Anonymity of love is well known and often a debated topic amongst the teens of our country.
I have seen a lot of curious hearts too desperate to crack the nutshell but very few of them are able to make the right hit. It’s very hard to believe a person who paints his life red in love and forgets every other color which had sometime back, held an inch in his life. As it is rightly said,”If you want to feel the fire, take down a step in it”.
Love is best complimented when the same kind of feelings are shared at both the ends. I have met a lot of bandaged hearts with leaking love-lines, better known as “one sided love.”
The agony in this category is incredible in itself. Here is a small yet touching fairytale about this kind of love. The aftermath of the tragedy, as I would call it, is still incomplete and I welcome your suggestions to put a FULLSTOP to this story.
FULLSTOP…
Monsoon is the best season for love and I mark it the first in the scrapbook of nature. Monsoon is innate to love and brings a sequence of colorful and painful love stories together adding an enigma to them.
Similar was the monsoon of 2008 when rain brought along something contagious with it. That very thing perfumed the ambience of August and soon the month was dripping down with LOVE BONDS and HEART-BREAKS.
Every corner of the St. Joseph college had a blossoming love story. Some partially empty classrooms echoing with loud recitations of those proposals which were fresh and never tried on yet. Guys were all set and left no stone unturned to prove their affection to their girls as their last attempts, it being the last year of college. They were trying every possible tactics to avoid a hapless day and an embarrassing year ahead. To them,”Nothing was worse than a Rejection, not even a ‘F’ in their final year marksheet”.
Where at one end all this dramatic sequence was turning into reality and where girls were flaunting their beauty and guys were agreeing to all of it(either willingly or unwillingly), somewhere someone was NOT happy.
Was it the pain behind the fact that this monsoon was the last in college and still it got nothing new for her or was it something else? But who would dare to ask her?
Though it was usual to see Avira sitting isolated at the corner seat in the library which could’nt really serve the purpose of it’s choice but this agglutination was turning out to be her psychic feature, as believed upon by most of her fellow beings.
Avira was the most sought after girl in the college, an average student with more average looks and with a perfect average life, I mean what else a person can demand more?
“God!, save me”, a screechy voice tore in, shaking Avira out of her fantasies and daydreams and then she realised Puja’s presence when she smashed the empty coldrink bottle on the floor, “I mean, these guys really”, taking a pause,”Avira, actually you are very lucky to have a life free of the everborn MAJNUS of our college and their silly proposals”.
Avira smiled to this HELL-OF-A-COMPLIMENT and added,”So, what’s your score?”,
“12, can you believe it?”
(laughs)
Avira was far behind the score maintained by Pooja or Neha or any other girl in the college. After a long and devoted attempt, only 2 she could barely remember, to start and to end with.
But the ‘R’ on her wrist which she beautifully designed each day during the first lecture, the pressed rose peeping sometimes from the sides of the her old diary and the Hide&Seek her eyes played, altogether framed a different picture and narrated a different story.
“Avira, have you ever been in love?”, Pooja asked caressing her hairs. Avira stood dumb, gave Pooja a magnitude of mixed expressions, smirked and said,”Yeah, quite often”.
Expecting her classmate-cum-friend to burst out in laughter on that flat attempt of humour, Avira herself initiated a grin but when it didn’t work either, she regained her boredom.
“No, seriously…everyone has a scoop of it… what’s your story?”
Avira stood silent and kept scribbling the last page of her notebook with some weird zig-zag lines.
“Alright, someone prefers privacy I guess aahaa…ohk..i won’t nag you further, but what’s on your mind, you look raped!!!”.
“Keep mum”, Avira protested, “am ohk, slightly down with fever.. you know my sinus goes mad in monsoons…that is it”.
Pooja, looked up to her, collated all of her courage and dared to ask her THAT, “UMMM…I hope you and Rahil…”. Avira gave her a stern look and that was all the answer to it.
Avira and Rahil were close friends, as you might call it at the initial stages of Lovaria, and was the most talked about pair,which was, yet to pair. Rahil was the dude or the BAD MAN of the college. A rrogant, Rugged, Brusque.. the popular words mentioned in the abuses thrown at him by the girls of St. Joseph.
Despite of being each others better half, Avira often doubted her friendship with him. His complaints and his famous DAMN CARE ATTITUDE often led her think back to their chemistry because to her he was innocent and the rest lil bit of bitter part she was ready to accept.
That day Avira was low. It had been 8 weeks since she shared her last conversation with Rahil, a boy, breaching the college laws, violating the family rules, meddling with girls, poisoning his life with alchohol and loosing his goals in hazy smoke of cigarette and still, no full-stop to the devastation willingly caused to happen. This was the strongest reason that stood as concrete between the two ends of the magnet, the sole reason behind their brawls.
Avira’s words appeared shards to Rahil and his modified reciprocation of the same, one day broke her completely. Rahil wandered as a philanderer. Flaunting his robustness and making flings almost every week. When nothing more was left for him to do to his new girlfriends, he left the rest on Avira to handle. Avira, like always, emerged as his ultimate saviour and managed all his “State of AFFAIRS” and handled all his phonecalls. Avira was tired of playing his her solicitor. Who knew that while sailing in that Friend “SHIP”, she was caught in his love and a friendship advanced to love. She was madly in love with him and was through the agony of one-sided love.
But she knew that it was never goin to work, her love wasn’t strong enough to get Rahil out of HIS agony.
Yes, RAHIL, who appeared opaque to all emotions as his opacity gradually moulded into his arrogance, was also drowning in the same pool of the blood shedding one sided love just as Avira did. When he met Avira for the first time, he had a broken heart, he was a dead duck and had several slaughtered emotions, someone broke his heart too, someone denied his love too. But Avira, after a deep introspection, agreed to her conscience to help him recollect his shattered remains and rebuild him at least something near to a living thing. And soon Avira’s friendship revived in him a whirlpool of immense joy and confidence. But the doors for love which he had banged a time back, were still jammed and his soul was prisoned there forever. Both of them were through the scorching heat of that fatal fire of love.
Avira proposed to him. In every possible way, she tried and poured her love in words, accessorised it with affection and furnished it with care but…. Her instinct always proved her mind right and her heart wrong. Rahil denied any existence of love in him. He refused any scope of love in his life. He defended her words with a series of killing silence. He looked into her eyes and answered in miserable blunt looks…”I AM SORRY”.
It’s the last year of the graduation, soon the notorious pranks will turn out to be serious plans cleverly planned out in some air conditioned cabins of a multinational company, business will grow, empire will grow and the graduates of today will be the millionares of tomorrow, but some full stops will never be able to locate their actual destinations, some broken hearts will never glue together and some incomplete love stories will always remind you about ones, you had long ago.
“DON’T SMILE, IT WILL HURT….”
Written by:
Anshika Sinha
