It broke my heart

Some love stories are great. Some are not so great. Like the ones we see blooming at a local park, or restaurant. Yet, they have their own charm. I love hearing these stories. From real people, of course. So, I was on the bus the other evening and it was fairly empty. I noticed a young boy, probably on the greener side of his twenties, sitting at the last seat and engrossed in texting someone. 

I went and sat beside him. You must know at this point of time, that I am a very curious person. I tried to peek into his giant mobile touch screen. A chatting app showed he was online and was chatting to someone whom he had already sent some dozens of e-kisses. Wet ones, he wrote, describing them.

He looked up from his screen and and noticed me staring at it. I flashed an awkward caught-in-the-act smile.

"You are in love, it seems." I uttered. Like a dork.

"Yes. And it is indeed, magical." He smiled and blushed. I smiled too. He went into flashback.

"I met Tara at a local restaurant. We had come with our respective friends and got along somehow; and thank god for that! I just love this feeling you know - being in love."

I had to nod and smile meekly. You wouldn't like to get beaten up in a lonely bus.

I imagined Tara. And the boy, Vilaas. Although, Tara, in my imagination was far hotter than Vilaas, I must confess.

He further told me, "You know how careless I am with these cute little habits. I generally don't, rather, can't remember dates. Tara always does remember everything - our first kiss, our first fight, our first date, our first anniversary. Everything about us." He smiled and his face beamed with joy.

Obviously, a girl is too good as far as remembering dates are concerned. I thought. However, I smiled and nodded to appreciate Tara.

His phone rang suddenly and he talked aside, whispering sweet nothings punctuated with kisses over the phone and lots of mushy "Baby, Darling, Sweetie" stuff.

In the mean time, the bus stopped at the last stop. I got down. Vilaas followed me. Vilaas moved ahead. I followed. From nowhere, a guy appeared, held him from behind and kissed him.

I was shocked. The hero was gay. And happy.

IT BROKE MY HEART.

I decided I would not let Tara, who by now was a heroine for me, to suffer at the hands of a gay. I confronted Vilaas directly and hit a hard punch. Vilaas and his boyfriend were equally shocked.

"How can you do this to Tara? What will she feel if she gets to know that you, of all people, are...gay?" I shook my head angrily as I spoke.

His boyfriend nodded his head too, probably with shame. Or disgust.

Then he forwarded his hand to me, "Hi! I am Tara Singh."

Santa came that night

Note : The events mentioned in the story are true, with names changed to protect privacy.

Giselle believed in Santa Claus since she was a child. She pictured that she would, someday, fall in love with someone like Santa. Every Christmas morning she woke up excitedly to see if Santa had given her some gift or not. But, she was disappointed every single time. Nevertheless, her belief was staunch. She grew up to be a very beautiful girl. Beautiful doesn’t mean she looked like an actress, she was definitely above average. She had silky hairs; big, brown, mischievous eyes; a cute nose and a really tangy figure.

She fell in love with several guys, but all of them eventually broke her heart and left her. Still she kept on falling in love. After she lost faith in both love and Santa, she was married off on her parents wish to Micheal, one of the richest businessmen in town. Micheal was the kind of guy you would have tortured the most in school. Micheal never ever talked to any girl at the church or school; forget random ones. Now as you might have figured it out Micheal was the idiot-dumb-inexperienced guy to realize his wife’s ‘needs’.

He loved his wife for sure, but his way of expressing his love was too very dumb for Giselle. He occasionally took her for dinner at expensive five star restaurants; he took her to boring Jazz parties, bought her designer dress and did those not-so-cute but expensive things for her. However, he had never gathered enough courage in his marriage of six months to come romantically close to her. He just had kissed her on the cheeks once or twice.

Once when Giselle was out, he checked her personal diary. She had written about Santa. He decided that he would become Santa and surprise his wife on Christmas. He did not tell his wife about her diary. He knew his wife would give him his love.

On Christmas night when his wife was asleep, Micheal dressed himself as Santa. He looked cute. He moved  with a bag full of gifts, towards the bed his wife was sleeping. Slowly and steadily his heart pumped more blood into his arteries. He kept on moving towards her. Suddenly Giselle woke up with a start and screamed in happiness (or maybe fear). Her Santa fell on the floor. Dead.

To know what happened next:

You may watch C.I.D “two-hours-Christmas-special” on Sony at 9PM. Repeat at most times of the day.

Also, additional focus on this case by INDIA TV. Special One hour show with leading Psychiatrist and Police Commissioner of Noida region Live.

Its New Year time friends. Be happy! Spread smiles! :)