The rise of the Cupid Phoenix
DISCLAIMER: This is purely a fictional work and in no way resembles any person, living or dead either in this era or any era for that matter. However in case you think one of the characters resemble someone you know, please do not fidget, run to a system, start a social media signature campaign, and malign my name, just keep it to yourself, for all you know, you may be right ;).
On the other hand, however hard you try, you are not able to connect anyone to the characters, RELAX. Just sit back and enjoy the Risings!!!
The arrow sometime or the other hits all of us in our lifetime. No, I am not talking about your or my previous birth experiences of being enrolled in Alexander or Asoka’s army to win territories for them. I am talking about this birth, this lifetime, a micro miniscule part of which you are spending reading my story.
These arrows, as a matter of fact don’t hurt you, but yes leave a scar when taken out. Some of them fade, some stay back as the reminders on your smartphone that cannot be snoozed.
Snoozing a few of them does not qualify you to be a smart person though J
Come on, the very word should not make you go back to your smartphone! I am sorry to interrupt your “digital privacy”. Were you checking the WhatsApp message on your school group? I know how tempting and addictive it gets once the messages start pouring in. Take a break; give me your time, for you are the shoulder on which I would want to cry my heart out. Don’t worry, the WhatsApp message would still be there once you get back post hearing me out, waiting like that last piece of chocolate you had saved for the midnight snack last night!!
You must be wondering what is this all about? Arrows, getting hit blah blah. Well I was referring to the play of Cupid. Look at that smile some of you have. Delicious reminders popping up, huh!!!
Me? You are asking me? I have been hit from the time I could learn “A for Arrow, B for Bow and C for Cupid”. Only in my case, it is a Phoenix Cupid, spreading its wings to the max and raising its head to take another hit as soon as the embers of the previous shot have died down.
Consider this as my farewell ode (in prose) to all the right people who walked in at the wrong time.
The 1st Rising
It was a colourful room with small, tiny chairs and round tables with crayons, building blocks Mickey Mouse and Barbie bags strewn around. Suddenly I could feel a blast of air hit my face, white curtains gracefully fluttering, two violinists playing soft melody by my side and the already colourful room become even more colourful when she walked in.
I sometimes feel that Farah Khan, the director was somewhere around when this was happening and conveniently took it for her first movie. Talk about snatching a child’s dream!
So where was I? Oh yes, blast of air, curtains, violins, etc. I am not describing it much because you might never know who might steal away your ideas. To top it all even our IPR laws are not very well defined, strong and well structured.
Anyway the melodious voice that sliced the heavily perfumed air into those tiny sweet smelling flowers had so much of love when she addressed us and said, “Children, I’ll be your Miss for UKG.”
Please don’t give me that horrified look. If you have never had a crush on your teacher anytime in your schooling days, there are only two possibilities:
1. You never grew up the right way OR
2. You went to all the wrong schools
Anyway years passed, riding on the wings of time, schooling almost came to an end and no, if you are looking for any incidents, sorry to disappoint you. I was too busy getting punished, trying to come first in class (so that I could sit on the last bench), having numerous accidents, broke a wrist, fractured my elbow, crashed into a tempo and generally having a ball of a time with friends and my cousin, that there was no time for love.
Keep your mind at rest. I have been to the best and the most happening school of my time. So why had Cupid not shown up. Simple, it was like the Gold Rush era during the 19th century. Too many people trying their luck to get lucky without even knowing if it is the Fool’s Gold.
In short too much of competition and trust me wasn’t worth it J
There was (we still are) this really close gang of my friends, of whom a few used to adore one of my neighbour and used to drop in almost everyday to meet me, making my home their home and acting out the Biblical thought of “Love Thy Neighbour”.
One of them is now happily married to the Lady and we are all happy for him J though there was one guy, who I am sure, if he was a Priest during the early 17th or 18th Century would have pronounced the marriage null and void, for he had stopped speaking to the “chosen one” for quite some time.
Finally the days of my schooling got over and I embarked upon a journey, which was to change the way I was. Off to the south, I was packed to pursue my under graduation. Why South India? My mother thought I would be spoilt in the colleges of North India…. She was so badly mistaken …
I went on pursue my graduation in the stream of Literature in a campus with which I fell in love the moment I walked in.
The three years I had spent in Madras Christian College (MCC), would be written in Golden Letters in the diary of my life. Its another thing that I have never touched a diary, forget writing one, but who knows someone might just want to write about me about with the title – How not to live life – My Role Model!
The lush green, 365 acre campuse, established in 1537 has given the nation many starlwarts who have lived up to the institue’s name. It was here, I learnt the ways of life, met people from all walks and turns of life. Learnt to love all types of sadams (the rice mixtures)
And it was here I first fell in love…. (Psst the falling in love with the campus is different, duh!)
We have an annual inter-collegiate Music Festival called DeepWoods. The three-day event sees participation by various colleges from Chennai and all over India with attendance touching almost 30,000. MCC, as the host college, does not participate in the festival.
The highlight of the second day of the event is a light music show, aimed at integrating youth of different ethnic backgrounds through multi-lingual music.
She had come from one of the famous colleges in the city to participate for a dance event. If it hadn’t been for my friend who shares the same Local Guardian as her, I would never have met her and Cupid would again have let out a sigh and waited.
I would not call her a picture perfect and I am sorry if I am offending your sense of beauty, but I am no George Clooney to have trophy Ladies on either side of me. So what made her attaractive?
Her eyes.
I just could not take my eyes off those beautiful, dark, captivating eyes. I tried, but my eyes forever turned to search for them. Those eyes, how do I describe them to you? They were like a deep deep ocean where I just wanted to plunge in and be there forever. She was going on talking about herself and if you ask me what all she had told me, I don’t remember.
I don’t, because for the first time, I was so enamored and captivated. Every expression came out as a colorful kalediscopic kaledioscopee was reflected in her eyes. I was given a few tasks to be done for the event, but I was only too happy to delegate them to my friends, who having never seen me like this, happily obliged.
For the next two days I was her host and warded off “potential threats” who wanted to have a chat with her.
To be continued…
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