It was like any other day, just a little more different. I had never styled with hair gel before, and yet, now here I was, standing in front of the mirror, trying to do it, trying to copy a style which I thought would suit me, and applying the strong-perfumed gel to my hair and beard. The mirror had never looked so much intimidating before, and neither had I ever spent so much time in front of it. It seemed easy enough as the guy on YouTube was doing it, and he was doing it so quickly, but I was having a tough time coping up and keeping pace. I hit pause for the video and tossed my phone from the bathroom to the bed, through the open door. I realized this would never work. Looking at the botched job I’d done on my hair, I couldn’t help scoffing. Wiping off the gel (which I’d purchased that very morning) as best as I could with a towel, I combed it back the way I always comb it.

I didn’t know what had put the idea into my head. But I had thought it would be nice to be dressed and made-up again, like in my college days. But today I had wanted to make it fancier, and at the same time more sophisticated. The problem was I didn’t know how exactly it was done. Many guys dress and do their hair so elegantly that they transform themselves for different occasions. But I couldn’t do it, even when I was in college. And then guys spending much time in front of the mirror was kind of a taboo in my days. Anyway, I had decided to have first things first. So, I had gone to the mall and brought an expensive grooming kit, which I had thought would do fine.

But then, after the futile efforts were over, I’d found it was better to be content with just being well dressed. Yes, I really needed to look good for this day. Before leaving home I checked once more how I looked, and next, if I’d taken everything required. Then having heaved a deep sigh of relief I locked the door and left the house. The traffic was still heavy, though it was late in the afternoon. I listlessly crossed the street and headed off. Red, yellow and orange flowers (I don’t know what names those flowers bore) made a perfect bouquet, and I felt a little ridiculous, carrying it on a busy road. It was going to be a long day indeed. I was anxious if I would be able to sit through it or not.

Life had been one hell of a journey for me. It all seemed like a movie now. The beginning of it had been innocent and happy, then there had been a problem, and the ending was a mixed one. I smiled. There was no use remembering all that. But I could hardly help it today…

We were very happy and excited. It was our first day of college. I made three friends that day, a pair of twins, a brother and sister, and another girl who happened to be with them. The four of us made it very well till the end of college. Those were really years of good fun.

But the parting year brought with it a dilemma for me. We were sad and nostalgic like all the other kids at the farewell party, but I had been sadder and feeling even more nostalgic than the rest because there was something I needed to do, and couldn’t decide if I should do it or not. Yes, young love it was, and I wanted to say that I loved the girl among the twins in our group. I hadn’t know when or how it had happened but it was in the final year that I had realized that I cared about her not only as a friend, but also more. Then the problem was how the proposal was to be done, and whether to be done or not. It was all those usual concerns that were plaguing me, like what would she think and what the others would think, was I good enough for her, was I doing the right thing in falling for a friend and most importantly, would it affect our friendship if she said no?

But I made up my mind as the party was coming to an end. I would do it. It was my only chance to say what I felt, for in the next few months, the four of us were going to be separated forever. The twins were moving to a college in another city, the other girl was going abroad for higher studies and I was to stay here, in our home city, itself. So, this was the time, for if not, it would be completely useless henceforth. I had actually been a fool to wait till the last moment, but then all those concerns had always got the better of me. However, now I would do it and see how it would all go.

That had been my spirit, and I would say I had been very optimistic about it at the time. Nervous, excited, anxious – I had been everything at that time, and wasted all the time and energy thinking and planning about what the best way to do it would be, instead of enjoying the party and the memories that everyone was busy making and capturing. The plan I finalized and executed was finally texting her and telling it, but the result was far from being what I had half expected.

After she had read the text, she looked across at me, for I was standing opposite to her a few feet off, excused herself from the people he was talking to, came up to me, held my hand and almost pulled me away to a corner. Then realizing that this might have attracted attention, she looked back uncertainly, before speaking anything to my bewildered self, to see it anyone was looking our way. Luckily no one had seen, or even if they had, nobody had bothered. They knew we were great friends, and our friends hadn’t noticed. Then she sort of glowered down on me and shaking her phone at me fiercely whispered what all this meant. I timidly told her about my feelings again. She stood there silent for several seconds, her face hard to read, but her expression was such as to make it clear that she was not happy about it at all.

At last, she spoke, a slow, controlled, sad kind of tone had been used by her to tell me that she had never considered me more than a friend, and it was impossible for her to do so now. It would also be uncomfortable for her to continue to be friends with me now that I had confessed how I felt about her. Then she added that I should not argue, and we should probably try to stay out of touch. Well, that had been the end. The party had almost been over. People had started leaving. We too left after goodbyes and hugs. That was the last one I’d had from her and it was a cold one too - frigid. And that had been the last that I’d seen of her.

True we’d chatted on the phone occasionally, or on our Whatsapp group, but those had been very formal. Her brother too had lessened talking to me. He definitely knew, and perhaps the other girl had come to know from them. I didn’t know what was going on. But the end of it was that we grew apart, all of us. After two years like this, the twins probably changed their phone numbers and all our chats gradually ceased too. I also moved on with life, like the rest of them…

My twenty-minute wait ended when she finally walked into the café. Actually, it would not be wrong to say that a ten-year-long wait was over. She was much older now, and now that I was actually looking at her, rather than her Facebook photo, I felt that it was a very different person, and not the one who had been my friend and whom I had recently found on Facebook and chatted with. The handshake was cold and formal. She had brought some home-made muffins or something for me, and we exchanged her packet and my flowers, also formally. The chat that took place was formal too.

During our Facebook chats, when we discovered that we lived in the same city now, I asked her to meet and she didn’t refuse. I had wanted to see her, know about her and keep in touch. After such a long wait when it seemed a possibility to finally do so, I couldn’t resist asking her to come to this café which lay half-way from where she and I lived. And she perhaps couldn’t refuse because she didn’t have a reason to, and it was only proper that she accepted given our old friendship and all these years gap of not hearing of each other. I didn’t know if she wanted to come or not, but she didn’t show any signs of being disturbed or agitated on seeing me. But her face had always been hard to read, so I couldn’t be sure. Anyway, if she didn’t show it, I should just as well be happy with that.

Her husband and child sat next to us. I had asked her to bring them along, should she deny me the meeting. And I also had a curiosity to see them. The man was handsome and tall, just like she was beautiful, and the child too had inherited the looks of his parents. He was a shy boy of five, and only talked if spoken to. I had brought chocolates for him, which he was now happily eating. His father was a jolly fellow, and asked all of us to pose for a selfie at present, after trying to be chatty with me and having asked all sorts of embarrassing questions about his wife in our college days. He also wanted to know why we’d lost touch, to which both of us could only provide vague answers. Apparently, she hadn’t considered my proposal important enough to tell him about it. Though that thought hurt, it was also a relief that he knew nothing.

After a few light snacks and drinks, the conversations ended with that selfie. Her husband paid for everything and didn’t allow me to do it, and then we went our separate ways. I was now glad that I had removed my excess attempt at styling myself, for I would have looked the fool to her and the clown to her husband. To be honest, I was feeling conscious of being over-dressed the whole time. I didn’t know why I had wanted to be handsome for her in the first place.

I didn’t even know if I would meet her ever again. Nonetheless, even if she was married, and let me hope, happily, and I was still single, trying to establish myself as a journalist with thoughts of marriage beaten out of my life, I was happy to have seen her at last. I had had feelings for her all this time and the physical absence had little success in changing them. Today was a good day, I thought, as I entered back into my apartment. The wait had been worth it.

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