In 2003, I had sent a huge bouquet of roses to ‘K’ (my girlfriend, whom I loving address as K – the ‘krakpot’ – making her giggle girlishly) along with my marriage proposal. It so happened that Madhu, a classmate of K, was staying with her that night.
When the two saw the huge package of flowers, K was floored alright, but Madhu was more so! I believe Madhu gushed, “None of my boyfriends is so romantic. How I wish I could steal Abs from you!”
The duo had a minor tiff regarding me. That evening, while K stood me up, Madhu turned up for my bash.
One of our mutual friends tipped K off and she rushed.
After her fourth glass of sparkling wine, in a particularly mad moment, suddenly, Madhu hugged me and said, “Abs, you are so sweet and honestly, that bitch (K) does not deserve you!”
And at that precise moment, in walked K mad as a hatter.
I will not bore you with the details, but after a mealy-mouthed slanging match, K stomped out saying, “I wanted to accept your proposal in style tomorrow, but now I hate you with all my heart. Never bother contacting me again, Abs!”
The next day, my future father-in-law almost finalised a groom for K, and in a silly moment, she even said yes!
Related reading: Together because of love, or because it’s habitual and easy?
I became an emotional wreck, kind of got drunk and created a scene outside K’s house.
Being well connected, my future father-in-law complained to the police.
Before long, I was in the slammer.
Sadly, K had corroborated her father’s version to the cops and called me a “mad stalker.”
Under normal circumstances, I would have been remanded to judicial custody.
It so happened that Hari uncle knew the inspector and came to meet him over something else altogether at the cop house. And when uncle saw me in the lock-up, he told the real story to the inspector and I was let off with a warning.
I went on a binge that night. The next day, I was a blabbering emotional wreck.
Hari uncle came, comforted me and said, “Abs, I will write one moving poem for you. Email it to that young lady and hopefully, something nice might happen.”
I followed uncle’s instructions and sent this poem:
“Listen to the voice of your heart
Just do not be swayed by what the surroundings say
Look in my eyes through your imagination
And find out if I am telling the truth.
A mere glance from you
Will grant me permission to continue on earth
I implore you to look the same
The way you did when your eyes said yes
And the lips pouted a NO!
Love is always innocent
And it is beyond all distractions
Imagine my forlorn eyes again
And you would know the pain.
Sometimes it so happens
In a man’s life
His own shadow deserts him
In the peak of summer at noon
There will be an oasis in this desert.
And soon cooler climes shall engulf me
I am for real, kindly remember
The true nature of my affection will reveal itself
And then you will know the truth
Of my ardent nature
And your eyes will go moist for my loneliness
And wash away the scars and scares that kept us apart
And then your answer, as your mind always said
Will be YES!”
Related reading: How will you know when you’ve found real love?
In another part of Chennai, the prospective groom, his sister and her husband were sitting around K in her flat, introducing her to their relatives in the US through a chat room and a webcam at home.
And suddenly, in front of all her future in-laws, the poem jumped out along with a picture of us together (something K had saved on my id) on K’s computer screen.
Even as the embarrassed groom and his relatives were looking on beside her and in the USA, K broke down and began sobbing uncontrollably, I later heard.
The guy, I must admit, was gallant.
I believe, he said something like this:
“K, you are beautiful and I am indeed sad that I can never be your husband now. But, Abs deserves you much more, and I can see that you still love him. Instead of doing something mad on the rebound, please think calmly. I will have a chat with your father and hopefully, everything would be fine. And when you do marry Abs, remember to invite me.”
K and I reunited two days later.
The groom moved heaven and earth to convince all concerned.
When I finally married K, the groom was my best man.
As per our promise, we have nicknamed our son ‘Raqs’ after the strange relationship with the “groom”.
In Urdu, one’s flame’s suitor is called Raqueeb. And Raqs roughly means the trance-like situation of a person while dancing wildly like a whirling dervish.
Our little bundle of joy, ‘Raqs,” is an apt name not only as our happy state of mind but also as the shortened version of Raqueeb.
Thank you, Hari uncle, you made our day then, now and forever!
And, by the way, Madhu married the groom later.