Love and its criteria

Mini met one of her best friends after five years since she had left school. She was glad that nothing much had changed – Nanda’s broad nose was still lifted up a bit every time she grinned; she had retained the nasal twang in her speech; she was brutally honest and humorous; she loved to gorge on the kind of stuff Mini loved. Above all, she was one of those few people who never judged Mini but stood by her like a rock with her through thick and thin.

Mini arrived at the book fair with her college friends, cautioning them beforehand that she would ditch them soon for Nanda, and they didn’t mind at all!

Amidst browsing through books and debating on their prices, Mini and Nanda had great fun, critiquing the Bengalis’ gargantuan appetite for every edible thing that was being sold on the Milan Mela Grounds. “We should christen it food fair,” Mini reflected, ‘with a few books on the side.” They couldn’t stop giggling at the long queues in front of the fast food stalls and the lavatories…

Soon, it was past seven o’ clock – a cue that the young pretty girls in their early twenties should get going home lest they turn into prey for the big bad wolves lurking somewhere. Nanda turned to go towards Park Circus while Mini scurried across the street to the bus stop. Her eyes fell on a vaguely familiar, handsome face – she was secretly pleased that her gaze was being gladly requited.

A shabby white screw of a bus rattled up. Mini’s entrance indeed left room for no more commuters. Her unknown admirer was there too. Something about his eyes gave away his deliberate effort to board the over-brimming bus and his consciousness that he had been caught in the act, by none other than the object of his admiration.

Mini had wriggled her way to the middle of the bus, holding on to the hanging palm-grippers. She clutched the top of the seat in front of her each time the bus jerked to a sudden halt, taking care not to fall on the passengers already ensconced comfortably. The inflow of commuters far exceeded the outflow.

Though it was winter, Mini’s cheeks bore a healthy warm glow, partly caused by the congested bus and mostly attributed to the shy glances of her admirer, now luckily seated in the front row – their eyes met every now and then and Mini could feel, for the first time in her life, the implication of the oxymoron eloquent silence. After all, “You say it best, when you say nothing at all”. Ronan Keating’s romantic voice promptly played itself in the deepest crevices of her heart, agitating the still contours around her lips, such that precisely fourteen of her facial muscles were now unconsciously expanded; the turning of her head in her bid to hide it from the certain someone was much more conscious though - the head and the heart rarely establish such amiable ties!

“Want to sit…?” he finally broke the silence, gesturing that he would give up his seat for Mini. Though uttered quietly, his words easily drowned out the rattle and screech of the bus, and hit the most eager pair of ears.

Call it audacity or chivalry, but Mini shook her head and looked away, quite taken aback. The feeble ‘no’ kept up his hopes and before long, his prayers were answered.

Mini’s aching legs were finally rested as one of the seats in the front row got vacated. At the same time, she seemed to be enjoying someone’s attention, until, without any warning he got up and sauntered to the exit. Both of their faces looked glum as they apprehended irrevocable separation from what had begun as a prospective union. Each hoped that the other would say something but it is at moments like these that even the most loquacious are pick-pocketted of their greatest asset – words. And one of the greatest difficulties that uptight Indians face is to strike a conversation with strangers of the opposite sex, each held back by the unseen walls of dignity, politeness and skepticism, and above all, the assumption that the first move is always made by the more shameless of the two!

Mini’s mind was working faster than usual. There emerged from among the cobweb of her cerebral register the same gentle and handsome face, in familiar surroundings, and Mini remembered…

“You worked in my office, didn’t you?” blurted out Mini, trying to convince herself that it was not a cheesy pick-up line.

“That’s right. I knew I had seen you somewhere” – heaving a deep sigh, he took his place in the empty seat adjoining Mini’s.

“Weren’t you waiting here to get down at Ruby Park?” now this was the bus conductor, whose few talents included that of catalyzing, unwittingly, a blossoming romance.

“Uh, no…” blushed our hero.

More blessings followed as Mini’s co-passenger alighted the vehicle and she took her place by the window, leaving a small burn for her chocolate cream soldier to ford!

“Can I sit here?” he was incredibly polite. Mini’s consent was hardly needed.

Barriers dissolved, as they got to discussing when he had left the job, the people they knew in common and where he was presently employed.

“Can I have your number please?” his parched contact list was in dire need of a touch of love, and it was not disappointed! Mini’s handset beeped back to life with a missed call it had been desperately waiting for. It was now time to save his name.

“Asif”, Mini heard it correctly the second time, and typed it without further waste of time.

Mini was as much surprised to hear about Asif’s joint family as he was, upon learning about her nuclear one. They talked about whatever they could think of, laughter and smiles filling up the blanks in their array of words – thoughtful or thoughtless – it hardly mattered, as they clearly enjoyed each other’s company.

“So, why didn’t you get down at Ruby?” Mini wondered, as the bus sped along, almost at the end of its destination.

“I thought I would drop you home”, mumbled a red-faced Asif.

“But you didn’t even know me”, Mini’s eyes glinted mischievously.

“I know you now”, Asif whispered, robbing Mini of further use of her intellect and speech!

Asif did not stop at accompanying Mini to the metro station; he made sure she reached home safely and parted with an endearing “I hope this is not the last time we meet.” Mini’s silence at this juncture seemed a bit rude to him, but he left graciously, with a wide grin.

Their message inboxes archived many friendly exchanges and one day, Asif could no longer contain his feelings.

“Want to meet?” – It was a question Mini had to confront, sooner or later, a proposal she had to refuse, and explain…

“I am sorry I can’t meet you, ever.”

Wounded, Asif could only manage a “Why?”

“I have given it much thought,” Mini’s fingers shook, as she typed what she never thought she would:

“You and I know that there is just one Supreme Being, whom we call by different names, but my father won’t think the way we do. He has always forbidden me to be more than just friends with someone from a different religion. He would be heartbroken if I defied him. Please don’t keep in touch with me. I wish I were brave enough to be worthy of you.” – and she hit SEND.

“You can abandon me for the whole world but you cannot abandon the world for me?” Little did Mini know that Asif’s parting words would haunt her for years to come.

Mini knew that her friendship with Asif was doomed from the start – from the moment she had found out his name. She knew it would be the only time they would meet. Her mask of politeness had taken years to mould, and she would put it on, whenever it was required – a practiced hand, never failing to hide the tumult within.

Thereupon, she would well up each time she watched Julia Robert’s Anna Scott utter those timeless words in Notting Hill: “I am just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”

Mini still loved Ronan Keating – specially “It’s only words, and words are all I have, to take your heart away…”

She was not sure what she epitomized more – cowardice or self-sacrifice, but as long as her father was happy, so was she.

Mini grew up with time, moving on from Ronan Keating’s romantic numbers to Lennon’s matured verses:

Imagine there’s no countries

It isn’t hard to do

Nothing to kill or die for

And no religion too

Imagine all the people

Living life in peace…You…

You may say I’m a dreamer

But I’m not the only one…

She’s right; she will never be the only one.