Sunday, February 10, 2013

My dancing love.. ♥ ♥

Theme: The first time you told a non-family member that wonderful phrase, “I love you.” The lead up, and what happens after that.

"I'm never gonna dance again
guilty feet have got no rhythm
though it's easy to pretend
I know your not a fool

Should've known better than to cheat a friend
and waste the chance that I've been given
so I'm never gonna dance again
the way I danced with you"

-George Michael

Love, definitions galore. 

I believe that the meaning and feeling of love purely depends from person to person.  Morover it also depends on the person for whom you feel it. Love is ofcourse different for parents, siblings, friends, and ofcourse lovers.  

For me, love is songs, dance and affable friendship.. 

I have been a tomboy all through my school and college days. Spending the first 14 years of my education in a convent school (St. Thomas', Delhi), and then in a girls college (RCAPS, DU) gave me almost no exposure to boys/ men. This added on to my behaviour of being indifferent towards boys and love and the sorts. 

Varanasi, Year 2003. 

My admission to MBA in FMS, BHU, brought in a lot of apprehensions and excitement, both. I was a little protective girl of my parents, the only child. Living alone in a hostel, some 500 kms away from Delhi, was a tough call for my parents. Even though my father is a BHU alumni, and he has many friends as professors there, still, my parents stayed in the faculty guest house for a couple of weeks to make sure I settle down. My classmates and my seniors ofcourse noticed this. Surprisingly, no one made fun of me, rather, they assured my parents that they will take care of me, and they all indeed did. 

Amidst all this puppy love feelings, I started striking friendships. Some in my class and some in my senior batch. 

Rahul was my senior. He was a localite, and lived in Varanasi. He was a happy go lucky, free wheeling guy, who was always seen laughing and fooling around. His buoyant attitude made him the favorite of many - peers and teachers alike. Along with his carefree ways, he was noble, generous and benevolent. Politeness and respect was imbibed in him. He instantly became my favorite senior. With a few common friends (localite classmates) in between, we started knowing each other. 

Just like all seniors, he would help me with the notes, with books, with presentations etc. We also used to go around the city sometimes, where he showed me the lanes of Varanasi. I used to share my worries, and loneliness with him, and slowly stopped missing home. I was taken by surprise, when sometimes he shared his own troubles. Health of his parents, his business issues, and the likes. Well, trouble stories were just a small part of our fun loving friendship. 

Then the time came to bid the second years farewell. Every year, the juniors organized an informal party. And so did we all. And then started the dancing. 5 continuous hours, and still we kept partying, all of us. And then the song of the day - 

I do not know till date why Rahul and I started dancing together on the song, and it just didn't finish. After the first few lines, it was only we who were dancing. He was a true dancer, and he bend on his knees, and with me as his partner, danced like crazy, and so did I. 

That was the moment. 
Even though I was dancing, I had a strange feeling, and a surprised look in my eye, and I kept looking at my best "boy" friend. What was it all about? 

Post this, a couple of more songs were played and we grooved to the Punjabi music and Vengaboys numbers. Finally the party wrapped up. Rahul dropped me to the hostel, and we laughed on the way. I will never forget that evening. 

When he left college, we used to talk on phone and meet up sometimes. He was the same affable Rahul, but something in me had changed. I had butterflies in my stomach, and a dizzy feeling every time I met him. It was strange, I never knew what it was. I wondered maybe because I don't meet him everyday, I am rolling back into my shell. It was mere discomfort? Was it? Slowly, I used to yearn for our meetings. And whenever they were, I used to be excited as never before. 

For a few months, I kept quiet, trying to lie to myself. And then one day, when I was 3 months away from my farewell, I called him up. I distinctly remember the conversation. 

"I have something to tell you"

"Yaar, ab tu permission legi? Shoot ladki".. 

"What will happen when I complete my MBA and go back to Delhi?"


"Well, we will start with our long and tough journey called life. But why are you asking all this? What is wrong? Padh le, exams aane waale hain. Did you do the case studies of international business strategy which I gave you?"

"Rahul, can we walk together on this long and tough journey called life?"


"I have a strange feeling, unknown emotions. Rahul, I love you,"... 


After a couple of minutes of long silence, that seemed like a lifetime, Rahul spoke. 

"Shall we meet up? Its 4pm. Shall I pick you up at 4.30 pm from your hostel?" But I told him that I would walk down. 

In Varanasi, the ghats of Ganga are the usual evening hangouts. With chai wale bhaiyas and pizzerias around, ghats were abuzz with students in the evenings. That was where we usually used to sit and chat for hours.

"How I wish I could respond to you Arpita, and how I wish I could respond positively." 
"I have always loved you Arpita, since I saw you the first time 2 years back", the innocent smile made me weak in my knees. 
"But walking together in life is not possible at all." 

He did give me some reasons, which I practically I understood well, but my heart didn't accept it, and doesn't till date. 

I spent the next three months in the same way as the previous days. Rahul was always beside me, he used to come to the faculty to wish me on every exam day, and he used to be there waiting for me in the afternoons. We did spend those 3 months, in the best possible way, spending a lot of time together, just to soak in all that we could in the short span. 

May 2004

"You do not have to cry ever in your life, never ever, till you know I am alive" were the last words he said. 

The Shiv Ganga express slowly left  the platform, and he stood there waving. And I slowly hummed 

Till we meet like this again, 
God be with you till we meet again.. 

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

Image Courtesy:
Videos Courtesy: 
george michael offical youtube channel