Dost Se Zyaada, Girlfriend Se Kam

“I am sharing a Half relationship story at BlogAdda in association with #HalfGirlfriend”

There was this woman. I call her a “WOMAN” and not a girl, though she is still only 23 years old. This post is for her – that one single woman who I believe is someone who will be etched in my heart for years to come.

For the world, she was a random person, a typical girl, loaded with the usual tantrums, habits, styles and fusses usually associated with a girl of 18 years freshly arrived in college.

For me she was different. She wasn’t at all a random person. I loved her typicalities, experienced her tantrums, marveled at her styles, and got angry at times and smiled at times at her fusses. The first time I had met her, I had actually shook my head in disgust as she was unstoppingly and unhaltingly speaking – something a woman totally loves to do.

Let us leave the words “love”, “girlfriend”, “relationship”, etc aside. She was a friend. A friend who taught me how to actually trust, love, laugh, smile. You can call her my "HALF GIRLFRIEND". 

She was of medium height. She had the most gorgeous hair on this planet. I still remember gathering those loose strands lazily harassing her face, and tucking them behind her ear. Her ears were just like her – soft, delicate. I mention her ears because those were where she hung her earrings – a possession of hers which she absolutely adored. She had a cupboard full of them, ranging from miniscule ones to some as large as wall clocks. I remember mocking her at times that she would fall down by the weight of those earrings. I used to get quite stern looks for my remarks, but then, I said those things in the first place to see her reacting like that, didn’t I?

I loved to play with her hair. They were soft, long, smelled nice all the time (Even though she would say at times that they smelled pathetic as she hadn’t washed them). She did them curly at times, at times straight. At times she kept them loose, at times a pony. Then there was this "oily hair tied up in a chotla" which looked lovely on her. On early mornings, when she would be yet to take a bath, they would be tied up in a stern bunch. She looked smashing irrespective of any of these.

Her eyes reeked of innocence. She spoke volumes with those two big cute black entities. They would enlarge at times when I would occasionally surprise her with a gift. They would shrink when she would be angry on me. They would quiver when she would be furious on me. They would stare at me without blinking when she would be low and need me. They would blink rapidly when she very rarely lost control over herself and got weak. And I loved watching them. They were my entire world.

She took pride in her attire. Any woman would. She would dress neither too gaudy nor too plain. She kept it just perfect. White colour looked heavenly on her. I used to tell her to wear white often. She looked like a fairy. Literally.

She would have accessories for every colored clothing. From matching bangles to purses (Or clutches, as she insisted me to call them) to shoes, she took meticulous efforts to dress up. The outcome ofcourse would be mind bogglingly breathtaking.

She smelled heavenly. It was the kind of fragrance which put you at ease by merely filling up your nostrils. There were times when I would hug her just to inhale her within me. It was a kind of intoxication – a healthy one.

She was head strong, stubborn, very firm in whatever she decided. When she lost her cool, God help the person at the receiving end. Her wrath was deadly. If she thought someone was harassing her, she took no pains in sparing him/her. That way she was the most independent person I knew. She never would need someone by her side to deal with a situation. Not in person atleast. Mentally, she needed loads of help. It took so much of time and patience to make her understand not to get affected by peoples’ behavior.

You get the picture? No, right? Well,that was HER. Headstrong and independent, but yet always needing a shoulder to rest her head on and talk to. That was how she was, a typical woman.

She taught me so much. SO MUCH. She taught me things I can never forget. She taught me things which were stupidly irrelevant at times, and life changing at times.

She asserted her right on me, as if I meant the most to her. And I loved that. She would scold me for my bad habits. She said my temper was very bad. She took pains to change me, explain to me, step by step. I loved it. I watched all that in a daze, feeling so proud to have someone take so good care of me. No man can do all this. Only a woman can do it. In most cases, it is usually the mother. I was lucky to have her too.

A woman whom I could rely on in the glummest of my moods.

A woman whom I could easily tell the darkest of my thoughts.

A woman whom I could talk for months (Not hours, not days!).

There was not a shred of greed in her, nor malice or wrong intentions. She was pure, divine, simply godly. There wasn’t a moment of the day I didn’t think of her. She would automatically and inevitably be a part of every single thought emanating from my mind. When there would be happy things happening, I would smile, thinking about her reaction. When there would be bad or sad things happening, I would wait to meet her, so that she would make me alright in a jiffy.

The best thing about her – she did all of this with such grace, such devotion, such innocence and such purity that I myself don’t know when that fascination for her turned into respect. It was respect of the highest order. Here was someone who could handle me in any of my weird moods, colors and shades. 

Harboring a respect for her came naturally. Every morning when I prayed, I made it a point to devote few seconds praying for her well being. Such was that wonderful woman.

Frankly, no guy can take the place of a woman. I mean, let’s face it! We guys are dumb in the matters of the heart, emotions, etc. there HAS to be a woman around to make things bliss. Our mothers are always around, but someone of the same age makes a difference.

"Love" was always a part of this relationship. So was "Trust". But call it destiny or Karma or whatever you deem right, we did have our share of differences and priorities which ultimately led us apart. To put it briefly, we are not together anymore.  

Somewhere, she is leading her own life, as headstrong as she was, as stubborn as she was, as independent as she was, and maybe more mature than what she was earlier.

And I am, well, going on, trying to be strong, normal, adapt to an environment without her. It is tough, knowing that the woman who oozed magic is no longer there to wave her wand and heal my worries. But that doesn’t reduce my respect for her.

Some relations are never meant to be, maybe! God just sends people into our life to teach us few things. In my case, it was a woman – a woman who will always remain special; a woman who will always be loved, respected, honoured and devoted! And yes, I still pray for her.

Men will write all kinds of bullshit, crack all kinds of jokes on women, forward them to their male friends. But the harsh reality is that without you women, nothing will be ever right. And I doubt there is a man who doesn’t agree to it!

No I am not being jingoistic, nor am I taking sides. But the truth is this, face it.

And for you, THANK YOU. For being that woman.