Photo by Brooke Cagle on Unsplash
I don’t remember the first time I met him. I was told it happened when I was in 12th after I had recently moved to the city I hated the most—Chennai. Apparently, he had come to meet a friend, who was my classmate and my crush at the time. He had stopped a bicycle-pushing-and-walking me to ask about the friend, and I had replied to him, after which I walked away without a second glance.
Knowing the state of mind I was in at the time, the incident he described is plausible. Also knowing my emotional state during the entire year of 12th, not remembering meeting him is completely normal. To say the least, I was a mess and I wasn’t any better the next few times I met him, which also I don’t remember clearly.
He said the second time was during our college admissions when our eyes met briefly from two sides of a door. The third time, I remember being in a class, as he says I was, but I can only recollect being fascinated by a pencil work of SpongeBob square pants by a fellow classmate. Yes, he was my classmate, as well. In fact, that day we were sitting in a huddle with another girl and a few other boys.
As fate would have it, I remember everyone but him. If it wasn’t obvious already, I have a very poor memory. Mine and one of my closest friends’ theory is that my real-time memory, unless emotionally provocative, goes into a dump akin to the one where very old memories of Riley went in the animation movie Inside Out.
I don’t forget everything, but I don’t remember everything, either. I suppose my memory, akin to my social circle, is very selective. In fact, during the ten years of our acquaintance, friendship and everything in between, I cannot recollect a few key moments with clarity. It is times like these that I, absolutely, loath my memory AKA myself. What I wouldn’t give to remember incidents as opposed to emotions.
As much as I hate my mind and its ability to remember things, I am thankful to it for retaining the second time we spoke to one another. I suppose it is a conversation that is too wacky to be forgotten by anyone, including a forgetful person such as me.
If I remember correctly, which I highly doubt, we were in the art studio, waiting for the instructor, who hadn’t shown up since the beginning of the semester. I can’t remember what season it was, all I know is that it was morning and all of us were creating a ruckus like we always did.
I was having a conversation with a girl in my class about a song that had fascinated people of my age group, including me. Sia, known for her love of hiding her identity using a face-covering wig, sang the said song. The girl in front of me was clueless about the track and I was dying to make her listen to it. However, I couldn’t because I didn’t have a smartphone then. So I turned to the guy who was sitting at the table next to mine—him, who seemed to be listening in to the conversation.
“Do you have Titanium?” were my first (in my memory) words to the guy who changed my life.
He nodded and played the song on his phone.
Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, I don’t remember next few days or months clearly. All I can recollect when I think about it now and from what other friends of mine said, I know we fought like cats and dogs before somehow we became friends.
I wish I could remember the fighting part. From all of the Bollywood movies and Indian serials I have watched, I have romanticized the ‘Nokh-Jokh’ between a guy and a girl.
Despite not remembering most of my college days and memories with him, a few shine brightly, like a star. They are incomplete and I can remember them in pieces, where it was just him and me. It is somewhere in these broken pieces that I caught feelings for him.
The nine of us were in Satish’s room. He was a paying guest at an elderly couple’s lovely home and he and his guests were limited to his room. We had a separate entrance from the back, which meant we could come and go as we please without having to face judgment from anyone. The extra door did wonders to drive away from our boredom at college due to cancelled classes, for all of us hung out here.
It was one of those days, our classes were cancelled for the rest of the day and none of us wished to go home. So after a consensus, we decided to go to Satish’s house. The rest of the gang was ahead of us, so it was just me and him, walking side by side. We were listening to some song from his phone using his earphones, one bud in my ear and the other in his.
The nine of us were spread across the room. Two were on the bed, a few in front of the computer playing video games, and two others sitting by the foot of the bed talking. He and I were at the corner of the room, lost in our world. We were now listening to Passenger’s song, Let Her Go. He insisted I did and I couldn’t refuse, not when his brown eyes looked deep within mine.
So I closed my eyes and savoured each beat and nuance of the song as I rested my head on his shoulder.
Even today, I go back to the moment when I listen to the song. Despite having a melancholy feel to it, the song takes me to a serene and happy place.
I think it was at that moment, I started developing feelings for him, feelings I mistook for a passing fancy or a crush. What I felt got confirmation on two distinct situations with very different results.
I had left home early that morning with a mind filled with thoughts of him and so much confusion. I was confused about the jealousy I felt when I saw him talking to other girls, and the contentment when I was with him, listening to music. Vowing to get him out of my head, I decided to go hang out with Satish at his house and play video games, something I had never indulged in before.
However, when I reached there, He was there, playing a game with Satish. I felt happy and nervous at the same time, not to mention, very sleepy. I hadn’t slept much the previous night and there was a bed inviting me to take a rest. In my relaxed state, owing to his company, I wanted to collapse on the bed. So that is what I did to make sure I didn’t say anything stupid and let him know of my thoughts.
When I woke up, I wasn’t sure how long I had slept, but the two were still playing that video game, I think it was Hitman. I got up and sat next to him, as they continued to play.
He tried to tell me how to play the game but halfway through the instructions, I felt sleepy. I rested my head on his shoulder, but as he played my head ended up resting on his chest. I could hear his heart beating and feel the soft material of his t-shirt graze against my cheek and ears. I felt content and relaxed and unconsciously I clutched his t-shirt with my finger, something I only do when I hug my mother.
Somewhere between feeling safe in his arms and realizing what it meant, I fell asleep.
After that day, I had tried to muster up the courage to tell him how I felt but didn’t know how or where to start. In the meantime, we were closer than ever, having conversations about the future. There was one about how in his family everyone’s names started with the same letter and how his children will be named the same way, one day. It made me consider what my name would be or our children’s names would be. Needless to say, I shook my head to clear such thoughts, but they lingered in my head, just like my confused feelings for him. But, what happened a few weeks later ruined what could have been the best thing that had happened to me.
We were in an art studio. Our teacher was in the middle of a lecture and the two of us were talking through notes instead of listening. Others weren’t any different, all of them were discussing the announcement made earlier that day. It was announced that interested students can change their courses and transfer into other departments. A lot of our classmates were considering it and so was he. Or at least, he told me he was.
The moment he wrote that down on the side of the page where we were conversing, I felt pain, hollowness, and numbness at the same time. I kept asking him if he was serious and tried to dissuade him. However, he remained steadfast in changing classes, and honestly, I understood why he wished to do so. He had dreamt to go into filming, something he can pursue if he changes classes.
When it was apparent that he had no intention to change his mind, I put up my brave face and decided to be supportive. What else could I do?
As soon as the bell rang and the class was dismissed, I rushed out of the class under the pretext of depositing the art books back at the class. Once inside the room, I let my sorrow and pain come out. It hurt physically to think of being away from him, even if his class was in the next room. As I let the tears stain my cheeks, I realized how much he meant to me and how deeply he affected me. To be honest, the revelation scared me.
It only got worse when I knew later that he was joking and even though he didn’t know it, I knew how much it affected me. I knew how attached I have grown to be, to the point I knew it would hurt if he were to exit my life all of a sudden. The realization gave rise to a very bad habit of mine-pushing people away when they get too close to me. What followed the prank just cemented the return of the habit I thought I had left behind.
It was one of those times, again. Our classes were cancelled and we were walking around the campus. Only this time, it was just him and me. We were near the church, situated at the centre of the college. As usual, we were talking about everything under the sun, including romantic interests. I was tentatively trying to get to know his preference, to see where I fit in it.
“I just have one girl in my sights,” he said and I felt my heart sink.
“Who?”
“Emma Stone,” he said playfully. I felt a little relieved when I heard that, until his next sentence. “I want a girl like her, hot and sexy.”
I felt my heart break into pieces at that moment. It was only later that I came to know he was joking at the time, but at that moment, I felt unworthy of his love and attention. At that moment, all the heartbreak songs suddenly started making sense. At that moment, I decided I should stop pursuing my feelings now, while I still can or I will be trampled, along with my heart.
A nudge brought me out of my reverie. I was quick to wipe my tears before paying attention to my companion for the wedding we were attending. However, before I could open my mouth to talk to my friend, the ceremony began.
I tuned out the words and if I could, maybe the whole ceremony. I wasn’t a wedding person and this is the last one I wanted to attend in my life. Especially, when it was one of those days when he ruled in my mind.
Everywhere I looked, I could only hear his voice, see his smile, and relive all of our memories. I shook my head to clear my thoughts and to focus on the ceremony. It was certainly more important than the painful past I adamantly hold close.
The bride and the groom stood facing one another, eyes never leaving one another, even for a moment. The love between them was apparent. There was a softness in the groom’s otherwise guarded expression, and the smile on the bride’s face was the testament of her adoration for the man in front of her. Who could blame her for looking at the groom the way she was?
They remained lost in their own world as the priest addressed the gathering and read his lines. Soon it was the couple’s turn to say their vows and seal their matrimony. The groom went first, and instead of simply saying ‘I do’ he opened his heart in front of her and the entire gathering. Each word the groom said pierced my heart because it was reminiscent of something once said to me.
Not being able to take it any longer, I get up, cursing myself and apologizing to the happy couple silently. However, as silent as my words were, my movement was quite the opposite, attracting the attention of everyone, including the groom. I smiled at him to reassure him that I was alright, desperately trying to hide my tears. The wedding, guests, and the couple didn’t deserve my sorrow to ruin everything. So I stood to the side, pretending to stretch my limbs.
When the attention was on the couple, once again, I moved as quietly as I could. Upon reaching the door, I looked back at the two individuals on the altar, the happiness and love radiating off them. I let my tears fall as I had a good look, enough to store the moment in my mind forever, before pulling the door open. I left the room, my heart and soul in a million pieces, but not before I heard the binding ‘I do’ from both of them.
It was peaceful. His company and the view from the rock we were resting on after a day on foot. We didn’t speak, but the silence was anything but uncomfortable.
We were sitting next to each other, cameras in our hands. I think we broke the silence with something; I can’t remember what. All I can recollect of that moment is his words that followed a few minutes later.
“I like you, Amu,” he said, silently and with a definite tone. I remember how silent it was when I heard those words.
I remember my mind going blank as soon as I registered what he said. I also remember wanting to distract both of us from the situation, thinking maybe I’m taking it the wrong way.
“Let’s get going,” I replied quietly before getting on my feet.
I walked away ahead of him, confused about how to reply to his words if they meant what I think they did.
If only I had followed my heart, I think to myself. If I had, I think it would have been me on that altar with him. Sighing, I fished out my phone out of my purse and played “Let Her Go” on loop, until the unsaid words and emotions were tucked away into a little crevice in my heart.