It's not like they say!

Disclaimer: All characters and incidents are absolutely fictional. ;) ;) 

“Yes, I was a playboy. Yes, I was a flirt. Yes, I was stamped “characterless”. But yes, I was in love and like never before. The mere feeling of being owned by someone, the intuition that someone is in pain, the emotion that you have when someone says a few words of love... I was totally head over heels and I did not even know it! It never struck me a like a lightening else I would not have fallen, but I never fell in love... I always rose.

It was a slow, gradual feeling which had been living in my heart like a scared kid in a dark room. Yes there was darkness inside me, and in the corner sat innocence, love, care, the need of being someone’s prince charming. Besides, all those jokes, humour, wit, playfulness and happy go lucky attitude that I kept on display for the world to be happy about my presence, made me feel like a hoarding with bright neon lights. But this... this little feeling which existed like the soft sleep of an infant was beautiful. It somehow kept me ‘alive’, it kept me moving. When the feeling grew and I was confident about it, I knew I had done a terrible mistake, a mistake that I never wanted to make. Me? Why me? I am supposed to be the “flirt”. I am not supposed to feel this way. I never had a heart.  But what surprised me was, the fact that I never cared. I knew I could live a hundred lives and die a hundred deaths, but never again will I fall in love so pure, so selfless, so meaningful ever again... and being in such a love, it would have been a total wrong doing on my part, had I regretted this feeling. Somehow, I loved being in love and loving her was my favourite mistake.

She wasn't interested. Relationships did not excite her. She ran away from them for her own silly reasons I could not argue with. But unfortunately for me, the hardest thing was to let go of something I never even had. Her footprints were across my heart and her thoughts were across my mind. How could I let go?

I could not grasp the fact that she was my Cinderella but I was never her Prince Charming. I had to comprehend where I had gone wrong, and where did I falter? But every time the answer was the same, she was and could never be mine because I was not worthy of her, I knew that. I did not deserve her even in my wildest imaginations. But I wanted her... I wanted her soul... I wanted her desperately and passionately. I wanted to own her... I wanted her to be my princess, to have a right on everything that is mine... I loved her and the feelings would never go...

A few minutes ago, my phone had beeped with her text message. “I am sorry I hurt you. But this can’t happen...”

And then that feeling came... the feeling when your heart pumps so hard that almost everyone around can hear it. I did not realize I was crying until the guy next to me in the bus stared at me. I quickly wiped my eyes under the pretext of wiping off sweat and looked outside at the open fields. There was a lump in my throat as if I had a penny stuck inside. Only six days ago, we had kissed and she had been in my arms all night. It was passionate. What did it mean? To wander off from the weird thoughts of my mind, I flipped through the drafts of my mobile and I came across a poem she had written. I loved everything she wrote. I could not imagine I had to attend a marriage in a few hours time. Marriages are supposed to be happy. How would I pretend to be happy in front of the people I have been close with? Moreover I dreaded the fact that she would be at the wedding too. I felt even worse. I did not realize when I drifted into sleep, with her thoughts in my arms and her sensation on my lips.

***

She stood right across the hall dressed in a peach coloured lehenga, decorated with beautiful jewellery and little make-up. Her dupatta clumsily touched the floor. I loved her clumsiness. I loved her ­non-girlish part. I always told her not to wear make-up as it hid her real beauty. Her eyes bore into mine. Why did she leave me in the lurch? Why couldn't I sprint across the hall and take her in my arms? Why couldn't I dance with her? Why couldn't I kiss her? Questions shot in my mind one after another like a fire round.

She took a few steps forward pulling up her dupatta. She walked towards me. I suddenly became conscious of my hair, my shirt, my arms, the way I was standing and almost everything. I had been so close to her for the last four months and now I felt awkward. I did not know what she would say.

“Hi! How have you been?” She asked with a customary smile.

“Why can’t we be together?” I asked, as those were the only words that came to my lips in a jiffy.

“We have been over this.”

“I am not over you.” Words were escaping my mouth as if I had no control over them.

“What do you want?” She asked, surprisingly not pissed at all. She sounded cute. I wanted to pull her cheeks and touch her hair.

I shook my head in disappointment and said, “Nothing! But I want to gift you something as a token to remember me with. What do you want for Diwali?”

Diwali was two weeks away. What the hell was wrong with me?

She turned to look at me as we slowly walked down towards the mandap. I looked at her. Her deep eyes and the mole in her right ear made me want her more than ever.

“You...” She almost whispered, as she smiled at me and intertwined her fingers with mine, while another couple deeply in love took rounds of the fire. The victory was mine!