Oscars 2017: The Prediction List

The Proposal That Wasn’t (Chapter III)

The nausea was starting to set in. I felt like all the redness of the balloons, roses, and wardrobes were mutually conspiring to suffocate me to death. I seriously don’t know how people do it, how do they manage to have the time of their lives in parties when I can’t take this shit any longer. A minute more in this gloriously pathetic Valentine’s Day party and I’m done with my left over sanity. Seriously, why the fuck do offices have to throw V day bash for its employees? Can’t they just pay us with gift vouchers or something or just not invite the singles all together? And why the hell did I decide to come here knowing I’ll regret it anyway? Wait, A, because I still had a creepy, “mere Karan Arjun ayenge” sort of a hope that he’ll be there, looking all devastatingly beautiful, thus giving me enough hormones to last another month or so and B, because Samrat keeps teasing me how I’m a Funeral Party type of person and not meant for anything remotely normal for a girl in my age. Damn, what have I become? Honestly, I’ve never seen Mr. Crush attend an office party before and may be I’m really meant for funerals and jagarans and talking to myself.

I scanned the hall one last time, saw all the love birds, their cheesy hand-holdings, mushy dances and the decors evoking a disgusting optimism, before heading straight to the exit, when I felt a pat on my shoulder, followed by  a shriek, familiar voice.

-          “Palacho kothay Madam?”

-          “Oh, Snigdha, I’m not feeling well re. Gotta go.”

-          “Huh, khali noksha. Stay na. Have some booze at least.”

-          “Na re, not feeling like it. You know nah, this shit is not for me. Tui ar Neel enjoy kor. Cyah tomorrow okay, at work, strangely the only thing I’m good at. Bye”

-          “Umm, okay chal, won’t insist. Tata.”

-          “Hmm, tata”

 I turned and started walking as fast as I could, when I could hear her again.

-          “Puja..”

-          “Abar ki holo?”

-          “May be this shit is for you too, you know”, she chucked but I swear there was something else on her face which I couldn’t read.

-          “What, what is that supposed to mean?”

-          “Nothing, bye re.”

I didn’t greet her back again. This place is getting stranger with each passing moment. Even the universe doesn’t want me to stick here any longer.

As I walked through the long, empty corridor, away from all the frenzy of the party room, I felt an overwhelming urge to scream, to just sit right there and never move. There’s this whole world full of people out there who’s making the most of this day, making moments to last for a lifetime, and here I am, walking on this fucking deserted hotel corridor, alone, sad and scared. But not even a peep came out of my mouth. I felt like I was that 3 year old girl again, who after school, waited anxiously for her mother to come and take her home and the more she was late, the more the girl felt alone and abandoned. But at least, she knew what she was waiting for, unlike now. I could feel two lines of salinity roll down my cheeks. But I was glad that I didn’t have to bother if my eyeliner is getting smudged. There’s a strange satisfaction in crying when nobody is seeing you. I entered the empty elevator in a daze and hit the ground floor button. But only some seconds after, it stopped and I got back to my senses from this trance. I looked up to the display board and it read “Floor 3”. So there must be another soul who feels like evacuating this building as well, I thought to myself. And baam, the door opened.

There stood a frame that let a sharp chill run through my spine. Omg, is that him?? That same chiseled jawline, that signature stubble, the familiar cologne and those hypnotic eyes- not even Alzheimer’s can eliminate this person from my memory. The man, responsible for all my craziness stood right there in front of me, and I didn’t know what to do. But no, no, it can’t be. This can’t be real. I internally screamed, “Delusion” and realized I should be back on my antidepressants asap. While I stood there, frozen, the figure hurried into the elevator. I’ve never had such a vivid psychotic episode, I swear. He reached out to the elevator button slot as his right hand brushed against mine. It felt like I was being electrocuted from within. He hit the stop button midway and it just shook me. It was the kick I needed to wake up from this fancy and slowly sink to the fact that this is happening, that this man is actually standing beside me. I let out a faint squeak, when he looked right in my eyes and spoke in his usual honey-dipped, baritone voice, “It’s okay. Don’t be scared.”

Contrary to his suggestion, a deep seated scare was overshadowing my adrenaline.

I replied back with a stutter, “Wh..Why did you do that? What okay, huh?”

There was that familiar chuckle on his face, which was one of the biggest reasons for my latest addiction to Christina Perri’s songs.

- “So you couldn’t survive the party?” He uttered.

I stood there, speechless, with a strange feeling that made me want to hear him forever.

-          “So now you get it right, kano ami parties theke dure thaki”, he continued.

-          “That doesn’t explain why you stopped the elevator. We barely talk. So, this is awkward and scaring the shit out of me. I don’t get anything okay. What the fuck do you want?’

-          “I want to know you.”

-          “Wh..what?” I could barely breathe or process what he just said.

-          “I want to know the person who’ll save me the extra slice of pizza. I wanna talk nonsense with you till 3:30 am and may be watch a Chinese film together that we both won’t understand.”

I didn’t know how to explain what that feeling was. As he spoke those words, I didn’t know whether it was like I got hit by a speeding truck, or like I was being saved from getting hit. All my senses were numb, anesthetized. I felt like he was looking right into those parts of me, which I worked so hard to keep hidden.

But somehow I still managed to utter, “How.. How do you know that?”

He smiled and said, “There is someone, somewhere, who thinks so well of you and knows what to do with screenshots.”

Bloody, Samrat.

“And”, he continued, “I got Snigdha to thank as well, for keeping me updated about your arrival, and hence letting this perfect elevator timing to happen.”

I couldn’t hold it in any longer and just burst out in tears. I have orchestrated a moment like this so many times in my head, and now that this is happening for reals, I didn’t know what to say or how to act. I felt like was being betrayed by my most loyal allies- words.

It was then that he took both my hands in his and went on, “I’m together in this mess with you. Okay? So, where do we start?”

“Let’s go up, then. Let’s have our first awkward social gathering together.”

******************

The Proposal That Wasn’t (Chapter II)

-          “Kire, what happened? Bol kichu,” Samrat insisted.

-          “Dhur. Ki bolbo? Char na”, I seriously wanted to avoid this conversation now.

-          “Don’t be such a pussy man! Hypothetically o bola jae na naki? Say na, ki bolti ok, given the chance..” *ah, Samrat and his irritatingly repetitive use of the creepy wink emoji*

-          Don’t get me all started with all the feels and mush, okay. Er por mood swings gulo tokei samlate hobe.

-          R ke samlei tor mood swings, huh? Your “Mr. Crush”?

-          Not funny. But.. I wish he was there to handle my mood swings too, you know.

-          Aww. Ei to. This is a start. These are the real things that you should be saying to him.

-          Ha, so that I lose my license to talk to him forever, taina?

-          Sob somoy negative tae bhabis kano bolto? Remember the last time you complimented him on his shirt? He was cool with that right?

-          Yeah, because that was just about a shirt and this is my entire heart full of creepy, Bollywood romance filled stuffs we are talking about. There’s a jumbo difference, duffer. But you know, I would kill to have a voice right now. I just don’t wanna get stuck in “The blue shirt looked so good on you.” I wanna scream out and say, “That blue shirt you wore had me drooling for weeks and I would love to drool on you like that for a lifetime” .. Wait. Eww. That’s so PG 13.

-          Ha ha ha. See you’re talking. And don’t judge yourself, pagal. Love is supposed to sound PG 13 at times. But I’m sure that’s not the only thing you would put in your “Oh-so-very-hypothetical proposal”

-          Given the chance, puro ekta book publish kore ditam or jonno.  But that too will never be enough. No matter how much I say, there’ll always be so much unsaid. Uff, bhison nyeka hoe jacchi re.

-          Tao, ki bolti for starters?

-          Umm, that I have been acting weird since I started to acknowledge my feels for him, that I’ve never felt happier to be so weird. I wanna tell him that I hate losing control, but ever since he arrived in my life, all I think is to be reckless, to be stupid and just feel good about it. I feel like finally I am having a secret that I would guard with my life. The secret is him. Keu janbe na emon ekta bhalo laga. Kauke bujte dewa jabena erom ekta bhalobasha.

-          Bhalobasha? So you moved on from calling him “just a stupid crush”?

-          Yeah, I think for a while now. The word “crush” suffocated me, Janis toh. It made me remember all the past romantic encounters that never ended well and then I had to move on. I always hate the fact how intensely I fall for someone, and then when things don’t work out I never feel the same for them. I don’t want that to happen this time. I don’t want to fall out of love with him because it scares me to know that I can. I don’t want love to scare me anymore.

-          So, if he doesn’t reciprocate your feels, will you move on?

-          No. I think it’s my silence that will make me move on. I am tired of maintaining this face for so long. Because, baire thek I’m like the most calm, sorted, person you’ll ever know, but inside, guh, inside, I’m just a mess of so much noise and fury and love. I want to be over with this silence. I wanna get over with this fumbling, stuttering, acting stupid and just shout out loud to him and eventually the world.

-          And what will you shout out exactly????

-          That I feel so infected ever since I’ve fallen for him. It’s like he’s a disease without an antidote. That I love him more than I’ve ever loved anybody in my history of wacky crushes. That he’s the one with whom I want this to work out the most. That he’s the one I would risk changing my relationship status for, no matter how much that creeps me out. The one I would go on a world tour with. The one with him whom I wanna gorge on nasty street food, the one I wanna talk nonsense till 3:30 am and fall asleep without a warning. He’s the one I would drag with me on an aimless shopping spree or may be catch a Chinese film that we both can’t understand. He’s the one I would walk the extra mile for, save the extra slice of pizza for, leave the window seat for and go to awkward social gatherings for. He’s the one I would introduce to my dysfunctional family and feed every experimental dish that I would prepare. He’s the one with whom I don’t have to fake being miserable or pretend like I’ve got all the answers.  I want him together in this mess with me, because, because he’s my one for everything. And duh.. I should just stop typing.

-          Damn you woman, and you say you have nothing to say!! You’re telling this exact fucking beautiful shit to him. I’ll make sure you do.

-          No, frigging way. Don’t you dare do anything stupid. Bujli?

*******************

The Proposal That Wasn’t (Chapter 1)

Okay, so no one asked me to love February but still, the fact that I solemnly swore to detest this month kinda gets me worried at times. Am I okay? Is cynicism getting the best of me? No, that can’t be. Because love has always been my safest refuge. To some people’s utter disbelief, I’ve been the biggest ‘prem pujari’ of all, so how could I end up hating a month that’s devoted to love and love alone. Eww, that was super mushy but that is it. May be it’s not February that I hate, maybe it’s the rest of the 11 months that’s not officially dedicated to love that bugs me. May be. Sigh.

-“Good Morning Pagal”

My phone vibrated as I woke up from this super stupid trance. Duh, what was that thought even! I have an entire day, a bag of Cheetos, two new shows to watch and a wailing mom to remind me how my life is supposed to be. Prem niye matamati ta amar jonno na. Anyway, lemme reply to this moron.

-          

-     - Bol

-          - Ki bol.

-          - *Eye roll emoji* What’s so potentially good about this morning?

-         -  Aj Propose day toh. *Winks*

-          - Omg. Tai nah? Kon class e poro bacha?

-         - What even. Stop humoring me all the time.

-          - You brought that on yourself. Remember, we mutually chose to hate this month. Bhule geli? You don’t get to mention any ‘rose’, ‘slap’, propose days at all. Like at all.

-          - Huh. Char to. I know how you feel.

-          - What is that supposed to mean? What do you know?

-          - That how much you actually really love this month.

-         -  Shut up. First of all, don’t put two adjectives to emphasize. It’s creepy and redundant. And secondly, shut up. You know I’ll go out on some legit couple hunting the first chance I get.

-         -  Se orom onek sunechi. Ebar bolbi you’ll kill him too because you can’t have him.

-         -  Lol. That sounded so Dexter-y.

-         -  No seriously, dekh aj mauka bhi hai or dastur bhi. Tell him how you feel. You’ve taken this silence way too far.

-          -“Tell him”.. Bwahahaa right. And get my ass kicked out forever. Or worse, jailed. Or blocked.

-          - Nyeka. I would have by now if I were you.

-          -Ah ha. That’s like the world’s cheapest consolation line.

-          -Tar mane, you'll never try tai to.

-         - No not never, someday. One day. Not today.

-         - Baal. Yeah someday, when you’re old, wrinkled and making sweaters for your grand kids from kids who won’t be from him.

-         - Hahaha. Uff, ki dili. Dekh. Sometimes, not saying is the best way to keep on talking. It’s like we have to resist saying the thing we want the most so that we can go on talking about the things which are hardly important. But those things make the best memories. Those meaningless, clueless exchange of words that is just so much more than a mere “I love you”. And I don’t want that 3 overrated words to ruin everything.

-          - See, this is why you should just make the move. You’ve words. Not many people have that.

-        -  Na, I’ll surely ruin it. I ruin it every time.

-        -   If you’ll ruin it then it will be because you think too much. Acha ekta kotha bolto, given the chance, given a day, given the moment, won’t you go for it?

-          - I would like to think I will.

-          - Abar bere paka riddles meshano kotha. Okay hypothetically bol to, if there was no society breathing down your neck with it’s terrifying glare, no ‘log kya sochenge’, no “ a girl can’t propose’ stigma, no social anxiety, no nerd wale rules, what would you have done? What would you have said to him? What would have been your ideal proposal?

                                                               **************

                                                                                                               (To be hopefully continued)