Read Online Can Love Happen Twice? by Ravinder Singh - Free Book Online
Authors: Ravinder Singh
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cold balcony and sipping the tea from my cup, I am lost in my thoughts.
I am shuttling back and forth between my past and my present. I am trying to knit each and every vital happening from my recent life with what I have already been through in the past and am trying to infer some meaning out of it. I am not even sure if it does have any meaning.
Everything that has happened so far—my coming to Belgium, Simar’s studying next to my office, our frequent interactions … was this all coincidence? Who was driving all this? God?
Why am I thinking about her? After all, who is she? Simply an Indian girl in Belgium, just like hundreds more. But then why am I getting so deeply attracted to her?
Wait. Am I? No, this isn’t true. There is nothing of this sort. How can it be? I have already lived this phase of my life. It can’t happen again.
But then there is something which is bothering me. What is it? I can lie to Sanchit but how do I lie to myself?
All of a sudden the alarm of my watch, back in my bedroom, rings at its routine time and interrupts my thoughts. I realize that I have long drunk my tea. I walk back to my room to get ready.
Eleven
That night had another surprise for me. It was long past midnight and I was wondering whether to reply to her SMS or not. The very idea of learning about each other at that hour of the night through a naughty game was really exciting me—I was on the verge of becoming crazy. I was not sure how she was feeling but the complication was also that I was high and extremely conscious of this fact. Besides, I was struggling with two types of fears at that moment—the fear of getting carried away and becoming the kind of human being I had long left behind and the fear of denying myself a chance to restart a whole new life.
Both were contradictory fears. Now that I had had my share of alcohol, the things that Sanchit had told me earlier appeared to make sense. I’d left India because I wanted a change in my life. I was in Belgium which was offering me a change. I was delighted. But I was confused too. I floated in an oblivious sea of two simple questions—should I or should I not?
I bit my lower lip, considering my next move, as if it was a game of chess and I was taking my time to play. To comfort myself, I’d bought my own argument that how could I simply go off to sleep without answering the SMS when someone, somewhere was waiting for my response. The very fact that she was waiting for me made me anxious; and I was becoming more anxious as more time passed by. I picked up my phone and willed myself to write to her that I was half asleep and would talk to her in the morning. That appeared to me as the best thing to do, especially since I wasn’t sure which way I wanted my life to move.
But before I could even frame a message to send Simar, I got another one from her. It read:
‘It’s ok if u r scared of playing it. But u shouldn’t have mentioned to Tanu that u were about to win’
That smiley at the end of the message made me smile. I looked at the wall in front of me, thinking now of how to reply. That SMS was a tempting bait from a candid if not cunning mind.
Is she provoking me? I thought to myself. I couldn’t sleep now! My opponent was not only beautiful but possessed smart communication skills, so smart as to entice her targets. I replied: ‘Whose turn first?’
As soon as that message escaped my mobile I got a third one from her flashing on my mobile’s screen.
‘Ravin, I m sorry. It wasn’t me. Tanu snatched my phone n sent them. Extremely sorry.’
By the time I read this, my message had already been delivered to her. Had her third message reached me two seconds back, I wouldn’t have sent mine. And then another one came: ‘I scolded her big time. U must hv been sleeping. Sry 2 bother u.’
To this I replied, saying: ‘It’s ok. Gdnite.’
A few minutes later, she responded, asking: ‘U appear angry. M nt sure if u actually meant it 2 b ok. I only
I am shuttling back and forth between my past and my present. I am trying to knit each and every vital happening from my recent life with what I have already been through in the past and am trying to infer some meaning out of it. I am not even sure if it does have any meaning.
Everything that has happened so far—my coming to Belgium, Simar’s studying next to my office, our frequent interactions … was this all coincidence? Who was driving all this? God?
Why am I thinking about her? After all, who is she? Simply an Indian girl in Belgium, just like hundreds more. But then why am I getting so deeply attracted to her?
Wait. Am I? No, this isn’t true. There is nothing of this sort. How can it be? I have already lived this phase of my life. It can’t happen again.
But then there is something which is bothering me. What is it? I can lie to Sanchit but how do I lie to myself?
All of a sudden the alarm of my watch, back in my bedroom, rings at its routine time and interrupts my thoughts. I realize that I have long drunk my tea. I walk back to my room to get ready.
Eleven
That night had another surprise for me. It was long past midnight and I was wondering whether to reply to her SMS or not. The very idea of learning about each other at that hour of the night through a naughty game was really exciting me—I was on the verge of becoming crazy. I was not sure how she was feeling but the complication was also that I was high and extremely conscious of this fact. Besides, I was struggling with two types of fears at that moment—the fear of getting carried away and becoming the kind of human being I had long left behind and the fear of denying myself a chance to restart a whole new life.
Both were contradictory fears. Now that I had had my share of alcohol, the things that Sanchit had told me earlier appeared to make sense. I’d left India because I wanted a change in my life. I was in Belgium which was offering me a change. I was delighted. But I was confused too. I floated in an oblivious sea of two simple questions—should I or should I not?
I bit my lower lip, considering my next move, as if it was a game of chess and I was taking my time to play. To comfort myself, I’d bought my own argument that how could I simply go off to sleep without answering the SMS when someone, somewhere was waiting for my response. The very fact that she was waiting for me made me anxious; and I was becoming more anxious as more time passed by. I picked up my phone and willed myself to write to her that I was half asleep and would talk to her in the morning. That appeared to me as the best thing to do, especially since I wasn’t sure which way I wanted my life to move.
But before I could even frame a message to send Simar, I got another one from her. It read:
‘It’s ok if u r scared of playing it. But u shouldn’t have mentioned to Tanu that u were about to win’
That smiley at the end of the message made me smile. I looked at the wall in front of me, thinking now of how to reply. That SMS was a tempting bait from a candid if not cunning mind.
Is she provoking me? I thought to myself. I couldn’t sleep now! My opponent was not only beautiful but possessed smart communication skills, so smart as to entice her targets. I replied: ‘Whose turn first?’
As soon as that message escaped my mobile I got a third one from her flashing on my mobile’s screen.
‘Ravin, I m sorry. It wasn’t me. Tanu snatched my phone n sent them. Extremely sorry.’
By the time I read this, my message had already been delivered to her. Had her third message reached me two seconds back, I wouldn’t have sent mine. And then another one came: ‘I scolded her big time. U must hv been sleeping. Sry 2 bother u.’
To this I replied, saying: ‘It’s ok. Gdnite.’
A few minutes later, she responded, asking: ‘U appear angry. M nt sure if u actually meant it 2 b ok. I only
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