It started like this.
I was on call with my boss. She asked to prepare a deck for the customer meet on Monday. I was imagining my weekend as the deck would take a day to prepare. It was looking like the class room in my high school and my boss as my teacher. I started,
“Once upon a time, not sure if long back, there was a king in the kingdom of Abotacasa. The king had 17 wives and all were very unique in their characteristics. The king had collected them by different means, from his world tour. All of them were par excellence and were proud, arrogant and snobbish because of their talent. They were always involved in some conspiracy against each other to become closer to the king. None of them was able to have to a good time with the king, as the others would play a spoil sport. The Minister became worried after observing this for years. He warned the king that if the same continued, there would be a day when his majesty would be old, with no heir to take the reign. The king called for the pundits to discuss this matter. All the intellects failed to suggest a sustainable solution. The minister then suggested to pass a rule that whoever woke up first in the morning would be with the king for the whole day and others can’t come outside the room.”
Then I thought isn’t it boring? Shall I go for the king’s story in such an advanced age? Who will read that? I encountered this problem which has been there with me from the days I was being considered a kid. The problem of stopping in between and then proceeding in another direction. For example, I do not know what I am drawing until I put the pencil down. At some point of the time, there will be quirky lateral tweak that will knock and request politely to allow a late entry and most of times, my tender heart will say YES to it. I observed that every time I type a key on my laptop, the water inside the bottle kept on the table had some vibrations. Then with the small ripples, this idea came. I suggested the king to present each of his queens a smart phone so that they would get on hike as they got a gang. The king became happy and married another queen and lived happily ever after.
Then it came to my mind, “why the king? why don’t I write my story?” I promptly prepared for that. I remembered as much as I could and tried to figure out where to start. I took a paper and a pen to note down the facts and figures; like how many times I followed her, what dates did we meet, what we ate together, what places we visited together, what things we shared, and so on. Then I remembered the fights, the understanding, misunderstanding and miss-understanding moments. Nothing sounded like I was in love ever. When it was mine, it was not love; we were just friends. When it became love, I had no stories; because we fell in love just like that. When I had stories, it was not mine; she had fallen in love with someone else and was sharing the stories with me. That’s my love story.
Oh! Where is my boss? I am at home and my brother has got this new super-bike. I am alone with no one to help with my work. I have to go now. I have to pay my electricity bill, call the laundry guy, prepare the deck my boss has asked for, pack something for lunch and then go to my MBA coaching classes. I hate these weekends. God, don’t give me weekends. Sorry, sorry, I take back my prayer. Please give me some peaceful weekends. I was on my knees and pleading with my fingers crossed. God slapped me tight and told, “Oye! Pagal! It’s not weekend. Wake up and get ready for the office” – it was my idiot roommate.
© Amaresh Swain