Tag: love story of an idiot

An Idiot’s Love story : The Stalking (Part 3)

I felt kind of cheated. Not by her. But by my own thoughts which had already started building up 2bhk apartments of imaginations where there had not even been a foundation laid. Even thoughts of me getting laid. 😛

I was stupid. Yes, I was. Being a romantic is a pain in your own ass, you know. You turn every single incident, every single statement and gosh, even you try to read the hidden meanings those smilyes might give off.

Why you ask? Well for starters, I tried to start off a conversation on facebook instead of actually going to her and talking, because you know, I just couldn’t!

So, there I was, sending her a friend request on facebook.

Oh, yes I’ve grown quite addicted to this, thanks to a little jealousy and to sharpen my stalking skills. With anticipation and worries, the night went on. Finally, got the notification that my request was accepted. Yes, I was happy and more so, relieved. A smile flashed in between the lecture, to which the professor gave me a strange look. Thankfully, it just stopped at that. Yeah, the look from him, not my smile.

From that, chats became a regular affair. Of course, I had to initiate those chats every night. Was yet to talk to her in person, but there was no stopping me to continue. And well, as it turned out I wasn’t the only one after her. Not just via this stupid fb chat, but on a lot of “platforms”, from restaurants to late-night walks to helping her in projects. Damn, and I was pinging her on facebook!!

So when this castle started showing cracks of being broken, with the heart breaking stories of her outings with others, and one in particular. I tried to talk one day, and move my online communication to the offline world. But then, the way it all unfolded only made me shrink in with the fear of never getting to be with her. Thoughts of me not of “her league”, not the one she is looking for and a whole lot, creeped in, like a storm.

What happened was a simple incident, a group of friends standing and there she swooped in to talk to one of them, even I mustered up courage to say a few words, afterall even I was one of her friend too, even though it was just facebook. But what I uttered, couldn’t travel the distance of a 2 feet!! Maybe she didn’t hear or maybe she just ignored. And I still repeated the same thing thrice, only to witness my words just fizzing off without getting to her ears.

Not that I never got to talk to her ever again. Staying in a residential college has its own perks, of having to cross paths multiple times and somehow during those “incidents” we did got talking. But then did anything happened or build on post those? Nope, not with me atleast.

A few days later she was with someone else. So, I became the guy, who admired her, while she walked around with someone else. Stalking her.

It wasn’t the end though. I did got my second chance.

What happens next ? Be there to find out soon. Also do read the first two parts of the story.

Part 1 & Part 2

As narrated by the Idiot, with minimum exaggerations and enhanced expressions. For further development keep waiting. 

An Idiots’ Love Story: the First moment #2 (500 Words)

You are beautiful..” I exclaimed through my reveries, looking at her. She was looking towards the professor and I, towards her. She carelessly turned her head towards me, with the brownish braids and that zulf being parked shabbily above the eyes in contrast to the systematically arranged hairs she had as she turned. Her eyes looked in the direction where I was standing. Standing and gazing at her.

Did she hear what my mind whispered within itself?

I turned my attention to what the teacher was teaching. Knowing well, that the attention was not in the direction where my eyes were. There was a slight, even the slightest chance of her looking this way, towards me; I hesitated to look straight into her deep hazy eyes. Eyes, which won’t let me stare into them without being appreciative of them, demanding they were.

She looked like this. Each time, I lay my eyes on her. From the first day when I saw her, to this day when I again do. Not much had changed. I knew nothing then, and what I know now, is close to that nothing. She is that puzzle that I haven’t been able to solve. Not because of the level of difficulty that it thrusts upon, but each time I sit to complete it, a new piece is added onto it.

Her name was Zakia. Pure. And yes, she was. As pure as anything that I haven’t seen with my eyes.

I remember her wearing a sequined grey salwar kameez , with a chunni laced with beads and embroidery and yet perhaps the soft cotton with which they were made of, kept it flowing away, while she carelessly walked away. It was the first day in college, for me and for her.

There are times when you feel it, something that cannot be expressed and yet felt like a bolt hitting you right there inside your chest. You get the pain, pain which lingers around for a while till she flashes past you. That was the moment. The first moment.

In an age of social networking, its’ pretty amusing for one not being active on any of these platforms. But then, there I was. A novice at this art of Facebooking as what they called it as. I was always like, “what’s the point?” and more importantly never felt like joining it, had better things to do than waste myself on something idiotic as these.

But, now I was in the middle of something more idiotic than anything else.

After cajoling one of my friends to let me use his account, and a little help from the same lad, who happen to be one of the “addicts” on these, I searched on her with help from Zafar. Didn’t took us much time, to actually locate her, and as was evident many from the college were already in her “friends’ list”. Now, as was told to me that this friend list is just virtual social decorum that one follows and doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

Of course, I wasn’t listening. A tinge of jealousy laded on an idiotic me was what getting sprinkled on my confused face.

[For the first part, click here ]

As narrated by the Idiot, with minimum exaggerations and enhanced expressions. For further development keep waiting. 

An Idiot’s Love story: 500 Words #1

The best part between us has been to not talk about our daily grind, there’s no “How was your day?”, “You had your dinner?”,” what’s new?”, and a similar barrage of redundant questions with rebounded answers that even people part of the conversation know, is just to push the conversation forward, yet at least one of them would keep bringing that up.

For us, me and her, it is not that now. Yes, it’s been Me and Her.

Not that we have a series of other conversational topics that keep us occupied, but something that pushes beyond the mundane outflow of words. There is a sense of tranquility lingering on the onset of these little exchanges; there is an essence of satisfaction from what I get to hear from her in return of my blabber through the course of trying hard not to sound like an idiot. Not at least this second time.

I get this vibe of her knowing about this idiotic me and yet tries to suppress this idea. Just let me stay where I am, of not letting me scale up the ladder to gather enough courage to do something more idiotic? Or there is a flicker of hope down the road which she wants me to travel? Travel along with her.

Yes, I think too much. Too much to build castles up in the air, too much to stress myself out of things that may never happen actually. Portraying me as either an Optimistic would be far-fetched but tagging me as a pessimistic would also be an understatement; which even an idiot like me understands.

It is indeed difficult to understand her, not that I have never tried. Tried for Days, tried for Months and even for a Year, but couldn’t. Just couldn’t. Not her, nor anything from her. What I have only known is about the push which I gave myself, to try and try harder. Again and again. Only to return empty handed on each occasion.

But now, it has come down to a different level, a level where I pull myself from trying anything. Where I contain my urge to again understand her, to get to dive deep into those eyes and gather any glimmer of hope beaming out to be reflected on a future where I can be a part of it.

I don’t want to think now. Neither of trying, neither to look at the prospects of any build-up to what I have now. I just want this to continue. I just want this to not change itself, of the connect that comes through her to me, even though it may be for a little while, before she lets go off this idiot yet again, but I want to savour this moment, these moments binding themselves to remain etched as precious little possessions to be kept for life.

It isn’t love, it isn’t any infatuation either, and it’s something which I don’t understand and something which makes me a hopeful. A hopeful idiot.

As narrated by the Idiot, with minimum exaggerations and enhanced expressions. For further development keep waiting. 


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