Friday, May 04, 2007

A love story like no other

By Robert J Baite
It was a hot sultry June afternoon on the streets of Aizawl. I was standing by a small kiosk sipping a Frooti. Suddenly, like a breeze, out of nowhere, I saw her walking towards me. Her long wavy hair was tied up in a pony tail with a white silk ribbon. She was not exactly the most beautiful woman on earth; but nevertheless she was pretty. Her mouth was not exactly desirable like Angelina Jolie’s but then it was more than kissable. It was the birthmark on her cheek which made her face angelic.
She was striding on the street as if walking on air. Her legs were long enough to intertwine your body like a python wrapping itself on its victim. The jeans she wore emphasized her voluptuous body and seem to cling on for life on her hips. With a small brown shoulder bag on her arms, she seemed to convey the message that she was confident, carefree and maybe reckless.I confess that I am timid, coward and hesitant when it comes to girls. I have kicked myself a million times for not being able to open my heart to a woman. It is not that woman do not fancy me. They love my company and I love theirs. But the Himalayan problem starts when it comes to expressing the heart of the matter. But this time, I do not know who kicked me from behind. I ran after her.
I followed her quite a distance as I watch her hips rhythmically swaying to and fro.I don’t know how fast I was taking my stride when I realized that I had overtaken her. Suddenly I became self conscious. What will she think? Will she think my gait was funny? Or that I looked like a buffoon looking for bananas on the road? The truth is I had gone bananas over her. My mind raced. Was I walking too fast? Is she still behind me? I dared did not turn around and look. But my heart wanted to.Ahead, the road divided into north and south. I remembered Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken which we had learnt it by heart in school. Should I take North or South?
Which path will she choose? I decided this was the ultimate time. Either I go back home with the satisfaction that I have seen a girl which my made my heart sing a song. But she would haunt me in my dreams for the rest of my life. Or I stick my feet firmly there, wait for her and strike up a conversation. I decided that I am a MAN and therefore, I should choose the second option.
I stood still on the corner of the road. Time stood still and the only thing moving in front of me was the woman with the pony tail. The gentle breeze seems to brush her with love as the strands of hair on the front played gleefully. She saw me and for a fraction of a second our eyes met. How I wish I could be Mandrake and with my magic wand, freeze the moment forever.
Only if wishes were horses, I would have ridden a thousand of them. Someone kicked me from behind again and I realized I was walking along with her.I did not know what we were talking about. Surely, it was not the 9/11. No, it was not about Kaun Banega Crorepati nor about the height of Mount Everest. I was babbling and she was smiling and responding me. My only wish was that the road should neither end nor the conversation. At last she stopped near a gate and told me that it was her house. She invited me for tea. Being civilized and cultured gentlemen, I bowed down and said no. She told me to come another day and gave me her mobile number. It was a number that could change my life. It was a number which will remain etched in my heart. It was a number which I shall never share with someone.
It was a number. Only a number. But it made my heart leap with joy.As soon as I reached my room, I was torn apart trying to take the decision whether I should call her up or not. If I call her up, will she not think that I have gone bonkers over her? Will it not make her pride-graph shoot up? Will she not think that I am an immature young boy who just peed in his pants?Or what if she was lying on the bed with starry eyes, expecting my call? If I do not call her up right now here and then, will she deduce that I am not a dude but a dud who does not have the courage of a lion? Forget it, even cats court cats. So, am I so weak I do not have the heart of a cat, forget the lion?It was like a torture in a dark cell.
Finally I decided to give myself ten more minutes before my thumb press those numbers. The waiting seems like years as my heart told me not be a coward and make the call immediately. Before my own countdown to ten minutes ended, I hastily picked up the phone.It took just one ring when she answered. Suddenly the world was not cruel at all. We began chatting just about anything and after twenty three minutes of exchanging ideas, foolishly I said to her, “Okay then, I will come ‘morrow to your place. Make me a good tea. Goodnight for tonight.”
Since it was I who decided to end the conversation, I guess willingly or unwillingly she had to put the phone down. I kicked myself for ending the conversation abruptly when the going was smooth.The next day I found myself at her house. Feeling that she might consider me too bold, I took along my friend Puia with me. Or maybe the real reason was that I was too timid to walk up to her gate all alone. I took extra care and for the first time in my life I combed my hair. She made me feel at home. The tea which she made with her nubile hands was more than Wah Taj. Every single drop seems to seep slowly into my oesophagus pipe till it reached my stomach.“You make great tea,” I said enthusiastically.
“That’s nothing. Wait till you know more about me. I could be great in other things too,” she cooed back emphasizing on the ‘other’.I wondered why she always has the last word. Whatever I say, she responds with such answer that I am left with nothing to add. All I did was steal some glances and immediately look the other side when hers met mine.Puia was really enthusiastic and he could not stop praising her on our way back home. A stab of jealously seemed to pierce my heart after listening to him. After all, who is he to say good or bad things about her? After all she’s mine and I should be the one who talks about her.
By jove! What am I doing? What am I thinking about my best friend? If best friends do not confide then who else will? Anyway, in a split of second I forgave him and was glad that my friend was happy or should we say too happy about my choice. Well! Our romance bloomed like April flowers.
The nights were short... the days were shorter... and it was only the longing to see her again that was tormenting me whenever I lay down to sleep. We met, we dine and partied. Slowly, I learnt more about her. She loves drinking beer, eats dollops of pork fat and enjoys laughing at my jokes. She hates smoking and in front of her it a strict no. Puia occasionally accompanied me and yes I needed him for company as he would dutch whenever my pockets feel light. But he drank more and ate more than us.
I did not mind as long as he did not disturb us. In fact, I was happier as long as he eats, drinks and most importantly keeps a safe distance from us. I still remember the first kiss she gave me. It was not a simple kiss. It was a French kiss with her tongue darting, dancing, skipping, bouncing, clipping and writhing inside my mouth. It was simply heavenly though my tongue hurt from tip to the end. But, the big but is that I can feel she is not a novice in this field. How else can you explain such a heavenly sensation with just her tongue? Everyone has a tongue but I suspect no other girl will be able to use it as extensively as she does. I
n fact, I was breathless when we withdrew each other. But before I could take another breathe, she grabbed my hair and started the whole ordeal again. And then she asked, “How do you like it?” “Like? That would be an understatement. In fact, I just love it.”, I managed to whisper while gasping for air. Later at home, I imagined the kissing all over and over again. Then in some comer of my mind, my conscience was not happy at all. Am I the first person whom she kissed?
More questions - if I am the first person then from where the hell she learnt the tricks of the tongue like the fabled Great Indian Rope Trick? How many guys must have she kissed before? Has she gone beyond kissing with other guys? What if she has indulged in unsafe sex with some guys while getting drunk on beer? What if she is carrying HIV? We met off and on. Whenever I leave home in the morning for her place, I always vowed to ask her just one question,” Am I your first guy?” But whenever I see her pretty face, I could not bring myself to it. What if she says, “Loverboy, don’t be silly. You are not the first one for me.” Will that not break my heart? But then what if she says,” Yes, my love. You are the one and only guy I have ever gone out with. You are the first person whom I have smooch with all love and lust.
“Would I believe that especially after that wild and raunchy to-ngue meeting session? Either way, it was uncomfortable. Christmas came and I had to come to Manipur to celebrate with my family. The day before I was to leave Aizawl, I decided to pay her visit and ask the ultimate question “Am I the first guy who kissed her”. Reaching there, I saw Puia chatting with her. “Bro, I knew you were coming here. So I have been waiting for you. Here are some beers I bought,” Puia said. Considering the sky high price of beers - one bottle cost two hundred bucks - I was pretty indebted to Puia. I thought I will guzzle down a few bottles before I have the guts to throw the question at her. One bottle over. We were talking non-sense.
Puia had gone out on the pretext of buying paan. He sure knows the timing. A god-send pal, I should say. I promise myself to get him a Moreh Nike sneaker on my return from Imphal. After all he will not know the difference from the original. Anyway, second bottle over. Yet, I did not know how to start the topic that was tormenting my mind. We talked about friends, music, life... so on and so forth that does not seem to occupy even 1/100th of my fertile brain.. The third bottle was also finished and I was getting impatient. The torment in my mind seems to render the beer useless. I decided the time was Now.
But before I could open my mouth, her lips covered me. I forgot why I was there at the best place. My eyes automatically shut and our tongue began to play hide and seek inside. I wondered whose tongue was longer. Mine or her? I guess hers was longer. It probed of on and on and on till it seemed to reach my tonsil. Before our heavenly voyage ended, it came to an abrupt end with the, entry of Puia. I guess he must have walked down and up the street for more than two hours when he decided that I must have done all the necessary things that is expected of a macho man. Sad to say, I confess I have not done anything beyond those tongue meeting session. And more sad to say that I did not ask the Most crucial question.
I came back home relishing the sweet and not to mention the wet kisses. The whole night I thought of the hide and seek which her tongue played inside my mouth. The next day, Puia and she saw me off at the Sumo Counter. Before boarding the Sumo, she gave a small peck on my cheeks. It said all. That she loved me. That she still care for me. That I am still the one for her. Okay. Fine. And I just wanted to throw myself at her and propose her hand. But am I the only guy whom she kissed? How many boyfriends have she had before me? Has she slept with anyone? Mmmm... questions and questions. I spent two weeks at home for Christmas. It was the longest leave I took from office. Every now and then, her face appears before me.
“Sometimes under the moonlight night, I felt so lonely that I wish I could cry like hell for the want of her... or to be precise for the want of her slippery tongue. My holiday over, I bumped back to Aizawl on Sumo on the Guite Road. I reached Aizawl at the crack of the dawn. I was hungry and thirsty to meet her. I had called her up the previous day and her mobile phone was switched off. I had tried her number a thousand dozen times and it was always switched off. How I long to hear her voice. Or to be brutally frank, how I long to have her tongue play inside my mouth. The next day, I went to her house. She was nowhere. Her mother received me at the gate. “Hey, where have you been? Did not Elizabeth invite you for her wedding?” I was speechless.
Suddenly the world came crashing down. I had always suspected that she was no innocent girl. A girl who was not worth to go after seriously. I had had my time with her. Anyway, I suspect that the guy must be someone whom she had known either before me or after me. I could not imagine her tongue doing a balance or a disco with the tongue of some other guy. My heart seemed to burn. I felt a stab in the chest. My pulse seemed to race for a world record. And finally my heart seemed to burst like an atom bomb when the mother further enlightened me, “She married Puia.”
robertbaite@rediffmail.com

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