Godavari - Love Is Like A River

On that lazy morning, I woke up to a message informing me of a sudden change in plans – no college for the day, but instead, an industrial tour awaited. Lacking any enthusiasm, I dialed up my gang to confirm their attendance. Learning that they wouldn't be joining, my reluctance only intensified. Nonetheless, as the tour was a mandatory part of our curriculum, I begrudgingly boarded the college bus, took a corner seat, and drowned out the monotony with my routine playlist.

My head became a pendulum, swaying to and from as I threw glances around. It was then that Karthik and Anjali, acquaintances from another section, joined me. Though we had crossed paths in the lab a couple of times, we had never exchanged more than a smile. Being the president of the introvert club in life, initiating a conversation wasn't my forte. Instead, I offered a smile and retreated to my playlist sanctuary.

As the journey to the warehouse stretched on, I continued listening to music. Abruptly, Karthik tapped me and initiated a conversation about random college matters. Gradually, the three of us engaged in dialogue, and I found myself enjoying the interaction, particularly with Anjali. Determined to spend the day with them, I managed to join Anjali's batch during the tour. Throughout the day, our conversation deepened, and Anjali graciously shared her lunch and snacks. The taste was so exquisite that, despite the desire to devour it all, we had to divide the single box among the three of us.

Returning to the bus, Karthik dozed off, and Anjali and I continued our conversation, this time delving into more personal topics about her family. When she mentioned her mother's job, I expressed interest in discussing a volunteering project. Rather than providing her mother's number, she gave me her number, causing me a momentary surge of excitement at the ease with which I acquired it., and for some reason, obtaining it felt like a small victory.

From that night onward, the ocean of words and the river of emotions flowed ceaselessly between us. Our daily routine transformed, with post-college hours filled with endless, beautiful conversations. Each detail she shared became etched in my memory, bringing a rush of happiness whenever recollected. Anjali's talent as a singer added a musical dimension to our talks, treating me to a ten-minute melodic concert of our favorite songs, especially those I requested.

Gradually, our interactions extended beyond the college premises. Anjali, unlike typical college girls, proved to be a unique blend of tradition and modernity, spirituality and rebellion, femininity and assertiveness. Above all, her ability to express love, even in moments of anger, was enchanting. She could make you love her just like that instantly, a magic she possessed. She was Anjali, or Angel as I liked calling.

Amid one of our enchanting conversations, she delicately asked if I could recall our first meeting. My casual response, "I don't remember," only fueled her determination. Encouraged to reconsider, I kept saying something or the other and she kept rejecting all the answers. Undeterred, she provided a set of clues—First Year, Freshers Party, Ramp Walk, Shahrukh Khan, and Kajol pose. Suddenly, it clicked, and the memory flooded back.

During our first year in college, seniors organized a Fresher's Party, featuring a Ramp Walk as one of the events. By chance, Anjali and I were selected as a couple for the impromptu ramp walk, ultimately clinching the coveted title of the best couple. Our chemistry and appearance drew comparisons to the iconic Shahrukh Khan and Kajol. Delighted by this revelation, Anjali divulged a personal detail — during our walk, she admired the way I held her, and an ostensibly inadvertent touch on her waist left an indelible impression. Even today, that touch occupies a cherished place in her memory. At that moment, I discerned the romantic depth within Anjali, and a profound intuition struck me — perhaps, we were destined for each other, and the cosmos was orchestrating our union.

One special day, a single phone call confirmed my intuition. As we shared our life stories, I realized Anjali was essentially a feminine version of me, having lived a parallel life with just a two-year age difference. At that moment, I recognized her as my soulmate, and a desire to spend the rest of my life breathing each second for her took root. Miraculously, Anjali reciprocated the same feelings, showering me with love at every opportunity.

Despite wanting to propose, I patiently waited, considering the looming semester exams. Finally, the day arrived, and I wanted to do something so special and personal to her. As she is from the land of Godavari, I crafted a beautiful proposal, incorporating everything she loved about the land of the Godavari River. Venturing to that place, I organized a boat ride, visited all her favorite spots, recorded a video, and proposed at the video's conclusion.

Anticipation gripped me as I awaited her response. Upon viewing the video, she silently approached me and dropped a bombshell: her father had arranged a marriage, and she had agreed to marry the man he chose. Shocked, I asked if she loved me anytime, to which she replied affirmatively. Perplexed, I questioned how she could say yes to another man. Her response was simple: she could love me for the rest of her life but couldn't go against her father, not even for a second. I congratulated her on her impending marriage and walked away, never to see her again.

Over time, I heard she had moved to the US, married, and had a son named Madhav. To cope with the guilt, it seemed, she followed the stereotypical South Indian movie heroine behavior of naming her child after a lover. However, to this day, every female lead character in my writings bears the name Anjali, not as a tribute to her memory, but as a reminder of her – a constant presence in every day, every minute, every second, and with every breath I take.