There was hardly any time when I was not thinking of her, yet I was not distracted, on the contrary I was sharply in focus and actually quite inspired. The rapturous feeling of contended bliss was more pronounced in the mornings when I woke up to find that my world was still intact and alive like the fresh morning dew on pristine roses.
Nothing beats the energy of youth and the inspiration of love; together they make a potent combination.
Plowing through your years at the IIT can be quite taxing, but here I was cruising through, at least at that time, taking life by its horns.
It’s a pity that I do not remember his real name, but he was affectionately called Laat Sahab. Laat Sahab was a post doctoral student and as research scholars usually are, he was all sagacious and ripe, not just in Applied Mathematics but also in matters of life.
With my other friends I usually had many a night of challenging discussions and hotly contested debates but Laat Sahab, whenever he was around, always elevated the discussion to a whole new level.
“This is the only relationship in which you actually get to choose. All other relatives of yours are decided by fate and you have to live with your siblings, parents or even the ugly uncle. You cannot change any of that, but you can certainly choose whom you are going to spend the rest of your life with. And that my friends, is a decision that you should never let anyone else take for you.” – He said authoritatively waving his index finger. As he said it, I proudly looked around in the room. I was one of the few in our group who was headed in the direction of a love marriage. It was a seal of approval from someone no less than Laat Sahab.
It was hard to find Laat Sahab alone and even harder to find him in a mood where you could get some pearls from him. It was one of those rare moments when I was talking to him all alone and he was lucid, probably enjoying his first cigarette after dinner.
“For us Indians, the phrase ‘love at first sight’ should not be used. It should be ‘love at first opportunity’ “
“What do you mean?” – I asked, puzzled.
“Well, in our society we do not have a free intermixing of sexes, so whenever there is an opportunity of interaction you will find a crush, easily mistaken for love. I have seen ‘lovers’ having an innocuous eye contact one day and the next day the guy would be pining in love and the girl blushing in her dreams”
“I know what you mean; quite often I have seen teenage romances prosper at marriage ceremonies or other occasions, but there sure is true love, right?” – I asked, a little hurt, sensing an insinuation.
He thought for a while, looking at the ceiling as he let out circles of smoke. I had learnt by that time that greater the pause before he said anything, the more colorful the thought.
“Love is like a mango” – He closed his eyes as he said and then paused. His words hung like cloud of smoke in the still air of the room for a while and then he started speaking again, as if catching up with himself.
“A crush is like a raw mango, all innocent and green; you may stand under the tree and admire the freshness and the firmness of it. Most of the time you move on, but occasionally you pluck it. This is like taking the first step, the act of seeking. Then you may start to ripen the mango which requires the right amount of warmth and shade. This is like actually falling in love and working towards a relationship. Getting it to the right level of maturation requires a sense of timing, a few days early and it is still raw, a few days over and it may be overripe. You cannot move too fast or too slow in love, if you wait long enough you may end up smothering the flame for the lack of fuel, a little too fast you may blow it out in your haste. Only when the mango is ripe to the right level with respect to smell, color, texture and taste is when it is consummate. Finding true love may be sheer fate but bringing it to fruition is a work of art” – He opened his eyes with a slight smile.
I smelled a whiff of mangoes even when there were none.
“And where does the arranged mango er… I mean arranged marriage fit in your orchard?”
“Arranged marriage is like mango pickle. A pickle made by your mother and family. They do everything for you, pick the mango, slice and dice it, apply the masala of tradition and oil of culture, keep it in a jar till the right muhurat and only when it is ready, as are the heavens, is it presented to you on the appointed hour, all nicely packaged in a fancy bottle”.
I was still imagining the bride stuck in a bottle like a genie trying to come out, stepping over pieces of mango pickle when he said –
“But make no mistake, pickles last much longer than the fresh mangoes, besides eating mangoes can be messy…pickle is an easy way out”
Several years later in San Francisco
I was talking to Ben and I thought of Laat Sahab and his wisdom when Ben expressed his views on the matters of heart, while we were talking over coffee one evening.
“Love is nothing but a humanized form of the genetic disposition to procreate”
“In other words, you think it is just about sex. I think that is a very narrow view, focusing on just the physical aspects.” – I had heard this argument before and was unwilling to let Ben paint all the beautiful emotions and nuances of romance with a stolid brush of carnal instincts.
“Let me ask you this – before you fall in love with a woman you actually go through the process of liking her, it is like a mental process of approval, only when you approve of her is when you get attracted and then begins the liking process.” – He asked.
“I am not sure if there is a formal process as you describe it, but I know what you are talking about, you definitely get attracted first before anything else begins”
“But you would agree that there are generally agreed upon parameters for beauty that are shared by most men, now I know a lot of it is cultural but I am talking about general traits. Heck, if it wasn’t for this general definition of beauty, there wouldn’t be a Miss Universe or a Miss World contest” – He said.
“At a broad level, yes, there are some characteristics that are commonly possessed by beautiful women in general, what’s your point?” - I asked.
“So let us talk more specifically, good looking facial features, nice smooth skin, fair complexion, well formed firm breasts, slim waist, shapely hips, well proportioned thighs and legs…what else?” – He was counting on fingers as he spoke.
“I agree, not necessarily in that order but yes there are some well established beauty traits, though I would argue that the definition of attractive features in Africa and China would be quiet different from that in Europe or India”
“Sure, but if you leave out the subjective traits like facial structure and racial features like pigment, the more sexual aspects are obviously common across the board. And you know why men like a prominent bosom or a curvaceous behind?” - He continued on answering himself.
“It is all coded in our DNA. Full breasts indicate enough milk holding capacity for your babies, slim waist indicates state of not being pregnant and so available for producing off springs, wide hips tell you that there is enough room to have live births, smooth skin indicates generally healthy, to not only be pregnant but also take care of the babies, nice facial features generally tell you that your off-springs will also look good and so will have a better chance of survival and reproduction. It is all in the genes for women to try to look nice and men to seek them. All the poetry, metaphorical references to love and romance, all the golden evenings spent in thought of your beloved, all the love songs and ballads, all of that is just an intellectual sugar coat over millions of years of evolutionary instinct to replicate. That all there is to it” – As he was talking, he was checking out a blonde as she was paying for her lunch, leaning a little while signing her check.
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