I Heart You

I was waiting by the bus stop. It was hot, sweaty and I was yet to get used to the Chennai weather. The only thing worth all of this was when she came to the bus stop. I spent an equal amount of time looking in both directions--I couldn't really decide whether he wanted the bus to arrive first, or her.

Ah!There she was, looking all anxious, walk-running to the stop. When she was within running-and-catching-the-bus distance, she started walking slowly, as if she had triumphed over Time itself. In a pink salwar kameez, with a long notebook clutched in one hand and a small handbag in the other, he only glimpsed the corner of the book--it said, "Womens' Christian College." Ah, so she was a student there. Wouldn't it be a hoot if I staked out the college, like heroes his, in movies?

The sweet smell of perfume. She was now crossing me to get to the front of the imaginary line. It was really like a breath of spring. So that's what they meant in advertisements!  

Some distance away,  the pregnant bus could be seen. Bogged down by its own weight--what was inside it. I felt a weird kind of companionship with the bus. For one second. When it stopped with a screech, there was a mad rush. I let some of the others board before me (gallantly, I thought)--obviously, the girl was one of them. I wanted to push it, and tried to ride the footboard. But the veterans pushed me in. Jostling for space in this crowded bus, somehow, miraculously, I got a seat.

Scratched on the backrest of the seat in front of me, probably etched with a compass: S Vetrimaran ❤ Ramya Chandra . Love 4Ever.

If something could be right and wrong at the same time, this was it! Always the romantic, I melted at their love and wondered: Was this old? Were they now together? Was their love accepted by their folds? I would love to know. And were both parties in on this etching?

Not unrelatedly, I noticed she was right in front of me now. Perhaps his could be a good love story too. Perhaps it would be with her, the girl in the pink salwar. Staking out her college would not be a bad idea, maybe a good story to tell my grandkids. Or, more likely, my wife, when I was trying to impress upon her my romantic escapades.

"DPI" the conductor shouted. And I was back in the present. She would get down now. She turned towards the door near me, and I thought I saw her blush.

I now caught a glimpse of the long notebook in her hand: Ramya Chandra, the record book said, III BSc Physics. My heart nearly stopped.

And the bus resumed its journey.