Math tells us three of the
saddest love stories.
Tangent lines, which had
one chance to meet and then parted forever.
Parallel lines, which were
never meant to meet.
And Asymptotes, which can
get closer and closer but will never be together.
*****
Tangent
He was a
regular metro patron. He used to take the train from Kavi Nazrul and get off at
Dum Dum. The Metro was the only way he could efficiently cover half the city in
less than an hour. One day, he boarded the Metro from Dum Dum, after a long day
in college.
He was sweaty, clutching a case of drawing instruments and carrying
a bag of books on his shoulder. He was lucky to find a seat.
The train
was on time. They had crossed Esplanade and reached Park Street. That was when
she walked on board.
To say she
was pretty would be a lie. To say she was unattractive would be a bigger lie.
Like him, she too had a bag of books with her and was carrying the collected
works of Tolstoy in her hand. She sat down next to him, and he somehow plucked
up the nerve to strike up a conversation with her.
She said her
name was Riya and she was an English student. She told him her favourite
character was Anna Karenina and she loved to listen to The Eagles and Pink
Floyd. He was just about to ask her for her number, when she exclaimed “Is the
next one Rabindra Sarobar? I need to get off! Nice talking to you!”
And she was
gone.
He went home
and searched for her on Facebook, but that was in the days when Facebook didn’t
have graph search and therefore just knowing an English student named Riya with
a soft spot for The Eagles didn’t help. Suffice to say, she got off the train
and he never saw her again.
But he still
has the memory of their meeting- a tangent to his circle.
*****
Asymptote
The two of
them had been friends since high school. She was a doctor. He was an engineer.
They knew each other’s families, and had been over to each other’s houses for
meals and casual visits. He trusted her with his life. She did too. Their
conversations never seemed to end, because they just couldn’t stop talking on
and on about anything under the sun. Naturally, the gossip mills had pegged
them as a couple. He was teased in college about her. She was given the third
degree in college about him.
All this
story needs now is Chetan Bhagat to write it into a cheesy soap opera of a best
seller.
The truth
is, though they had once tried dating, they found that they were better off as
friends. Funnily enough, this suited them both, though initially it had made
things pretty awkward.
But, thankfully
nothing has changed between these two. She still calls him now and then and
asks after him, and goes on yammering about what her college is like. He calls
her too and tells her everything there is to know.
When they’re
both in Kolkata, they make it a point to meet and spend time together.
Such is
their bond. Like an Asymptotic function.
*****
Parallel
This one is
easy. Easier than the other two at least. This one is the girl of his dreams.
The girl who exists only for him and nobody else. The girl who looks the way he
wants her to look, the girl who kisses him the way he wants to be kissed. The
girl who reads the same books as he does, writes the same things he does,
listens to the same songs for the same reasons he does.
In short,
the girl who doesn’t exist anywhere but in his mind.
He wishes
the girls he went after were like her. He reconciles himself with the knowledge
that come what may, he’ll find someone like her.
Like her, but not her.
These two
are like parallel lines. They will never meet, except in the pages of his
dream, which as we know has nothing to do with reality.
*****
The Bilge Master
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