Ghanashyam Bista’s punctured loveDespite having a terrible date experience, Bista did not let it stop him from searching for love.
The sun awakened the park after a gentle rain, and the sunlight gleamed in the scattered puddles. The trees sprang to life as the sun’s rays touched the leaves. The dews on the blue railings trembled like golden grains. A dog, leaning into a calm puddle, curiously looked at his reflection.
Putting his feet on the arm of the bench victoriously, Ghanashyam Bista gazed at the blue sky. He drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, and felt the sunlight on his cheeks. Bista felt as happy as a pig in a ditch on this particular day. Last night, after tossing and turning on the bed for hours, Bista had decided that he would no longer drown in self-pity and would emerge victorious in the game of love sooner or later. He had made up his mind that he was going to fake it till he made it.
A passerby, glancing at Bista, would’ve remarked that he bore a striking resemblance to a toad sunbathing on a river bank. Why wouldn’t he? Bista was worthy of this generous compliment. As he exhaled, his stomach bulged like a smooth, unwrinkled balloon. His massive throat bloated and shrank like a plastic bag in the wind, and his jaw rose and dipped from the vast sea of his throat. His shoulders were big, round, and flabby. His eyes, as they lay shut, looked like they were big and round and could pop out any second.
Although not the most pleasant person to look at, Bista, it had been remarked by those who knew him, had the heart of gold. He had a way about him, a particular way of speaking that suggested that he was a distinguished and noble man. He moved with the gentle grace of a dignified being.
Bista smiled to himself, and he was in a good mood. Yesterday, he went on a date. That morning, as he sat on the bench, bubbling with joy, the thoughts that came to his mind were as follows “She is a woman of the most delightful kind. She carries sunshine with her and is as graceful as a swan.” But things had taken a turn for the worst. The date didn’t go well at all.
That night, as he slumped on his bed and gazed vacantly at the ceiling, the words of his date kept playing on a loop in his mind. “Bista, you worm. You rambling old imbecile. Where are your manners, you insect? Is this the way you talk to a lady? Ask for my permission before you speak. If you get my approval, lift your chin, look me in the eyes, clasp your hands respectfully, stay steady, and speak in a low, hushed tone. Once you finish talking, bow at me three times. Since I haven’t permitted you to speak, join your hands and apologise to me for wasting my time. Now blast away, shoo. Slither away, you reptile.”
But today, as the same Bista sat on the blue dew-covered park bench, his opinions towards the woman were less flattering. There was no trace of sadness on Bista’s long, broad face. His feeling towards her seemed to have melted away like dew under the morning sun. His upturned face, soaking the sun’s warmth, seemed to be protected by an unruffled and impenetrable calm. Yesterday’s event had changed him. He was no longer the Bista who grew morose and moody over a punctured romance. This was a new, refined Bista. He had no time to think about old flings. Bista was back on the rails. No longer a man on the ivory tower, he was beginning to learn the ropes of relationships.
Bista stood up slowly and started doing his regular early morning stretches. He then began to jog around the park. He jogged slowly, with his eyes on the cobbled track ahead of him. Suddenly, the patterns of the cobblestones were interrupted by the sight of a black, shiny boot.
As Bista’s gaze travelled from the black boot to the blue trousers and the black belt and then to the slender neck and finally to the lean face attached to the slender neck, a shudder of romantic feeling passed through Bista.
The figure that stood before Bista had folded her arms, lifted her chin and looked down at Bista through her nose. The figure was that of a policewoman who was doing her morning duty in the park.
“You can’t run around here, sir. The park is strictly for walkers. If you want to run, you need to leave the park. You can run on the footpath outside.”
With his hands hanging loosely beside him, Bista fixed his gaze at the police officer as her lips moved and her mouth uttered words.
“I sure will remember from now on, miss.” He spoke with a noble air that only a king could display.
As Bista's voice reached the ears of the policewoman, her cheeks flushed.
Bista smiled a genial smile, and he knew that the game was on.