Tag: love story of an idiot

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.

An Idiots’ Love Story: The First Moment (Part #2)

By reveringthoughts

On October 7, 2013

In Fiction & Poetry

“You are beautiful..” I exclaimed through my reveries. She looks towards the professor and me, towards her. She carelessly turns her head towards my eyes. Her brownish braids and that zulf being parked shabbily above the eyes in contrast to the systematically arranged hairs. Her eyes look in the direction where I stood. Standing and gazing at her.

Did she really hear what my mind whispered?

I turned my attention to the professor, knowing well that the attention wasn’t in the direction where my eyes went. There was a slight 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 going into a trance, demanding they were.

She looked like this. Each time, I lay my eyes on her, right from the first day when I saw her to this day. Not much has changed. I knew nothing then, and what I know now is close to that nothing. She is a puzzle, unsolved. The difficulty of solving this puzzle increases as a new piece is added when trying to solve it.

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

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

There are rare occasions when you feel like a bolt hitting you right there inside your chest. A peculiar pain that isn’t exactly a pain. Lingers for a while till she sashays past you. That was the moment. The first moment.

In an age of social networking, it’s pretty amusing for one not to be 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. I had better things to do than waste myself on something idiotic like these.

But, now I found myself in the middle of it all.

After cajoling one of my friends to let me use his account, and a little help from the same lad, who happened to be one of the “addicts” on these, I searched on her with help from Jaafar. It didn’t take us time to locate her, and as was evident many from the college were already on her “friends’ list”.

It was explained to me in a not so polite way 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 sprinkled across 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: Part 1 (500 Words)

By reveringthoughts

On September 20, 2013

In Fiction & Poetry

The best part between us has been not talking 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 rebounds that even people part of the conversation knows 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 Her and Me.

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 to be heard. Being heard by her. Listening to her silence in return for my blabber through trying hard not to sound like an idiot. Not at least this second time.

I get this vibe from her like she already knows about this idiotic me and suppresses this idea. She lets me stay where I am instead of allowing me to scale up the ladder to venture into idiotic territory. Or is there a flicker of hope down the road she wants me to travel and find for myself? Travel along with her.

Building castles in the air. Stressing myself about the unknown. Portraying me as either an Optimistic would be far-fetched, but tagging me as pessimistic would also be an understatement, which even an idiot like me understands.

It is indeed difficult to understand her, not that I haven’t tried. Tried for Days, tried for months, and even for a Year, but couldn’t. Just couldn’t. Not her, nor anything from her. I have only known about the push 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 stop myself from trying anything. I’m at a place where I contain my urge to dive deep into those eyes and gather a 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 to try nor to look at the prospects of a build-up to what I have now. I just want this, whatever this is, to continue. No changes. A wish, from deep down, to let this connection fester on. I intend to savor this moment and bind them as possessions.

It isn’t love. It isn’t any infatuation, either. It’s something that I don’t understand but makes me hopeful. A hopeful idiot.

As narrated by the Idiot, with minimum exaggerations and enhanced expressions.

Click here for Part 2

Tag: love story of an idiot

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

An Idiots’ Love Story: The First Moment (Part #2)

An Idiot’s Love story: Part 1 (500 Words)