There I was, walking down a familiar road, on a sunny
afternoon. It was a Saturday, and I was in no hurry to get anywhere. The song
that I was trying to remember all week was humming by itself, the original
version, and in perfect rhythm. The smile that seemed to have placed a
restraining order against was back, and was now refusing to budge. The
Gulmohars were VIBGYOR. Crows and pigeons were on my side, waiting to be called
upon if I wished an air-poop-raid on my enemies. Dogs were barking my heavy
metal playlist. Flashes of orgies occurred every 2 minutes or so. Facebook was
free of Rajnikanth jokes. Every woman on the street was smiling at me, despite
me cracking a joke, or as was the case often, being one. There were no
assignments on my mind, no to-do- lists to check, and no falling pianos to
dodge. It was the perfect day.
Since it was the perfect day, and as nothing could go wrong
on the perfect day, I decided to put myself on the edge. Well, a little bit. I
stopped, my eyes searching desperately for something. After a stab here, and ruffle
there, I found it. A stone. No. The stone. Round, polished and the next best
thing to football. I positioned the stone carefully by the side of the road and
stepped back. After one hard look, I repositioned the stone, and adjusted my
stance. Uttering a piece of football commentary under my breath, I stepped
forward and kicked the little stone. “Beckham shoots, and Beckham scores,” I
screamed. And on the perfect day, the stone obliged. It rolled, and it bent and
it rolled again. And slowly, yet flirtatiously, it came to a stop at the heels
of the most beautiful woman the perfect day could offer.
I looked up. A suppressed goal celebration followed. She
gave me the ‘what a weirdo’ look and walked past me, leaving a lingering trail
of her perfume for me to take home, and into my bed. As I took the deepest of breaths
and turned my head, it struck me. Hey, I knew that fragrance. I shook my head
slowly trying to place it. I took another sniff, frantically probing around my
memory bank. And bang, I got it. Right by the corner shelf, around 4 years
back. My ex.
And before I knew it, everything came back. The break-up,
the fights, the endless arguments, the compromises, the heartbreak, the denial,
the effort to recuperate, the failure that
followed, the rebound, the heartbreak, etc. Like a ruthless juggernaut – it trampled
down the years spent on repairing the broken heart, digging up memories buried
deep down. Perfect day, my ass!
