SwaRon OS - The 'Object' of my affection

Some stories can be narrated over and over again and still never lose their charm. Such is the love story of Swayam and Sharon. Full of ups and downs it might be, yet I cannot help but describe it.

Who am I?

I'm not Swayam. Nor am I Sharon. I am someone who has always been there yet never been around. Who has seen everything and yet never said a word about any of the happenings. So today, I tell you Swayam and Sharon's story from my point of a view. The point of view of a pencil.

I still remember it as if it was yesterday. It was my first of many days in the prestigious St Louis College. In a class of more than 100 freshers (read: bacchas) , it was hard for a pencil like me to stand out. Yet I did. Coz I was held by the most attractive girl in the entire class, Sharon. Yes, it was just the first month of junior college and the girl had already made a mark on everyone, including the seniors. The rich, confident Sharon had become the hot topic of the college. And she knew it. I prided myself on having being purchased by Sharon. Out of the 100 odd students sitting in the class, more than half of them had theirs on her. The rest of them were either sleeping, or were...well, girls. A number of hearts were beating for her back then in the cramped classroom but the heart that beat the loudest and the fastest was undoubtedly, Swayam's.

Swayam had fallen into a trance the minute he had seen Sharon. It was the first day of college and he had been parking his cycle into the stand, trying to avoid being troubled by the seniors. He'd turned around to see HER getting out of her posh car, looking confident and beautiful. But her eyes showed how nervous and scared she really was. This was her first day of a new life and she was trying her best to fit in already. Her eyes were what intrigued him and made him continue to stare at her for God-knows-how-long. It was as if her eyes could speak a thousand words which her mouth never spoke. Until theirs eyes met, that is. She smiled faintly at him when she saw he was without an ID card too. But then she looked down and noticed where he was standing. Cycle stand, oh my God, poor loser. She walked by pretending to give a damn about the rest of the world when all she wanted to do was to fit in. And Swayam had realized that already. He wanted to know the girl with the beautiful, mysterious eyes.

Within days, Sharon had become the coolest fresher in that year's new batch. Swayam had got to know her name on the very first day of college, when she had boldly walked up to the center of class and introduced herself, successfully conquering her first day fears and his heart.

How do I know this? I wasn't even around at that time! Well, we'll come to that by and by.

Anyway, so the class got over and Sharon got up to leave. Much to my chagrin, her brand new pencil, a.k.a, I slipped out of her hand when a girl pushed her from behind. Of course that girl got to hear Sharon's piece of mind for pushing her but Sharon didn't bother to even pick me up. Which is something I will always thank her for because it was Swayam who picked me up off the floor. He had seen "Sharon's pencil" fall to the ground and wanted to return it to her. Thank God for that, because if he wouldn't have picked me up, I wouldn't have been here narrating this story.

I am a girly looking pencil. I am pink in colour and till some years back, I had furry cotton coming out from my behind. Not the best pencil for a boy to be carrying around in college. But did Swayam care? Of course not!

He ran after her but she had long walked out of class with her cool' group and was no longer within Swayam's eyesight. He sighed sadly, cradling me softly in his hand, as if I was Sharon herself. I found this head over heels in love, young boy extremely funny and stupid. He couldn't and wouldn't ever get a girl like Sharon, I had thought rather scornfully. Boy was I wrong.

The class was nearly empty now since almost everyone had rushed off for the lunch break. Swayam was somewhat of a loner, he had made a few friends in college but he still wasn't that comfortable with them. He picked up his bag and began to walk to the canteen, holding me tightly within his right palm. The faint sound of Western music coming from the stylish rehearsal hall drew him in the direction and that was when he saw her, dancing.

It was like magic. He'd never seen someone dance so beautifully. She was all alone, dressed in a simple shirt and track pants, moving back and forth as she practiced some difficult steps. Her eyes were closed, as she slowly took in every movement of hers. Graceful yet strong, her movements were perfect. Swayam couldn't believe what he was seeing. He wanted to put his bag down, run and dance with her. He felt something tingling within him, as for the first time he felt the desire to want to move his body in time with the music. Watching her was so blissful.

The sound of footsteps brought him out of his reverie. He wanted to continue admiring her dance but he had to leave. However, he had made up his mind. He wanted to dance, just like Sharon. He wanted to dance...with Sharon. He put his bag down, put me into his bag and rushed off to class. He couldn't wait for the day to get over so he could rush home.

Seeing Swayam's house was a big shocker for me. I had expected the skinny, silent Swayam to be from such a well to do family. But that's the thing about Swayam. He always appears to be different from others. He isn't your predictable, rich, arrogant brat. But then Swayam has always believed that "Predictable is so boring."

He placed his bag in a corner and opened a brand new, unused book. He lay on the bed for a long time, with me and the book in his arms, thinking about what to do. I wish I could get into Swayam's mind and see what he really thinks. It would be marvelous to know what goes on in is mind. After a while, he got off the bed excitedly and brought us to his desk. He took me in his hands and began drawing figures of a person dancing. He would close his eyes, picturise a dancer, Sharon, most probably, and draw. Most of the steps he was drawing resembled the ones Sharon had performed that day. Occasionally, he would get off the chair, close his eyes, imagine Sharon and move his body just like she had in the rehearsal hall. It was like dancing had got some new energy within him. He felt ALIVE, after days. He continued doing that for hours till Ramu kaka told him it was nearly 2 in the morning and he had college the next day.

And so it went on for months and months. Sharon would sneak into the rehearsal hall every other day under the pretense of doing some work and dance. Just dance. Since the rehearsal hall was anyways lying useless since a long time, nobody came to see. Sometimes, Sharon danced without music. Swayam would sneak up and watch her every time she did. Even the walls of the otherwise deserted rehearsal hall seemed to have become livelier after Sharon and Swayam had started invading it. Unknown to Sharon, Swayam spent most his time designing her steps and practicing them in the safety of his room. No one was aware of Swayam's new hobby, or say, passion. Except me. And well, maybe, Ramu kaka, but then Ramu kaka really wasn't aware of what he did in his room. Except that he made a lot of noise while doing so. Swayam did end up falling down and bruising himself badly during these dance sessions.

First year went by and exams were rolling in. Swayam had made a couple of good friends like Amar and Bharat, who though came from nearly contrasting backgrounds as his, were really nice company to be with. He would carry me to college everyday but he never used me. Nor did he lend me to anyone else. One day, when Bharat was looking into Swayam's box when he spotted me. Swayam made some excuse and got his box but. However, he had realized that I had to be kept safe.

Later, at home, that night, he created a small box for me. He had painted it red in colour and had written SS' on it. No prizes for guessing what SS stands for. Sharon was becoming extremely popular in college and Swayam would go around collecting all the pictures he found of hers. He kept them in the SS' box along with me. The box would lie there, on his desk, for Swayam to admire. Of course, this box was soon to be replaced by a special place in Swayam's cupboard, also known as Sharon's corner', but yeah, it was extremely important to him back then.

I guess I forgot to mention this so let's backtrack once again. Apparently St Louis has a tradition of sorts called Weaklings and Dazzlers. Not much explanation is required, I presume, but Sharon and Swayam were placed in opposite, rival groups. Basically, Sharon's gang bossed over Swayam's friend circle.

Not that it mattered to Swayam. Swayam's life had started centering around dance. He would spend all his free time practicing, visualizing himself waltzing along with Sharon on his bed. Yes, Swayam taught himself to dance. Or rather, Sharon taught Swayam how to dance.

You must be wondering exactly how I lasted for so long. Well, I was hardly used, except when it came to him drawing dance steps and let me tell you this; I've been used at my bluntest best. Swayam didn't care, as long as it was his Sharon's pencil. By now, Sharon was aware of Swayam's existence in her class but she had not yet acknowledged it. She didn't care.

However, with Sharon's increasing popularity, all her friends began dancing too. Dance soon became a trend and Swayam started missing admiring his Sharon dancing all alone in her own world. He would sit by his desk in the evening and silently draw images of a couple dancing in his book. For him, dancing and Sharon were in a separate world.

I really don't know what exactly happened when he would be at college because he stopped taking me to college. Over time, he kept a special corner in his cupboard dedicated to Sharon. It had everything there which he considered related to her. I was kept there too, in a special place, and felt like a guest of honour in that corner.

It was in the summer vacations after their 12^th boards that I finally started realizing how MUCH Swayam loves Sharon. For the past two years, I had passed it off as puppy love which I expected he would outgrow. But as time passed, I realized this wasn't just mere infatuation. It was way beyond that. Swayam longed to have Sharon beside him. He would dance all night long, imagining himself doing a duet with her.

And it during these lazy, hazy summer days that Swayam began writing poems. He wrote odes in honour of Sharon. I found them ridiculous in the beginning, because initially he used me to write these poems. But later, as they became more and more passionate and intense, I finally understood Swayam's love for Sharon. She had created him, in a way. Unknowningly, she had given rise to Swayam the lover boy and let him explore his hidden talent. Talent which would later define his career and future.

As Degree College started, I realized things had begun changing on the Swayam-Sharon front. Swayam would return home, angry and pained, after listening to all the taunts by Sharon. He would lie on the bed for hours, cursing his ill luck. He would pick me up at times and draw illustrations. Sometimes his anger would be so intense, that he would end up breaking my lead out of frustration. Evevn when he didn't show his anger, I could sense it. His grip was always stronger and more forceful when he was not happy. I empathized with this poor boy.

Sometimes he would come back and write down what had happened during the day. He would describe his new friends, the Weaklings- Dazzlers re-union and Sharon's continued hostility towards him. When he was happy, he would dance around the room with the invisible Sharon. There would be a twinkle in his eyes and he would scream "I love Sharon!" .I've seen Swayam spending hours looking at Sharon's picture and trying to draw her. Such was the love of Swayam Shekhawat.

One day, he came home from college all determined and excited. He planned to play Secret admirer' and confess to Sharon. I was happy for the boy but I really hoped his heart would be crushed once again. He spent hours, using me to draw lines on red paper, checking out things from a to-do list, making up lines to write in his letters. I watched him silently as he delicately wrapped up his unique gifts which he knew would make his Sharon happy.

He would come home, grinning from ear to ear and flop down on the bed happily, muttering about the radiance he saw on Sharon's face when she saw his gifts. I felt so happy for him at those times. Swayam deserved all the happiness in the world and if it was Sharon who made him happy, then, well, he deserved her.

But then it happened. His heart got crushed. He rushed home one day and started kicking things in frustration. He picked me up and threw me to the ground. He opened up his cupboard and began throwing things down. He cleared everything off his desk and pounded his bandaged hand against the wall. Later, he went out somewhere, frustrated. When he came back, he had calmed down. But he saw me lying on the ground, half broken. For one minute, frustration creeped up his face and he lifted his leg to stamp on me. I thought, this is it, the end. The end of me. The end of the love story which had never begun. But just as I was about to be crushed, he stopped. He picked me up and sank down on the floor. And there he sat for the next two three hours, crying bitterly with me in his hand. It was at around 3 am in the morning when he got up resolutely and placed everything back in his cupboard. But this time , he didn't do it with care. Because he did not care anymore. He stuffed us in the cupboard and went back to sleep, probably trying to shut all the memories. I thought the story was over forever. Little did I know then that it was just one of the downs of this bumpy love story. This love couldn't die that soon.

Part 1 ends here. I will post Part 2 if I get good enough feedback😊It can be positive or negative, I don't mind.