...and she fell in love with me.



Seems like, booze has choked my psyche…or am I that dumb???
What genus of title I have inscribed…am I out of my wits???
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.
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Believe me, I am not tipsy…rather I am a teetotal.
Actually, skimming the last few lines of my pal’s blog has catapulted me to the reminiscences of ‘July 2k8’…last year.
The catastrophe read,

“As my forelimb was fractured, I wasn’t able to clutch my bag properly. Holding it loosely, I sauntered out of the Health Center…a voice from the rare said,” May I help you.”I turned around just to discover a ravishing brunet giggling at me…I too greeted her with a grin. Then she came up to me and insisted to help me out of the mess I was in. Then she accompanied me to the canteen. Though she was unknown …but seemed to be family. While we strode together we talked of life…and then, she fell in love with me.”

Don’t you feel ill at ease to trust this???
Can a girl be besotted with a lad at the first encounter???
I too would have doubted the integrity of the statement if such an episode hadn’t betided with me.
It all cooked up on a Saturday morning in July 2008…
In the dearth of any edibles, I was making a beeline to the canteen. I was famished, enough to gobble just anything.
I saw a nubile, a sensual voluptuous dame with auburn hair, though a bit dusky, just a few paces away. She was rushing towards ‘my hostel’.
To your notice, ‘my hostel’ is an abode to a minimum of 400 boys…some drunks, some punks and others GMAT.
‘A girl going to a boy’s hostel’…I sensed the Pandora’s Box.
I panicked and blurted out, “where are you going?”
All my appetite had now sunk and I waited voraciously for her answer…
In a mellow voice, posed a bit meticulously, she said,” I got to meet my friend who stays in this hostel, I have come from Kolkata.”
“Don’t you twig that girls aren’t permitted in a boy’s hostel?”
She said,” But I don’t have any other option, I lost my phone in the wagon.”
“Tell me his name and branch and I will scout him out for you!”
“It’s so nice of you…???...may I know your name please?”
“Definitely…its Malik…you tell me his name and ease at canteen…I’ll send him to you.”
She acquainted me with the info…
I said, “By the way…what should I tell him??Who has popped up to meet him??”
In a very mellifluous syrupy voice she said, “Avantika”
I trudged back to the hostel only to learn that he did retreat back home a day before.
I insipidly commuted to the canteen, the second time that day. I surmised that the boy might be his paramour. But how can a beau avoid telling his lady-love about his jaunt??
I reached the canteen…she sat there gulping large slugs of a soft drink. I waved her hi and made the most brazen statement of the day as I was just too weary, I said, “Actually he’s out of the town.”
Now, I could sense globs of tears streaming down her cheeks. I could not help myself from appeasing her. I offered her chocolates, confectionary and then finally a hand of friendship. The last one though ceased her tears.
She sat narrating her story. The biggest stun of the day was that he wasn’t her beau. Then why did she come down so far??(Was she crazy??)
We talked about life…love…friendship and not to mention, her train which was scheduled may be 3 hours from then.
May be after a long hour of our tete-e-tete…we decided to leave the place. I forked out bucks to pay the bill. Then I realized that she eats a lot 
She exhorted that we go to some good place. It was drizzling though; I carried out the diktat in order to break through the impasse...
In all this while, she embraced my hand many times that I became immune to the feel of a girl’s touch.
We sat on a bench juxtaposed to the strand of a lake. The expressions of her face had changed and now she looked unruffled.
The drizzle doused both of us a bit, but she now looked more delectable. Hair straggled on her face made her look salacious. I was now quite accustomed to her impertinent ways of talking. She was a bit finicky but I had started liking her a bit. Maybe I was smitten by her beauty. Though I never felt anything emotional for her but she definitely earned plaudit from my ‘boyish’ aesthetic sense. She sometimes sounded to be crazy.
Now it had started to downpour and I scoured for a refuge for us. But there was none.
But she seemed to be cherishing the ‘drench game’. I cajoled her to get to some concealed place but she rebuffed.
I turned around and started to move. She clasped my hand…this time it didn’t seem the same as before. I turned towards her and noticed that she was crying. She broke into my arms and whispered, “I love you.”
A gamut of expressions busted out on my face…
For a while I was catapulted to stupor. I surmised that it was sham.
But it was true…she really said that.
Now the Spartans in my head went on a battle to decide my fate.
The ‘Devil’ somewhere prodded to accept the proposition keeping in view her carnal appeal and a perk to consummate at a later stage.
It even nudged me to get a Johnny ;-)
The counterpart enthused that may be she was out of her wits as she was depressed and all she said was just too whimsical.
As I have not grown out of the ‘Hindu mythological sanskars’…though I was game for a while, but I finally agreed to go with the later.
It was time for the train, so I escorted her to the railway station. I didn’t say anything. We talked through eyes. May be she too understood that she made a faux pas. She left.
Sometimes her long forgotten memory lurks in my mind.
I just want to discover if she is in asylum or she wasn’t mad even then.
I just hope her being well…somewhere…somehow.