Hey guys! This is an OS cum Mini. More of a mini actually. Please comment!!!!!!
I Have A Story To Tell You.
Chapter 1
"I have a story to tell you", I told him, as I looked outside the window. This was the man i was going to spend my life with, he had to know the truth. He had to know about him. About us.
Siddhant smiled at me casually.
"its the story of my life", I said.
At this, he looked up interestedly, forgetting all about the newspaper he was reading, he got up from his armchair, and sat next to me, "Yes, Riddhima. I want to know, in fact, i have been wanting to ask you myself. I don't know what your past is, but I do know its terrible. You don't talk to anyone, you just keep to yourself all the time, looking at the window, lost in your own world.. Its been driving me nuts... What is it?" said he, softly, his eyes piercing me.
But I looked outside, at the setting Sun. As he had said, lost in another time.
"India is a beautiful place, or maybe not. But I think it's beautiful, because I fell in love there. That land has been a witness of my life, a life I am going to share with you tonight Siddhant." I looked at him, my eyes full of trust, "I have never told anyone anything before. I want you to understand me."
He nodded.
I made myself comfortable on the wooden platform next to the window; I took one long look at the Sun. And then I closed my eyes.
"It all started in that land of beauty and love. I was six years old when I first met him. Second class. He had been a new guy in the class, and I was the loner. We both had one thing in common; no friends. For the entire day I had looked at him, stealing glances again and again. I wanted to make this new guy my friend, but I was nervous, i had never had a friend before. i did not want to mess up things. I made the first move in the break time, the whole class was buzzing with conversation and laughter, and we two were the only people not talking to anyone. I had wanted it to be perfect, just like my grades. It turned out to be just opposite of the "perfect" I had imagined. I walked up to him, and said "hi", just the way I had imagined. Simple. Short. Sweet.
"Hi", Rude. Arrogant. Nonchalant.
And then I saw what he was eating, and you won't believe what I did! I puked on his food. It was corned beef. Something I completely and absolutely hated. And the guy was eating that, yuck!
He looked up, fury plain in his eyes, breathed out fire. And then left. Friend, indeed.
For the years that followed, i was perfectly sure about one thing- the guy was a complete ass hole. And I was bent upon proving it to everyone, for everyone in the class was like "Armaan this", "Armaan that". By the time we reached high-school, he had dated every girl in the class. Except me. The funny thing is, he never asked me out. Not that I would have said yes, but still, he would go out with the fattest, geekiest girl in the class, but not me! In fact, he never spoke to me at all, and he still mattered so much. He always had. Since that first day when he ate corned beef.
Our love story started the day I was leaving my school. Imagine, we never spoke a word to each other for twelve years, sitting in the same class, looking at everyone but each other, and on the last day, he talks. I cant tell you how frustrated I was. And you know what he told me? That stupid, idiot, good for nothing moron? He proposed to me, right in front of the whole goddamn school, not just the students, but the teachers and the principal too! Till date it remains the most embarrassing day of my life. In the last assembly, early morning, he proposed to me! Ofcourse, I ran away, out of embarrassment more or less. Had he said so in private, I would have definitely accepted him, you see, as much as I hated that, I had had a big crush on him!
The pea brain took it otherwise, the guy disappeared. He disappeared. And I did not see him again for three years, and every day of those three years I cursed myself for running away, and I cursed him for being so thick. Armaan thought I had rejected him. I used to sit alone in empty class rooms and cry. It was so tormenting; knowing that the guy loves you but that you cant have him.And then, in the fourth year of my college I saw him. His handsome face, blue eyes, beautiful smile.
I saw him on the TV.
Armaan had always been fond of music, the guy was in love with guitar.In school, he used to bunk classes and practice.. The guy was crazy about it.
And the world was crazy about him, yes he had formed a band in these three years, and their song was a hit. A worldwide hit. Great. Now toh, the teeny meeny chance of him coming back to me was over too, he was never coming back. Why would he? He would have girls all around him, throwing himself at him.. Why would he bother for an ordinary, stupid, dumb girl he had had a stupid crush on?He was never coming back to me.I was selfish, yes, very selfish. A person in love is supposed to be happy for the success of their beloved, but I was sad. Because I knew I was never getting him, I cried for seven hours that day.
I grew, slowly, as life progressed. I never missed a concert, and I was very much update about "the young musician who had shaken the world", or so the New York Times called him. I dated guys, sometimes even thought that I was over him, cried, stupidly smiled at the TV when I watched him play. Did all kinds of stupid things. If I saw roses, I would think about that fateful day when he would suddenly appear on my doorstep and gift me all the roses in the world. When I ate chocolates, I thought about how he would make chocolates for me with his own hands. If I saw babies, I thought about what names we would give our children. I was very much aware of the reality, I was very much aware of the fact that there was a great chance of him forgetting me. My brain kept reprimanding me for being so ultra stupid, but my heart, the ultimate, hopeless, die hard romanticist never left hope. I tried forgetting him, but I couldn't'
I had loved writing from the beginning, though originally I had wanted to be an author, but because of some reasons I couldn't do that, I went into journalism. I wrote about all kinds of things, and the newspapers were stupid enough to publish them.. Indians are really stupids na? But I tell you, Americans beat them in stupidity. So anyways, where was I? Yeah, I wrote all kinds of stupis stuff and the stupid newspapers published it. I was quite a hit actually, public liked me. Or my articles I should say, you don't have much scope of becoming world famous as a newspaper journalist in India, most of the Indians read only the headlines, forget about the dunderhead who has spent hours writing the god damn article. Yeah so I was in this phase of brooding, and I wrote decent articles.
One day, all my dreams came true. I was going to meet Armaan Malik, actually the thing is, he was in India, and I had to do an interview with him.", I broke as I my phone beeped. It was a message.
Come fast. He is not right.
Muskaan.
