Of Childhood Crushes and Fantasies.....

Today morning as I was getting out for work, my glance slid towards my little 7 yr old cousin’s bedroom. There she stood with a huge poster of some Disney Prince and was standing on her toes in an attempt to stick it to her wall. This was the first ‘GUY’ poster in her room and I know that this wouldn't be her last. This was just a bud.

I was not an innocent child. To be quite frank, since I was studying in a convent school, boys were like Unicorns for me. Mystical, magical and unattainable, though unlike Unicorns they did exist somewhere outside the school compound. Unlike the other girls who were busy salivating about Barbie’s gay boyfriend Mr.Ken, I was busy fantasizing about Mowgli. Mowgli was by God my first crush and I wanted to give him babies. 4 babies to be precise. One who could ride on the black panther ‘Bageera’, one to  play with the cuddly bear ‘Baloo’, one to slide down the slimy back of the snake ‘Kaa’ and one who could fight the evil tiger ‘Shere Khan’. I had planned it all while listening to the title song ‘Jungle Jungle Pata Chala Hai Chaddi Pehenke Phool Khila Hai’. Me and my Chaddyman for life!

But then I grew up to be 11 yrs old and Mowgli was not as pleasing to my senses as he used to be. It was around that time that our neighbor Mrs.Kukreja started giving the top floor of her house on rent to bachelors. There was this boy whom I called ‘Mintu bhaiyya’ who was a star among me and my other friends. But I was committing incest in my mind and bhaiyya was the last thing I wanted him to be. I wanted him to give me a ride on his Bajaj Vespa and share a Mango Dolly with me. The way he played Tea set with my friends made me jealous. But what could a girl with a boy cut and a deranged self confidence do?

One day I got up and tied my mom’s dupatta on my head and started pretending that it was real hair. Long-ass-length-hair. With lipstick on my dot like lips and another dupatta rolled as a saree/Egyptian zombie atire around my tiny body with t-shirt as a blouse, I walked to the Verandah hoping to parade myself like a peacock before my Mintu. But it was my father who broke my heart between his uncontrollable laughs when he said “Mintu left for his post graduation at Dehradun”. He left behind a packet of Britannia Little Hearts for me. My second crush broke my heart.

Then Hrithik Roshan came into my life. I would close myself in my parents room since I never had a room of my own, with the walkman playing the cassette of ‘ Kaho Na Pyaar Hai’. As I lay on my bed and the song started playing, I was suddenly Amisha Patel wearing her thigh length white skirt, gyrating uncontrollably with my Hrithik. I was the one for whom he made sea-shell necklaces and I was the one looking deep into his eyes beside the bonfire in a secluded island somewhere near Thailand.

 Then he went ahead and got married to a certain pale skinned Suzanne.

Hrithik Roshan with his 8 pack abs, carved collar bone, bulging biceps and swallowing arms, did not deserve me, said my Dad as tears rolled down my 13 yr old cheek while licking on the Vanilla Ice-cream he bought to calm down the waves tormenting his daughter’s little heart. Dads are the best.

I don’t do crushes anymore. I don’t remember anyone else whom I had a crush on besides these. At least nothing that was this serious and engulfing. So, what do I do now? Well I got graduated from crushing on people to falling in love. Much worse!

But the good thing about Love is, it doesn't come easy. I am a tough nut to crack.  But it did happen once and God, I would always thank you for that!

So dear Mowgli, I am glad nothing happened between us. My little cousin told me while reading the Jungle book that you are happy with a certain blue skirted girl named ‘Shanti’. I hope she pops out 4 kids.

Dear Mintu Bhaiyya. Wherever you are, Dehradun or Mussoorie, I hope you found someone who foresees your premature bald patch just like I did. But maybe you are already bald by now.

Dear Hrithik Roshan. You still look good in your latest ‘Baniyan’ advertisement. Call me. 

P.S- The above photo is a classic case of bad photoshop. Thank you very much.

P.P.S- Tell me about your first ever crush.