“I hate Doctors.” “Me too!”; “I love Alia Bhatt.” “Me too!”; “My favorite pastime is to watch a crow steal and try to eat a chicken bone” “Mine too!” Wait what? I turned and looked at him. We had such mirror likes that it was impossible to not talk about something and nod our heads in disagreement. It was as if we could never get into an argument.  Both of us would have the same opinion. This was barely the second day we met again. Same routine. Two autos and I got to his place. We started to walk at the same direction that we did the day before. But this time he took me to his favorite chai shop. The teas were served in typically unclean tall, thick and translucent glasses. Any old bengali chai stall would sell cigarettes and steaming hot tea always boiling in a once upon a time silver coloured but now black pot because of all the flames. They have these amazingly delicious bakery biscuits. Some round, some rectangular and some with sesame seeds in them. A chai stall is the most economical snack a Bengali would prefer specially in these chilly winters. Anyway, we sat down with two glasses and clinged a CHEERS to us for surviving another day of a meeting. Why do I say survive? That is because this young kid had a TEMPER of a damp firewood and an EGO of a mane. If I said anything with a joking tone and Mr. Angry did not fancy it, he would simply not speak to me for a day or a few hours tops. It was difficult, but I did not bother because he was right there and I wanted to enjoy the time we spend together rather than baffle about thoughts in my head. The tea was claimed to be the best in that area and indeed it was. We planned to walk all the way up to the mall stairs where we had our starry night conversation the day before. We sat there till the city grew busy with their walks and the night grew colder. But my time stood still as his topics varied from new business ideas that we wanted to start together to how he could smoke an entire cigarette without dropping the ash. Apparently some challenge he did in college and thought he was still game.

That day finished with him buying me a chocolate as I had pissed him off a bit and he fletched away for a while. As I sat in the auto while he waved out at me, I knew something was not right. He was not being himself. As I reached home, he did not bother to text if I reached unlike the other day. He replied with one word and I felt aloof and slept off. The day after I had office and he did not speak much the whole day as he was preoccupied with some shoot. Later at night, after a lot of pestering, he finally asked for a video call. We spoke with immense happiness till 5am. I slept like a baby. I knew being overly happy meant a bad thing was about to happen soon. Happiness and I have always been on opposite poles. I joined office with a heavy feeling. Did not feel like working at all after a long holiday and that too with such an interesting story to dwell on. I was physically present in my desk but my heart and mind kept imagining our conversations, little things he did that I liked and so much more. Was I in love? Not true! But I was in love with who he was. After a terrible time at work, faking smiles and exchanging pleasantries, I headed back home. We spoke over the phone and texted the entire day on and off. Things were good. I was sane. As I got comfortable on my bed and opened my phone, I realised that he had blocked me from all social media sites. I tried calling him but after a ring it would come as unavailable. A sign that I was BLOCKED. Nothing went into my head. We were just talking!! What so terrible did I do that he had to take such a harsh step? That night I tried calling him several times and left him text messages which get delivered despite of being blocked. I felt a terrible storm of anxiety. The more the number got rejected, a little part of me started to break. I could not sleep. The next morning I expected him to call as usual but he did not. My heart sank. I sent him more text messages sounding a lot desperate for him to just call me once and explain what had gone wrong. At Least I deserved a clarification.

I went to work but could not concentrate one bit. In such few days, I was so addicted to him. Did I over do it? Does he think I love him and that’s why he backed off? Was he busy? Is he in trouble? A train of thought just kept passing on the entire day until after my last text, he called. I picked the phone and ran to our reception area at work. The first thing I said was WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU??? Why are you doing this? He simply replied by saying “I just don’t feel like talking. I need to concentrate on things. I’m sorry. You’re a good person. I gotta go.” and he hung up. And just like that my heart raced at a speed faster than a Lamborghini. I completely switched off. I needed better validation. I needed him to speak with me. I wanted normalcy. I WANTED HIM. After almost a pack of cigarettes and lots of thinking, I tried calling him from another number. He instantly picked up after the second ring and I froze. I didn’t know what to say. Should I just abuse him or again beg and plead. I hung up. I called again and again. After the fourth ring, he picked up again. This time with a stern HELLO! I said “Hey! It’s me. Are we cool now?” He very coldly said “Why? Whats there to be cool?” I felt the world crush around me as I knew this was it. I had lost him. Maybe he was too disturbed with something else or he is this crazy artist person who flips his switch on and off this frequently. But why block just me and not switch off his phone if he needed space? Also where was I standing on his neck for him to not breathe. I rattled with several questions in my head till I got home. I finally cried a river. I did not know this was affecting me so much. Thoughts like “Did I give in my everything too soon?” “Am I capable of Love?” “Will I ever find happiness?” “Does he know how much I miss him?” “Will he ever come back?” kept encircling my brain.

I thought you said you loved spending time with me. You told me that you missed me. You said I am somebody you can easily open up to. You saw me just like I saw you. We completed each other. What happened to all those flowery things you told me? I still cannot get over what happened and why! Probably this was just a magical story that was short-lived. It needs no proof that these were one of the most beautiful days I had spend and nothing changes that. I don’t know if I would slap him or just kiss him if I saw him around. I hope someday he reads this blog and realises that all I needed to know is why give such hopes to anybody and then drop them so hard on the floor that they cannot get back up?

-Forever hopeful for my shabolombi chele to come back-

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