My heart thumped, why? I don’t know. A poem ran through my skin:
If Déjà vu is a thing, I have felt it in my palm holding yours, as you crafted yourself out of my dream and lent your heart on my lips to curve your name. Don’t say, you don’t know me, because I have known you religiously for years. I have named lakes after your name and climbed mountains, so don’t say, you wouldn’t come for the view with me. I don’t promise stars, I promise me, till eternity, till stars become a lie.
I walked slowly to the venue. A glass door awaited me, even the floor seemed to be a harmonica with every step my foot laid. The lights turned into fireflies leading me to the hard beats of my heart. And suddenly, everything stopped.
There he was, looking like the last page of my notebook, a distant beaut, a choir. Isn’t it strange that the most ordinary things become pretty ecstatic when your vision towards them elevates? Madhav was setting his tripod, blissfully unaware of how pretty he looked with work. My shadowy disappointment turned into a smile. Let me tell you what my eyes were stuck on.
A thin guy wearing a black and white checked shirt, a prince neck complimenting his broad shoulders, firm hands showing veins every time he adjusted the camera, subtle eyes, lips untouched, voice, that voice which made my heart drop. I couldn’t take my eyes off his lashes. Who said dreams can’t be a human?
“Hi, Madhav here. I have set the camera and tripod, the sound is working too. We need to check up on a few things, and the lights are…..”
Everything went blurry. His voice was faded. Everything seemed like a rewind, yet so new. Why was Madhav feeling so familiar? What was that fragrance, I have known it before? Was I going to break again? He spoke like a piano, soft with his diction, his words sounded like a warm blanket in a cold morning wrapping me in just a little more.
“Do it Madhav, whatever you feel right.” I lost my command. No male could ever do this to me, make me write a poem.
I took a long breath and tried my best to focus on the event. Took a seat away from the new distraction and revised my work. Well to the rescue, my friends entered in chaos. Shanvi, my best friend, soulmate, confidante, could guess that something was off. She always clicked the right spot, somehow she always could figure me out.
“Which guy is it that strung your non-functional heart after 2 years?” she teased me. “Shanvi, watch, there.”
My eyes pointed towards Madhav and Madhav’s towards mine. And I tipped my toe and fell on the same harmonical ground.
Officially, fucked up!