A short story

How many love stories can you write without having fallen in love?

It was a warm afternoon. The shade of the tree, the gentle breeze blowing, the ice-cream melting in her hand, the cigarette burning, and then there was silence. Until he asked her this question. She looked up at him. The difference in height was evident even when they sat together. He looked back and started laughing. The ice-cream had given her a weird looking moustache. She looked a little puzzled, then he wiped away the white from her clear brown skin. The question was lost for then. But as they walked back to the canteen after 2 minutes she kept wondering, “why did he ask me that?”.


That afternoon as she sat in class drawing some geometric shape on the desk she looked around. The front bench saw some pen scratching away on some paper. The guys were all in different stages of sleep. The whispers which can no longer be called whispers from the girls who sat behind her. He was sitting in the last bench in the other corner of the class. He was reading something. She never understood all the stuff he read. She had tried once but she was too bored to continue.

As she watched he smiled. It was one of his best features. A smile that traveled from his face through your eyes to your heart. And soon she realized she was smiling too. She looked down at the design she was creating trying to hide that smile, almost succeeding, just almost.
She had met him on the second day of her joining college. This was their final year. A friendship that had grown over the past four years to something that nobody else could understand anymore. They knew each other as well as any two people could. With different view-points and different temperaments nobody could have ever quite seen them together. But they were never to be seen apart.

His mother had once asked her, so when do you want me to come and talk to your parents?. She had asked about what. Aunty had then laughed it off by pulling her leg. Everybody expect them believed them to be in love.

The love stories she wrote were liked by one and all and most people thought it was all based on their relationship. Their relationship. They had never named it. Everyone else they knew had tried to. They didn’t.

And then that lazy afternoon a month before he was supposed to leave for his next college he had asked her that. That question triggered all those questions she never bothered to consider for more than half a second. Why did she tremble slightly any time they had hugged? Why did she feel so secure when they walked side by side? Why did she feel a weird hollowness in her self when they didn’t talk for a few days? Why did she feel a tickle in her heart every night she heard his voice against the silence of the darkness? She had never let the question arise. They had never let the question come up.

But she knew in some corner of her tiny little heart that she loved him. Loved him in a way that she could not describe. Maybe like the way one of those girls in her stories loved the boys in them. She didn’t know if this was what they called falling in love. She had never bothered to ponder about it. She just knew she wanted him, to be there for her, with his calm voice, his sweet smile, his strong shoulders, his gentle arms, even with his cigarette smoke. Maybe this was love. Maybe it was not. But even then, why did he ask me that question? This new question played on her mind over and over again.

Three days later she found her answer. He was supposed to meet her after her tuitions and take her home. She saw him standing by his dad’s white Maruti. He hated that car and rarely took it out. She wondered why he did that day. As she approached him she could sense something different. A feeling of immense pride was evident on his face. A look of confusion mixed with this strange confidence.

He opened the door for her. She stepped in noting that it was a first. They drove in semi-silence for about 10 minutes. He didn’t take the turn to her house. She didn’t ask him why. As they drove on the road was starting to look deserted. The wind was blowing in this gentle pattern. She knew the beach road very well. Infact , it was their favourite hang-out. Her mind was playing a hundred guessing games and her heart had started pounding a bit.

They got out and walked towards the ice-cream vendor. Vanilla and chocolate. As they sat on the sand some painter was working on the magic of mixing colors and splattering it across the biggest canvass possible ,the sky. They sat side by side. And had their ice-cream in silence. There was nothing new in this. Yet her heart was beating a little faster than normal. She thought she knew why this evening was different from the others they had shared.

She was correct. And as the ice-cream cones had almost ceased to exist, he ventured.

Do you remember the question I asked you the other day?

Which one?

The one about writing love stories without falling in love.

Hmm…yea…

Well.. I think I can finally understand your stories. I think I can feel it.

She turned around to look at him. He was looking at the horizon where now some new colour was being poured and mixed.

As in…..

She wished he could not hear the madness her cardiac muscles where encountering just then.

As in….. I think I know what that feels like. You know what they call love…..

She continued to stare at him as if she had never actually seen him. And he continued talking. About what he thought was what they called love. About the way he felt. The screaming in his head. The new pattern in his heart-beats. And she listened wondering how she was going to react when he did say it. How did he want her to react. What will happen now?

Don’t you want to know who it is?

Who?

Her name is Madhu.

Madhu?

Yes

The one in your MBA coaching class.

Yea….And can you believe it, she loves me too.

I can.

That was in a lower voice than her normal voice. He turned to look at her. And she looked straight at him and smiled. She volunteered a hug and spoke of a treat. She wanted to know when she was going to meet Madhu. There was a relief in his voice. His smile grew. She demanded another ice-cream as a temporary treat. Munching on her ice-cream, she walked beside him as he talked on his phone with Madhu. For the first time they walked together without speaking to each other……and this time it was not just without words.

As she cried herself to sleep that night, she knew the answer to the questions playing on her mind. She had loved him. No, she had fallen in love with him…….rather she was in love with him.


dear IL members,
thanks for the responses for the story "A meeting", i didn't write that story it was written by friend-college girl completing her btech course. i'll pass all the comments to her. as i loved i thought to share with IL. the above one also written by her. all the credits to her only, i am like channel..showing her work to the world. thanks all of you for ur valuable comments.
love always
aarthi