True Love

(This story is whole-heartedly dedicated to all those true lovers out there…May your love blossom and bloom ever more…)

What would her reply be? This question was haunting his mind ever since he had decided to tell her his feelings.

He splashed another handful of water on his face. The day he had been awaiting had finally arrived. February 14th. Somehow this date seemed to give him courage and confidence.

He looked up at the mirror. He looked unrecognizable without his spectacles. And a bit more handsome, he thought. But he had decided to wear his specs when he would talk to her. He was firm that her reply should be to his words and not to his looks.

But what would that reply be? He wanted to pray again that it should be an ‘Yes’, but he had already made enough commitments with all the gods. A hundred and eight coconuts for Lord Ganesh, a hundred and eight candles for Jesus and a hundred and eight namaaz for Allah. He didn’t know what offerings one gave to Guru Nanak, otherwise he would have made that commitment too.

But why hundred and eight, he thought for a moment, as he reached for his towel. He didn’t know. He had just heard that number in films. That reminded him of the love scenes between the hero and heroine.

He thought of the various responses of the heroine to the hero. She would either slap him or silence him with a nice kiss. He wouldn’t mind a slap, he thought. It might as well knock out that loose tooth in his left jaw, and save him a dentist fee.

“Forget the outcome! Focus on the work to be done!” A newly awakened voice in his mind echoed the words of Vivekananda. He had just been reading his book the previous night looking for some speaking tips. After all, Vivekananda was a great public speaker. Love matters should have been a cakewalk for him. The book had been pretty useful. It had helped him sleep well.

He began to practice in front of the mirror. It was working out fine. His lips did not quiver anymore as he spoke, his chin pointed in the right direction and his eyebrows rose and fell in tune with his dialogue. Several days of rigorous practice was paying off and he was immensely confident of talking to her. Just as he showed a thumbs-up to himself in the mirror, there was a knock at the door.

* * * * *

As he walked into the crowded café, he saw through the corner of his eye that she was seated at the centre table. But he avoided gazing at her in the beginning. He no longer cared what her reply would be.

As he neared the table, he gathered enough courage to look at her. She was stirring a cup of coffee and smiling at him. He did not know how to react and immediately lowered his head.

She looked up at him as he took his seat. Their eyes met for the first time. Immediately, he was reminded of the postman knocking on the door in the morning. He smiled when he thought of the parcel that he delivered. It was a Valentine’s Day gift from her - a cute little toy car.

“She must have nicked it from the toys of her younger brother”, he mused. But howsoever it may have been obtained; it was an official Valentine gift.

He had then decided to cut short all the dialogues that he had rehearsed perfectly so far. The three words would be sufficient, he thought.

The clatter and buzz in the café sounded to him like a stadium audience, cheering him to proceed. He could bear it no longer. His heart was almost bursting out of his chest. The more he looked at her face, the more he lost control over his senses.

Finally, being unable to hold himself back any longer, he blurted out the three words, “Let’s break up!”