Today was the most beautiful weather that Evanston presented me with in my eight month stay here. Yellow sunshine not only on my shoulder, teasing warm breeze and smiling people all around. Just the perfect way to begin a weekend, stay out, follow Brownian motion, sit by the open window and finish homework!
But the me chose to sit in my bed, put low lights on and watch a Shahid starrer.
Dance pe Chance. Well, since most of you decided to not watch it, you have already tagged me one of the biggest losers of this age. And for those few who dared to watch it anyway have otherwise tagged me the very same. And yet, my heart is racing at the speed of a lingering smile.
I turned twenty five a couple of months ago. And I have no more eloquent way to put it, but my heart hasn't really pumped as much blood at this rate in a long long time. Questions of existence and nonexistence, faith and disbelief, the capacity of power have been lately crippling my moods. And here I suddenly find this bubblegum lover who is not a hero, and not an irascible rebel at the losing end either. There is very little romance in the film but the way it oozes cuteness without annoying the hell out of an all-damning-all-knowing-walking-talking-search-engine. ( I might be wrong here, it still will annoy an all-damning-all-you know-the-whole-string.)
Candy floss has struck me at its zenith.
And please for once let me sound thirteen right now, because in my days you were not supposed to publicly drool at a movie star if you wanted to make it as a good girl. I love Shahid, oh my God he is so cute!
So he is going around being bosom buddies with this super cuteness of a female and not inspiring nausea in your being with the cloying sweetness of "woh mera sabse achcha dost hai" ("he is my best friend"). And like at least that one person you know whose love story must be happily exciting, he walks around talking to her on the phone and without any preface or suggestive background music he says, "aur haan ek aur baat, I love you" ("And yeah, one more thing, I love you").
I almost forgot to breathe that one moment, as if he said it to me. (Juve alert! Its okay you judgmental mature grown ups.) Then I let out all the mean air air with a choking snort. I chortled.
Just one Friday night at 20 degrees Celsius, I think bubblegum boy confessed his love to me.
Spring and its vagaries.
