Paper Mache Love : #2 All Over Again

The second story in the series Paper Mache Love. A two part story. Here is Part I

All characters, incident and places are purely a work of fiction. However to give it a little authentic feel certain incidents, places or otherwise references have been used for creative reasons.

All over again

Over the years I had understood that what made my talks popular wasn't particularly what I said in my allocated time but it was these little impromptu Q & A sessions that I held at the end of each talk. This worked as an advantage for both the audience and me. Whenever I saw the interest in the audience lost I would end my talk and jump to these Q & A sessions. They were mighty popular. If the truth be told this was actually suggested by Kavya. She always had a way with people. Almost everyone that met her fell in love with her. "People need to hear what YOU think, not what YOU think they came to hear" she had told me once. 

Kavya, the social butterfly, the heart of the party, the problem solver, the pin-up girl of the hostel, she was all this and so much more. Kavya, the doting mother and loving wife. My wife and the mother of my children. The thought of kavya brought a smile on my face. How lucky was I to be married to her. She was indeed special. In all her special ways.

"Whats the difference between erotica and porn?" asked a sophomore drawing whistles from the guys in the audience. I was brought back to the auditorium from my thoughts about kavya.

"Rishi! whats the difference between erotica and porn" she asked again. I always made it a point for my audience to address me by my name. "It builds a connect" Kavya had said.

"Umm..To be honest I'd have say it's mostly the lighting" I said to a round of applause and whistles. My audience agreed. I thought to add that the treatise Kama-Sutra had listed 77 positions that when practiced would provide the pleasures few humans would have experienced. I chose to not elaborate on my answer that would go on to cover Dharma, Karma, and other facets of Indian Philosophy. I had won my audience. "It's a talk, not a tutelage" Kavya had reminded me time and again.

By the time I was done with the Q & A sessions it was almost 19:00. I took the car that the Rockefeller Foundation had provided back to my hotel. I just wanted to eat a little something and go on to Hangout with kavya. She'd be waiting. I hate being away from her.

The Rockefeller Foundation is a philanthropic organization and private foundation based at 420 Fifth Avenue, New York City. My favorite city in the whole wide world after of course amchi Mumbai! City Beautiful. My hotel was close to the auditorium, I always made it a point to request to be put up close to where I was supposed to come and deliver my talks. As I entered the lobby of my hotel, the receptionist told me that there was a call asking if I had come in. "Kavya!" I thought. As I ran up to my room I realized the time difference and it felt like someone took my heart and crushed it into a million pieces.

Dejected I decided to head down to the bar to get myself a couple of drinks. It'll be a while before she'd be waking up. On my way to the bar I asked the receptionist to hold all calls and have someone inform me. I'd be at the bar.

By the look of the bar it seemed pretty up market. And the people were all enjoying themselves. I went straight to the bar and ordered my usual, 'Old Monk large with three ice cubes'. I almost knew how stupid I must have sounded as I said those words. I tried to cover up but was surprised to see a smile on Ricky's face, my bartender that night. 

Ricky or as I later found out Rakesh, was from Delhi and was working at the hotel as a bar tender.The patron of the hotel was an Indian. I had a couple of more drinks and my thought went back to Kavya. We both stayed on campus but I had never imagined ending up marrying her. I ran my fingers over my wedding ring. It was a platinum love band. She too had a similar one. We had our words engraved on both. Of course I had heard about her, who hadn't!. The complete hostel was head over heels but at that point in time I was dating someone else and it never mattered who Kavya- the hottie was.

I was so engrossed in my thoughts about Kavya that it was only after a while I realized  I was actually staring someone. In the dim light of the bar I couldn't see clearly. To save myself the embarrassment I smiled to this stranger across the bar and went to the washroom to relieve myself. I was hoping by the time I'd return the stranger would have left. When I came back to occupy my seat at the bar to my surprise finding the stranger gone made me happy and kinda sad, as if a known face in the bar was gone.

A mutual friend had first introduced us. Kavya was dating someone at that time but she always had time for me. We started spending more and more time together. Living in the campus together gave us enough reasons to keep spending time with each other. Then one day just like that, just like so many times before, the girl I was dating decided that I was not "enough". I was angry, sad but most importantly all my social interactions were cut-off. I had cut off from all my social circles except Kavya. I had tried to cut her off too but she was adamant, she wasn't going anywhere. "You do what you want to, I'm sitting here and not going anywhere and if you want to walk off. Go ahead I'll follow. I'm right here."

After my 8th I think I had lost track of how much and what was it that I was consuming. A faint fragrance of a concoction of different fruits brought me back into the bar. The bar, now gyrating to the boomy bass bring dropped by the resident deejay. I turned left as if being drawn by an invisible string of fragrance to find this maiden with a perfect hour glass figure.

Sitting in one of those high bar chairs, it was as if Aphrodite herself had descended into the bar and had chosen to sit right next to a mere mortal like me. She was wearing a LBD, Little black dress that did little to hide her curvaceous body. She had all the right weights at all the right places. It seemed to me that an expert craftsman had meticulously chisel every part of her. Her hair which was so bouncy that she had shifted all on one side in one swift move, revealing a collar bone with an infinite love tattoo. 

To be continued.

Paper Mache Love

I've been playing with the idea of a series of short stories just to see what I can cook up, while they're not the best that you must have read I'm mostly doing it to test waters and see if i can actually pull off one.
I've named this series of short stories as Paper Mache Love. And this is the first one in the series.

I. Love. You

I was sitting by her side, taking long slow drags of the cigarette and expelling the smoke slowly as if little by little with it's thick smoke the pain would leave my body too. We took turns with the slow poison. Was she burning away her pains? I never asked. She never told. She was wearing a Tantra tee with the long skirt that was tracing the silhouette of her body. Sometimes I've wondered does she even know how kind God had been to her while making her. Her cute face on a body that best can be described as a rock guitar was one of Gods game that he played on us humans. It was my pleasure to pleasure her body.

I flicked my wrist it's 11:00. I'd have to be up early tomorrow. But tomorrow can wait for now being by her side was more important. I thought I owed it to myself, to her, to us.

It was horribly obvious that we both felt what we were too afraid to say. I could see it in her big brown eyes and maybe she could feel the sentences like braille on my shivering skin.

I distinctly remember asking myself how I had arrived at that place. That vulnerable, debilitating place where self-doubt flourishes and the past resides. I had been painfully careful, impressively determined and steadfast in the protection of an already battered heart.

Yet there I was, about to say the three scariest words imaginable. The words that, at times, I've said all too easily or have left trapped behind gritted teeth. Words I've said and haven’t meant, said and absolutely meant, and said and have wanted to mean to the point of exhausting self-hatred. The words that've kept me from leaving, kept me from staying, and have kept me from unraveling more times than I care to admit.

I. Love. You.

While they’re sometimes overused and often abused, when used correctly, there’s no denying that those three seemingly simplistic words are the most dangerous, scariest, and otherwise treacherous words in the English language.

I love you can be a promise failed. A constant reminder of your once-overpowering naivety. As you contemplate saying those syllables just one more time, you’re unwillingly transported back to a bathroom floor where you said you couldn’t and you begged her to try and the only thing left of an “us” was a shattered picture of aborted happiness.

I love you can be a reminder of your flaws. Everything someone else decided was wrong with you comes barging to the surface, like the blood that forms a bruise you can’t hide. The times you weren't good-looking enough or put together enough or simply not “enough” highlight all that you’re lacking. All that you hope she doesn’t find lacking too.

I love you can mean complete vulnerability. Maybe not right away but eventually you’ll begin to rely on this person. You’ll call for them when you’re sick and you’ll cry on them when someone dies and you’ll rely on them when exhaustion takes its toll. You’re dangerously close to becoming accustomed to their presence so the threat of their indefinite absence becomes overwhelming. It’s not that you can't live without them. You can. You’ll just know that if it ever came to it, you wouldn't want to. And that want can paralyze you if it isn't reciprocated.

I love you can mean change. Sacrifices will be made and consistencies will be altered and the time you lovingly treasure as your own will be shared. You won’t sleep in the middle of the bed, you’ll pick a side and you won’t eat the sunny side up eggs you managed not to break, you’ll give those away. You’ll give pieces of yourself and your schedule and your space so that part of you can become an us.

I love you can mean complacency. What if you become a fixture in their scheduled life? What if you’re taken for granted like their bedside table or the light fixture behind that photo of her BFFs? What if you become too predictable, with your morning breath and your affinity for The Office? What if love gives way to comfort gives way to boredom?

Three simple words on the outside, but hold a complicated multitude of worries and doubts and fears and feelings that don’t have words.

Just like her eyes and the goosebumps on my skin.

I said I love you that night. After the failed promises and the flaws and the feelings of complete vulnerability subsided. After the threat of unavoidable change and horrid complacency diminished, something pushed me forward, like a trusted friend who whispers you’ll be okay and who you actually, against all odds, believe.

I said I love you.

Because the only thing scarier than saying it…

…is saying nothing.