Confessions. . . Over a plate of Pasta

 I like you. I don't know if this is a result of my infatuation towards you, or friendship turned to liking, or what. I don't remember since when. I do remember how. I saw your profile picture on Facebook. Your hair weren't locked, you were in a black t-shirt, spectacled face and a pillow on your lap. I sent you a friend request. I hoped that you'll accept it and prayed that you don't. when I first spotted you in FB, I didn't know you were joining GS. You accepted my friend request.

May 28, the first day in GS. I was sitting in the reception desk with Arfu. "Hi", Maha waved from behind. I reciprocated appropriately. You were sitting next to her. "you must be. ." I asked in your direction. "Shameena", came the reply.  I don't remember what happened later. I was pre-occupied with the happy co-incidence of meeting with you the first day in GS! We further talked in the induction ceremony.

I don't remember whether I pinged you first (on the Office Communicator). I must have. I don't remember how I came to know you were engaged. I don't remember how I came to know that your father was a muslim, hence your name. the facts that should have made me not to think of you did not do so. I got your mobile number. Occasional calls and messages. I saw you once near Food Court. A stunning white shirt and a yellow-stripped skirt. I smiled and thought, "She is. . . beautiful"

You quit. I came to know of it a week later. I felt hurt. Real hurt. I don't know why. I expected a word of Adieu. I asked myself, "on what basis do you expect that so much?" I couldn’t forget you -- knowing that you were engaged, and that my thoughts were nowhere near my definition of 'good' and 'ethical'. I came late to my PG one night. I was half-asleep, I was so hurt; that I vented it all out on my roommates -- who were studying for Law Exams. They listened, giggled, and asked "Does she know it?" I turned my head sideways. Then the explanation came from them. "She wanted company, here in Bangalore, which she got. Now she doesn't need you". I thought, "Sounds logical, but I'm not convinced."

I remember the days when we pinged each other for luncheon.  A couple of times; we did have lunch together. Some conversations now and then.

Later, one day, you gave me your Chennai number. And we talked for more than 3 hours! That was November 2012. I still don't know how I talked so much, but, yes, I needed those 3 hours and you gave them. In October-November, my work-life was turning upside-down -- thanks to my manager -- and those 3 hours were . . . I don't know. I felt relieved after that.  I slept peacefully that night, it was a dreamless night.

I came back to Chennai. You messaged out of the blue, days back. It was unexpected. I asked for a treat -- an excuse to meet with you -- and the day was decided. After I talked to you, I thought "Maybe I should tell her". The other half of me retaliated, "No! Else the friendship is over! She will find it disgusting."

Here I am, sititng in front of you, telling you all I feel about you. The possibility of you and I was remote. But, I did imagine once -- you and I together. Then the fact that you are engaged came up to my mind and I never thought of it. Ever. Maybe I asked myself, "How would you feel if somebody thinks about your fiancé the way you are thinking of her?"

I don't know what the outcome will be. Then, I was confused. Now, I am confused. 'What will she think?' 'Is my thinking perverse?' 'Will she hate me?' 'Will she reciprocate?' 'Should I even tell it to her?'

I decided to vent it out -- not thinking of the consequences. I told her not to react to whatever I say -- I was that nervous. I'm feeling relieved now. I don’t know what she might be thinking. Sad? Angry? Disgust? Hate? Nothing? Happiness? Pity? Empathy? I don't know. But; yes, this is the most selfish thing I did till date -- by opening myself up.

Aftermath:

She listened. Waited for a second, and laughed. I sat there perplexed, wondering "Did I say anything funny?" She laughed and laughed, unable to restrain herself. I laughed. I don't know what she laughing at? Me? My confession? My narration?

I laughed at her, at me, over my thoughts, over myself.

P.S. The name is changed, of course!

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