In Pursuit of Love

I feel, women in India are the most beautiful and attractive women in the world, which explains why men spend most of their time looking at them. I an Indian male was happy to date a girl who was one of the most beautiful girls I have seen. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop my wandering eyes to look at other beauties. I can’t help it. A woman does so much work like exercising, dieting, makeup just to look good, isn’t it my duty to appreciate by giving my little attention to them.

I watched her walk away, and my mouth was left wide open. It’s great that she wasn’t looking or she could see a helpless puppy standing there with his wiggling tail wanting some affection. I wanted to say a thousand words but my mouth was on strike. If  she turns around once, she loves me,  but she didn’t. Cause things like these only happen in movies,  damn the movies filling my head with stupid notions of love.  It was getting a bit chilly, so I got back in my car and watched till the lights of her flat turned on. I guess, I was waiting for her to look out the window, see me sitting there waiting for her. Then suddenly realise how much she loves me and shouts I love you. Nevertheless, that didn’t happen either. In the end I was left confused, sad and little turned on after the events that unfolded.

When I came back from work, I was surprised to see a mail in my mailbox, it came as a surprise, as I never get any mail, I get bills and lots of it. It was a wedding invitation, ‘Sameer weds Parul’. I quickly called Pooja and enquired whether she got the card or not, apparently she didn’t. Sameer was a college friend, I didn’t particularly hang out with him, but he was more of a friend of Pooja’s. He would talk to me just because I was always with Pooja.

On a lazy Saturday afternoon, I was being summoned by Pooja, to be her slave for the afternoon as she would search each and every shop at the mall till she finds the best stilettos for her beautiful feet. I was just the muck who would carry her bags and give my expert opinion, on being asked, as to which style looks better, ‘I would rather enjoy watching her try on some new lingerie than stupid sandals, but oh well’. Pooja was a dear friend, but frankly I was a little terrified of her. She was beautiful, smart and knew Taekwondo and could easily kick my ass even though we had a height difference of one foot. After college she went to U. K. for her master’s degree and had picked up an accent, I loved listening to her talk, ‘British Accent is the best, she would say fuck you and it would sound like, I like you’.

‘So, I will pick you up at 8?’ ‘Okay, I will be waiting’ And I clicked to disconnect the call, her voice was pleasant, something I could get used to. I was a little nervous, this was the first date after my breakup, and not just any break up; this breakup was with the girl who I thought was my soul-mate, my dream girl, with whom I had spent countless days just loving her and making plans for my future, our future.