Tag: love story

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

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

Why, you ask? Well, for starters, I tried to start off a conversation on Facebook instead of 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 bit of jealousy and the need to sharpen my digital stalking skills. With anticipation and worries, the night went on.

In the morning, 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, chatting with her became a regular affair.

Of course, those had to be initiated by yours truly. I was yet to talk in person, but there was no stopping me from this madness. And well, as it turns out, I wasn’t the only one after her. Not just via this stupid FB chat, but on many “platforms,” from restaurants to late-night walks to helping her in projects. Damn, and I was pinging her on Facebook!!

So when this castle that I had built started showing broken cracks, with the heartbreaking stories of her outings with others, and one in particular. I tried to promote myself from online chatter to the more real, 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 being of “her league” crept in, like a storm, all at once.

What happened, in hindsight, was pretty lame. But, that moment was earth-shattering where I felt I’d sink in that same ground I was standing on.

She swooped in to talk to one of the friends standing in the same group as me. I mustered up the courage to say a few words; after all, I was one of her friends too, even though it was just Facebook. But what I uttered, couldn’t travel the distance of 2 feet!! Maybe she didn’t hear, or perhaps she chose to ignore it. 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: having to cross paths multiple times, and somehow during those “incidents,” we did get talking. But then did anything happen or build on post those? Nope, not with me, at least.

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 get 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.

The Platinum Moment…

By farooq

On October 22, 2013

In Fiction & Poetry

“Select all” “Delete” “Select all” “Delete” “Select all” “Delete” and the sequence continues. Sitting on a Sunday morning, with the Saturday night sleep being snoozed every now and then, one can easily judge the mood of Bhaskar, working his way through emptying the mailbox.

After the curtains tried to flow away, and the light tried to sneak in hurriedly through the cores of the unveiled window sills, it is then he decided to just close down the lid of his laptop and lay down besides her. The distance marked by an imaginary line, which didn’t require any army to keep it there, but only what was going in his mind. But he wasn’t alone.

Even Smruti was preoccupied with even stranger thoughts too.

It’s been almost six months since Smruti got married off to Bhaskar. “Married off” might sound some sort of trade, and even though they both consented to tie the knot with all the pomp and splendor associated with it, yet the iota of doubt already piled up could only be sensed by them both only.

Smruti, a cheerful young 24-year old, fairly cute and what they call naazuk, lived life without bothering about worldly affairs in a thickly populated neighborhood in Jayanti colony in saaddi dilli. A mohalle-wala affair, which couldn’t stand the test of time and compatibility, got over recently. With shadi-ki-umar approaching and parents standing on her neck, she had to let go.

Its’ no amusing that the filmi duniya does impact the life of our youth; Smruti’s dreams were all built with that caricature in place and regularly water those illusions too. But then dreams remained dreams. The mohalle-ka-launda went his way, and she had to stay there to weep her days out, before her parents fixed the match to a handsomely earning Engineer in Patna. The salary was handsome, not the engineer though.

Bhaskar, engineering at a mechanical plant in Patna, while his family stayed back in delhi, was eager to get married. Well, for a guy whose quest in life had only focused on tons of books and then machines, needed to finally get, what society says is “Life”. Junk food, and years of being in love with his window-95 through Vista evolved computer had not just increased the power of his lenses but also his weight. No wonder, apart from being called Bhaskar, his middle name or rather his more familiar name centered on the weight he carried around in fats. So, when a proposal for a delhi-girl came along, where he fell in love with just from the .jpg image that came down in his mailbox. She was cute. There was no way, he was willing to let her go.

Eagerness was what Bhaskar germinated, while apprehensions and simply adhering to what her parents say, Smruti waited.

They tied the knot.

Six months later, things haven’t changed much. Each night Bhaskar tries to make sure that he comes in a little late, so that they don’t have to talk much. So that she doesn’t look at him, as how cruel the god can be to tie her up with him. So that he could just avoid feeling miserable again.

It was that first time they met after being married; Her eyes just spelt it out quite clearly to him. Clear enough to know, the disgust and when a little later, described about how the marriage went through only because she couldn’t say NO. The shutters of the newly inaugurated dreamland store of Bhaskar at Patna, just closed down. Each passing day was another exercise to just keep on moving by just ignoring the reality. Living under the same roof, without being together and yet continuing with it. Well, if stats for the same would be known to public, they won’t

Bhaskar went to the plant. Smruti, roamed around the house and with nothing better to do, switched on the TV. Browsing through the channels she saw news flash of a plant in patna which had a major accident, 100s were feared injured and some dead. And just then the phone rang.

She picked up the phone, “Madam.. yahan sir.. madam.. hello .. hello..”

She dropped the phone and ran away to get the taxi, and with it to the plant site dialing Sameer’s mobile number, without getting a reply. Paying up the driver and stormed around the site, searching.

Her eyes, wandering around to look for something.With all the rescue work and people moving around, they all acted as a veil which she was constantly trying to put off. Tears rolling down her cheeks. Eyes still searching for him.

For Bhaskar.

And then she finally caught him. Both of them looking at each other from a sizeable distance, sizeable and yet his size giving her the relief that he’s fine. The distance seemed to have vanished. Limping across through the site, he walked towards her. She walked too. Her eyes looked different. They had finally found it. Their platinum day of love.

This post is written in association with Indiblogger for Platinum day of love Contest.

Love and Love stories…

By farooq

On December 4, 2012

In Random Philosophy

“Love and Love stories”

What’s the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear them??

Okay, I get it. And that is exactly not the thing I am going to talk about.

If I had to sum it up in just one-word, I’d say Exaggerated.

It’s nothing but fictitiously-over-dramatic and surrounded by a never-existing-artificial-aura created by movies, literature and some over-the-years stories by people for whom the word logic is like some alien entity and the world of fantasy is actually reality. And of course, we loved our tradition so much, that this idioticity has continued ever since, with its series of “updates” and “added feature versions”. (Even more than what, Mozilla or IE can come up with).

I am not saying that this whole thing does not exist or its too idiotic for it to actually take place or is in total contrast with (although, some voice in my head, even says so ), but just the whole concept of Love and love stories are so exaggerated to the extreme.

Thing is, we all are so selfish in our needs that we always look forward to have people around us who will lend us their support, physically and emotionally (sometimes, one leads to another and vice-versa). In order to attain this “need-based-relation”, we look out for people who may fit this criteria or a series of criteria’s depending on our league. Criteria’s vary, no doubt. Some may be stated as…

1. Packaging-

“Love at first sight”,

I’m sure you must have heard about this one for sure. Many products don’t get sold, just because their packaging does not meet the expectation of the consumer.

2. Content-

“Content is the king”,

They say it for the critically acclaimed movies that get success at the box office (like getting the best of both worlds) and reason it out that star-power alone won’t make a movie successful. Well, the 100-crore movie club makes me doubt that.

3. Durability-

“jo tikta hai, wo bikta hai”,

Well some don’t take decisions in haste. Playing the wait-game is what they like. Patience is the key for many of the “transactions” taking place in this world.

4. And numerous blah-blah things, which I better, not start mentioning.

I know, I am commodifying the whole concept of “Love”, but then this is what, examples in and around made me believe.

I am not alone, in what many of the “love-struck reader’s” won’t be liking to hear, of commodifying the idea of love, the idea of actually loving someone apart from your family “unconditionally”. To give my commodified thoughts some strengths, the whole celebration of various “love”days (esp., February), is I believe in reality is doing exactly that and which is nothing but a propaganda by these gift and card-making multi-national chains.

Love it, hate it. Do what you want. But, for God’s sake, Don’t exaggerate it.

Tag: love story

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

The Platinum Moment…

Love and Love stories…