The next day, I dumped classes.
Well,
when you don’t get enough breakfast, the lunch is flushable, and dinner, well
you better wash your hands with it rather getting it down your system, you
mostly wake up weak, tired and cranky. I had headaches half of the days to up
my cranky-meter.
So, most of the first classes I’d laugh a little about,
turn my alarm back to off and sleep through in my uncomfortable bad pillows.
Anyway coming back to my awaken part of the day, we
got a little weed again, and suddenly me and my Malayalam partner were very
ecstatic about getting our butts high in the same place where we got screwed up
the earlier time.
Also,
it was winter, the sun shone sweet, the shades seemed lucrative, and the weed
looked green.
So, there were we, four of us, three Malayalis,
including the quirk and another guy my beat partner dragged with him, and me.
We went there and sat in the shade of a wall that
was injected with red concrete flowers; that, with the shade, also gave us a beautiful
view.
I was making us joints, while the quirk came around
and sat beside.
“You
like Cohen?” he asked fidgeting with his phone.
“I’m
just a station on your way. I know I’m not your lover.” I sang, copying the
typical Cohen baritone.
“Amazing!
I love that man.”
Suddenly he was gleaming.
“Well,
you got some real competition here.” I winked.
After that, some hours from then, we kept listening
to Cohen songs back to back, while the rest of the two Malayalis got high on
weed, and me and the quirk on the lyrics in baritone.
We were walking back to our houses, when the quirk
said, “There’s some whiskey in my house. You
want to come over?”
I couldn’t resist the offer of having whiskey and
listening to music with someone whose taste matched unabashedly with mine.
Winter,
afternoon, whiskey, music; there’s not much you can do to not say a yes!
I went, and well, we didn’t drink.
We just sat on the ground, with nothing under our
butts expect the cold floor, in the front porch, and kept listening to songs;
his choice and my choice, alternately.
And he suddenly said, “Actually I want to kiss you. Can I?”
“Well,
when did you drink the whiskey? I didn’t see.”
Litmus test. All girls do it.
“Not
the whiskey speaking. I’m sober and genuinely asking. Can I?”
And with all that amber-lit sky, the perfect
afternoon, the music, it had some effect on me.
“Yes,
but on a condition.” I said.
“And
what’s that?”
“Will
you stay here with me for the next one year?”
“Done.
Now may I?”
What happened after that is what I remember by the
best kiss I’ve had with anyone till date.
So much so, that the panting after the kiss left us
on the floor and with the most comforting laugh ever!
“I
really like you.” He was in sweats.
“That
came fast.” I wasn’t expecting that.
“You
knew it, all this time, I know.”
I laughed instead of a reply, and we kissed again.
To be continued…
