How in Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, the dashing guy pulled the beautiful girl inside the moving train- moving people's hearts to pine for the star-crossed lovers. That was what happened one random Tuesday. But have you wondered what could have unfurled in the minds of the extras in the train who watched the guy hoist the girl up as if that was the last train on earth? As if there wasn't a 6.02 train to Andheri literally 2 seconds later? What. The. Fuck. Those were words that popped up in my mind when I saw Dev help a girl the second the train lurched forward.

"Thank you," she said, her cheeks flushed more from pleasure than all the running she did. Of course, who wouldn't blush like a baboon after being helped by someone so handsome? What cast a gloomier shadow over my existence was the fact that she just had to stand next to him and they resembled a magazine, front-cover couple. And as if the Gods above were shipping them, the sun's rays directly spilled over their eyes, swirling silky honey in them.

Folding my arms, I took a step forward, blocking the traitorous sun whose rays pierced my back in a full-blown assault. "Don't worry. He always helps people."

"Your committee work is over?" he asked her, ignoring the shadows. I didn't know whether the sun was burning my body or the other thing.

Still, I persisted like a shrivelling flower reaching towards a tiny patch of sunlight. "Do you both know each other?"

"Yes! We're in the same class!" she burst out, her short, shiny hair bouncing. Was she his spokesperson? I had asked him that question, to make those honey-brown eyes look at me.

"Did you send the passes . . .?" He began talking to her about some stupid, college committee and my "what passes?" fell on deaf ears. When by a miracle we chanced upon an empty seat, he said, "You can sit there, Dikshita."

I hung to the handlebars, scrutinizing what was so special about her for him to offer a seat to her and not me. Her hair shinier, her cheeks lovelier, her eyes prettier. . . Not to mention her clothes which boasted of big money wrapped around her body. Wordlessly, I broke away my stare, preferring to see the men outside who claimed the railway tracks as their personal loo.

When we stepped onto the station and they bade each other farewell, he finally turned to me. "We have an event coming up at college. You should come."

As if I hadn't gathered that much from their conversation, him scribbling instructions of the event on the blank paper of her mind.

"What, is she going to be a CA too?" I didn't mean to be snappy, but at least I didn't ask if he was in love with her or something.

He chuckled, swinging his legs as we walked under the jamun trees. "Yes, we're in the same purgatory."

The word "we" was as aggravating as the sound of nails scratching on the blackboard and I kicked a lone jamun seed. "Well, at least she has things figured out, I guess. However boring it is. As for me---" Later when I analysed why I said this, to appear smaller in front of her was to gain his sympathy. "---I have nothing figured out. I'm doomed."

"Pessimism is a limited view, Tulsi."

That was one of the rare moments when he called my name, otherwise, he never had any need to address me since we always walked next to each other within hearing range. It felt personal as if he had peeped into a part of my life that he didn't have access to. This taste of intimacy felt sweet on his lips and I savoured it for some time.

"What do you know about pessimism? You're a diplomat. Neither this nor that."

He chuckled again, the ironic look in his eyes focusing on my head since I kept my gaze lowered to the ground. "Pessimism is a mirage. You think you're getting closer to the truth, but you're only getting farther and farther from reality."

"And what's the reality if not my failures?"

"That's not true," he said quietly. "Your pessimism is limiting your reality. The real world is much bigger to encompass all your dreams and hopes."

"I have no dreams and hopes." Except you.

For the third time, he chuckled. "There you go again. Limiting yourself because of pessimism."

"How does one even choose to be a CA? It cannot be your childhood dream. I can't imagine a five-year-old Dev saying he wants to keep accounts for the rest of his life. It has to be an astronaut, doctor or Shah Rukh Khan. But come to think of it, I can't even imagine a five-year-old Dev. You must have been born as a twenty-year-old."

"Here's your proof," he said with a smile, handing me his phone. Indeed, there were two little boys, the younger one was Dev. His arms were protectively thrown around the older one who sat on a red chair.

"Isn't your brother a CA?"

"Now you know why I chose this."

"Really?" I stared at him as if he had revealed he was a secret fairy. How bizarre. "You don't look like the type to blindly follow what your brother does."

There was a feathery touch of shyness to his smile. "Not blindly."

"You must love him a lot. To admire him so much that you chose his path. That's why you spoke up for him that day at my house," I said, then let out a frustrated breath. "If only my sister was nice enough, I would have been close to her. Instead, she turned out to be a cheating---"

I abruptly left my sentence hanging there like a noose, it was ready to strangle the comfort and warmth between us. Always, we dodged the topic of my sister and his brother. It was the one topic that threatened to sever our relations, to bring in the tension that reminded us of our families. Even if I had any chance of dating him, we would have no future together. The instant our parents came to know about our relationship, we would be torn apart like Romeo and Juliet.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! That could only happen when Romeo would stop friend-zoning you!

"At least you won't choose purgatory because of your sister," he said, smiling easily. That smile told me, "Hey, I don't care about our families. We like each other." Whether that likeness was beyond friendship, I couldn't read that on his lips. Still, Hope fluttered within me, without a care for my future self.

"I want to choose something. Anything that makes me feel worthy. As I'm nearing adulthood, everything feels like a chore. Career and love---" I paused, my eyes connected to his under the flickering glow of the street light. "--- there's no finish line. Worry about getting a good education, internship, job . . . It never ends. Dreams become real in our twenties. All our fairy tales woven over the years, we have to fulfil them. There's no fairy godmother to help ordinary people like me."

"There's no midnight 12 o clock deadline either, so what's the hurry?"

"For a woman in India, there's always a deadline. For us, there exists a finish line. It's marriage and kids," I said, leaning exasperatedly beside him against the jamun tree. He was silent for he knew that I wasn't being pessimistic, but realistic. "No wonder Cinderella was so keen on scoring a Prince Charming. Whatever we women do, it won't ever be enough till we end our lives with marriage and kids."

He turned to me, his handsome face was so close to mine that I didn't dare to look at him. When he spoke, the closeness between us made it seem like it was my inner voice asking, "Will you give in?"

"No. I do nothing, remember? I'm a classic rebel." I laughed to nettle the quietness so it would break and put a distance between us again. Because I hated the false Hope that bred in this closeness, in this comfortable silence. Give me all or nothing, I hated the in-between.

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Glossary :

Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge- a classic bollywood movie.

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