Hemlata Patel

It was our third time on the roller coaster that day. Truth be told, it was quite a futile ride now. We knew all the flips, twists and dives, the rattles, the apparent crashes, the sudden veers and jolts and swoops. We could not be surprised anymore.

But the other rides seemed duller in comparison and we still had time to burn. So we – this group of friends – queued up again, in mock trepidation.

He was standing next to me. Tall, thin, with deep eyes that sang and smiled, kindly, mischievously, wisely, mysteriously. I did my best not to stare at him too obviously.

But it was the first time I had felt that way about someone. And I was young. I did not know of the games they play to feign disinterest, to flirt and be playful, to appear inscrutable and be desired. I know now, but refuse to partake.

I prayed that we would sit next to each other in the ride, as we had the first two times. I could not get enough of him. Everything about him, every single detail filled me with such insane happiness – the way he smelt, his gelled up spiky hair, his spotless branded shoes, his endearing way of saying ‘huh?’ that made him seem like a six-year old.

I was drawn to him in a way I could never explain. I loved him as much as I loved love, with my eyes closed, my heart open.

I made sure to lag behind like he did. I smiled to my little heart, my fellow conspirator.

We were nearly at the ride. He asked me about the random who had given me a rose for Valentine’s Day and teased me with the random. I realised he was slightly, ever so slightly, jealous. I was instantly annoyed. He had no right to be jealous of someone who was nobody, nobody as compared to him.

I assured him, earnestly, that the random was only a friend who, as part of silly fresher games, had to get rid of the rose dumped onto him, and chose me only because he knew me. There was nothing, nothing to it. He laughed and said he was only joking. And he shook his head at me, amused.

I knew he was only pretending to be amused. For months after that day, he continued asking me about the random. With the strain in his voice, with the fake nonchalance, the plastic smile and the tight jaw. The random was a heartthrob, very good-looking, with a fleet of admirers. But surely, it was clear enough, I thought I had made it clear enough, that he, he had no reason to be insecure.

In fact, I did find it quite flattering that he was secretly jealous. But I did not want to torment him so, and did my best to clarify the situation.

However, with him pretending to joke and masking his sincere feelings behind the ‘cool’ mask all the time, it was hard to ever have a serious discussion with him. He never allowed me into his inner world, his contemplations, fears and desires.

He remains to this day, largely a mystery. Yet I know there are things I feel I can sense, almost intuitively. I wonder though if he can sense what I feel.

I digress. 

He saw that I was upset, and apologised for teasing me (always so polite) assuring me that he was joking. He did not have to apologise. I was only upset because I felt that he was.

I smiled. He had a way of saying “Nahin Hem” that could make everything in the world seem wonderful and beautiful again. He would be so reassuring, so protective, so sincerely loving, and typically would pronounce the “Hem” like the English word “hem.”

We did sit next to each other in the ride, in the frontmost seats. My eyes teared up in gratitude. I did not deserve this. So much happiness. I felt like a misfit, unworthy. Like I had gatecrashed into a fairytale and had led Prince Charming to believe I was a Princess. It was wrong, but I was too weak, too besotted, to spurn something as beautiful.

“Let’s hold hands?” he suggested, casually, with a semblance of spontaneity, that he could not quite pull off.

I was glad he could not see me. We had already sat down in the roller coaster and the protective brace made it impossible for us to see each other. I blushed deeply, smiled widely, and agreed, controlling the excitement in my voice. Trying to feign nonchalance too, I let go of the handle I had already gripped, and placed my hand in his.

We started moving upwards, slowly. I turned towards him, insanely thrilled, knowing that he was there, and that he did not know I was looking in his direction. It was oddly reassuring.

As the cars on the motorway became the size of matchboxes, then grapes, and the roller coaster hinged towards the ground, and others behind us gasped and held their breaths… his grip tightened.

I hardly felt the roller coaster ride. I hardly realised that I was upside down, nearly crashing into the ground, flipping 360 degrees three times, that everybody was yelling their guts out, that the blood rushed to my head and the wind whooshed through my ears, that my Harry Potter cap was threatening to fly off, that the bolts of the roller coaster seemed to whine omniously.

All I could feel was the pressure of his hand, his slightly sweaty hand.

I knew I was safe, that nothing could happen to me if my hand was in his, if he was there by my side. But I wanted to die. I wanted the ride to be never-ending. I didn’t want there to be a life after the ride. Because I feared we might never be as close again.

The ride ended. The spell broke. We let go. My hand was still moist. Whose sweat, I didn’t know anymore.

We smiled at each other, fellow conspirators.

“You didn’t scream this time?” he asked softly, amidst the excited, wide-eyed high-pitched exclamations of the others.

“I, um.. forgot.”

It’s been over four years since the ride, four years since we held hands. Over two years since I last saw him. Six months since I heard his voice.

I lied. The ride did not end. In my heart, I feel it still.

I could never tell him, but I know that nobody can ever take his place. There are few people I truly connect with, and honestly, I have never been able to feel the same connection that I share with him, with anybody else. If only he were not so far, being so painfully close. If only.

It’s his birthday soon, in about two weeks. It is an exhilarating thought. I will have an excuse to call him, and I will hear his voice. And everything will be wonderful and beautiful. Again. I can’t wait!!