Two classmates who used to hate each other, one of them fell in love with the other. Their religions are different, their standards are different, and their lives are different. Just two teenagers who hated each other, and now it's the last year of...
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The wind is blowing, and I can't light my cigarette. The view from the terrace is breathtaking. I can see the Nilachal flyover from here. It's midnight, around 12:30 AM, and I'm sitting here, smoking and listening to A.R. Rahman and Mohit Chauhan's "Nadan Parinde." My name is Ansh Dixit, and I somehow complicated things by falling in love with my best friend, someone I once disliked more than anything. Now, I'm reflecting on the moments we shared in class 8. Her name is Zoya Ahmed, but before I write about her, I want to tell you about myself.
I'm just a confused teenager who wants to be loved because I was raised on my own. I learned everything by myself and never knew what it felt like to be loved by someone. Yes, I have parents, but they only handle the expenses. They were never really present in my life. I love them, and they love me, but they're not good parents. I also have an elder sister whom I dislike intensely, and I wish she would leave the house. Even though we live together, we haven't spoken or had any contact in a long time.
I'm full of flaws-a 5'11" guy with what I believe are ugly looks and a dumb personality (everyone avoids me). It sounds funny now. But getting back to the topic-this is who I am. I still remember that day after the first month of class 8. I was an extroverted person, always restless and unable to sit quietly for a second. But during the 2020 lockdown and curfew, I became socially introverted. I used to sit on the last bench, masked up, and happy that no one noticed this "ugly" boy.
One normal Monday, while sitting in my usual spot at the back of the class, I saw a girl who was late. It was Hindi period, and the teacher was taking attendance. When she entered the room, my whole body just lit up. Her eyes, her smile, her hair-I can't put it into words, but she was the prettiest girl I'd ever seen. She was so stunning that I couldn't bring myself to talk to her. I admired her from a distance.
Soon after, I joined a football club for practice and ended up breaking my arm. I couldn't see her for a whole month while I recovered from surgery. When I finally returned to school, I saw her again. Slowly, I built up the confidence to start talking to her. Every time I came home, I would blush just remembering our conversations. Ah, "lover boy" me-it sounds funny now.
Ironically, I used to hate her back in class 4, and now, after all these years, I had fallen for her. I hesitated to talk to her because I had once proposed to her twin sister in 3rd grade. I was just a kid then, but now I regretted it deeply. I was stuck, trying to figure out how to start a conversation with the sweetest girl in class after proposing to her twin sister. It was a mess, and I couldn't help but cry over the situation.
Seeing her for the first time felt like seeing the moon sitting next to me in class. When she laughed, the whole world could fall for that smile. I kept wondering, "Will I ever tell her how I feel? Will I ever be able to talk to her properly? Will I ever be with her?" The answer seemed to be "no," but I couldn't accept it. Her mom raised such a gentle soul, someone anyone would love. No one else could see her the way I did.
I used to wonder how a girl could be this pretty. Was I just daydreaming? I didn't know what was happening to me. Maybe it was just attraction, but my heart refused to believe that. She was too perfect. I started listening to Ed Sheeran's "Perfect" and imagining her.
Ugh, I've finished my pack of cigarettes. It's late, and I should probably head down to sleep. I have to wake up early tomorrow morning.
