but the bed is so warm and the pillow is so soft.Drowsiness takes charge, invites laziness over and the three of you try to drift off to dream land once again.

“Hey.”, you hear a whisper in your ear and concentrate harder on going back to sleep.

“Good morning.”, you hear my voice along with a kiss on your cheek.

You slowly open your eyes and see me in front of the window. The white curtains were blowing in the summer breeze and the sunlight filled the room. You look at me look at you with a smile. I kneel beside your side of the bed and trace your cheek with my fingers with touch so light, it appears inexistant.

A sweet smile slowly creeps onto your lips and in a raspy, dreamy voice you wish me Good Morning.

“I love you.”, I said and kissed your forehead. “Breakfast ready in five minutes woman, get ready.”

With that I walked out of the door and you watched me as I paused at the door to wink at you, making you giggle and whisper Silly Boy under your breath.

That’d Be Fun!

“And then the groom kisses the bride and the priest pronounces them husband and wife.”, I said to you as you put your head on my shoulder and we looked up at the night sky. Forming constellations which do not exist and aren’t real.

“But don’t you think it is boring?”, you said and I let out a slight giggle.

“I guess it is.”, I said. “You want to make it fun?”

“Yes. I want something which will be like our personal way of doing it. It’ll be special and it’ll be unique to us.”, you said and turned to your shoulder to look at me. “You’re the writer.”, you said excitedly. “You tell me something which is fun and unique.”

“I can kidnap you Angel.”, I said.

“No. That’s stereotypical. I will kidnap you.”, you said and we both shared a little laughter.

“As you say mademoiselle. Kidnap me in a bike with side car. That’s almost unheard of.”

“What about our apparel?”, you said and I let out a little hmm as I pretended to think.

“You come in your pyjamas. And with your bunny shaped slippers. I will come in tennis shorts and flip-flops.”, I said and we both roared to laughter.

When we settled ourselves down and looked into each others eyes, you leaned closer and asked, “What about our vows?”

I looked into your eyes and traced the back of my hand on your right shoulder and said, “Well, I will vow that forevermore and beyond I shall be your husband. Your words shall be my guide and you shall be my wife. Till the day God himself dies.”

“And my vows?”, you asked.

“Your vows…”, I said and pretended to think once again with my lips pressed together. You looked at me with an anxious look. “You just say that You Do.

I looked at you look at me and in that moment I felt that the day had seized. I knew that I was forever wed to this girl.

See You See Me

Work. Work. Work. Work.

WORK!

I should have known that what am I getting myself into when I signed up for this Master of Surgery program. There is hardly any time left and all I can see around by me is just more and more work load and more and more projects, assignments, vivas! Load. Overloaded with work.

Coffee! I need a cold coffee. I look up above my papers and find a glass of chilled coffee, precipitating but thankfully kept on a coaster to keep my papers dry. I took a sip from it and let the caffeine wash over me. If someone was to say to me a few years ago that I will be drinking coffee at 3 a.m. I would probably behind the bars. And yet, here I am doing what I am doing.

Sometimes I just want to pick this book up and throw it on the floor with all my might. But it’s all for the cute and adorable boy who happens to be my boyfriend that I go through this torment of burden of surgery. Silly Al dreams of me performing an open heart surgery!

AL!

O no I totally forgot! Al! We were to eat dinner at 12! I got so engrossed in my study that I missed out on food!

I look frantically here and there and find Al in a position that just melt my heart makes me blush as deep a crimson as beetroot. Al sat on a chair opposite to me. The back of the chair was towards me and so was his face. He had crossed his arms and rested his cheek on it in such a manner that his head was tilted parallel to the Earth. His eyes transfixed on me. Admiring me as if he got the chance to see Sistine Chapel being painted live.

“I love the way you work!”, silly Al says in a raspy voice which makes him appear even more adorable.

My Al. He and his fanatics, both beyond this world.

I’m Sorry Angel

“I’m sorry Angel”, I whispered into your ear and leaned me forehead against your temple. “I won’t be able to do it.”

To be fair to you, this was pretty random. This indeed was very random. It was so random that at one moment my lips were at your nape and the next moment my lips were at your ear saying that I won’t be able to do it. As a sane person should, you too looked at me with concern in your eyes and looked at me with a bewildered look.

“What you won’t be able to do, my dear Al? As long as I have known you, there has been practically nothing which you have not said that you cannot do or you have not done. What is it Al?”, you said and tried to look into my eyes.

“I know Angel. But… this is different. This is something that I honestly cannot do. This is something that I can really not do.”, I said and my voice became raspy. And tiny little tears welled up in my eyes.

You saw me and knew that this thing was really really bothering me. That thing was more than being just another thing and was a lot more than being just another thing. It was something which resided in my soul and was something which I really really feared was something which I cannot do. Perplexed, amused and bemused you held me tightly in an embrace.

“Whatsoever it is or it was, I am sure that now you can do it and Al you always have me with you.”, you said and I hugged you back tightly and hid my head in your neck and underneath your hair. They tickled and trickled at my nape but I didn’t mind.

“Tell me what happened. We will fix it together, I assure you.”, you said and I loosened my grip on you and looked into your eyes.

“I saw a little girl the other day outside your medical college.”, I said and you shook your head affirmatively. “She had an injury and because of that she was crying and crying and crying continuously!”

You gave my head an affectionate pat and listened to me patiently.

“I just cannot drop our daughter to school for her first day! Shy will cry and cry and cry and cry and ask me to take her back home and I won’t be able to see that.”, I said.

“Al”

“No Angel. You take leave and you drop her.”

“Al.”

“Angel I don’t know. If I go, I know that I will not be able to drop her and bring her back home. Wipe her tears on the way and give her ice-cream to lighten her mood.”

“AL!”, you raised you voice a bit to silence me which strangely is very effective. “We’re 20 Al. We have at least 5 years till we get a baby! Silly boy.”

“O”, I said. “But I am then too not going to drop her.”

“Al you talk of all these silly stuff and make me shy.”, you say slowly slowly blushing to a deep beetroot red. While I sit, unable to contemplate what made you shy.

No amount of asking drew the answer out of you though. I wonder why…?

Returning Home

You know that feeling? That warm fuzzy feeling in your stomach as if you swallowed a pint of butterflies? When you are at the door of the airplane with a parachute on your back and you’re about to leap off of it?

That emotion you feel when you held your newborn in your arms for the first time? That sensation when you are about to go on the podium to recieve an award for the  work you worked hard for, for the first time? The sensation which bathes all over you when you run with the ball, unchallenged to score the game winning basket with just seconds to spare and you know that now you can’t be stopped?

That dream like state when you run a victory lap despite the fact that you’re totally spent and exhausted but your legs cannot stop from running just one more lap? That emotion you feel when you’re on the stage and your arms and legs hurt so much from drumming so hard but the adrenaline keeps pumping and pumping and you feel euphoric?

That emotion when you look at your opponent and instead of looking at you with jealousy, he looks at you with admiration and pride and nothing short of respect and a sense of deserving for you and pride for himself that he gave the best against you?

You know that feeling right? When you peer over a height from your parents arms and you know that you won’t fall down as long as they are holding you. When you’re sitting behind your best friend on a two wheeler and he speeds faster and faster and  snakes through the traffic despite all your requests to slow down but you know that nothing will happen to you? That warm fire inside you when you see your pet come running at you after a long day at work?

That emotion you feel when you’ve been away from home for a long time and you return home and you open the door and step inside, keep the key where you’ve been keeping it for years and look around your home where you’ve been living for what seems like ages?

That warm fuzzy feeling burried deep inside your stomach, which warms you from the inside and all of a sudden you are no lonher tired or fatigued or upset or overjoyed. That emotion when you have a sense of pride of existing and you enjoy living. The moment when you actually carpe diem.

That is how I feel when I look at you.

Our Pious Silence

I hold our silence pious.

It has a secret deep within itself which makes it as it is. Crawling around the room and peeking from the walls, it teases us. Then come tiptoeing and sits besides us. She likes to play with us. She comes in between our conversations and creates moments we might not forget.

Flushing our faces red and elongating our smiles. Making us shy. At these moments I think silence sits by us and with a gleeful expression looks at first my face then yours and then back and forth. She then pokes one of us with it’s finger and we break the glace between us cause we’re too shy to talk all of a sudden.

It seems like a sin to break our silence. Silence when I am in front of you and looking in your eye, our shoulders touching and the moon witnessing our moments and our hands find each other and entwine. Silence when you look up from your book at me and find my fingers not moving on the laptop anymore and my eyes fixated at your face with a warm feeling.

Silence. Our pious silence. She’s like an entity in from of whom we’re too shy to talk.

But when we break our silence, we create the most beautiful thing in the world. We build the wonder of the world, wonderful beyond the eight wonders. But our silence….

..

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