He was a misogynist. Hated every woman ever since his mother had left his father for her lover. He had looked at every woman with an unprecedented scorn ever since, even his 17 year old precocious neighbour couldn’t escape his wrath. He never gave her as so much of a second glance. But she was smitten, beyond repair. He would run away from her even in his dreams, only to find her deep-set eyes, fringes covering its partial squint, which, by the way, did nothing to alter her brimming cup of youthfulness, staring right through his soul’s seams. He hated her, hated her beauty and guts. She loved everything about him, his unavailability the most.
It happened one day by chance. He fell off the stairs and right into her arms. She was concerned but thankful for the fall. He had badly sprained his ankle, after all. He could no longer run away from her. This spurred her on and with a hope in her heart and a spring in her feet, she would wait for her mother to go off to sleep so that she could climb the same set of ominous stairs, stand outside his door, offer him a cup of tea or perhaps, more. He waited for the sound of her anklets but cursed her under his breath, calling her “Menaka” every time he did.
Those days, she grew. She grew with the possibility of what could be. To escape, he ran away one day… only to return and hear her say, “I am marrying my cousin. Mother wants it. I won’t trouble you, I am going away.” He could hear a loud thud inside of him. It was the first time he realized that what he perhaps felt for her was more than lust. As this feeling grew within him, he started shrinking. Of other women, other more beautiful, sultry, fearless, coy women, he tried thinking. But there was no respite. He hated her more than ever, so much so that he wanted her and nothing but her. So he decided to elope with her, leaving everything behind, even his bewilderment and shame. But he had forgotten she was only 17, fickle, real and lame.
Till his last breath, he couldn’t figure out the difference between the two extremes – Hate and Love, dead at 23.