It was V's birthday on Wednesday and he celebrated by sleeping most of the day. Since we got back to town in the middle of the night before, I thought he deserved it. The Bhablet slept too, thanks be.
I would have have written a maudlin post about him but we may fight tomorrow and then I don't want such a post annoying me so I've decided to do DotMom's tag instead. (At last.)
So you want to know about our courtship, huh? It's not a madly exciting tale. It has its funny moments though. Mainly when we got drunk. (Rahul, if you are reading this, let that be a lesson to you not to propose to anybody when you are drunk. You hear me, boy?)
When I joined uni I was soon dragged into a crowd consisting of folks from various years as well as departments. A shining light of this, the JU lobby crowd, was the brother-in-law to be, mostly famous as Kingshuk. We used to hang out at his place a lot and V was the quiet, 'good boy' brother in the next room. I vaguely remember meeting him for the first time at her house, at some party, but that meeting was memorable only because I hastily ran away. He and his brother look a lot like each other at a first meeting, and since I was a trifle, er, floaty at the time, I found it too much to take.
NOTE: V insists that it was love at first sight as far as he was concerned. In which case I would like to know why he decided to hook up with another girl a year or two after this.
That was some time in 2001. (I wasn't blogging then so you can stop looking at the archives.) Time passed and he and I met at parties. I had an impression of a really nice guy, the dependable sort, very friendly. A rather blurred impression, given the speed and smoke that filled those years, not to mention the alcohol that filled the veins. (Not speed the drug; I'm talking of the quick passage of time. Just to clarify.) I left S (the first boyfriend), began afresh with B, and went on a roller-coaster of a relationship. Being with B was exciting but I learnt to miss the solidity that S had always given me. And then things finally fell apart with B and I went into deep depression because, oh because of reasons which didn't have anything much to do with B, and I suddenly felt that life as I knew it had come to an end.
There was, just before this point, another Uni party. You can read all about it here. Suddenly I found myself hanging out with V and his gang because they were the easiest on my nerves. The closest to the kind of people I had grown up with. And things just went downhill from there. Wherever I looked, there he was. Ferrying me around, carting me off to unknown weddings, looking appreciatively at me in my favourite green silk, petting me and spoiling me silly.
Pujo 2004 saw me back in Madras, mailing V everyday. No idea why. (Although I have to admit that was some pretty good writing from both of us. I cherish those letters, they are all so funny.) And when I came back to Cal, I broke up with B, hung out with V and spent a lot of time alone with myself enjoying my depression. By the time Saarang 2005 happened, I was about ready to snap out of it. This was what I call my Lost Weekend. It all passed very nicely among very sweet guys with lots of sex, drugs and rock'n'roll thrown in. Now, I don't want to lose Sunny Days its G rating so I'll gloss over the details, but you've to understand that I had fun and I always knew V was kinda interested and sort of hanging around in the background. To me it was very important then that he let me be, that he let me do the nutsiest things without it altering his perception of the girl he always saw underneath. Because not too many people saw that other girl I was usually careful to hide.
Life went on as usual, never did stop for me just because my heart was breaking. And as I tried to deal with the death of a beloved great-uncle and other wracking stuff, I realised how much I had begun to lean on that eejit V. (Very smart strategy Joe, never think I don't appreciate it.) And one fine day, I felt a little braver and decided to take a chance on life again, and agreed to marry V. The actual story I've told before, but this is what lay behind it.
MM nagged me into re-reading my archives and I was charmed to realise how sweetly they describe our courtship (V's and mine, nothing to do with MM). When I read those off-hand earlier posts, including my casual mention of my acceptance of his proposal, and go through his regular (and love-lorn) comments, it inspires strong feelings in me. Mainly to go kick the uncaring, unromantic brute he has since turned out to be. But I'm pretty sure he will be loud in his objection and then The Bhablet will wake up, so I've decided to go Gandhian and kiss him silly instead. My revenge lies in the fact that I will be waking him up to do this. Good.