Incantations of a Love Lorn Soul

The weather was too cold. Seema feared that she might end up catching a fever. Moreover, she thought, a walk was supposed to relieve stress. But what she had just fumbled upon was a kind of stress which would only aggravate. There was no way the walking could calm it down. Those rhythmic steps she took across the municipal park would make her mind rewind those wonderful moments she spent with Atul.

As Seema lazily ran her fingers through her haphazardly stacked knick knack shelf, an eagle brand pocket sized planner 2003 caught her fancy. She ran through the pages. Shut the diary. Tender teardrops found its place on the cover like even spaced gulab jamuns waiting to turn golden in oil. Within those lipstick stained, glitter ink filled pages were recorded the numerous romantic escapades between her and Atul. Something in Seema prompted her to reach for her planner again. She opened the pages of April. Under April 16, she could see that her artistic hands had lent on to the paper the tension of the first moments she proposed to Atul in an old century gothic font:



“My tongue parched as it uttered the words. Atul fixed his eyes on mine. Blushes mildly. “Yes!” my heart screamed. That boyish charm for which I fell is all mine now.”



Stickers proclaiming "wow" and "I found my love" adorned the words.

Atul was Seema's senior at college pursuing his research. She had caught sight of him when her buddy Aparna was returning some reference books to him. Seema and Atul got to meet regularly in short intervals. During each of these moments, Seema found that she had the feelings that she only imagined when carelessly taking the "Have you found your prince charming?" test in page 23 of the Valentine issue of Femina.

So Seema decided to embrace Atul into her life (and hence the April 16 entry)

Turning on to the pages of June, Seema's face lit up:



June 2 nd: "Met Atul after the summer vacation. That fellow has developed a tiny tummy. Has asked me for a movie"



Seema brought the planner closer to her bosom. Tears from her eyes welled down steadily like a semi-leaking tap. The planner faced her eyes. On June 6 th, Seema had got a taste of Atul's lips. Her entry was evocative of the momentous occasion:



"I took a deep breath as the duet played on screen. Glanced at Atul. He comfily put his head over my shoulders. I smiled. He slowly rubbed his lips along my cheeks. I freezed. Almost immediately, our lips sealed into one another. I could feel a storm in my underpants."



Seema felt her lips with her left index finger. The words in the planner almost brought the romantic wetness she had experienced through Atul.
As Seema flipped through the pages with a forlorn look, her mind went through countless montages. Never had she least imagined that the six months she spent with Atul would end up like a one-line wisecrack she read in a forward e-mail on 'Murphy's Laws on Love'. It had been two years since she had seen or heard of Atul. He had become invisible like the smell of the sports perfume he had presented to her as a mark of her courtship. The fact was that Atul lingered on in Seema's soul in spite of the advent of Saagar. Why Atul lingered was a mystery even to Seema.

Atul was everything Seema wished and dreamed of. The way he would eloquently speak on Tolstoy, Freud, Bollywood and Wonder bras left her awestruck. Like all girls, Seema perceived that her prince has come to stay and he was surely a cut-above the numerous frogs who courted her. Seema's July 10 th entry proved to her why the magic of Atul still haunted her:



"Our love is now 12 bunch of roses, 5 plays, 2 perfumes, a wrap-around skirt, 3 movies, several lip locks and 4 arguments old. Every utterance of Atul is so charming like the pinky cheeks of my little nephew. He has consumed me totally. Should I spell 'LOVE' as 'ATUL' hereafter?"



She then moved on to the August 13 th entry which she guessed was the reason behind Atul parting with her:



"I got the first taste of victory today. My copy for that restaurant ad has got approved. Got a cheque of Rs.500. Cant wait to break it to Atul."



Seema worked on a freelance basis for an ad-agency. Her caption for a restaurant campaign which was opening shortly in the city won her boss's approval. It went on like this: "We make hunger taste better". She showed her work and her cheque to Atul. In her elated state, Seema had left unnoticed Atul's secret nervousness. But she did grow suspicious the next day. There was reluctance in Atul's face when she put in his palms a Parker-Vector pen saying: "Didn't you say you are beginning to write the final draft of your thesis today? I thought this pen would be an ideal partner in your endeavor”. But the Linguistics professor dropped in and both had to rush.

In the days that followed, recounted Seema, she saw less and less of Atul. She found him at the cafeteria and waved at him. Atul waved back. But before she could wade her way through the crowd (it was break time), Atul had vanished. Seema was puzzled. Confusing statements and pictures arose in Seema. "He has lost interest in you”, went one voice. "But he waved back at you", countered another. "Must be busy with his thesis work." said a voice which seemed to balance the other two.

Seema had no interest to go through the rest of her entries. They were all mini-sob stories in themselves. How she had ranted for days! How everytime she felt cheated when she found the security at the boy's hostel repeating, "Sorry miss! his room is locked". Her series of e-mails to [e-mail] with subject lines ranging from "Hey! where are you?" to "I miss you. Pls see me!" went unanswered. Even her syrupy e-greeting went unseen and her reply mail from 'www.love4all.com' read:



“The user registered under [e-mail] has not seen your card. The card has expired and cannot be viewed. Please re-send the card or choose a new one from the site. Thank you, [e-mail] for using our service."



Seema took the page in the planner dated September 20 th. In blood red shade, she had written stylishly "Atul's Birthday". 12 days of silence had passed in her love affair. She had planned days in advance for this day. She fastened the last cello tape on the gift box. It contained a double cassette pack of the ghazals of Pankaj Udhas which Atul loved. She left for his hostel calming herself saying, "He must be planning a big bash for me. So might have wanted to keep in under covers. Wait till I get that fellow."

Now Seema's tears were uncontrollable. Seema had jubiliantly made her way into the hostel. But the security man stopped her. "Miss! You came looking for Atul? He left for his native town last night. Will come next week." Seema was shattered. What was more shocking was the e-mail she got:



"Dear Seema,
My sincere apologies for playing hide 'n' seek with you. I have to make certain truths clear now. Though I like you so much, the fact is I have been giving you all the gifts from my father's money. I don't have a job. Your ad job has left me insecure. I don't think I can rise up to your expectations and energy.
Let's stop all these. Please don't think I hate you or have used you. Bye!
Atul"



The telephone bell rang. Seema wiped off her tears and reached for the receiver. It was Saagar. "Hi Seemu! I will be at home by 4 p.m. today. Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary no! I want to buy you a sari. Do be ready sweetie. I will be on time definitely"; saying so Saagar kissed over phone. Seema could just mumble.
As she hung the phone, she reminisced Atul's words: "The problem with kissing over phone is it takes the kiss and leaves you with the sound."


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