It was autumn and the city was ablaze with a riot of colour. Everywhere you looked you felt like you were in an immersive experience of one of the great Dutch masters. Sunlight dappled through leaves that had turned from the verdant shades of summer to all shades of ochre to burnt orange to majestic reds and everything in between.
A soft breeze fluttered through the trees, loosening more leaves to float gently down to join the ones abundantly carpeting the streets.
It was early morning, and I was meandering along an avenue lined with maple trees. A comfortable silence surrounded me, with the only sound being that of my footsteps crunching on the bed of leaves lying there. I was sucking my favourite imli and humming baazigar oh baazigar, tu hai mera baazigar, when it happened.
They say all it takes is a moment for your world to shift on its axis. And up until that moment I had always pooh poohed such notions. Great for reel and fan fictions, but not for reality, right? Wrong! That’s exactly how it happens.
There I was revelling in the joy of nature, basking in the beauty surrounding me when my eye fell upon it. Well, him if you’re being pedantic. But, it was the ‘it’ that my eyes were first struck by. The left arm of the man who had it anchored against a tree. The Bicep. The left Bicep. Revealed in all its glory by the wifebeater the man was wearing. The sinews bunched and strained before me, burnished lovingly by a playful sunbeam that stole through the overhead canopy of leaves.
I don’t know how long I would have just stood there gawking at it if it hadn’t been for a jarring wail that pierced my stupor. I saw the man lean in some more and realised there was someone with him. He tilted his head slightly and I caught a glimpse of his jawline. Does perfection apply to every part of him?! I pinched myself to make sure he wasn’t a figment of my imagination. Nope, he was as real as they come.
I could feel my heart beating wildly as my eyes wandered down his back, his snug jeans lovingly encasing strong legs. Blushing furiously at lusting over a stranger, one who was with someone else at that, I scrunched my eyes shut to try and bring some semblance of control over myself. But, clearly the heart wants what the heart wants. And listening to my mind was not what it wanted.
Unable to move away, I stood rooted to the spot. A reluctant eavesdropper to their conversation. The wind carried with it snatches of what the woman with him was saying. Thenk you, surrie, Anooooj… Suddenly, he moved slightly and I saw the woman. She was clutching the pallu of her saree against her mouth. A man’s leather jacket was draped around her shoulders. I heard her sniff and saw her raise her pallu to wipe her nose. Appalled, I waited for the man to give her a handkerchief or at least a tissue, but none was forthcoming. I saw him cup her face and drop a chaste kiss on her forehead.
A tiny kernel of hope sprung in my heart. Maybe he was with her, but not with her? Deciding that fortune favours the brave, I sauntered up to them with the intention of… I don’t know what. At the very least, I could get a proper look at the man if nothing else. My mind had already blanked out the woman by this point.
I cleared my throat to attract his attention.
He turned around. And I lost the ability to speak.
All I could hear were bells tolling and angels humming, with tujhe dekha toh ye jaana sanam, pyaar hota hai deewana sanam, swirling in my head. The full force of his beauty hit me like a bolt of thunder. I saw the curiosity in his eyes change to concern as I did my best impersonation of a fish, words dying in my throat at every attempt.
“Are you okay?”
His voice… my God can he be more perfect?! It all got too much for me at this point, and realising that apparating was not being doled out in my time, I turned and fled. The erstwhile carpet of beauty, now a mere hindrance to my progress.
oOo
I smile fondly as memories of that day come flooding back. I am standing surrounded by paintings and sculptures of the man who had captured my heart so effortlessly in just one moment. My labour of love has taken months of assiduous research and relentless attention to detail to build. But, I have loved every second of it.
I remember well the agitation and discord that had coursed through me after meeting him. Who was he? Will I ever see him again? Why had I not let myself be wrapped in his presence for some more moments?
All of it had dissipated when I saw him appear on my TV screen one fine evening when I was visiting my aunt. Happening just as suddenly as my meeting with him that autumn morning.
The stranger. Who wasn’t one any more.
I give a quick glance around for any dumbstruck fan who may be trying to sneak in an overnight stay in the Mandir, as is often the case. I switch off the overhead lights, leaving the room suffused with only the soft glow coming from the lights bathing the images and sculptures.
I bring out the special Bicep cake I have organised after much toing and froing with the patisserie, and light the candles dotting it. Blowing on them I say a little prayer for the health, wellbeing and happiness of the one I adore.
Whispering a soft, Happy Birthday, Bicep, as my heart swells with untrammelled joy.
My dearest Alison,
Happy, happy, happy Birthday! Wishing you all that’s good and joyful in life. My sweet, loving, caring, and utterly unique friend, I adore you, dil se. And, yes, I’ll still be saying it to you 26 years on!
Raah thi jaani pehchani si
Rahguzar mili anjaani si
Jaana hai lekin jabse tujhe
Dosti par ho gaya aitbaar kuch zyaada mujhe
I hope you have the best day ever ❤️
Love always,
~ Ruchi
Please join the party guys and indulge in lots of deewangi for Ali 🥳
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