I Too Had A Love Story Part 5

In the movie, the heroine is packing her bags after having a big fight with her hubby.

At this very moment, Khus.h.i.+ calls me up. And putting herself in that woman's shoes, I don't understand why, she says, *You know what? If someday I am so angry that I want to run away from you ... just do a simple thing ...'

I don't say anything, but she continues.

*Simply run to me and give me a tight hug, no matter how much I hit you then. But give me a warm, tight hug. Don't say a word. Just hold me in your arms for sometime ... And, a little later, help me in unpacking my bags. Bolo karoge na?'

Face-to-Face.

It was 2.30 in the afternoon and I was on an airbus from Bhubaneswar to Delhi. First row, window seat. I just love getting window seats.

With my official laptop on my lap, I wasn't working extra hours and making Infy proud of me. Rather, I was going through her pictures which I'd managed to download at the very last minute before leaving for the airport.

During the journey, I gave plenty of reasons to the air hostesses and my fellow pa.s.sengers to think that there was something wrong with me. Or, to be precise, with my brain. When you see a guy talking to his laptop, at times looking outside at the clouds, smiling, then looking at the screen again and smiling one more time-you cannot be blamed for feeling that his top floor might be vacant.

I remember the discomfort of the air hostess when she caught me smiling at my laptop while she was delivering the safety demo. She probably hated me because the demo was supposed to be in sync with the announcement by her colleague, and she was lagging behind. But who asked her to focus on me? I didn't.

On my computer screen

Gazing at her picture.

I found myself falling with the rising heights.

Falling in Love with her.

Couldn't resist saying-I love you.

The madness added.

When the picture said it too.

If you ask me why I was blus.h.i.+ng and smiling, I had plenty of answers for that. Enjoying the candies (served by the same air hostess), I was recalling how Khus.h.i.+ gave me a call last night as the minute hand just moved past 12 a.m. and we entered the first minute of a new day-today.

*You are going to come to me todayyyyy,' she shouted *Oh Boy! I am going crazzzyyyyyyyy,' I also shouted, jumping in my balcony, stirring the calm midnight.

I guess I woke up some of my neighbors, and disturbed some who were about to o.r.g.a.s.m. A couple of street dogs came out of the darkness and started barking at me. I rushed back into my room when I saw the lights turn on in a few flats in the building next to mine.

Laughing at last night's events and still enjoying my candies, I recollected how confused I was that morning about what to wear. I pulled out everything from my closet that morning and tried it all in front of the mirror. I took almost an hour to decide and, then, changed again just before I left for the office. The funny thing is that I ended up wearing the only s.h.i.+rt which wasn't ironed (along with dark denim).

Everything I did that day, I made a mess of. And while I recalled those moments, every now and then weird thoughts would pop into my head- What if she isn't as beautiful as she appears in her pictures?

What if she laughs in a very weird way?

What if she limps?

-and many other such thoughts played hide and seek in my mind, until I finally asked myself the big question.

Do you love her, Ravin?

Holy s.h.i.+t! Of course it was too late to be asking this.

*Yes, I do. Of course I do,' I said to myself.

Well, to be honest, I actually forced myself to say it. I don't know why I was a little apprehensive. But, good or bad, the truth was that marrying her was my independent decision, one that I had arrived at without any kind of pressure from my family or from her.

So, to silence those weird thoughts, I pulled out a newspaper from the small rack in front of my seat. But I could not concentrate on the newspaper either. There was a different kind of excitement in me which was sending up a chill inside me, shaking me a bit at times. I don't know what kind of fear it was.

The nervousness and anxiety meant I was going to the loo every twenty minutes. I became a peeing machine. It happens to everyone ... Or doesn't it? And I was sure that the kid on the last seat was counting the number of times I pa.s.sed by him. I pretended to ignore him when he started whispering in his mom's ear. Of course he was telling her about me. I noticed his hand pointing at me, which his mom pulled back, smiling.

Finally at 5 in the evening, the plane landed at Delhi and I switched on my mobile completely ignoring the captain's command to not do so before instructed. While the plane was taking a U-turn on the runway, I looked out of the window to see if there was any girl waving towards my plane-it could be her! (Now, I wonder how I could have been so silly as to expect visitors on the runway.) I was trying to call her up but, for some reason, my cellphone could not adapt itself to the roaming zone. I kept trying, cursing my phone and the network. I kept trying and kept failing.

A few minutes later, I was standing at the baggage claim section, waiting for my luggage to arrive. But my eyes were not on the conveyor belt. They were looking for something else, rather someone else. Here and there, I was looking at every girl, and peering at the crowd standing outside which was visible through the gla.s.s wall.

Then I saw my red bag gliding towards me on the belt. But before it could reach me, she reached me.

On my phone.

My cell was working now and I heard the ring. *Khus.h.i.+ calling,' it said. I took her call.

*Hey.'

*Hey.'

Silence.

*So.' And I turned back, facing the exit.

*So.'

*What so?'

*I mean, where are you?'

She had never seemed so shy and silent. I could almost hear her blus.h.i.+ng. Obviously, her state of mind was no different from mine. And how could it be? Two people, who were madly in love with each other and had decided to marry each other, were going to see each other for the first time in their life!

*I am at the baggage claim section,' I said. And, with that, I noticed my bag going away from me. *d.a.m.n! I missed it.'

*What did you miss?'

*My luggage. I started talking to you and I missed it.'

*Uh-oh.' She paused while I kept my eyes on the conveyor belt. Then she spoke again, *Can I ask you something?'

*What?'

*Are you nervous?'

*How do you know?'

*Because ... even I am,' she confessed. Then she said, *Ok! Tell me, what are you wearing today?'

*Olive-green s.h.i.+rt and dark-blue jeans. You?'

*Oh my G.o.d!'

*What happened?' I thought she didn't like the colour I was wearing.

*It looks good on me.'

*No, no. It's not about good or bad.'

*Then?'

*I am also wearing olive-green and blue jeans.'

Coincidences seemed always to be following us. Our birthplace, the month, the year, our interest in music, our career, IMS. And now, the clothes we were wearing that day.

*Amazing! We are definitely made for each other. Hey! My luggage is coming to me again. I'm going to pick it up and come outside in two minutes. See ya!'

I made my way through the broken queue to get my bag, and loading it on a trolley, I walked towards the exit. The laptop was still hanging on my shoulder.

Finally about to see her, I was anxious, s.h.i.+vering and my heart was beating fast. Every feminine voice from the crowd seemed to be hers. Of course, I was trying to behave as if I was relaxed and cool.

*Relax ... Relax ... Relax. Take a deep breath,' I told myself. And the next thing I know, I was already outside.

There were a lot of people in front of me, waiting for their dear ones. Some cab drivers, holding up nameplates for their bosses. There was a lot of shouting and noise from the traffic.

Then, for some reason, I stopped moving forward and turned left.

And there she was!

My angel, my beautiful one.

Her smile which tried to override my senses. That chilling hesitation in her, and in me. Her long, untied hair that fell upon her eyes with a gust of wind. Her hand moving across her face, and moving her hair behind her left ear. Her left ear, and the glittering silver earring she was wearing. Her beautiful face, which mesmerized me. And in that green, off-shoulder top and jeans, her body appeared so perfect, so young, so poised. She was charismatic. I wasn't able to take my eyes off her. Rather, I wanted to stare at her from top to bottom, very slowly-which I actually did.

*This is her,' I told myself. *She is mine.'

That was a wonderful moment which I have re-lived again and again, recalling that first sight.

I moved towards her with a smile, almost forgetting my trolley. And in a few seconds, there I was, right in front of her, a foot apart, still not able to take my gaze off her.

*Hey,' I said, offering my right hand for a shake.

*Hi,' she responded, politely and in such an elegant way, touching me for the first time with that hand shake. (Did you hear what I said? The first time we touched ... It was magical!) And her eyes ... So beautiful! There was something special in them. Something which didn't let me look away. I wanted to hear what they were telling me. The feeling, the truth of the moment, the ... the ... I don't know what it was.

I looked, and my eyes were stuck on you

I tried to move the black in them, but they were stuck like glue

Looking at you for real, I noticed your eyes

That's exactly where your entire beauty lies

So genuine, so honest, so beautiful, so deep

With a glint of light, some naughtiness did creep