A strange mistress

I Love….maybe you!

Love is a strange mistress. The more you pay it in the beginning, the more you suffer when it leaves. Falling for this sensual seductress was Vishal, who, on seeing Asha, fell for her completely. When someone asked him much latter what he saw in her in the first meeting, he would often gaze in the sky for a moment before smiling mildly and saying, “Perhaps her silky hair. And her expressive eyes. And her soft skin. And her dusky complexion. And her ringing voice. Well, I fell in love with her totally!”

“Let the reader of this note know that there’s a lot more to lose than just hearts when you fall in love.” Asha’s hands were trembling when she read the first line of the letter she was holding in her hands. She remembered the first time they met. That meeting had left an indelible mark on her.

“Hi! Do you know Zeel?” Vishal kicked off the conversation right away with Asha. She looked at him strangely, as if he were from another planet altogether.

“You are a senior?” she asked coldly. Vishal was used to being thought of as someone a couple of years older than he actually was, owing to his huge built.

“I am in your class only. But then, you might not have noticed me.”

“Maybe I have seen you. But I don’t remember,” she replied, trying to make up for her earlier goof.

“So, can I have your mobile number?” Vishal never hesitated asking the number of anyone. But maybe it wasn’t the case with Asha, as she clearly seemed affronted.

“I don’t have a mobile,” she said stiffly. Vishal looked a bit crestfallen, but started walking away. Just as Asha turned back to chat with her friends again, he turned back, tapped her on the shoulder and said, “My bad. I should have thought.”

“What?”

“That you are not the type who would keep a mobile.” Saying this, he started walking away. If he had eyes on the back of his head, he would have seen Asha turn red due to anger.

I loved her from the bottom of my heart. And she? She just played with me, like we play with toys in our childhood. Play with it, laugh at it and then, throw it when you don’t need it. Maybe I deserve this end for being foolish enough to consider her flirtations as being love. Stupid, stupid me! And she? Well, she was always forgetful. So maybe, she’ll forget me soon!

First year in a medical college is often remembered by everyone as being the worst phase of their life. It’s the period when one realizes that merely knowing English is not enough in MBBS. One has to be fluent in Greek and Latin too, just to know what does ‘sternocleidomastoid’ or ‘peroneus longus’ means. Asha was also cursing her lack of knowledge in the dead languages of the yore, when the lecturer jolted her back to attention with a shout, “Hey you, blue dress!” a dozen girls in a blue dress and another dozen in blue jeans looked up. Asha was one of them too. In fact, she was the one at whom the shout was directed.

“Yes ma’am?” she stood up apprehensively.

“Tell the nerve supply of biceps brachii.” Asha had not even opened the ‘red monster’, the textbook of Anatomy by B.D. Chaurasiya, and here she was asked a question whose answer formed one word of over ten-thousand written in the book. She was silent as a stone. Suddenly, she heard a tapping sound on her desk. Looking down, she saw Vishal scribbling on her desk ‘MCN C8-T1’.

“We are waiting, miss. If you don’t know, you may walk out of the lecture now!” the lecturer shouted again. She looked pissed off from the first minute. Perhaps the department had rejected her application to be an Associate professor.

“Musculocutaneous nerve, nerve roots C8-T1.” The lecturer seemed a bit shocked and crestfallen too, not having been able to carry out any punishment. Her simmering anger remained simmering and Vishal suddenly became something of a savior in the eyes of Asha. After the lecture, she came to him and held his hand, saying, “Thanks a lot Vikas!”

“Er, welcome. But you got the name wrong. Its Vishal!” he replied, surprised that she forgot his name.

“Oh yeah… I am a bit forgetful,” Asha tapped her head with her palm, and continued, “but thanks for saving my skin today! You know, I have worked very hard to reach here, and I don’t want to lose out due to any distraction. That’s why I don’t give out my number to boys.”

“It’s okay. Perfectly alright,” Vishal replied, growing increasingly uncomfortable with his hand still held by Asha.

“But I think I can make an exception for my savior. So give me your number and I will give you a missed call.”

Numbers were promptly exchanged. Messages followed later. Initially, it started the way it always does, with forwards, jokes, shayris etc. In a few weeks, the messages grew increasingly intimate as they started chatting on mobile. Then followed the “good night. Will miss you over the weekend.” And for the first time, Vishal felt that they were more than just good friends. And that was his first mistake.

She never seemed to care. Or maybe I had just expected too much of her. Didn’t she always say, “Don’t expect too much from others.”? Little did I know that she was referring to herself! I always expected that one day she would accept my love. Well, the whole world was busy loving each other and here I was, in love with a girl who did not want to fall in love.

“Vishal, are you serious?” a surprised, if not shocked Asha asked.

“The only time I was more serious was when I was admitted in the hospital. That time even the doctor said that I was very serious. Ha ha ha.” Asha got irritated. Vishal could not stop himself from trying to be funny even at that delicate time. He had just expressed to Asha that the amorous overtures towards her were truly an indication of her affixed place in his heart, and that with each beat, she grew dearer to him.
“Well, I love you too!” Asha replied coyly. Vishal could not believe his ears. In any case they were flushed red. His head thudded with blood as he realized the bliss of being loved by the one you love the most. He squeezed Asha’s hand tightly, and whispered in her ear, “I am so much in love with you sweetheart!” Saying this, he left. As he walked, Asha saw him jump a little while walking, and even heard him whistle for the first time. She shuddered inwardly, thinking what she had done.

Her fears came true when Vishal met her the next day and asked, “So, where do you want to go for our first date? Marriot? Taj? Or the humble CCD?”

“Date?” Asha asked, a little surprised.

“Well, yeah. Why?”

“See, I don’t go out alone with a boy. So, I am really sorry Vishal.”

“Um, okay. No problem!” Vishal replied a little crestfallen.

“And, there’s something…” Asha’s sentence was cut short by a shout from Harish, Vishal’s friend. Vishal went away, after saying a hurried “bye sweet heart”. Asha wondered how to explain things to him. She thought of messaging him or calling him up but it seemed too informal and rude. She had to clarify everything face to face. From a distance, she saw Vishal slapping Harish's palm, and heard him say, “It’s a bet!” That night, she messaged Vishal, asking him about the bet. He sent a cryptic reply, saying she would find it out the next day. Confused and worried, she went to sleep.

“Are you ready?” the under-dressed, over-enthusiastic host shouted to an audience craving for entertainment in the annual song-and-dance extravaganza of the college. A loud cheer from the audience, which was mostly directed at the skimpily dressed host, Alisha, confirmed that they shared her enthusiasm equally. One after the other, the crowd cheered and jeered, depending on whether the performer was from their batch or from the other batch. A few belted out some melodious tunes, and most rendered a crass cacophony, both receiving equal treatment of cheers and jeers. At last, walked in Vishal, who held the microphone in his hand and instead of singing, spoke something.

But of course it was a joke for her. Everything was. Vishal is always that entertainer who makes her laugh when she is sad; who lifts her bags when she feels lazy and who stops studying to talk with her when she is bored. Vishal had never been more than a joker, and his biggest mistake was to think that he was a king of his queen, Asha.

“Asha, can you come up on stage please?” Vishal’s voice emanated from the speakers. In spite of the excellent sound system and a thousand “go!” prompts from all around her, Asha seemed transfixed to her seat. It was as if she had not heard Vishal speak. Finally, after what seemed an eternity of time, she stood up and walked up to the stage.

“Here I am, Vishal,” she stammered. Deep down, she already knew what Vishal was attempting, what her reply would be and what his reaction would be. She feared the worst and knew it would come to pass.

“Asha, you proclaimed your love for me a few days ago. Will you repeat it in front of the college again?”

“But why Vishal?” she shuddered. Why do all the fears have a propensity of coming true?

“Because we love each other. Then why fear announcing it?”

“Because…”

“Yes?”

“Because I don’t love you Vishal,” she said blankly, trying her best to hide the pain within. Despite the excellent sound system, this time, it was Vishal who seemed transfixed and muted. After a thousand shouts from the audience prompting him to speak, he stammered, “But…didn’t you say…a few days ago?”

“Oh Vishal, how can I explain it? I thought you were joking with me! You flirt with girls all the time don’t you? I thought you were just playing a joke!”

“Flirt? Did you ever see me flirting any girl? Ask Alisha here. Have I ever looked at her? Half the class thinks we are a couple. I myself thought so!”

“I am really sorry Vishal. But I don’t have any such feelings towards you and I can’t lie in front of the whole college. I never knew…” before she could complete her sentence, Asha broke into a sob. Vishal too broke down on the stage. That was when the first tomato was hit on his face. It was only the first of the many that would follow.

Let the reader of this note know that I do not hold Asha responsible for my suicide in any way. I have always loved her, and will always love her. It was my mistake and I own up to it. Love you Asha, but hate you Vishal! Good bye!

Asha broke into tears. Why was she always so confused about Vishal? But, if she didn’t love him, then why she held the moments spent with him so close to her heart? Why she could never see Vishal even looking at another girl? Why her heart skipped a beat every time she saw him? Or was it just normal? She was all confused.

But then suddenly, she felt her heart speak something to her, almost in a whisper. It spoke Vishal’s name. Did she love him? Yes, of course she did! She loved him from the very beginning, but failed to recognize the feeling. Love may be blind, but it helps one see the best colors of life. Alas, people like Asha are color-blind for most parts of their lives.

“I love him,” she said matter-of-factly to Alisha, who had handed her the note. Dried tears formed lines on her otherwise pretty face. She was brimming with anger on Asha. Her indecision had cost the life of one of best guy she had ever known. Why, she wondered, it happened that someone loves that person who will never reciprocate, and ignores the one who loves them?

“I will save him!”

“What?” Alisha was shook from her reverie.

“I said I will save Vishal. Let’s go his home. For, if the ending is not happy, the story is not complete, Alisha!”
Alisha started her two-wheeler and the drove it like she had a hundred guys running after her. Within a few minutes, panting and sweating, they were at Vishal’s place. The door was open and the two rushed into his room. Vishal’s place looked every inch of a bachelor’s apartment. He stayed in a one-room apartment alone, not having adjusted to the hostel life. Alisha shrieked on seeing a line of blood. Being a medical student, neither were averse to seeing blood, but it belonged to someone they held close to their hearts.

Following the sanguine trail, they reached in the bathroom where Vishal’s pale body, devoid of a large amount of blood, lay. A slit was clearly visible on his wrist. Radial artery. Asha quickly took out her stethoscope and auscultated Vishal’s heart. It was beating, faintly and rapidly. The latter was the key. Tachycardia is the initial response to hemorrhage. There was hope that he could be saved!

“Alisha, get me a pint of Normal saline and an IV set. And an ampoule of adrenaline 1 in 1000 with the syringe.” Alisha hurried to the nearby medical store, while Asha tied a bandage proximal to the slit and also over the slit to prevent further blood loss. After that, she started with chest compressions as Alisha returned with the medication and the syringe. She quickly gave the adrenaline injection and started the IV drip.

“Who…who is there?” a weak voice emanated from Vishal.

“Vishal, it’s me, Asha, and Alisha. We saved your life!”

“Why?” he asked exasperatedly.

“Vishal, I love you.”

“What?”

No further questions were asked. No further answers given as Asha placed her lips on Vishal’s for a lingering kiss.

“I love you, Vishal.”

Love is a strange mistress. The more you pay it in the beginning, the more you suffer in the end. But it is indeed the potion that ends all sufferings.