My Love Story? My love story picked up while searching of exotic foul stinking gas, released by bacteria after eating the flesh of pulpy bananas. As I kept opening lid of biodegradable waste bins one by one, in great anticipation of getting the perfect reek that had become purpose of my life in those four days of my adolescence, more I found release of pheromones, dopamine and serotonin (or in simpler words – the Love Chemicals) in my nerd brain.
Cupid struck me very hard and I lost mental balance moment I realized her eyes were locked with those of my. First time in my life, left part of my brain, the logical calculator, was defeated by right part, the creator. I, the most studious student of UCL Medical School, failed to diagnose sudden change in me. The right part instantly got inspired by John Keats and took me to the seventh sky with her through her blue eyes at beautifully carved face,
‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.’
Her hands were motion less – right one holding a cereal packet in air that she forgot to put in the cart, and left one stuck on handle of shopping cart. Her legs were dragging her backward but magnet in her eyes pulled me to follow her, every steps of her. Our upper parts of body were motion less just elegantly flowing in air on our slow but synchronized movements of lower limbs. Our eyes were locked for more than a minute – it was for sure unusual in a crowded superstore. Suddenly she bumped and found herself amidst carts of fruits left there for replenishment. I unsuccessfully tried to support her but no avail. We lost eye contacts but they were still meeting in a world, called Love at First Sight.
She realized that she lost her maiden heart in the busy mart. She became nervous – she giggled and picked up a cart, rushing to check out. I was so busy enjoying the beautiful feeling of Love at First Sight that I forgot to stop her and to tell that she was carrying both a banana cart by mistake and my heart that would now pulsate only for her. I was left alone in fruit section with her monthly grocery and with her heart. This was the first and fastest hearts exchange I ever saw in my medical life – no anaesthesia, no surgery, no blood, no OT… very simple. But would this wound heal as fast as that of post operation?
I could not sleep that night. It was not unusual in UCL that students would night out but what was unusual with me that I could not forget her blue eyes. I had learnt plenty – each and every nerve of eyes. I knew how human eyes appear when you dissect them. I was not able to come out the maze of those deep blue eyes. Perhaps it was hallucination – The Love – that was taking me along with her to beautiful multi-colours spongy clouds, green pastures with white flying horses, stars filled sky, snow laden mountains, the Amazon basin, Greece temples, far east Asian paddy fields, forts of Scotland, beaches of Caribbean’s, marine eco of the Pacific… I got up. It was eleven AM. First time I missed my classes.
Every abnormality can be treated if it is diagnosed properly. For me diagnosis is crystal clear – I was in love but did not know what her name was, where she lived, whether she was single… only thing I knew was her face, her blue eyes, and that her blue eyes locked with those of my for longer than a minute… wait… My left part of brain took over again… she also purchased cart load of ripe bananas leaving her actually needed grocery with me.
There was a cure. A possible cure. I must find my love through cart load of banana waste in bins kept for every apartment in residential areas of London. My love story picked up while searching of exotic foul stinking gas, released by bacteria after eating the flesh of pulpy bananas. As I kept opening lid of biodegradable waste bins one by one, in great anticipation of getting the perfect reek that had become purpose of my life in those four days of my adolescence, more I found release of pheromones, dopamine and serotonin (or in simpler words – the Love Chemicals) in my nerd brain.
It was drizzling cold evening. I was trying opening a filthy bin kept near an apartment. And there it was – finally – approval for my treatment – My Love. Load of rotten bananas were lying in the rubbish… I held my heart with my both palms. It was pulsing like a wild race.
Twenty nine years later, I am celebrating silver jubilee wedding anniversary with her – just she and I in the same apartment where she lived when she purchased a cart load of banana as her grocery. She, the banana girl, my love, my wife, now mother of our two fully grown sons, served banana custard pudding post supper while asking me for the anniversary gift. I went to my study room to bring out a packet of cubic feet size wrapped in shining red colour paper with golden bananas printed on it. She smiled and opened it delicately – there was a silver banana with embedded in it golden hearts.