Fancies.

Being human, does that make it mandatory that we forget those little moments – beautiful reasons for sheer and unbridled joy  and laughter in life?

 
Fourteenth of February, every year brings a special whiff of perfume in the air – two kinds actually. Girls with the ‘special someones’ have that extra bounce in their steps and the tell tale twinkle in their eyes. There is a slight blush on their cheeks and it is not the cold breeze. However, there are others who are happy too – just that, happy. It’s not a day of celebration yet. They smirk to themselves and the other girls. They smile and tell everybody, how they are happy to wait for the special someone and at present, they have other and far important things to do. However, there are those too with a smile tugging on their lips but a clandestine desire in their hearts. Not because they don’t have one but because there is that one guy they fancy and have not told anyone about him. Because he is special. Just one glance from him in her direction makes their cheeks go roses and cream.
 
It was one such valentines day for one such girl. Valentines day for her were always boring and stressful. Every year she had her exams and this it was her mathematics paper. However, she was unusually relieved. Not because she had a boyfriend. She didn’t. 
 
In the life a fifteen year old. It really doesn’t matter if your friends are single and you are single too. But being fifteen is that age, she guessed, when ‘committed’ and ‘in a relationship’ are the in-words. Through generations, that’s one fashion sense that remains constant especially when you are fifteen. Funnily enough, nobody really knows the impact of really being ‘committed.’ 
 
All her friends did have boyfriends. And it seemed to her that she was the only one concerned about the thetas and the square-roots. The others wanted to know was what was the right gift and the right flower or the right message for their respective guys. And the previous week, the lunch breaks and study hours had been spent discussing the same. She was glad she had the excuse of being pathetic at the newly introduced trigonometric to just…just get lost from those conversations. Glad, did she say – make that mighty glad! She often wandered if guys spend their time wondering the same or if is only girls who like to gossip.
 
OH! she digresses and badly at that. Where was she? Yeah. That valentines day. It was gorgeous irrespective that she had made blunders. It didn’t matter to her for that one day that she thought cot theta was the what you got when you divided 1 by cos theta. Had she had her way her pen would not begin writing because her mind was stuck at seven twenty that morning. Although her fasttrack watch had moved on. She was still there. It didn’t matter to her that day that she looked like a loony smiling at the sheets of paper in front of her. All she wanted was not to forget. All she wanted was to get out of the room and sing and tell the world what had happened that morning. All she wanted was to dance although she was so clumsy that she sometimes tripped on her own leg. She wanted nothing but to continue smiling like a fool.
 
Oh! She digresses again. It was a chilly morning with enough fog everywhere to make her vision blurred. The breeze was blowing with the right velocity to make the lanky branches of the trees in the neighbourhood dance a little. It wasn’t sunny. But it was befitting. She was at the bus stop waiting for the school-bus to come. She was alone because it was just a little over seven fifteen and no other student would come before seven thirty – two minutes before there was a chance to miss the school bus. But she was there. Always on an exam day because she couldn’t take the risk of missing the bus or may be him. She didn’t like autos not when you didn’t get them on a winter morning. 
 
The florist’s shop, in front of which she always waited was open, like it always is on a special occasion especially, this day. The window was decorated with roses, carnations and lilies in beautiful colours but mostly in red and that mostly in red roses. There were greetings of the day and posters of the parties which the clubs in the town were hosting that night. And through the window she could see people – boys and men selecting beautiful bouquets  or just a red rose. Men in love and guys in erm..love? And then as she was peeking inside instead of the formula paper she had carefully prepared for a revision, she saw him. Her fancy boy. Period. 
 
She knew him. He knew her. But he didn’t know of the massive crush she harboured for him. Nobody except her and her little journal. The latter was full of fancies. 
 
He was dressed in a white shirt and a red half-sweater hooked on his left shoulder between his thumb and finger. And he was purchasing a bunch of beautiful red and white roses – for his girlfriend. As she drooled over his appearance she chanted that to herself – ‘for his girlfriend not for me.’ But then the heart fluttered and she couldn’t stop staring and thinking. She realised not so soon enough that her nose was almost sticking to the window. The salesgirl looked at her with a knowing smile and smirked. Realisation had struck soon enough and she turned back to face the street – a little flushed and pretending to study her paper. She was aware of every moment. She sucked in her breathe audibly and pretended to rub her hands and with the paper between her palms. The door had opened and he had stepped out.
 
“Aayesha,’ she heard in that husky, drawly and sexy voice. And he looked even better at a closer view. As she looked up at him, she saw a smile greeting her. He had worn his sweater and had the bouquet in his one hand and the other, he was running through his tousled black hair and breeze didn’t really help her control over her fluttering heart or the locks of his hair. And his eyes were warm and friendly. ‘Yes, friendly remember that only friendly’ her mind chanted. ‘Hi Aman.’ She tried to show outwardly that she was calm and unaffected. Her mind, however, was chanting advices and singing songs. ‘School?’ He asked, making small talk, of course. “Exams. How is college? How is Delhi?’ She tried to continue with what was expected. “AH. College is good. IT is fun to study. Delhi is different. The Hindi, so much more different.’ And we laughed at that – as was expected. She was trying to do everything that was expected. Her heart, however, was singing melodies to do something unexpected. And then he leaned down and pecked her cheek, took out a white rose from the bunch of flowers and handed them over to her with a soft, warm and what she considered beautiful, ‘Best of luck with the exams, Yesha.’ She was flabbergasted to say the least. She managed, really and only managed to say a ‘thank you’ and smile – smile for a friend and not blush but she knew her treacherous her heart was dancing and her cheeks were a crimson red.
 
That valentine’s day, she would never forget. She knew it was a trivial thing for him. She was just a junior – just a friend on Facebook, just a friend who had had an exam. She was just in need of luck. And he might even have forgotten. But she always believed that year, despite of not having a boyfriend, she’d had a beautiful valentines day – a distracting one at that and the white rose, shrivelled but preserved with loads of care in her journal was testimony to it.

 

 A/N – Comments would be appreciated. 🙂
Advertisements

A Moment

She folds the towel and keeps it atop the bag. She holds the zip and tries to shut the bag. She pushes the zip towards the other end. It refuses to move. Her hand is trembling. She feels tears of frustration roll down her cheeks. She had not wanted to shed them. The bag was filled with his necessities and just seeing them, had brought home the realization that he was going away today. This fact had tugged at her heart so furiously that it had contracted very suddenly and yet so slowly, that she could not withhold her pain. She slipped on to bed before her legs could give away. “He’ll come back to me,” she mutters to reassure herself. Suddenly, she feels warmth behind her – warmth she is familiar with but at the moment warmth she cannot relate to. He enters the room and finds her slumped on the bed with her back to the door. He can see her shaking. He moves forward and sits down beside her with his back to her. He turns to her side. He can see that she is mumbling something inaudibly to herself. He puts his hand over hers and finally zips the bag. He wipes her tears. He can see her rosy cheeks and her Rudolf like nose. He takes her into an embrace. He steps out of the hug and gets off the bed. He stands straight and salutes her in his heavy voice, “Captain Sharma reporting, Ma’am.” She smiles through her bleary eyes and flung herself into his arms. She steps back and takes his extended arm. They walk out of the house with the luggage. He locks the door of their home and takes a last look. As he drives the car, she does not let go of his left arm. They step outside. He locks the car and hands over the keys of their home and the car to her. Pulling the rucksack onto the platform of the station by his right hand and keeping his left arm around her shoulder, he waits for the last announcement. The station master announces the departure of the train and he can see a peon preparing to ring the bell. He turns to her side and hugs her for the last time – seeking in the faint floral smell of her perfume and her hair. He steps out and kisses her on the nose – which is still red. He can see the unshed tears. He shakes his head and says aloud, “Take care, dear.” She brushes his collar as if to brush away dust. Then, she steps back with a determined face. She smiles and kisses his cheek. She says, “Do your job, soldier.” As she watches the train go away, she waits for it – for him, to be no more in her sight. She sighs and looks at the platinum band on the ring finger of her left hand. She kisses it softly and says, “Do your job, soldier and come back to me.”

 

A/N – I don’t think this qualifies for fluffy but I had it written so here it is 🙂