A letter to my crush

Dear someone who gave me butterflies,

I don’t know where to start. I leave things unfinished, sometimes memories, too. But somehow I can recall everything, clearly. It was 4th December, 4th day of the winter Semester 2017-18. As usual, I was late for the A1 slot class, Statistics for engineers; seriously it’s for engineers? I don’t think so. When you start a semester, you start hoping that this semester will go on your way (the biggest lie you tell to yourself). So with that hope, I sat on first bench, C1-L.

Three more minutes have passed now. students are still coming – they know Deviyamini ma’am will allow even at 8:30 to enter the class. Why I told myself that ‘this sem will go on my way’? else, I could have slept for 10 more minutes. As I was in deep conversation with myself, I found myself directly looking towards a girl. she was asking for permission and for me that moment appeared like a mirage in a long stretch of desert. She felt like the first rain in a city; pristine, limpid and vulnerable. But she didn’t even look at me, thank god, otherwise she would have killed me.

For my surprise, my eyes didn’t want to see somewhere else, I still don’t know why? So, I stared at her for the first time, not absentmindedly but with a choice this time. Straight long hair, in charcoal-black with a fossil grey hairband, to hold hair away from the alluring face. The eyes, which were in dark-grey, making a pattern with those hairs and with that silent smile on her face. I’m not a believer in “The colour of a person’s eyes tell us whether they are kind or cruel, an optimist or a pessimist.” But of course, I like patterns, which are way better than judging a person by their eyes. I lost myself in those patterns so deep that I didn’t even………......

When I came out of hallucination, I realised ma’am is teaching us those boring mean, median, mode things (Try to look for a pattern, once – it can be a rainbow after the first rain of the season or it can be the twilight of the sky before the sunset, fall for it once and you will find everything boring after that). To look for a calculator in my bag, I goggled at her for few seconds to find her concentrated on every bits and pieces to solve the questions and I smiled like an idiot. I was not sure what is happening to me, still not sure.

“For every sixty second in stats class, an hour passes” to “why the hell time is going with the speed of light”, I found myself abusing the time for being so fast – would you believe me? Anyways, I was happy and when ma’am sonant “answer your attendance” that moment happiness turned into the contentment along with excitement. And why not to be excited? Aww, I was going to hear the name of my crush – yes, at that moment every pieces of me confirmed my mind that she is the one you were looking for. And for every single names ma’am shouted, I looked towards her, as if it was hers.

Four weeks have passed now. I still come class late but something is hurting me, there is a ringing silence in my head. You are sitting at D3-R with your friend. I’m addicted to “kitne dafe” songs and still listening to it while looking at you from C6-L. I want to talk to you but I am nervous, I want to share my clichés but I’m scared. Ma’am is absent today and that means I can stalk you for whole hour. This is the 13^th time that my friend karan told me “Nitish, jaa baat kr usse, darr mat”, I felt some courage in my chest but I returned from the first bench for 3^rd time now. But this time I watched myself going towards you, of course with ‘more-frightened and less-confidence’ and faked a “Hi”.

You replied with a warm ‘hello’ that boosted my confidence and I revealed everything that was going through my mind (of course not, otherwise I would have not writing this letter). Your mellifluous voice told me “I am …………….” and you know, that formal handshake was more than I asked for. Thank you, you were amiable that day and I found your heart even more prettier than your face (trust me, I’m not flirting).

From that day onwards everywhere I turn, I still see you. I still look up your name on social media and go through your old photos. I still see who hearted on your profile picture, who commented, even I tried to see your Instagram but failed to send you follow request. The fact that I never confessed my feelings for you, I figure, is probably the reason I never truly got over you. But today, when I see you in the lift from then I can feel my heart beating beneath my skin and it’s terrifying so I told my brain and heart that I will write a letter to you.

I don’t know if what I felt back then was love, I still haven’t figured out what love is. Maybe you are my first crush or maybe not. Maybe it is just an infatuation or maybe something else. Maybe you have a boyfriend or maybe not. Maybe you didn’t want to make the first move, neither have I, with anyone, until now. Maybe you think I am a coquette but that is way below my self-esteem too. Maybe you are shy, but you know what?! Me too.

Maybe I wasn’t ready to break my walls for you but I was okay with me entering through the door. Maybe you’ll not be my crush anymore and can be just my friend. Maybe your broad smile can’t bright my day but that warm one can light my stress. Maybe I will not be your 3 am friend but being a mere name in your mind, hurts a little too. Can’t we be something between that?

But on some nights, I want to love you for a while. I want to see you. I want to talk to you. I want to study you. I want to know what books made you cry, what your favourite TV shows are, your fears and what your idea of true love. I want to watch you go to sleep and wake you up in the middle of the night just to ask about your last painting. Don’t worry, I can make coffee really good and will stare at you until you finish every sip of coffee while giving every details about The paintings. (But heck, look at me, I still don’t know you like coffee or not?).

Or maybe we can speak about the sky, stars, twilights, black holes, politics and not just about our breakfast and dinner. Maybe I will not wish to be your forever and be just your trustworthy. Maybe I will end up being your ‘best man’ and not your 'the one’. Maybe I never expect a relationship but a friendship would be fine. And If you somehow manage to fall for me in spite of all those, don’t tell me, and don’t make me promises because I always ruin beautiful things.

The one who wanted to know you more

Nitish