24 years. 24 long years of my life I had to wait for that day. Well honestly, not all the 24 years were spent waiting. Maybe last 7 years. Maybe it was 7 years ago only that I first heard about the concept of “Date”. A Date, when a girl agrees to go out with you for a lunch, dinner, movie, shopping or just strolling in the mall. When it’s only you and her. You get to spend all the time together… maybe it’s the first step.
The concept was fascinating sans the procedure. The whole idea was “you ask a girl to go out with you”. The girl has all the right in the world to decline without any good reason, or if at all there are reasons, it can be the most horrendous you might have heard. You could be rejected for a date if you don’t tie you shoes properly or if you tie them a bit too properly. If your shirt is too casual or if it’s too formal, if color of your belt and shoes are different, if your hairs are unkempt or if you keep a comb in your pocket… it can be anything. You can NEVER be sure what will get her and she can refuse.
Little did I know that one day someone was not going to refuse for any reason.
Being brought up in middle class family, closeness and fluency with fairer sex was majorly limited to in-house ladies… mom, sisters, chachi, bua etc. The idea of a female friend was mostly alien, and any friendly association with a girl outside family was looked with suspicion, was talked in the colony and discussed over dinner tables. My innocent childhood psychology was fed with fear of talking to any feminine homo sapient, unless it’s safe enough to address her “Aunty”. Anything of fellow age was worth a fear. And fear grew to the hilt as I was in the last stage of my adolescent years… the most crucial years to nurture such fears.
Summers of 1998. We were in class 10th. The fear never really pinched as I was surrounded by equally fear fed boys in the locality and school. There was no room for a girl in our gang. We were self sufficient. Anyone having a girlfriend or even a girl as a friend was inhuman and was not welcomed. We had our own confined world of fantasies and fallacies, where could talk about girls, but not to girls. And we were happy. Content. We played football in the rains. We played cricket all day. We exchanged “not so good” kind of magazines in the classroom. We could do all that as there was no “girl” around whom you had to please, for whom you have to pretend to be a “nice” guy. Though this contentment was superficial. For all of us. Deep down, the idea of talking, laughing, eating, roaming with a girl, used to fascinate me. True, we used to play cricket all day, but whenever some girl(s) of class were around, watching us play, the cover drives would become more stylish, toe and elbow pointing to bowler and follow-through straight over left shoulder. The fielding got more adventures with flashy dives and flying catches. And every good delivery bowled was followed by a glance at the ladies in audience. Have they noticed the out swing? Some lesser players would get accolades from audience because they would discuss the match with the audience in the canteen. But I could never actually talk to any of the audiences. No matter how good I play on field, off it I was bad player.
So, the fear actually pinched.
In the autumns of year 2001, I was admitted to University College. Aah…!! a college! Excitements, expectation, anticipation, exhilaration, hope. And fear.
I was hopeful and wishful that I’ll get rid of the fear here. The place which is Mecca of all the Bollywood love stories… College! This would be it.
And seeds were sown on day one. I saw her. And then I saw dreams. All sorts of dreams. In all the movies and songs which our Bollywood dream factory churns out… I used to see her and me in place of the hero and his lady love. All the love stories were mine own story. But all the success stories, the success love stories, on screen had one big difference than mine. Well in fact two big differences. First, on screen it was SUCCESS story which was not the case for me. And second big difference was, in all the stories it was the male lead who initiated the first step. Ask the lady for a date.
Phew… don’t they have the “fear”…?? Well it’s a story after all, a work of fiction. God…!! Will they ever come up with a story in which the hero has this “fear”. Who’ll tell me how to get over this… there is simply no education in films for me. All these film are so unreal. This won’t happen in real world. No body will dare to talk to girl like that…!! Getting a girl cannot be so effortless. Agreed I am in college, but in a film. This is real world buddy… it won’t happen here.
But it happens. It actually happens in real world. Getting a girl on date is not earth shattering effort after all. By the time first year was ending, most boys either had a solid reason for not having a girl… “I want to concentrate on studies”, “I don’t believe in candy floss romance”, “I don’t have enough money to afford a girl”… or they had a girl. I had neither. What I had was “fear”.
Oh... coming back to my dreams, all sorts of dreams. Well those “all sorts” included a nightmare. A dashing and rich boy of the class, who had a bike and attitude from day one of college, got her. I consoled myself… she is happier with her. I could’ve never given her that lovely smile on her face when she is riding pillion and the bike zooms past everyone. How I wished I had a bike.
The college days were almost over. And what I had by the end of this supposedly roller coaster ride called University life…?? Strive for the bike. A gang of boys. A broken dream. A wish for a date. And fear.
Few years down the line, this fear was going to be futile.
The concept was fascinating sans the procedure. The whole idea was “you ask a girl to go out with you”. The girl has all the right in the world to decline without any good reason, or if at all there are reasons, it can be the most horrendous you might have heard. You could be rejected for a date if you don’t tie you shoes properly or if you tie them a bit too properly. If your shirt is too casual or if it’s too formal, if color of your belt and shoes are different, if your hairs are unkempt or if you keep a comb in your pocket… it can be anything. You can NEVER be sure what will get her and she can refuse.
Little did I know that one day someone was not going to refuse for any reason.
Being brought up in middle class family, closeness and fluency with fairer sex was majorly limited to in-house ladies… mom, sisters, chachi, bua etc. The idea of a female friend was mostly alien, and any friendly association with a girl outside family was looked with suspicion, was talked in the colony and discussed over dinner tables. My innocent childhood psychology was fed with fear of talking to any feminine homo sapient, unless it’s safe enough to address her “Aunty”. Anything of fellow age was worth a fear. And fear grew to the hilt as I was in the last stage of my adolescent years… the most crucial years to nurture such fears.
Summers of 1998. We were in class 10th. The fear never really pinched as I was surrounded by equally fear fed boys in the locality and school. There was no room for a girl in our gang. We were self sufficient. Anyone having a girlfriend or even a girl as a friend was inhuman and was not welcomed. We had our own confined world of fantasies and fallacies, where could talk about girls, but not to girls. And we were happy. Content. We played football in the rains. We played cricket all day. We exchanged “not so good” kind of magazines in the classroom. We could do all that as there was no “girl” around whom you had to please, for whom you have to pretend to be a “nice” guy. Though this contentment was superficial. For all of us. Deep down, the idea of talking, laughing, eating, roaming with a girl, used to fascinate me. True, we used to play cricket all day, but whenever some girl(s) of class were around, watching us play, the cover drives would become more stylish, toe and elbow pointing to bowler and follow-through straight over left shoulder. The fielding got more adventures with flashy dives and flying catches. And every good delivery bowled was followed by a glance at the ladies in audience. Have they noticed the out swing? Some lesser players would get accolades from audience because they would discuss the match with the audience in the canteen. But I could never actually talk to any of the audiences. No matter how good I play on field, off it I was bad player.
So, the fear actually pinched.
In the autumns of year 2001, I was admitted to University College. Aah…!! a college! Excitements, expectation, anticipation, exhilaration, hope. And fear.
I was hopeful and wishful that I’ll get rid of the fear here. The place which is Mecca of all the Bollywood love stories… College! This would be it.
And seeds were sown on day one. I saw her. And then I saw dreams. All sorts of dreams. In all the movies and songs which our Bollywood dream factory churns out… I used to see her and me in place of the hero and his lady love. All the love stories were mine own story. But all the success stories, the success love stories, on screen had one big difference than mine. Well in fact two big differences. First, on screen it was SUCCESS story which was not the case for me. And second big difference was, in all the stories it was the male lead who initiated the first step. Ask the lady for a date.
Phew… don’t they have the “fear”…?? Well it’s a story after all, a work of fiction. God…!! Will they ever come up with a story in which the hero has this “fear”. Who’ll tell me how to get over this… there is simply no education in films for me. All these film are so unreal. This won’t happen in real world. No body will dare to talk to girl like that…!! Getting a girl cannot be so effortless. Agreed I am in college, but in a film. This is real world buddy… it won’t happen here.
But it happens. It actually happens in real world. Getting a girl on date is not earth shattering effort after all. By the time first year was ending, most boys either had a solid reason for not having a girl… “I want to concentrate on studies”, “I don’t believe in candy floss romance”, “I don’t have enough money to afford a girl”… or they had a girl. I had neither. What I had was “fear”.
Oh... coming back to my dreams, all sorts of dreams. Well those “all sorts” included a nightmare. A dashing and rich boy of the class, who had a bike and attitude from day one of college, got her. I consoled myself… she is happier with her. I could’ve never given her that lovely smile on her face when she is riding pillion and the bike zooms past everyone. How I wished I had a bike.
The college days were almost over. And what I had by the end of this supposedly roller coaster ride called University life…?? Strive for the bike. A gang of boys. A broken dream. A wish for a date. And fear.
Few years down the line, this fear was going to be futile.
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