Another Bollywood Story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

The typical Bollywood story. With a twist.

Submitted: September 30, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 30, 2017



Another Bollywood Story

Bollywood. That's what the glamorous Indian film industry is called. While other aspects in the country may be progressing at a slower pace, Bollywood definitely seems to be making leaps. You may wonder whether this is just going to be a boring biography of the film industry. No, my reference to Bollywood is because my love story bears so much resemblance to a typical old fashioned romance film, with a few major twists. I grew up watching these films that were packed with action, song and dance sequences, lots of tears, and eventually, predictable storylines. I never believed in their depiction of love or the existence of such a feeling(there is always a song dedicated to the blossoming romance, preferably in a field of flowers). Although I was skeptic about whether any of this had connection to reality, I would be lying if I said I did not enjoy these films. No matter how predictable they were, just like the rest of the population, I watched. If I'd known then that love was going to hit me harder than I expected, I would not have scoffed at those movies. Irony. I remember the day I first saw him, but no, I did not fall in love at first sight. There were no butterflies in my stomach. None of that. He had just joined our college and was a newbie. None of my business. Days passed by and life went on just as it used to. Hanging out with my friends, going to college, same old routine. One day when I left class with my friends , I noticed him sitting there alone jotting something down in his notebook. And that's probably when I even remembered he existed in my class. The next day I noticed him again and I saw that he sat alone. He talked to no one. The guys said he was weird and quiet and they couldn't care less. He wasn't the "macho" type. He wasn't the typical handsome Bollywood hero. I felt sorry for him. I don't know what had gotten into me but suddenly I wanted to help this guy. I walked over to him one day after class and invited him for snacks. He was surprised but said no. I knew he thought I'd make fun of him too. I wasn't one to give up so easily. His reluctance fuelled me on further. I was now determined that this guy would open up to me one day. After that, every day I'd go upto him and make small talk. He probably thought I was nuts but I could see it made him happy. To not be treated like he was invisible. Slowly,but surely, he started to talk. We talked about our goals, our dreams and before I realised it, I was telling him my deepest secrets. He listened, he understood, he cared. Hidden beneath that timid frame had been a mesmerising person with immense knowledge and a heart of gold. And just like in the movies, I stayed up at night thinking of him, of every word he'd said, and I smiled. I'd fallen in love with him. I knew I couldn't let my parents know because the idea of love itself was a taboo in my family which hung onto its archaic traditions. Keeping the secret from my parents was easy, but keeping it from him was hard. Every night I'd think of going to him and telling him but then my mind would ask me a million 'what-ifs' and I'd decide against it. I smiled and I kept it within me, hoping he wouldn't notice and yet wishing he would. Love is as confusing as it is magical. One day, as everyone left the class, I waited outside for him. My friends had already distanced themselves from me for hanging out with a person who they termed "weirdo" and I frankly couldn't care less. My world now revolved around him, he was my Sun and I had no time for petty meteors. As everyone walked out of the class, instead of coming out, he pulled me into the classroom. He looked outside to see if there was anyone around and he locked the door. My heart was pounding like crazy I could hear it. He gently pushed me to the wall, a coy smile on his face and I didn't know how to react. He leaned in close and I could feel his breath on my ear as he gently whispered, "I love you and I know you love me too". I was in a daze. What just happened? Was I dreaming? How did he know? Is this real? A million questions raced through my mind but he still smiled calmly. He gently pressed his lips on mine and suddenly there were no more questions. Only him. I don't remember how long but we kissed till we ran out of breath. My hands in his hair, pulling him closer, kissing him with an ecstasy I'd never felt before. I looked up at him. There was love in his eyes. There was no other place called heaven. THIS was heaven. College life was over in a jiffy and I never realised it. Every minute of it, I spent with him. We laughed, we cried, we fought, we made up. But we never thought about the future, because it scared us. Just like in every film, our parents would become the villains in our love story and then we'd have to convince them in order to get to our happy ending. And that's where the boundary between films and reality was drawn. Convincing was next to impossible. I was scared to tell my parents, afraid of how they would react, what it would lead to. But I tried. And I failed. Miserably. They were disgusted the minute they heard of it. In fact, disgusted would be an understatement. They told me to forget about him and to never mention this 'hideous' sin of falling in love with him. I cried, I screamed, I begged but there was no way out. Like in the movies, I couldn't elope with him, we couldn't just go commit suicide. I had to let him go. That's when I realised, what hell was like. He didn't utter a word when I told him. It was like he'd already known. He just hugged me and told me it would be alright. We kissed deeply, affectionately..we knew it was the last time. We never said the word 'goodbye' because it hurt far too much. But goodbye it was. I never saw him again. It's been years now and I'm "happily" married (in the eyes of society). I've never felt an emotional connection with my spouse but the smile on my son's lips keeps me going. I hope he will never have to go through the pain I went through. I hope he will get his happy ending. My story didn't end this way because of religion or financial status like it often happens in the movies. My parents turned villains only because he was male. As am I.

Writer's Note:

I am not homosexual. Maybe neither are you. But that doesn't give either of us the right to judge a person. No matter one's sexual orientation, we need to understand that they are just humans after all. Just like you and me. They're made of the same flesh and they experience feelings just like we do. Treating them like abominations or cursed beings and shaming them(very much prevalent in India) is nothing less than a crime we do to humanity. We have no right to judge what we do not understand. Thousands of love stories end this way, thousands of people are still hidden in the closet. It is time we let them live the way they want. It is time they find love that will keep them happy. It is time they have their happy ending.

© Copyright 2018 Rhishel Ross. All rights reserved.

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