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Everyone who is aware of my existence has no doubts about my atheist self. There are millions of reasons why I hate hope and those who divide on the name of gods. No wish, no faith, no creed, no place for my soul to stay, but this all stopped one auspicious day.
You see how people idolize gods, their devotion makes stones gods, and in that respect, my faith isn't wrong. In the herd of humans, I am a human too. They called a painting by the name of the lord, so what's wrong? I call him my lord, to be more precise, my 'Krishna', my god. My devotion is true, and it shall wing him as the walking god too.
I fell for him at the end of May, when everything runs dry, something ran through my arid lakes. To escape the known, I came to the place I despised the most, promising myself not to make friends anymore on my embarkation of the end of school life. Early, like the winter moon, I arrived to witness the beauty challenging the beauty outside. He sat calm, lost, playing aimlessly with his 'kara,' while his glances were lost somewhere outside.
I looked at him, telling myself not to stare at him. He seemed to be the main character, while everyone else seemed to be generals. That day, I asked less about subjects and more about him. I still wonder why he was despised so much. Well, it's common to be envious of things one can never be maybe that's why the class hated him. But why did I?
I saw the attraction and named it despise. His rudeness hid something inside, so fake that it made me eager to see through the veil of lies. No lie, no matter what, a person better than me could have never been my home. Competition in studying, or for who is better… I did everything no one will appreciate—cursing him, to rumors. I preyed on him like he was the last prey. I called myself his lover for namesake.
He didn't even speak to boys, girls were a far cry, but funny how this rigid boy always sat alongside me. Me with my yap, and he, a good listener, till something offended him. Teasing him, hitting him, yet he never lifted a finger. Instead, he touched my feet if he just sensed me. Who could hate a well-mannered man? Everyone thought the class head complained, but I saw how he used to take sides and save everyone in the class.
During that time, my nickname was 'ICSE' as I came from there. I hated it; he loved it.
Rose-scented man, with curly hair, drawing-like eyes, and night-dawn skin, a man written by a woman, he was about to be mine. The scent he used, the first unofficial talk we had. During the picnic, I recorded him and teased him. He hated being captured. (He still does, but for me, he will take infinite pictures). Slowly and steadily, I fell, while he didn't understand my signs. He asked me to write about him, and I declined. He smiled and said it was alright.
At farewell practice, I wished him to see me dance. At the farewell, I wished to make him dance. We took our first photo, which was a blur, but that day, it was the first selfie I took. Well, he is my first.
On 7th February 2023, I texted him for the first time with the best possible English: 'Right now, nothing.' (Surprisingly, he kept a screenshot of our first chat). I recognized my feelings when him not eating annoyed me the most. And this boy started melting into a man when the beaker was me.
In the beginning, we started smiling on seeing each other. He smiled; my heart raced to him. I was sick; he was my cure, who no one recommended. I told him I am getting a CT scan, and for the first time in my life, I saw him concerned about me. When I returned, I assumed he wouldn't bother, but he did. He taught me the way no teacher did—sitting on the broken side of the bench but making sure I was comfortable alongside him.
Soon we started talking online too. I saw us developing, but with boundaries. I was egoistic, and he was the one with ego, so the walls between us were lethal.
Recalling the day when he gave me the first lift to school, I told everyone how I sat behind. Many said they have too, but who shall tell them I held his waist (with consent) while other hands reached his shoulders, I reached his core. Every day was special, every day I saw him change, and every day I fell… fell so hard that I couldn't stop myself.
On our way to SRC, he stood the whole way, and no one noticed that all my recordings had him. On the way back, he was made the human charger holder. No one treated him right and always complained about why he was so stiff toward them—fickle. That day, he sat beside me, and on our side, a couple sat. I said very low, 'It's good that you sat beside me.' We played Ludo, I won.
So, on a fine day, I decided not to keep my dilemma to myself. I am a writer, I struggle with speech, so I turned him into a poetry with no end, wishing he will get it. He didn't, but for the first time in my life, someone respected my work so deeply. He kept it in his pocket and showed all the teachers. Of course, our English mam got the meaning, but she was too innocent to suspect, and I am a liar. He made his mom hear it too. If only I knew he loved it so much, I would have written everything about him. (Update: I know he doesn't understand poems easily, hence I prefer paragraphs).
As time advanced, we started discussing problems, found a secret chatting app, and while everyone else thought we were enemies, we were each other's good friend—or better say, the only one to each other. Exploring friendship and each other's feelings, last farewell came, how badly I wanted him to be there, asking him to make it there. That day, I couldn't get my eyes off him. Dancing in front of him, I decided to confess.
On 15th February 2024, a week before boards, where bad friendships break, we became best friends forever. What no couples could do, best friends did. Keeping my head on his shoulder while going to center, everyone stared. Oh! I must make one thing clear; he knew I had a huge crush, yet he accepted me as a friend, saying love isn't a crime. He allowed me to love him.
I gifted him a bracelet (couple) saying, "Give its second pair to your wife." He wore them, the bracelet broke, beads fell, the heart still attached to the other pair. We planned Holi, didn't get to put color on cheeks (some unforeseen circumstances), but somehow that day, we got colored in red, only the two of us—straight out of movie scenes.
On the last exam, I got his scribble and did my last effort of getting him a card with the signature of everyone—everyone who once hated him, loved him through that card.
During exam, we talked endlessly like 3-4hrs during the economics exam and still, I scored 90+, and he scored 95+. Love isn't a distraction to studies when both are smart. He used to say, "I would marry you if I did what I have planned," we weren't even dating yet. On 29th March, he came to my house, as a gift he gave me a printout of all our firsts, like first picture, chat, everything. We sat down, me staring in his eyes, or with my head on his shoulder, laughing and understanding the amount of love.
His eyes are so pure like the sea reflects the sky; it reflects me. All colored in me. That day I felt his heartbeat those 30 minutes, passed in seconds.
I was rejected thrice, and I decided to give up after writing my emotions in a poetry book, the book which currently contains 52 pages, containing him in several poems. Each word is him, and each piece is why I fell in love. Anyone who will read it will see how a man turned into God so divine that I still can't differ if I am dead or alive. No exaggeration, just him from my eyes.
On 22nd April 2024, he finally said, "I love you, but not as a friend." Since that day, things haven't been the same. I remember how desperate our hug on our first anniversary was. He threw a party (for being the school topper) just to meet me. A boy who hated lies, today lies just for me.
We blended ourselves to fit, though short-tempered, we sat down and thought. He touches my feet, what more should I say? If I say no, he will never do that thing again. I took a break to test his loyalty, and like a puppy wagging his tail, he waited when I was away.
I'm a writer, but he writes, so many paras to make me feel special and alright. Singing songs, dancing to make me laugh or going to college just to see me.
He called me 'Radha.' I asked why he loved me, he wrote me 100 reasons why, and still, as I write, a book is being written about me. Even at the end of a busy day, or when he is too sick, he knows I don't have anyone else, he will come to me. Hiding all his pain just to hear me yapping about nonsense things.
At this point, he does everything for me, like I'm the oxygen he needs to breathe. Funny how, as friends, we used to have fixed time to chat, and now, we chat whenever we get some tea.
I feel like I'm in a novel myself, having my first kiss in the middle of the ground in front of so many people while it rained. Hugging on his back as he drives on the roadways. Shame, not at all, I was born indecent, you were too.
Within a boundary, we do things every lover does. It's just that nature stays by our side while we create memories, like when he made me wear a ring, birds flew like they wanted to see it too. Each day is a dream come true. The girl who saw only imperfection in love saw God in her lover, while her lover worshipped her more than she thought.
Who is a devotee, and who are we devoted to? I was alone, desperate, hurt, and lost. My god saw this and came to me. Which money can buy this ecstasy?
We are taking a step at a time, but I know he is my choice with no regrets. My lord, my 'Bhavya.' He is my lover for the time ahead.
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