'A story' started here - [part 1]
I recalled my friend's fact#21 in my
mind, “You’ll have a very good future together if the last two characters of
your name are same as the first two of your partner.”
Do I need to say this to her?
I thought. How stupid of me to bring this topic now, I beefed
myself. With these thoughts running inside, I started to think of a way to get
rid of this ‘facts’ topic even though I knew I can’t kid a girl without any
reasons. You know how good they are at these things, at getting an info
from the other person, that too when the other person had created a trap
voluntarily.
“Hello, there?” she patted me on the
shoulder.
“Yep,” I nodded in approval, coming out
of my thoughts.
“What are the facts?”
“Just forget it. They’re lame, you see.”
“No matter how lame they are. You
brought it, now please tell me those,” she was adamant.
“It’s only one, actually.”
“But you told facts, not a fact,” she
said giving an added effect to the word ‘facts’.
“Okay, here I’m, dealing with a
grammatical genius, huh?” I tried my best wit.
“Are you going to say or not?” she
asked firmly, with her hand sliding towards her bag. Oh my God! Is she
about to get that pamphlet out? I thought.
“My friend, he is actually drafting
‘love facts’ for his girlfriend. He just told me one of his facts drafted so
far,” I said in a hurry.
“Is it? It sounds interesting. Come on,
go ahead,” she was keen.
“You’re lucky if you marry someone whom
you happen to first meet at a place, um, meant for studying.”
I don’t know why I didn’t say the
actual fact that I was told by my friend. I don’t know why I decided to come up
with something different instead. Moreover, I don’t know how I came up with a
fact on my own that would eventually strike a chord on her.
“Wait a second, are you serious? I
mean… is he serious?” she was eager with her response.
I just shrugged my shoulders.
“I, uh, okay, do you, um…” she tried to
say something.
“Look, don’t read too much into this.
He is just stupid to draft such things. Well, maybe to impress his girlfriend,
who knows?” I tried to bring her back to her comfort zone.
“Place meant for studying? Does he
refer the library?” She was still showering on the fact. That was evident.
I’m not sure what my friend would have
meant by it, if he had come up with that fact (furthermore, I’m not sure if he
had met his girlfriend somewhere in a place meant for studying). What I meant
was the library, only the library. But I wasn’t bold enough to accept that, and
eventually my mind was left to get hit by the questions - Do I need to play it
safe? Or Do I have to go on with it and see where it takes us? Or Should I be
smart as a whip to change the topic? I was confused, failing to figure how she
might react to whatever I say. If only I was a good mind-reader.
“Yeah, a library,” I was afraid of her
response, and continued, “Or a college, or even a school.”
“Hmm, whatever, but why did you call it
lame?”
Ah man, what is she expecting from me?
That I should say he meant the library, and by quoting that, I was referring
us. Should I say that? What if she was really feeble by asking me further
details forgetting the fact that we had met at a place meant for studying?
“I called it lame because it was
drafted by my friend, after all, and only for the sake of impressing his
girlfriend so that he could get a…” I stopped.
“Get a what?” a question again. My
bad, I cued.
“Probably a GIFT,” I said, wondering
what the relation between a GIFT and a KISS is. Well, a kiss can
possibly be a gift, right?
“Whatever. Get me his other facts as
well. It’s funny and interesting too.”
I don’t want her to listen to the reply
that my friend had given me a day before when I asked for his other facts
drafted yet. Hence, I simply nodded.
“So, what have you decided about the
course?” she started again.
“Yeah, I’m okay with it,” I said merely
not to disappoint her. I wasn’t in a mood to catch her frowning face.
She was more than happy. I was able see
that from her face, her body, and her everything. Or I should say I felt it
around. Meanwhile, she fumbled into her bag and took few sheets of paper out.
“Do you read stories?” she asked
holding the bunch of papers in her hand.
“Yes, I do. Don’t you know I visit the
library often?”
“Yes, yes. But do you read short stories
penned by someone, like your friend?”
“I don’t have any friends who write
short stories, but I do read the ones that circulate through the emails.”
“Okay, fine then. Here is a story
dedicated to my friend that was penned by her friend. Read it, if you’re
interested.”
“Sure, why not?” I said and plunked the
papers from her hand and asked, “Was it her boyfriend who dedicated it to her?”
“Nope, just a friend who is a boy,” she
replied quickly.
Why would a guy, literally, dedicate a
story to a girl? That guy must be crazy
or the girl must be crazy not to understand the hidden reason behind it, I
thought. Actually, I was crazy to think like that. Later I found that he
dedicated it to her merely as a friend, just because she was nagging him to
write one for long.
“Huh-uh” I nodded sarcastically.
“So, if at all you write one, whom
would you dedicate it to?”
“Neha.”
“What?”
“I mean, Sneha,” I said and stressed
again, “Sneha.”
She stared me through the corner of her
eyes.
“Okay, it’s time for me to leave. Have
to hang out with my friends. Will call you sometime tomorrow to fix the date
and time to go to the center to register us for the course,” she said happily,
and left the library in minutes.
I sat there still looking at her
walking away.
...
To be continued [A Story - Part 9].
