All characters appearing in this work are fictitious.
Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely
coincidental
But what if they weren't, will
then this story (or a part of it) be yours or any other person who has fallen
in love once in her/his life. As I begin to narrate this story in first person,
the scene is set in balcony of my daughter's house. I am a retired professional,
80 years old, rocking in my chair as I see my teenage grandson coming from his
school on the back of his girl-friend's scooty. He is a charming young boy and
has a very sweet friend. My daughter has already accepted my grandson's friend
as her daughter-in-law, but the mention of such funny topic sends my grandson
in fits. My wife will take my grandson's side and defuse the whole situation.
And yeah my Grandson is yet to convince his father to get him a two wheeler,
until then he continues to accept ride home on the back of his girlfriend’s
scooty. At least now the generation doesn't talk about the macho part, unlike
our times where friends will be really really mean if we ever sit behind a girl
scooty. In our times the story was always the other way around. And here I
begin the times where I actually realize how many times, just how many times I
have done it.
I was small, around 3 yrs. old.
Mostly this part of the story has been told by my parents in front of friends
and relatives to just embarrass me. I got my first tri-cycle. It was red in
color, had a Ferrari sticker in the front and made me into nothing less than
the race car driver. Our neighbors’ daughter was a year older than me and
whenever they would come all I would do is convince her to get in the back seat
of the tri-cycle. But all she was interested was the food and Barbie dolls. It
was on my 4th Birthday (1yr since I started), when she came over and I was
dressed in brand-new clothes that I managed to convince her. And boy, I was
happy. I took her around the whole house, showing each and every one that
finally she agreed. I don't remember her name now, but I remember the story
being told over and over again.
I didn't stop there. Studying in boys’
school, there was an air of freedom of being boys. Talk like them, walk like
them and be care free. I was a late learner in case of how to ride a cycle. 2
cousins and my brother had to help for me to ride the cycle for the first time
(without the support) in 4th standard. The first time I drove alone to a shop
to by bread, butter etc for my mother, I managed to trip and fall on top of a girl
who lived nearby. She did get mad of course, but we ended up being friends
(like in the movies, where the girl will first call the guy idiot and then fall
for the same idiot). In this case it wasn't so melodramatic, but it was a
friendship which I still remember. She and I were of the same age, going to the
same grade (but different school). She belonged to army background and in 2yrs
her father transferred to a different town. We cried, we hugged and we promised
to stay friends over letters, but we moved on in our life.
Getting into the 6teens, 7teens
and growing through puberty without the knowledge of it was even more
interesting. No one talks about puberty the way it should be. We just
understand from elder brother or gossip magazines how the male-female mate. We
pretend that we are shaving our beard though we have only a spec of facial
hair, we pretend to grown biceps/triceps and are the macho sport star which
every girl will fall in love with, yet we are scared to even go up to one and
talk to them. From clothes sent from relatives-abroad, to electronic gadgets
which actually belong to dad, we were into showing off. Getting the amazing
gear-cycle with horn shape front bar and thin tires was another master piece.
This time it wasn’t the urge of having someone on the handle-bar or the back
seat. It was the urge of having someone, either walking beside you, while you
hold you cycle and walk with her or going/coming back from tuitions alongside a
girl. There were some rich boys on motor-bike, showing it off, but from the
time when my girl-friend preferred holding my hand and I managing to walk my
bike with other used gave me what I always wished for. Especially in winter
when she will be cold and my hands will be extra warm and our breath visible in
the chilly-evening.
Yet life moves on; heart-break
happens; priorities shifts to getting into college. The race of education… And
thanks to elder brother you get what you truly think is the only think which
can impress a girl - Motorcycle, especially if it either belongs to HONDA or is
the new PULSAR. Every college has this PMC (Piya Milan Choraha) and that is
where we singles will zip pass our bikes, until one of the girl in college falls
for us (not because we have bikes, but because we have brains to respect and
listen to them). Long drives to cafes, dropping her off to hostel, getting
drenched in rains or just sitting in college parking lot on the same bike.
Every single moment has been lived to the fullest.
And so we pass college, we started
working in MNCs. Lucky are we like many others who belong to part of India
where jobs were available, our average brain was respected and could be used in
running major projects. And as we grew in brain, job and age our requirements
increased. Bike was just not enough anymore and hence we move onto a car. But
either it is filled with office late-night drops or drunken friends for whom you
were the designated driver. Sometimes concerned female employees also request
for drop and the seat next to you will joyfully fill like the conversation
which followed. In one of those drops, in one of those funny conversations “The”
girl felt she is with Mr.Right. My hand which was maneuvering the gear-stick was
touched by the softness of her palm and her head tired from the long meetings
and work in office, tilled and rested onto my shoulder. From that time, the
seat next to me hasn’t been empty. We found each other.
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