Can Love Happen Twice? (8 page)

‘Y? do u bite?
well honestly, I was, bt thn u made me comfortable.’

‘M glad u said tht. Ur turn.’

‘Wat ws d best moment of ur bday 2day?’

‘Hmm … best moment … wen u showed up.’

‘Really?’ she asked back.

I responded: ‘Hey, u cn’t ask 2 questions in one go. It’s my turn now.’

She answered: ‘
’

As the night progressed, so did the game of Truth or Dare. With those initial few questions and answers that we asked and answered respectively, the game had instilled an anxiety within us.

‘Do u hv a gf either in Belgium or back in India?’

‘No.’

‘It’s diff 2 accept though, yet I wil tk it assuming dat we r playing this game honestly. Ur turn.’

‘I m playin it with utmost honesty. Do u hv a bf?’

‘I knew u wud ask this. I had one long back. We broke up. So the answer is no.’

It had started simple and gradually turned difficult. However, the more it became difficult, the more interesting it became.

‘How many euros do u earn a mnth?’

‘Oh so u are jumping on to questions with numbers. U r makin it diff 4 urself!’ I wrote back without answering.

‘So shall I understand that u lost?’ she asked back.

‘4000 € a month.’

‘Wow!! U r rich! Ur turn!’ came her reply.

‘Now dat u hv started let’s cont with numbers. Wat r ur figure stats?
’

Few minutes passed and as I expected she slowed down.

‘This is cheating!’ she wrote back.

She appeared very innocent in her message. I laughed and thought of what she might be going through. I still didn’t reply for some more time, trying to make her accept that she’d lost. I was still under the influence of the beer I’d had just before going to bed. I’d wanted to let myself loose.

It was 3.30 a.m. and I wondered if we were going to get any sleep at all. I picked up the cell to tell her that I was going to change the question when at that very moment her reply popped up on my screen.

‘36-24-36.’

I first admired her straightforward answer and then pondered for a moment before writing my next message to her.

‘Very honestly I appreciate your spirit of playing!’ I wrote, as though to pat her on the back.

‘Thnks. Hd u not made me comf, I wudn’t hv answered this one. My turn now.’

‘If dere is a gal walking in front of u, 1 who has a gorgeous figure, wch part of her body wud u most like to stare at?’

‘Gorgeous figure … hmm … depends if she is walkin towards me or away frm me. Either way I wud hv sumthing to stare at.’

‘That ws hell of a smart answer Ravin
’

The game had created a crazy but interesting atmosphere. An atmosphere of waiting for the answer while thinking of the next question. Thinking of a question which would be a little tougher to answer than the one asked before. A question that would let us fulfil the urge to knock at the doors of each other’s private lives. A question which would first make you struggle to think: should I ask or should I not? Or should I frame it in better words before bombarding the opponent. I let my inner naughtiness take over.

‘If I ask u 2 cum to my place rite now in watever u r wearing at this moment, so dat we sit n spend the entire night playing truth or dare in my balcony … wud u hv wanted 2 come?’

‘I am shy!’ came the response.

‘That’s not the answer to my question …’ I wrote back.

It took little longer for my mobile to beep the next time. The message read: ‘Yes I wud hv wanted to come bt nt wearin wat I m wearin rite now.’

I was happy to read her answer. I was glad that even though by sheer fluke I had mentioned that we were playing Truth or Dare that evening when Tanu had come to the balcony, Simar and I eventually ended up playing it.

‘Btw wat r u wearin at this moment?’ I wrote her back as soon as I read her message.

She was fast to reply. ‘Haha. U cn’t ask 2 questions in one go. It’s my turn now
’

‘Hv u evr had ny naughty fantasies for any fem who was far older thn you?’

‘Yes. My computer ma’am in college
. My turn now … U can answer my previous ques!’ I wrote back.

‘A long white shirt till knees.’

‘That’s it?’ I asked.

‘I am honest. Btw u r again askin 2 ques in one go,’ she replied.

These were just the questions to turn a girl shy but also the ones to ignite a guy’s passions. It was not just the alcohol, but also the silence of the night which had turned the game sensational for both of us. That we were addicted was evident with the frequency with which we were exchanging messages. If not, then it became quite clear when I asked her:

‘You want to stop the game with a draw?’

She replied: ‘No! I don’t mind winning or losing bt don’t want 2 stop. If u wan 2 stop lemme know.’

It wasn’t just a game any more. It had turned into an opportunity to discover each other. Though it had turned a bit naughty, it had still made us candid and upfront, allowing us to open up and share things. It made us comfortable and, in that short space of time, had created an intangible bond between us. I remembered the last question she’d asked.

‘Now dat for the last question u hv answerd u r a virgin lemme gt bak 2 basics. Hv u evr kissed a girl?’

It was surprising for her to know that I didn’t have a girlfriend and that I was a virgin. Fortunately for her and for me, I answered positive for the question on kissing a girl.

My answer gave birth to another conversation.

I was answering her confusion of me not having a girlfriend and yet kissing a girl. I told her that I was honest when I said I didn’t have a girlfriend then. I did have one a few years back. She wanted to know about that girl.

I took a deep breath and wrote, ‘I wud love 2 tell u about dat girl, but it is a long story and I don’t want to narrate it over d phone.’

She agreed and made me promise that I would tell her the entire story by the coming weekend. I accepted her offer.

It was dawn when we finally slept. The two of us had still not called that game off. We mutually decided to continue this game till infinity, so that anytime anyone wants to ask a question, we could do so.

That game of Truth or Dare had given rise to something beautiful between us—this fact was quite apparent. For the first time in years I slept with a smile on my face.

The next day we met for lunch. It was late in the afternoon. I had been excited the entire morning and had been looking forward to see her. When I met her, I felt that she was equally eager to see me. But there was a difference—she was mysteriously silent while I was talking a lot. I recalled the entire game we had played the night before. Many of her answers flashed in my mind. Many of my questions—which I wouldn’t dare ask her to her face but had managed to do so the night before—also came to mind. I was sure she might also be feeling the same. She was the same girl who revealed ‘36-24-36’ and I was the same guy who asked her those statistics. We both had dark circles around our eyes which were loudly advertising our lack of sleep. Though neither of us could actually go back and sleep. The sheer excitement we felt for sure wouldn’t have allowed us to catch any shut-eye.

The lunch we had that afternoon was extraordinary. It was our usual tasty sandwich, the same chilly Belgian winter and the same warm sun in the sky, but for some reason they all seemed at their best that day. Needless to say, we both had been eagerly waiting for this lunch since the time we’d slept only a few hours before.

Sitting in front of Simar and watching her eat her meal, I started realizing that somewhere in the depths of my heart someone had finally broken the ice and an unidentifiable part of me had begun to melt. I felt as if it was some kind of magical metamorphosis that was happening to me. Till some time back in my life I used to be lost in my own thoughts, most of which would take me back to my past. I certainly wanted a change in my life but I was not sure how it was going to happen. I had almost believed that the rest of my life was going to continue pretty much in the same way as it had continued till then. Finding love again was not an option I ever thought of, and neither did I want to think of it. Deep in my heart I accepted that I had had my share of love in this life. So what if it had gone? At best, I used to recall my lost love and relive those memories again and again. People do live with memories—not sure how many and not sure how.