I think there have been two instances but I will talk about this one.
I have been happy, a lot of times in my life. Like honest to God happy. I have also been satisfied about my life and where it is headed quite a few times in my life. I have been both too. This is one of those moments, one that stuck with me.
No it wasn’t the time I knew I was in love, the time I had sex, the time I knew the people in my life who mattered, not the time I got into the college of my dreams or when I got my ‘Head Girl’ badge nope. Nope. I mean those mattered, but this was a much simpler incident.
I was in Delhi this summer. It was around 8.30 at night and I was with one of my friends in his car. We were getting back home from a super tiring evening at Hauz Khaz Village. There was so much traffic on our way back home I thought we would be stuck in there forever. Nonetheless I tried to be super duper optimistic abut the whole deal.
Finally we were at this clearing, this large stretch of road which is empty and we have music playing in the background and we speed up. I was sitting next to this boy I had known for four years and had, over those years fallen in love with the person he was and the friend he had become to me and laughing over something silly he said. The wind was in our hair and the lights just the right bright and we were racing into the past we had left and singing into a future we didn’t know. We were happy. And no matter what happened to me I knew I was glad I was where I was. In that moment I was.
We entered the cantonment area and picked up another friend of mine and drove back home. The song changed to ‘Vande Maatram’ by A.R. Rahman. We were at this moment driving towards the flag and the sense of patirotism and satisfaction, which I had never felt in the same breath seized me and the others in the car, we screamed out the lyrics in the car. That night I felt completed and happy. I was with people who loved me, listening to music that filled me, feeling the breath of the air that freed me and my thoughts that completed me.
My earliest memory. Wow, the only thing that I remembered when I read this was me being really young like 2 or 3 and my mom and my brother were chilling and I wanted to chill with them but they refused because I was a baby and they were having their moment and they had their secret. Also mom threw something and I went to hunt for it and it turned out to be a band-aid. They laughed and were being weird. I never understood it and never understand why that is probably one of my earliest memories but it is. I think a large part of it is because they are the same entity even now. or at least my brother is closer to my mom than I am and a part of me is super jealous of this closeness they have. I always wanted to be on my mom’s team but she had already chosen the baby she wanted because she believed she was horrible to him as a child. I think even now when my brother and my mother are together this memory is the one strong thing that hits me. I realise that sometimes, some people are always going to enjoy each other’s company more than other people. there is nothing wrong or right with it of course but that is the way things work.
So I knew of this topic yesterday and thought to myself ” Oh my God. Will have to do something SUPAH cool tomorrow so that I can have an awesome blog post.” I sit here at 8.00 Pm on my bed and have nothing but comfortable monotony to show.
I woke up at 6.30
Washed my face, brush my teeth combed my hair
Went back to sleep
I then got up took a bath and did my other toilet business
I got out of my hostel by 8.30Am for my 8.50 lecture
My first lecture today was Anthropologyduring which we saw a short documnetary on “The Rockstar and the Mullahs”
My second lecture was Sociology where we discussed Geertz view of culture and religion.
I ate food in my 10.30AM break and chilled in the college foyer.
I had Psychology of Gender after, in which i just talked and criticized her teaching style
I had Psychology of Development after that, where we discussed the Cognitive and Humanistic approach to Development
At 1.00 we started watching a weird documentary on learning and babies
I got done by 2.00PM and ate chicken and chappatti and headed home
I slept till 4.00PM
I woke up and worked on my 70 page 1 mark assignment for Social Psychology
This boy used to stay in the floor below mine and was crazy charming and intelligent and three years older. I knew him since I was in 5th grade. He had an oversmart mother and he thought no end of himself. I of course, being the cool and kickass fifth grader that I was didn’t fall in this ‘trap’.
We both grew up and had our falls and our relationship. We started talking again when I was in 8th grade and he 11th. At that point, I liked someone else. Very very very much. And the Mr. Obnoxious walked in and flirted his way into my very gullible and ‘give-me-love-and-shower-me-with-attention’ heart. He asked me out and we began dating. I of course still liked that other boy but well the ‘playaah’ that I was continued with this relationship. Then one night he and I realized that this just wasn’t ‘meant to be’ and he left after the most beautiful break up and that was it. That night I fell in love with this boy. Of course now I wonder if it was just ‘the thrill of the chase’ for me. So for the next seven months I hoped and prayed he would come back to me. That this time we would magically work. We were in the same school and during those seven months he became the school captain and changed. He changed from the funny, nice, charming him to a jackass, charming him. In my head though, we were meant to be. Everything he said or did was a sign to me. A sign that he ‘loves’ me. Of course that was faar from the truth.
Now in those seven months a huge sign was missed by me. His best friend hit on me and I thought that he did (He being BFF) really liked me, I tried to convince myself that I did too. We ‘dated’ or something like that for two weeks. Of course all he cared about was getting into my pants, which never happened. He though did manage to become one of the main topic of writing of this post. My first kiss.
I do want to give you a magical re-telling of how when our lips first touched the world burst and the universe engulfed us and it was just him and me on a pink cloud with dancing ponies all around us.
That is a lie. What really happened was 5 minutes behind some garage, him pinning my hands on the wall and kissing me and me wondering why the books lies about kisses because this sucked. No rainbows and butterflies, just mosquitoes biting my leg, the sound of traffic interfering with my thoughts and this kiss just not ending. My first kiss, humans, was a complete and utter fail. So were many afterwards, till well boyfriend number 7. That slightly had butterflies involved and how.
Now let’s come back to the love story. So I was crazy about Mr. Obnoxious and secretly hoped he was crazy about me too. It wasn’t like he serenaded me or charmed my socks off or held me like I was precious or anything that makes people fall for other people. I loved him because he broke up with me. Because he mended me by letting me go. I thought that this boy was the boy for me.
I just couldn’t wait around for him anymore, so I started talking to him. And he came over that evening and no one was home and the first time touched me like I had never been touched. As romantic as that sounds, it wasn’t. It wasn’t a touch I like re-visiting via memory. He left and so did the part of me that loved him. I cried the whole of that evening, for a lost love and a lost me. We broke up the next day because obviously ‘he just wasn’t that into me’.
The rumour mills were working again and for two years people believed a lot he said about me that never happened. Even then, I compared my next two lovings to my love for Mr. Obnoxious.
Today Mr. O and I still talk and he still flirts every once in a while but I feel nothing. They say your first love will always be a part of you and you will always love them no matter what, just a bit. I don’t think that happened to me. I think that part of me died that evening or just numbed.
My first kiss was far from magic. It was boring and dull.
My first love was just that. MY first love. Nothing more and nothing less.
Today of course I define love differently. It isn’t tough or hurtful or difficult. It is easy and romantic and uncompromising. It’s beautiful. My first love might have been him but the first time in my life where I feel love everywhere and in me and outside me and in everything in the world is now. Maybe love changes everytime and maybe this time is my first too because honestly