My confiscated soul survived on dole. I could neither utter worldly shibboleth, nor was I any poet’s muse. Neither was my name sculpted on buses and bus stops, nor could I find mention in the epitaphs of love on shabby walls of historical monuments. By that time, I was quite sure if lady luck ever smiles, the moment would be her laughing at my naïve, smiling picture in newspaper obituary.
A well wisher of mine, informed that my spurious existence was imputed to the fact that ‘I’, the fallen hero had never fallen for anybody.
Mind you, this fall is of another kind. Well distinguished from your fall from bed, chair, stair case, Niagara Falls, its Bengali edible variant and even the falls that is not true.
Thence, I stepped up in a show of solemnity and decided; either I have a crush or sacrifice my pineapple crush. It happened one unpleasant summer day; stuck in a cacophonous traffic jam, I saw her, a fat bespectacled vixen. My eyes and one of hers met and were transfixed, because her other eye directed towards another passer-by. The perplexity of her eyes kept both, me and my compatriot in a state of ambiguity. That was until the lights turned green and the gorgon sped away along with her diagonally opposite eyes. The speed-o-meter of my life halted at zero.
But again, the stupid cupid mis-struck, this time at a chichi party.
The same kind, where the board outside mentions, “My dog and its look-alike not allowed.”
Picture this! A sloaney drunken babe, amuck in delirium came up to me and opened her odorous mouth, “Adonis, What are you doing tonight?”
By virtue, drunkards don’t or can’t distinguish between ‘Hunk and junk’.
I replied politely with all my intellect intact, “I will get back home and go to sleep, as usual.” Feeling insulted by the profanity of my statement, she spilled the liquor residue on my face. Thenceforth, I never bowed down before the Cupid’s bow.
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