The Perfect Day

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!