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What Is Love?
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What Is Love?
Maybe I'll Find Out...
Anubhav Singh
EDUCREATION PUBLISHING (Since 2011)
www.educreation.in
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Acknowledgement
Behind every accomplished work, there are a
number of helping hands. I too was helped by many
generous people.
This thanking list cannot even be started
without thanking Sagrika Mukul, who was the
kindest to support me and helped me on every step
of writing this book. If she would not have been
there, this book would have been completed two
months earlier.
I would also like to thank my elder brother
Sunny Singh for being the strongest support by my
side. Being his younger brother, I know that if I fall,
he would always be there to pick me up.
This list would also be incomplete without
thanking Kanika Tomar and Khushi Bansal, who
have always proved to be very trustworthy people
by my side. Everything that annoyed me, they were
always up with a solution for it.
A warm thanks to Nivedita Raj for always
reminding me to finish the book.
There are many others who have helped me in
finishing this book in some way or the other. They
are Muskan Agarwal, Anuj Arora, Saba Qamar,
Prakhar Varshney, Meghna Sharma, Riya Bansal,
Simran Kaur, Prabhjot Kaur, Sahil and Aashi.
Above all, I want to thank my parents. It was
their production that I have been able to write this
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book. Without them, there would have been no me
and no such book. This acknowledgement would
also be incomplete if I do not thank Ashmeet Kaur.
She has always inspired me, encouraged me and
apart from this, without her assumptions and
ideologies, this story would have never been
finished. Thanks to all of you and also to the ones
whose names I have forgotten to mention.
And to the ones whose names I have
mentioned, I am waiting for the cheques!!
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P To the cutest smile
in this world...
P
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P Love like there is no tomorrow.
And if tomorrow comes....
Love again...
P
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What Is Love?
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“Spending money on you is just a waste”, my
mother taunted me. I was standing along the wall of
the drawing room in complete silence without even
moving my eyebrows a bit. I was back from
parents’ teachers’ meeting with my father and my
father had been told that I have failed in class 11.
My parents were having a discussion about my
future and hundreds of questions were being
bombarded on me each minute. But I found this
funny because although the questions were being
asked to me, but before I could answer them, they
themselves gave their opinions as answers. Actually
they were not interested in my choice, they were
more likely to fulfil their desires.
Thankfully, the discussion ended with the
conclusion that I would opt for commerce, leaving
the science stream which I had earlier gone for
under the influence of my parents.
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Anubhav Singh
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I was happy that I was going for commerce but
the thought of sitting in a class with my juniors was
kneeling my confidence under fear.
Failing in an academic year is not a big deal.
The big deal is to stand back, to face the thousands
of laughing faces. In the Indian society, people
make difference between the failures and the
achievers. They believe that if a person has failed
once, then that person is basically useless. Their
behaviour towards such people changes. They look
down towards them as if they are inferiors. Same
kind of fear was acquiring a major part of my
thoughts. I wanted to go back to my old school from
where I had come to this school through the sports
quota. I was accusing my old school for not having
+2 in it. But now I could not do anything except
preparing for the school.
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On the first day of my new session, my feet were
crawling through the crowded corridors of the
school to reach my class room. As I entered my new
classroom, I came across a dozen of familiar faces
merged in the rest four dozens of unrecognised
faces. My feet accelerated as I walked towards the
last bench of the class. In my way, many of them
watched me walking and thought, “Now who is
he??” And I, with similar thought, headed towards
my seat, “Why the hell are these idiots staring at
me??”
As the first day of the school took its pace with
teachers coming and going as their periods got over,
I got a feeling that the two years I have to spend
here will not be easy for me. Moreover I realised
that two days later, externals would join the school.
It was likely to happen that few of the externals
would be from my old school and they would
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Anubhav Singh
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recognise me as their senior. I wanted to run away.
Fuck this place.
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What Is Love?
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W
Externals were in and three of them were from my
old school, all three were girls. Before I could even
recognise any of them, one of them waved towards
me. Damn! Help me oh lord! Where are you?? She
is Devisha. A well built girl-she is tall, healthy and
cute. Her physique and voice would get anyone say,
“Why the hell this guy is dressed like a girl??”
But thankfully, she was the only one who
knew me. Both of the other girls were completely
different from Devisha. One was thin, beautiful girl.
Her name was Shanaya and the other one was a
coloured girl with loose fitting clothes, Sara.
Devisha and Sara were not my concerns. My eyes
were attracted to the beautiful smile of Shanaya.
That day I was sitting on the last bench while
she was in the middle rows, three or four seats
ahead of me. All three were talking with a guy who
was sitting behind them. I didn’t actually know
why, but I wasn’t able to take my eyes off Shanaya.
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Her narrow eyes were magical. When she smiles,
she can win a competition without competing. Her
cuteness overflows from her eyes and it can be
noticed from kilometres. Her endless beauty is a
sight worth watching. I wanted to talk to her. I
wanted to know more about her. But in this
situation, it was hardly possible.
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I left my thoughts about her and was back to what I
was here for. I was trying to do as much good in
studies as I could. But initially, I faced some bad
days. People were interested in knowing why and
how was I here. It was clear that I had failed but
they wanted to hear it from me. Idiots. I wasn’t that
Ansh that I used to be, might be because I was
being affected by these things a bit too much. These
things can affect anyone. It is a human tendency to
get affected by what others think about them.
Devisha was the only one with whom I was
familiar. She is a nice, cheerful girl with a top-class
brain. She often gave her copies to me so that I
could complete my work and could study without
wasting my time. It was her copy that gave me the
chance to build up a conversation with Shanaya.
Devisha’s economics copy was with me and the
very next day we had to submit it. I completed my
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work and then handed Devisha’s copy to one of my
classmates whose real name was not known to me. I
used to call him what everyone called him, Tunnu.
He is a short-heighted buddy with big teeth. When
he smiles, his upper jaw jerks out of his mouth and
a thin line of nerve shouts on his forehead. But
above all, his hair are the real attraction for the
crowd. They resemble the hair of a boy-cut Barbie
doll.
After ten minutes, Akash showed up. He is
another classmate of mine. His arrival was
predictable. I knew he had come for economics
copy so I gave him mine.
That very night, when I was sitting in my room
and serving online, a message took my attention.
The message read “Hey! I need your help.”
This message took my attention, not because
someone was asking me a favour, but because the
sender was Shanaya. I understood that this was the
breakthrough I needed. I replied her yes and then a
message flashed which left me thinking that I need
one more break please! She asked me to send the
photos of the economics copy. Why
God??Why??Why do you love to juggle me?? But
my fiendish brain took command of the situation
and I knew that it’s a nice chance to start going with
her. Then I don’t know what happened and I gave
her a foolish reply that my camera is not working
properly. In which world does a guy give these
types of excuses?! Couldn’t I think of something
better?! But no, welcome to my world where I make
bad situations, hell!
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What Is Love?
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Luckily, my blunder did not mess things up.
Instead we started chatting online. For sometime, I
was confused about who was she in her cover
picture because both-she and her sister looked
absolutely the same, although they were not twins.
Then Shanaya told me which one was she.
Shanaya belonged to a Sikh family and was the
smallest in the three sisters. Her beauty was
something she had inherited from her mother. Her
puffed hairstyle made her a bit more charming. She
was slim with an oval-shaped face. Cuteness
remained overloaded on her face. And her uneven
teeth added more points to it. When she walked, she
used to attract everyone’s attention. She was not
like everyone. There was something very different,
very special about her, something which was
attracting me towards her-a bit more each day.
Most of my time was being spent in the class.
Even in the recess time, I used to remain in the class
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because of the very fact that if I would move out
and go social, they would start asking me about my
failure. And this question had proven to be the
toughest one to me. In this world of vast and
diversified theories about endless topics, the only
question I avoided was this one. How did I fail? I
could even have answered that why is melody so
chocolaty, but buddy...not this one please! Although
this swollen nerve was often touched by many;
many unknowingly, few knowingly.
So to avoid such things I preferred to stay in
the class everyday during the break too.
Most of the days people could easily spot me
eating Shanaya’s lunch. I don’t know why but if
you get a tasty lunch during the recess, it tastes
hundred times better than it usually would. While
my lunch contained chapattis and some typical
Indian curry, Shanaya’s lunch was always full of
different dishes. Shanaya was actually blessed by
such things.
In a few days I started noticing a dozens of
hands in her lunch. I could feel the uncomfortable
expression conquering her face. Soon I noticed her
escaping from the class in order to have her lunch. I
didn’t stop her. I let her move out, although
sometimes I would go hunting for her in the whole
school, find her and eat her lunch up.
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What Is Love?
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