Cousin's story

My cousin who is still in school was stuck with an assignment " Write an original love story with a little twist". So she had come over for a little inspiration. Initially she was stuck with
"That day, after college, everyone felt in a good mood because the weather was suddenly gay and soft like spring. They hung around outside, the whole class together, which was something they never did. We were on our way home, me and my friends and We took the bus with the number 365 as usual. As always It was like a can of packed sardine.

But that wasn’t bothering me, something else was. I just couldn’t understand why was I thinking about him so repeatedly. His chiseled chin, that messy hair, his cute cardigan, I just couldn’t wipe him from the mind.

 

It all started when we were 8 years old, as we cycled" 

But then a little prodding with a new story line and a lot of encouragement had her come up with a cute and lovely story:) Plus she was kind enough to let me share it in my blog...

So here's the final product:

The pitter patter of the rain broke me from my reverie and I realised it was already 8:00 in the morning. I wore my grey suit that I usually wore on Mondays and went down for my breakfast. Like any other household wife and a mother of 28 year old engineer, my mother  brought up the topic yet again. “I have become old now. All I want to do is see my son get married to a proper Indian girl and take care of small cute grandkids”.

“Mom!! Not again. Please... we have had this talk before. Times have changed and love doesn’t really exist anymore like it used to” I retorted as I always do. “Kids these days just don’t have patience. Besides, it wasn’t really smooth sailing for your dad and me too, you know” she said. I was about to come up with another clever line to cut out the argument and change the topic once and for all. But then I stopped and thought, did my parents really have trouble in marital heaven they seemed to live in? The more I thought I realised how little I actually knew about them and their life before I was born. So I asked her “Mum, how did you and dad actually get married...Tell me about your story”.

My mother paused, with the ladle still in her hand and turned to look at me. “Do you really want to know?” she asked and I nodded my head in affirmative. She stopped what she was doing and came and sat next to me. I couldn’t stop smiling as she seemed like a giddy teenager sharing her first crush with her best friends. All I had ever heard was how boring an arranged marriage is and how little a person knows about the life partner in such situations and how much of a gamble it is to play with your life.

But then, that day hearing my mother’s stories, of small excitements like a shy ride on the scooter for the first time to eat ice-cream, skipping a family function so that they could spend more time with each other, my dad eagerly waiting with hot home cooked [and slightly burnt] dinner for mother when she returned from her first visit to her parents house reminded me that their love was still very strong. Due to my busy schedule I barely noticed their love which exists till date. Even though they fought for the silliest reasons, I remember hearing their love whispers and how they showed signs of loving each other secretly and their long drives by the suburbs. I was mesmerised and couldn’t help but get excited with her. I understood that love was not about giving flower bouquets, gifts or celebrating valentine’s day, It was about those small things that they do for each other in everyday life. She suddenly stopped and she pointed at the clock with the ladle. “Aren’t you late?” she asked. I was really late. I ran out and pulled my bike out. As I put my helmet I noticed that the rain had stopped and the sun had just peeked from the clouds. It was turning out to be a good day after all.

All I can say in the end, is that I hope I can live a love story as interesting as my parents.

I think that was a pretty charming story. Don't you? :)