* First Date * ~ Abhijit And that Sunday, we met for the first time outside our college. It was a book cafe, the kind which allows people to read books for free while they sip coffee or eat snacks. Gibran? Never heard of him, I told her as she sat down on the couch with a copy of The Prophet. She smiled. I am more into books by Indian authors, I explained, trying to hide my embarrassment. Indian authors? she asked, her quizzical expression making it abundantly clear that the names of the Indian authors were going to define the direction of our relationship. Amitav Ghosh and VS Naipaul, mainly, I replied. She seemed satisfied and went back to reading The Prophet. The very next moment, I was filled with remorse. I had lied through my teeth. I had never read anything by Ghosh or Naipaul in my life. But I couldnt possibly have mentioned the name of Chetan Bhagat and made a good impression. The lie had served a purpose. It had made me appear acceptable in her eyes. Kahlil Gibran was a Lebanese poet and writer. I consider him a notch below Rumi, but way above the British poets we have grown up reading in our CBSE books, she explained. Rumi? I wondered if I had ever heard this name before. I hadnt. You have never heard of Rumi either? she asked, appearing to be shocked. Umm, I am not really into foreign authors as I said, I spoke to save my ass. She got up and returned with another book and read out a few lines. If you are irritated by every rub, how will your mirror be polished? Wow! I remarked. She gave me the sweetest smile ever. Liked it? I knew you would. Everyone loves Rumi! I love you, I wanted to tell her. Yeah, Rumi sounds good, was what I actually said. That day I went back home with a bag full of the works of Rumi and Gibran just to make sure I had something to talk about on our next date. Love, they say, teaches a lot of things to a lot of people. It taught me to read real books. (Fiction)
Posted on: Sat, 24 Jan 2015 05:52:52 +0000
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