Thanthan
One fine Monday morning she came breezing in and virtually knocked the wind out of my bags. Now I’m not one of those guys who easily fall to what others call first love. But she was just too alluring to be permitted only a good morning curtsey. I wanted to tell her there and then that she was the most beautiful being I had ever encountered. That I could not live another second without the knowledge that she would be my favourite girl for the rest of my life. That I wanted to marry her and raise ten thousand children with her for all I cared. I wanted to tell her that I would provide her perfect dream for her.
When my sister finally said, “Say Hi to my classmate,” I could only manage a weak, “Wonderful weather, isn’t it?” It was raining cats and dogs outside. She smiled and said hello.
Thereafter, I began a daily morning ritual. Timing my act to precision, I would make sure I was actually ‘prim and proper’ before she arrived to pick up my sister for college. Over the weeks, we slowly got acquainted with each other. She was not only startlingly beautiful outside but was also one hell of a woman on the inside. When my friends who hadn’t met her asked me to describe her, I would sing them this old number:
“O how can I speak of her virtues?
I don’t know where to begin
She’s clever, she’s smart, she reads music
She doesn’t smoke or drink gin like I do
Yet when we’re all alone together
I just don’t know what to do.”
I had been playing Mr. Cool for a trifle too long. A wise man had once advised me not to be blatantly honest in showering affection to a woman. I was following his pearls of wisdom devotedly until I began having serious doubts. I was beginning to wonder if the wise man was actually a wise man. Impatience began gnawing at me. I had to tell her what was on my mind and also know for sure how she felt about me. I even asked a friend to play cupid. She dismissed the notion with a simple “Are you of your mind?”
It was already two months since the first day I saw her. So I told myself, “This is it macho man, you’ve gotta prove to the world that you’re the man. Yeah!”
The final moment arrived; the last scene to the play which had prolonged itself too long was ready to be enacted. It was past visiting hours when I made an entry to the hostel she was staying. Somehow, I was successful in calling her out. And there she was. Dressed in light crimson, she looked an angel. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.
The last tick to the final countdown sounded. The scene: rolling drums, lights, tension. I was, in all honestly, trying to stop the butterflies in my stomach from fluttering. The question popped out automatically. “Do I have a chance with you?”
She gave me a nonplussed look and replied, “ThanThan, you’re just like my brother!”
