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The Unfaithful Heart


Love is faithful, but the heart isn’t. We have one heart and that may be reserved for someone, but then we still crave for more. After all there are numerous interactions in this world. And our heart will betray each of our honest promise made. The world may be beautiful, but then it is a real world. And promises made in the real world are seldom kept.
I am a doctor in the best medical college of India. There is a Fest going on in my college, and medical students and doctors all over the country have come to this event. It is a week of merrymaking, it is a week of drowning oneself into what people would call the modern relaxation therapy. The fest was supposed to be very exciting to the members of the medical fraternity, and so someone had named it as PULSE to align it with the medical profession. The performances takes place in venues inside the campus.

The Quad is the venue for all DJ performance of famous singers in the open ground. 

While the Jawahar Lal Nehru (JLN) Auditorium, hosts most of the indoor performances of the undergraduate students.  The fest officially starts on 16th September, but my story started from:

17th September

The night of the 17th was the fashion night. I was among the spectators who gazed in awe at the display of feminine beauty in amazing attire. Well that was called fashion, but it would never be decent of taking a wife any of them. Call it a regressive mentality, but I know I have the best and want to live my life in peace. What drew my attention was the excellent display of beauty by a girl, who had the sense of fashion in her. It would be wonderful to have her as my… (well not wife, but a girlfriend would do for the time being). You may find my views, villainous; but I won’t defend myself justifying my views. We should let the monster out that is within us, for once in a while!

18th September

The story of my infamy began when I saw my dream girl for the first time in Armaan Malik's concert. The concert was held in Quad, which is inside the AIIMS hostel complex. She had beautiful eyes that was different, something I had never seen. It was not the normal brown or black colour, I was accustomed to. It was grey. I had never seen such eyes that gleamed with passion and serenity. Two contrasting characters hewed into one. She was a paradox in the world of women. She was clad in the attire that made me love her. She had a head scarf that made my heart wince for her. In the chaos that followed as Armaan Malik started his performance, she kept her modesty. She danced to the music in the crowded area, but I could see the difference in her from the rest. She would jump flinging her arms, when Armaan sang his melodious songs, but she never exceeded her modesty. I would frequently look at her. Maybe I was being weird. I knew nothing about her. Except that she must be in the same college as me, for we were in the front stall.
When she would jump with excitement, it tore my heart. There was a mark below her right eye. Maybe it was a birth mark. But the whole evening, I spent gazing at her beauty and innocence. I wish I would get drowned into her beautiful eyes.
She was the hoor that had descended from heaven. But the question was, should I seek her? Life was short and we could making promises were easy, but fulfilling one would be difficult. I was allured by the invisible wires that emanated from her and grappled me, tying me to her, making me a slave to her innocence. Such a beauty was what I had always sought.
There was going to be a “Make a Proposal” Event. Anyone who wanted to participate in it could do. And there were indeed a lot of guys who were single, and some desperate to say those magical words to any girl of their choice. It required courage to say that in front of a crowd, where everyone was watching you.  I sought for the scarf girl. If by chance she was present in the event, I would propose her!
There happened to be a girl, who looked very beautiful in her blue dress. She was elegantly dressed in her short clothes. I realised she was the same girl, I had seen on the fashion night show and was drooling for her the previous night. She was the centre attraction for many. It was a time for the proposal to begin. Whoever successfully proposed a girl would win, the girl and the contest. It was all a game, however, but most of us took it seriously.
 I searched for the girl with the beautiful gleaming eyes everywhere. I found her eating kulfi, with her friends. But I hadn’t any courage to approach her. I would rather go to war, then ask a girl out. I looked at her from a distance, and wondered how I could say those precious words that comes from the lips of a lover. She was mine in my own world. I had a beautiful dream with her, with lots of children while we had danced to Armaan’s songs. But the moment required courage, and I was more of a coward in love. Could I do it? Could I propose her? Could I tell her of my feelings? I don’t know. A writer’s brain is so muddled up. We think a lot before taking any action, and unfortunately when the time comes we fail to act.
As the Proposal game began, the first guy to come out “propose” was none other than my arch rival. He went on his knees, and said long lines of Bollywood lyrics, and sang in his hoarse voice, and he proposed the girl none other than in the blue dress. After praising her beauty for what seemed to be eternity, the girl accepted him, provided he fulfilled the condition of organ donation. I think the event managers were promoting organ donation. It is a good thing anyway, though it feels difficult to digest.
Now could I bear that? Definitely, it was a big NO. My arch rival getting accepted by a hot girl; my senses were blocked. I forgot about the beautiful girl with the scarf. Her serene face escaped from my mind. And in a fringe of jealousy, I could all but think of one thing.
Propose the same girl, my rival had proposed. The competition gets very stiff when two people of similar calibre compete for the same thing. And I didn’t want the hot girl for my own happiness. I wanted her so that I could disrupt someone else happiness. This is how the world works. And this is how Darwin explained evolution. The fittest survive, while the weaklings are lost to history.
I too went on my knees. And made the proposal. And the sad to state that is she too accepted my proposal. It was unethical, but she said she didn’t mind as she craved for more love. To sum up, she was everybody’s and altogether she was nobody’s.
 Actually, it turned to be a lose – lose situation for both of us. Neither of us could get the girl, even though we each had succeeded. And I can’t object her character, for deep within I knew I was guilty too. It was a game, but a game badly played. Maybe, if I had proposed the girl with the bright eyes, she would have accepted. And in the long run, I would have talked and made my way into her heart. But sometimes, jealousy and rivalry brings out foolishness in a human being. I can proudly say, I got a medal in that.
John Nash was right and Adam Smith was certainly wrong.

In competition, individual ambition serves the common good. Best results come, when each man (or woman) does what is best for himself (Adam Smith said that)…..and the group (Nash had added).

Well, when there is intra-species competition, we all think of ourselves and don’t give a damn to the group we are a part of. Getting a girl laid, is one of the primitive instincts, and that makes us a normal animal.
If, I had proposed the girl of my dreams first, she would have accepted me. But I went for the looks (and personal rivalry) instead of austerity.  And having been rejected, if I again tried proposing the second girl, my reputation as a flirt would have been established. So, no girl would be willing to accept my proposal.

20th September

It turned out that we both lost. Today, I found the girl in the blue dress had come with a different boy. She was dressed in black, the colour of her heart. She was a girl indeed who would play and win all the games! It was the day of live concert of Badshah. But the girl whom I had developed love at first sight didn’t come. It was crowded. They crowd went hysterical when Badshah played. And that was a moment to live in the crowd, getting crushed and piled in one heap. At least we could feel the soft touches, and that is what almost everyone went for.
And I knew my girl wouldn’t come. She would avoid the crowd. And most of all, she would avoid the unwanted touches. And so, I left Badshah’s concert and sought for her around the campus, looking for her, hoping, maybe she could forgive me, and let bygones be bygones…

21st September.

It was a bit cloudy. The DJ Chetas would play. And I was sure, that my girl would come. The gleam in her eyes stole my heart. It was less crowded, than yesterday. Badshah had numerous fans. He was popular. But the DJ Chetas was just a dot in the ocean of unheard bands. It was all well, and around 10:00 pm, I made my way to the front stall where the students of my college were supposed to be dancing. I saw her dancing. She was jumping up and down to the tune of loud music. But when I looked into her eyes, I knew she was aware of her surroundings. Most of them were drunk and were swinging their bodies like zombies! It started drizzling, and the audience still danced more with great fervour. It added to the flavour – a dance in the rain with the DJ playing recent songs. It was an open sky, and the audience got wet. It was a lovely sight to see girls dance with their wet hair and clothes in the rain. And I recorded as much of the dim scene as I could in my cell phone. Their scanty clothes made a deep impact on my mind.
That is when, my friend and benefactor who had been in the college for a long time came up. He had a few drinks, but was in his senses. And then he talked about the Pulse, what he had done in the last six years. Pulse had been great until 2014, when two doctors had died due to drug over dose. Yeah, you read it right. Pulse was meant for enjoyment. There wasn’t a place where you wouldn’t find an intimate couple in the night. Beer bottles, cigarettes, and girls were freely available. And some adventurous guys were having experience with rave drugs. The night life was terribly exciting. There had been couples in the JLN auditorium (while they played movies all night) who were intimately doing the instinctual activity of nature under the dim light. It was more of what was supposed to be a group fun.
And here I was all unaware about it. I was a saint – holy fucking saint! I slept early. And it was the mistake on my part that I kept myself aloof from everything. What good would this chastity do to me? When all were enjoying with consent.
I had been a fool, whimpering for a girl who wouldn’t even speak to me. And here, I was resting on an island of nymphs like Odysseus in Calypso Island, and I believed in some nonsense chastity, honour, fidelity, etc. which only harms a man’s ambition and makes him a weakling. Life was meant for enjoying, not brooding for some distant girl with whom I wondered if I had any future. And I was losing those golden moments that would never come again. Youth, bachelorship, money, time and energy all at once is a rare phenomenon. And those who possess it are the luckiest individuals on the planet.
It usually needs some drinks to get courage to approach a girl. And those who get the courage, they usually end up bedding the girl for the night. It is usually the undergraduates who are more active (with all the hormonal surge in them) and willing to take the risks. And almost all of them are successful too. You will find nearly all the boys hostel rooms filled with beers, and a girl.
The girls of this institutions are however, more of a nuisance. Going after them is more of wastage of time. They will have extraordinary expectations, and won’t let you get physical easily. And you will have to bear the burden of a relationship all the more, until she dumps you for someone better.
It was good that you never tried to get intimate or try your luck on a girl who was from this institute (and that is, those girls who danced in the front stall). Would I change my decision? Or would I continue loving my (college) girl and hope for a beautiful love story which was hard to materialize.
A bird in hand is worth two in the bush. We ought to live in the present moment, and enjoy the fruits that destiny laid before us. Or else when we die, and ask God, you never let me enjoy the world He will say, “And who do you think sent those pretty girls to you?” And then we realise, it was our fault all the time.
It rained, and the sight was wonderful. Wet girls dancing in the rain was a sight to watch. And it was a night to remember. I danced in the rain, and was wet; and so were a lot of hot girls. Getting drunk would be an option to lose myself, and my so long cherished celibacy. And the girls in the back row were the best to lose myself to.

22nd September

Today was the last day of the Pusle Fest. Everything around looked gloomy, like a week had just gone away in a whiff. There was  I learnt more about my dream girl. She was indeed from my college. She was a first year undergraduate. I did not know if she had a boyfriend or not. But I was an accused. I had lost my courage to again look at those beautiful eyes. They were too pretty. The day ended with watching

Mr. Pulse and Miss Pulse event in the JLN Auditorium.

 The Mr. and Miss Pulse event was more of keeping calm in vulgarity than showing the talent of doctors. I would recommend never to watch the show with your parents. And yes, my dream girl was in there in the second row, watching the show with some of her friends.
 It was a Saturday night, and I was back again in the Quad after the Mr. and Miss Pulse programme. I wanted to feel the sweetness of youth again. I hesitated to dance in the group of girls in the front stall (I wasn’t drunk). But my mentor who had been there asked me to go. He pushed me, he rebuked me for being a coward. It was difficult for me to resist and say no. I asked him for the cigarette, he was smoking. And took several quick puffs. Then I went and asked a girl with freckles on her face, “Can I dance with you?” The other girl who was dancing with her was very pretty and looked like Sonali Bendre. Obviously, she had been hit that night with lot of men – my mentor being one of them. And the guy who must have brought her here, would have to be vigilant or someone could whisk away his prize. Such beautiful women, were more of a liability to the world of men. And I could see fights, in my imaginations among men for her. It was midnight. I had danced with the two girls for some time. But to be honest, I hated the dancing. It was once in a life moment, and I regretted my decision of not being able to say no to my mentor. After what seemed like eternity, the girls decided to leave. I was happy, I could stop doing my forcible stupid dance.
 I again went in search of my dream girl. Yes, I found her. But she was in the company of boys. I looked at her pretty eyes. And I could feel, the accusing look. She was not mine, she could never be! There were boys with her. And I realised the night I made out with someone in the rain, she must have made out with someone else. It made a hole in my heart. It was 1:00 am. With a broken heart, I moved back towards the Quad…
All stories have a beginning. And most of the stories have an end. Some stories end with a new beginning. But my story, it didn’t have a beginning. Though there was an end…

YouTube Links of Doctor enjoying in the AIIMS PULSE are here: 

The Unfaithful Heart Reviewed by Polymath on 1:34 am Rating: 5

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