To You, With Love

If I ask you to describe her in one word, what will that be?

'If I ask you to describe her in one word . . . just one word, what will that be?' she asked, looking straight into my eyes. I could sense the excitement and eagerness in her eyes. She clearly wanted to know all that she could, just like everyone else I knew. I knew that she wanted her questions answered quickly and to her satisfaction. How did I know this? Well, she wasn't the first person whom I had met that night who wished to talk to me—almost everyone did.

I was very well aware of their intentions—the reason why, all of a sudden, my friends and their girlfriends wanted to know everything about her. Who doesn't want to talk about their beloved? Who doesn't want to brag about all their good qualities? I did too, but this sudden interest in her saddened me. It pained me to talk about her. What was I doing there that night? I should have been with her. I wanted to be with her much more than I wanted to be sitting alone at the party, staring at the stars from the terrace of Bhanu's—one of my best friends— new house, and looking at my phone every five minutes to check the time.

'In one word! You're kidding me, right?' I asked absentmindedly, while rubbing my chin and raising my eyebrows as I pretended to ponder over her question. I was far from answering that question. My mind had drifted off in no time, and mentally, I was back with her. I wondered what she must be doing at that hour. She was all alone in the house after so long. I looked at my watch once again— it was ten at night, so she must be asleep by now, hopefully. With that thought, I came back to the present moment and decided to respond to the query of the girl sitting right in front of me. I didn't know much about this girl except for the fact that she had also been in a car accident a few years ago and was in a coma for a really long time. She was Bhanu's colleague, and rahul's wife. Then, she had beaten cancer a few months ago and the couple was now expecting their first child. Bhanu had told me their inspiring story a million times as he begged me to keep my faith in god and miracles as this girl standing right next to me was a prime example of it.

'What is that one word that can describe her best?' I rephrased her question and concentrated hard, trying to summarize her in my head. How could I, though? She cannot be described in a single word or even a few! There were a million things about her that made her.

'okay, try a sentence then,' she said, looking at my hands as I rubbed them together nervously and checked my watch one more time. 'I don't know, I never gave it a thought because I didn't have to describe her ever to anyone, not even to myself,' I told her absentmindedly, and took an abrupt leave from my host and his partner. They understood my situation well, and they let me excuse myself with a pat on my back and a promise that I would visit them again very soon. Both Bhanu and Pathak looked at me with pitying eyes and for some reason, I didn't mind it. For the past few months, I had seen so much pity in everyone's eyes for me that I had kind of become used to the look and it had stopped bothering me all together, unlike the way it did initially. In any case, even though I did not want their pity or sympathy, I could do nothing about how they felt for me. I did not want their company at this stage either—all I wanted and needed were everyone's prayers, and a miracle! How hard could that be!

I rushed out of the building, hailed a cab and impatiently played with my mobile as the cab drove me back home. I could not help but continuously think of that question— should I have been able to describe her? Why was this stupid question stuck in my head? I felt my mind go silent as I began thinking—so silent that I could hear the blood rush through my body. No! It is impossible for anyone else or me to sum her up in a word or even a sentence.

The girl that I am madly and hopelessly in love with is twenty-five years old. She is more beautiful than anyone else I know. She isn't perfect like a film star or the models on the cover of a fashion magazine. She has her flaws and yet she is the most beautiful person to me, because she is like art—she makes me feel alive whenever I look at her. When she walks into a room full of people, everyone looks at her because her smile is brighter than any star. She is the most positive and kindest soul I have come across, even though she has a past which is darker than the darkest nights, full of demons and stuff that nightmares are made of. even then, she loves talking fondly about her ambitions, dreams, and passions while gazing up at the sky on starry nights— something that we have not been able to do together since quite a while; something that we need to do soon, very soon . . .

She unapologetically believes in love, luck, vibrations of souls, and destiny. She has a laugh that can make hearts melt, and her anger generally tends to fizzle out within seconds. She loves the rain and the sun equally. She is my sunshine; my warm cup of tea in the rain. every time we cross the road together, she invariably holds on to my right sleeve— not the arm, but just the sleeve. In crowded spaces, she likes to speak to me in whispers and giggles, and each time I get irritated because I can barely understand what she is saying. The girl that I am madly and crazily in love with can look inside me, and know exactly what I want without me saying much. She knows me better and deeper than I know myself, and every time I see her, I have the same fluttering sensation in my stomach, which I first experienced when I saw her years ago. She made me understand what true love is. She has taught me that our ability to love a person not just for who they are but who they can become when loved is what makes a difference. She makes me a better person every day.

The girl I love is everything that I ever want and needed in my life.

The girl I love is dying.

I cannot forget to add here that she keeps writing these stupid notes for me that make me feel worse for not being able to do anything for her. Here in my pocket, I have the one that I found as I was stepping out to meet my friends. I had agreed to come out today only on her insistence. I do not like leaving her alone now, not even for a moment. I fear that she will be gone while I am away and if that happens, I will never be able to forgive myself.

I decided to become a writer long ago, but could never begin writing as there was no one or nothing to inspire me. But here I am, writing this book as she inspires me to follow my dreams.