See many times in life you sit down and wish and pray and just want something bad, you dream of ways in which something could happen, cook it up, weave it, cream it , and a little sugar and maybe a little spice and then you’ve finally done it. Made a completely beautiful story in your mind , in which your probably the Hero, saving a maiden in distress, or a school raided by terrorists or maybe meeting your crush at a wedding where you end up becoming Boyfriend and Girlfriend or maybe getting into gang wars with assholes cause you love your girl and would do anything for her and well you get the gist.

I was no different ,but in my defense I was young and stupid (this was over 3 years ago and I’m 16 now so I ain’t lying). So back to what I think I was getting at, I too was young and foolish and had many many of those stories cooked up. And well they’re a little or more like those above summarizing sentences. So let me skip through all those heroics and fights and drama (all imaginary) and well tell you about said crush.

For the offside chance that she might read this someday I will keep her name a secret and for the offside chance that you are actually reading this even after the initial few paragraphs , let’s call her Akhila (my name is Akhil and I can’t really think of a name).

So as the story of mine went, “Akhila”, was a teacher’s daughter. Very attractive, we’re in the same class,very studious, a Mallu (just like me),  a Hindu (just like me) , a traditionalist, an artist, and so much more.And so to me she was the best girl I could dream of put in physical form. To my naive mind she was a Goddess requiring worship, with no words of mine going against her, no actions of mine disgracing her,nothing of me bothering her ,or at least to my mind I was that. But, Unfortunately or Fortunately, when I told my best friend at the time he came to me the very next day to tell me he liked her too, and not in the way that should please me. So then we ,children as we were, fought and raged and screamed and cursed and well did all those heroic deeds seeking that blessed maiden. Sadly as it goes even with all the brave and courageous things we could do, neither of us had the balls to actually tell her.  Maybe this was when I actually started thinking about what I was doing.Thoughts like Do I love her? Really? How so? I don’t know her, why should I? Started creeping into mind. And so after I think about a week of “war” with my best friend, I went over and told him that he could have her, that I did not in fact like her and that I was over her (a bit contradictory I know). And after that I believe in a week or so he told her, or maybe not, I am not really sure. And that was how I lost a perfectly good best friend.

Easy as it was to say that I was over her, in truth it was a bit too different, I would picture in my hideous mind stories of betrayals and friendships and heroics and all things that would in finality get me the girl.One of them as I mentioned earlier was The Wedding.

Like said earlier, she was a Mallu and a Hindu , and if your from Bangalore you should already know that all Mallus just gel together no matter what. Its another unspoken fact that almost all Hindu Mallus WILL at least once a year visit the Ayyappan  temple near Jallahalli cross. So as it happens I had seen “Akhila” more times than one in that temple, usually during Onam or Vishu (both very prestigious festivals for us Mallus). But sadly as it happens she never did see me there,  we never met there although I’d seen her half a dozen times near those temple shrines.

But well my mind being the perfectionist it was, I’d dreamt up perfectly logical story where we’d meet up in a wedding who’d happened to invite our families too. I mean come on! Bangalore is a small city, obviously there had to be ONE couple who’d add us into their 200+ invitee list. I’d thought that I would see her on top with the Bride and Bridegroom (with her parents of course). Posing for camera and then when she’d see me she’d smile for me and only me amidst the crowd. Of how we’d speak together (alone) .And I made up my mind then that if that day came when I’d meet her in one of these wedding’s I would NOT give up the chance and would let her know what I felt about her.

But as it happens Bangalore really isn’t a small city, not once did I ever meet her in one of those outlandish wedding’s . I would never get any pretense to speak to her in school either and slowly I started to loose that thing I used to think was unending Love for her, not to say I stopped looking for her in wedding’s. Always thought it could happen someday that I’d actually meet her somewhere, talk to her sometime, know her somewhat.

But alas the years passed by, my “love” faded, my school years were almost over, I’d moved on, got an ex-“crush”,later another crush- turned girlfriend- turned ex, the days kept rolling by , friends kept going by, all was coming to an end for my school life and  sadly I wasn’t that sad about it at all. I really wanted to get out of school, not that I din’t love it, but I simple get bored too fast as the 1st few lines from this paragraph should tell you. And so when our final year at school was almost done I was pretty happy. At around this time my class teacher asked me if I could do the Farewell speech. And I was elated to know that ,my teacher would trust me with this thing. I was never the popular kid, no one really knew me, no teacher really saw me as the person to do things, I was NOT the person people saw on stage often.

And so as fortune would have it I did do well on stage and as fate would have it “Akhila” was there with me also as a speaker. And at the end of that farewell I was content with praise and also with the fact that it was a fitting end to school. And so school ended and on the last day before we’d ever have to come to school again “Akhila” said to me , in maybe the first real conversation we’d ever had “You’re a good speaker” with that smile the younger me had loved and I’d replied ” You aren’t that bad either” and I smiled too. She was obviously crying then because of the whole last day at school thing, and then of course girls cry a lot, so that was the last I would see of her. It was very well confirmed by my mind that she wasn’t the one for me, but there is that bit whose still curious about that girl who meant so much to my younger self. That girl who I’d never known had played such a part in my life, although she’d never know it. The girl who I should’ve seen up on one of those weddings, who I saw in so many times on stage, who I saw almost periodically at the temple. That girl who I’d never see again……..

But as fate would have it I did see her again. About 9-10 months after the last time, she was on the podium with the Bride and Bridegroom (with her parents of course), posing for camera, with that smile that had the younger me wild, and then she saw me just for a flicker of a heartbeat, but if she recognized me she  made no show of it and she walked away. And I was disappointed as I had the right to be. I could not believe she’d made it though,Finally I though FINALLY the dream had come true. Well half true at least. Then it was my turn to meet the couple (with my parents yes) and then I saw her with her parents and all down the corner. I looked over and she saw me and I saw her. And I smiled and she smiled and I walked over, half jogging-half paced walking, after the photo shoot and went on the pretext of speaking to my teacher, I spoke of school and college. I inquired about events and news, then while saying goodbye to them I last looked at her, made sure I made eye contact for a while longer, maybe to keep that moment alive for longer, I smiled and she smiled. I waved my hand for goodbye and she did too. But she was not cold as I expected, not a stranger she seemed to be almost as glad as me to see me as I was to see her and now I had a fitting final ending to a unfit-tingly sorry story.

I do not love her, nor do I have a crush on her.I have no feelings of attraction toward her or even think off her. But somewhere in me there is a dramatist , somewhere in me there is a hopeful person, somewhere in me there is a dreamer, a younger me, a happier me, a me who’s thought a tale of too many times and kinda lived it too.

And so I no longer search for her in weddings.