THE BOY WITH THE DREAM

Anne—    Ear deafening thunders roared in the hollow grey sky as the wind shushed through the city, creating a sensation down my spine. The city was calm, unusually, wavering the title of being one of the ‘busiest’ for the moment while the breeze was chilly and soothing, for some reason, that had been brought straight from the Atlantic Ocean making the atmosphere turn even more exotic.   Almost immediately, I spotted a young couple, maybe in their late teens or early twenties under an oak tree, standing tall across the road of my office building. The boy smiled at the girl while the girl blushed under his loving gaze. She was shivering for the cold water cascading down her body. As if on the cue, the boy inched closer to the girl and closer until there was no space between them. I watched him snake an arm around her waist and bringing her closer, making the girl turn crimson as he leaned and captured her lips in a slow romantic kiss. The sight accelerated my heartbeats. I felt my heart thumping in the rib cage as a shade of pink overtook my otherwise fair complexion.   Thunder!   I flinched a bit by the loud echo nevertheless did not budge an inch from the place. The drops had started to invade inside the conference-hall, the soothing sprinkles on my face were tickling the skin, and the glass window that was half-opened and half-closed allowed the intrusion of wind along with the droplets. I inched toward the opened portion to observe the earth twirling in a happy dance with my hand stuffed down my pockets.   “It is titillating, Sur! Don’t you think?” I said, clutching the cup of coffee tightly. It was soothing, no doubt, but it felt different almost magical. My companion did not say anything. He never does, still, I waited for his reply. Surya just looked over my shoulder, past the window, and zoned out as if reminiscing something. His chocolate brown eyes were staring far in distance.    “I have something for the first rain. It makes me feel...” My voice trailed off as I searched for an appropriate word, but could not find any.    “Intoxicated,” the man finished. He had a mixture of emotion dancing in his eyes as if he was not there in the conference hall, but was flying far away, maybe traveling in time. “Like, you are falling in love all the more. Like you can’t think about anything but your companion with whom you wanna mingle in the same way, the water is mingling over the surface.” He had said, making me smile in admiration.    Surya was everything I have dreamt of. He was intelligent, clever, and witty and was the man of a great sense of humor. He was handsome with his six feet tall frame, well-built muscles, and faded brown hairs, but it was his eyes that had drawn me towards him when we first bumped into each other. His eyes were never calm. Unlike him, it spoke volume and set the tune your heart is craving to listen. They were never silent but talks continuously. Sometimes there is longing, passion, anger, and strong hatred for something while at times they would be happy.    The eyes were creating a mystery.    “You are a philosopher, Mr. Rajput. Your words can easily steal a heart away. Why don’t you write a romance novel instead of managing this shark for a company?” I suggested, taking a large sip of my cappuccino as I “tried” drop the hint. It has been a while for I have accepted my feelings for him, but confessing it to him was something yet to happen.   “Don’t you want to write, Anne? It is perfect. The atmosphere—I am talking about. Love is in the air. Rain brings its charm. It will make you notice the things you never meant to. It will help you imagine things or whatever you writers do.” Surya said, dodging the topic as he flipped the pages of the file and pretended to read.   “Writer’s block!” I sighed, defeated. It was true, my brain was empty. “I can’t think of the sentence, let alone write a whole book. I do not know. I think I need to hear a story to write down one. My brain is all messed up. I just cannot think of a weeping story anymore. I do not want to write a cheesy-romantic tale anymore. I want to write something more real, more fascinating. An unrequited love story...maybe. I just do not know. The era we are in hardly contains such romance. It is all too casual nowadays. I have never seen someone loving anyone with passion, heart, and soul. We just switch over people when we can’t get them or get bored with them.” I scoffed, annoyed as I stared at the blonde girl who was making out with her boyfriend, wildly. No one could tell that the same girl was all shy a few moments ago.   “Hormones could do this to you,” I muttered under my breath as I tore my eyes away.    “It’s not always the hormones, my lady. It can be lust, horniness, or desire.” Surya mocked chuckling at my flustered face, but there was a pinch of sadness in his voice that I did not fail to notice. “And my dear ma’am, you are standing in front of the right person at the right time and right place. You just need to push the right buttons to know all of it.” Ayaan commented as he sauntered inside the conference room with a stack of files in his hands. He smiled at me and threw an acknowledging nod at Surya that he returned.   “Indeed?” I questioned.   “Yes, indeed! Sur, why don’t you help our writer get over her writing block. It will help you relax as well.” Ayaan said and Mr. Surya Singh Rajput aka Sur shook his head. Meanwhile, I looked at both of them.    “Surya has many stories to tell. He used to be an artist a few years back, but his paintings used to tell the stories.” Ayaan said, noticing my confusion. My mouth formed an “O” as I gaped at him. “There is a specific “the end” that I am looking forward to hearing,” Ayaan said as he stared at his best friend since childhood as if demanding an answer.    “Sometimes there is no the end of a s********e epilogues are never meant to be written.” Surya replied and turned his back to us. There was a moment of silence in the room as the two men exchanged words without speaking them.    Amanda, Ayaan’s secretary, knocked at the door before allowing Samuel, Sankar, and Yohaan to let in. Sankar thanked Amanda politely, almost flirting, nevertheless entered in.   We exchanged the acknowledging nods as the men settled on their respective seats. The tension of a few moments ago was still in the air and the new intruders felt it. They exchanged another meaningful glance as if agreeing upon something.    “You have a story?” I jumped in to break the ice. Surely, the boys were handsome and I had seen them have their fair share of flings, but Surya was always the reserved one among the five. It had been four years for I know the business-tycoons but I had felt that there was something between them, which was not spoken but was felt.   The men and I had met during a convention in Geneva, Switzerland four years back where I went to take coverage for the paper. Although we belonged to a different background, yet we instantly stuck the cord and ever since had been in touch due to the dynamic demand of our professions.   I am a professional journalist and an author of a few bestsellers while they are the promoters of an association of persons engaged in the business of Tours and Travels.   The SMARH was a small firm incorporated by the boys during their early twenties when they were still in college. They used to travel across Asia and used to upload VLOUGs of the fascinating destinations. Later, the SMARH accelerated its growth with the help of the contacts they had established over the years of traveling and after Six years of its incorporation has multiple smoothly running franchises in various nations. The AOP provides comfortable accommodation, tour guides, planned trips, and travel within the nation to its customers.    Apart from our professional acquaintanceship, we loved to hang out with each other. The men were fun to hang out with whereas I, myself was not a bad company. I had published a few articles over their dynamic approach for the business while they had helped me interview one of the few top industrialists in the US.   “Oh, come on, Sur! Am I not I, your friend? I will not poke you. You can tell me to the extent you feel comfortable and if you trust me.” I pleaded, playing the puppy dog eyes as the men shared glances. Silence lingered over for the few minutes as finally, the man in question spoke.   “I can’t, guys. It has been years...I just do not want to remember it all over again. It makes me feel...Terrible.” He said. There was a mixture of emotions on his face—guilt, pain, longing, and hate. There were many others that we could not decipher, but he looked broken, is all I can say.   “It has been a decade, Sur. You need to let go of it. It wasn’t only your fault. She might have forgotten you, for all you know.” Ayaan spoke as he patted Surya’s back. The other nodded their heads in agreement as for I, like you people, could not understand a thing. “She can’t. I know she cannot. She is still waiting for me. I have seen it in her eyes, Ayaan. She wanted it. She wanted…me. I do not know... It’s hard, Ayaan. I cannot forget her. You know it.” Surya accused. His voice trailed off as he again stared at a distance while my heart did a flip.    He had a girlfriend. I felt something within me broke, maybe hope, but then it was his past that we were talking about and such I abstained myself to conclude.   “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, looking pleadingly at my friend. The men shared another mysterious look and simultaneously pushed their companion with their eyes. Their understanding among each other was commendable, maybe it is accurately stated that time makes the bond stronger.   Surya thought for a while before he nodded. “For that, Ms. Writer, you will need to travel to India on time and back.” He smiled the heartbreaking kind of sad smile as he settled in one of the vacant chairs available in “The SMARH & Associates” conference hall. Snacks were ordered, the files were shut closed, and the recorder was secretly turned on as we all settled to enjoy a crispy tale of love that wasn’t a love story.