more my sister. As soon as they heard that from me, those monkeys once again climbed the same tree which they climbed before. If I were not in love then I might have accepted their cordial mocking.
When someone doubts and asks me
Whether I am in love, I reply NO
Before they could close their lips
When I write some love poems, I destroy them,
Before someone could see it
When someone says their love experiences
I just watch them silently with my mouth shut.
When I see some love couples, I cry
Inside my heart for my unluckiness,
Yet, I could hide them through my facial reactions.
Though I become insane sometimes
While imagining my future with her
I could even hide that through my intelligence.
I do all these things in order to hide my love from others
And show myself to them as if I wasn’t in love
But, when I stare at something forgetting my surroundings and
If someone could ask me what I was thinking
I knew I would say your name spontaneously
Making all these efforts in vain………
It is hard for me to show my love to you and
It is even harder for me to hide my love from others eyes as well.
Yes, it felt hard to hide my love from the other’s eye especially with my roommates. My roommate Sathyan, was flirting and chatting with his girlfriend through the phone. I asked about his love story he said that he saw her two months ago when his friend introduced her to him. He then got her phone number and after messaging one day, he proposed her. From the day she accepted, he had been continuously recharging his phone for 50 RS a day. That was his costly love story.
Then I said about my love experience to him. Hearing that he said to me,
“Your girl should be lucky if she could get you as her life partner, for no one would love her this much.”
My heart wished the same. Sathyan then explained me about the “Love Logic of God.” According to that, God will be giving the person to one who love him/her most. Then he told
“If you love her more than anyone in this universe then God will surely give her to you.” I wished that it is the real logic of God because
“If I am the one who loves her more than anyone let me get her. If not then another one who would be existing only hypothetically shall get her.”
Both were satisfactory for me to live a happy life.
25.NEWTON’S LAW OF SLEEPING:
The regular classes of my college had begun. As the professors would start to write their subject title, we could imagine ourselves dizzy with five sleeping pills. No nightingale could ever sing a beautiful lullaby to make us sleep like the professors’ low pitch tone could during the lecture hours.
According to the Newton’s law of sleeping,
“The intensity of your sleep is directly proportional to the food you ate before attending the lecture. And inversely proportional to the square of the distance between the professor and the bench in which you are sitting…”
As I always ate a full stomach and I usually sat on the first bench, the intensity of my sleep was hard to imagine. Sometimes in the class I would be interested in some other things when sleep didn’t beckon me. It was mostly due to the harsh and high-pitched voices of some of the professors. During those times, I would be interested in imagining my future with her.
Sometimes I would marry her in a temple, sometimes in a church or in a register office. Sometimes we would feel warm in the Australian Culburra beach and sometimes we would feel cold in the Siachen glacier of Kashmir. If there was a lot of time i.e. during the guest lecture hours she and I would be thinking a name to keep for our daughter. By the time, I would suggest some modern names my mother would be protesting about it with her words and the argument between my mother and me would go on until a chalk piece, in the size of a small stone, would hit my head.
As I had sent my marriage invitation to the moon even during my eleventh standard, these imaginations were easier for me. To me anything was possible in my dreams and imaginations.
Throwing the chalk piece straight on my head the professor would ask me some questions. However, I would confuse his question with my unimaginable answers and I would manage. Like that went my college days and lecturing hours.
26.WAITING FOR THE SATURDAYS:
For me, it was first difficult to stay in the hostel, because I never missed my mother like this ever before. My sleep was disturbed without my mother, who would wake up in the middle of the night to make sure that the blanket had fully covered my body. During the morning, it was tedious for me to wake up without my mother’s habitual coffee. After a week I too joined in the Sweet Smelling Engineers Association because no bucket full of hot water was waiting for me like in my school days. The members of this Association, saved water by bathing once in two days, yet they smelled so nice with flavours of the modern deodorants.
For the first few days, our college proved to be the world’s strictest college. They told us to study compulsorily during the study hours (in between 6’o clock and 9’o clock). However, we knew that these comedies could last only for a few days.
For two weeks, our mess food sounded to be great, the third week it was palatable and in the fourth week our mess food just reminded the missing of our mother’s food. If I truly hadn’t remembered my mother at any time, I certainly got her remembrance when I saw my dirty clothes. I felt that for all these years she washed my filthy clothes. She took care whenever I got ill, and she was the one who thinks about me all the time. Though I loved my girl, my love for my mother never decreased but increased in proportions. It was my yearning to get her love that made me to realise how much of a gift it was to be loved by someone truly.
I would ring my mother every night, and I would say that,
” I am not thinking for you most of the time as my time goes busy with my friends. I am really enjoying these days.”
After I went far from my mother, I always liked to speak the truth to my mother.
My mother would say as
“Here is the same. We don’t often think about you. We are also busy with our works”
I knew very well why mother was lying to me. In a day, she would be taking the phone at least for five times to ring me up in order to hear my voice, but she wouldn’t. She would think that I might get disturbed, and so she would keep the phone back. She missed me more, but she didn’t want to show this to me because she felt that I might feel sad, if I know that she really needs me. She always gave me immense love. If she had given me some droplets of love, then I would have compared it as the rain that the sky gifts to Earth. But, she gave me love like the ocean that I always felt hard to return.
Our relationship being like this, how could I stay more than five days in my hostel? As soon as the Friday evening arrived, I would be standing at the bus stop near my college to get the bus that was destined for my hometown.
In my mother’s calendar, the Saturdays and Sundays always yearned to taste themselves with the delicious dishes that she would be preparing; decorate themselves with the new things that she would be buying; and please themselves with the soulful stories that she would rehearse in her mind during the other days to be said on those two days. It was because those were the days, in which her little prince would be returning home from the hostel. Another one, who enjoyed all those stuff, was none other than my father. He would ring me up for at least five times within 10 minutes, after I had said to him that I had started from my hostel.
The Saturday would end so soon. In the Saturday night, she would be little worried as she was left with another one day. On the Sunday night, my mother’s thoughts would be
frayed and preoccupied. She would say
“These miserable Mondays should never come once again."
Just like, I wished while I was a kid. She would give me a kiss that could last up to one week, and she would send me back to the hostel. She knew very well that my studies were important than these, and those significant things shouldn’t be disturbed by her love.
One day Sakthi asked the toothpaste from me and I gave that to him. Then one day I borrowed the shampoo from him. If he woke early in the morning, he would bath and put my bucket in the queue formed in the bathrooms, in the order of it we bathed. Sometimes, though rarely, I woke early and I put his bucket in the queue.
We went to the college together in the morning and returned together often.
Few days went. I ceased buying the shampoo, and he ceased to buy the paste. This was the story how Sakthi and me became close friends in two months. I felt I had Syed by my side, just with a different name.
I became curious to know about this mysterious and interesting Sakthi. I saw his note books, there were some poems. On an evening walk with him. I understood he was an aspiring writer, though all he wants to write was nothing but love poems.
One day during our mathematics period, Sakthi wrote something entirely unrelated to mathematics in his notebook. I doubted and when I was about to see, he had hid that from me. After some time in his absence, I took that note and saw what he had written on it.
There he wrote,
“Our love is constant with time
If it is differentiated
In Love : Once & Forever Page 13