My First Crush

First crushes are meant to be special. The kind that make you blush even after 30 years of the said cra(u)sh. Some talk of it with a sparkle in their eyes. Some die laughing, talking about it. Some brood, like forlorn Devdas-es, over it. Why, some even marry their crushes.

Mine was a tad different. I was on a ‘lookout’ for a crush. At the time when one’s ‘crush hormone’ is predominant, umm at about 12-13 years (?), I just couldn't make do with Pete Sampras, Charlie Chaplin (!) or Rambo, all three who adorned my wall. Even When Aamir’s QSQT released and all the girls around me were swooning, my crush-hormone refused to surface. I was in no mood for poster boys, film stars (though exactly at this moment, I’m very very weak-kneed for Shah Rukh Khan. I really could die for him, you know). I wanted the real thing. Even if it could just have been our neighbour’s son, who was kinda ok looking, besides the fact that he smiled at me, often, without reason. But I didn't budge.

You see, I wanted my first crush to be as real and special as possible. So I waited. Waited patiently while women around me walked about with picture postcards of Tom Cruise, Pierce Brosnan, Sanjay Dutt and of their first crush-and then steady boyfriend from their apartment complex/colony. And then, like Om Prakash Makhija in Om Shanti Om says that kickass dialogue which translates to- ‘the universe conspires to make your deepest desires come true’, I visited Bangalore the very first time in my life, with a friend. While she went her way, I was left to spend the day with a friend I knew for many years. We went to a pub. For the very first time. Then for a movie. And then walked aimlessly on MG road. It was then, out of the blue, he bought a stuffed toy (a dog), from a roadside vendor and gave it to me. (Come to think of it now, the toy was hideous, and anything but cute.)

What happened after that was what tripped me. He took me for a ride on his motor cycle. That did it. I saw the moon, stars and the sky like a digitally mastered painting. I knew I was sitting behind my very first crush. BUT. That guy. He didn’t have even an ounce of oh-my-whatte-sweet girl-like expression on his face. He was his usual 'good friend' self and out of the blue asked me who this other friend was who I had come with.  Apparently she was 'striking' and to my horror when he finally met her briefly the next day, he shamelessly flirted with her. All this while, not one glance at me, ok. Not ONE. Instead, before leaving he gives me with very 'brotherly' hug and gives me some even more 'brotherly' advice. Sheesh. I wanted the earth to split.

That day on the bus back to Hyderabad, I was crying like Meena Kumari, whose love was not just going to be lost forever, but an even worse fate would meet it. Her so called  love would remain a secret- an untold, un-felt one sided, sidey love story.  I decided to blame it all on that furry –not –one –bit- cute- anymore- dog.

Years later when ma washed that stuffed toy (Her OCD Highness), I told her about it and laughed until tears rolled down my eyes. Many more years later, after I got married, I met him again. In a Pub. And told him.
That time, we both laughed till our sides ached and the table next to ours decided to move to a table far away from ours.
This post is my entry to Blog Adda’s My first Crush Contest.