What Not To Do When You're In Love

20 | Star

20 | Star

"I've never tasted anything worse than this," he said, handing me the green coconut he had just bought. We didn't have enough time to see all the places I wanted to see, but the rock beach was one which I simply had to go. Hence here we were, sitting on a beach that was a lot less sunny than the one by the hotel. It was not magnificent, but it was calming, and I would definitely rather be here than at the amusement park where Hasan had wanted to go today.

"It tastes like rat piss. What an awful waste of forty rupees!"

"You shouldn't insult food like that," I said, restraining myself from asking him how he knew what rat piss tastes like. "It tastes fine to me, anyway."

"Well, a lot of things you like don't make sense to me," he said, facing me. "These rocks, for instance. They make my butt hurt."

I took a moment to answer.

A lot of things I hated were a culture to him that he couldn't help but feel obligated to defend. A lot of things that I imagined would make life bearable for me were ludicrous to him; me driving a car, for instance.

He wasn't wrong when he said the rocks were uncomfortable, but I was giddy ever since he agreed to come here, that he actually respected my need to utilise the last day of the trip.

"It's not a bad thing," I said finally, though I wasn't even sure how strongly I believed that. "We have a variety of opinions among the two of us. It's a good thing. It makes us invincible."

"How will we live like this?" He asked, now serious, as if he hadn't even heard me speak.

"You sound like you're scared of the idea," I grinned. "And I can't understand why. It was meant to be, and that's how we know we will find a way — we have to. There's no point fearing the order of things when it should be natural."

"How not?" He nearly whispered. "It scares me, and I don't think it shouldn't. I can't help imagining a day when we would clash and shatter, and . . . and not want to make up."

His hand gently turned my face towards him. "Tell me. How can you not be terrified of the idea of living with someone who thinks nothing like you?"

My smile was intact. "Like this," I said, putting the straw of his coconut to my lips. I took a long swig, and he started laughing.

"Hey!" I cried. "It's not funny! You have a problem, you find a solution. If the problem is coconut water, I'll finish it for you."

His smile faded again. "And if the problem is bigger than coconut water?" By now I had finished it.

"Then . . . " I drifted off into thought.

Then I looked down for a couple of seconds and threw the empty coconut away. "Then we'll send it away."

"We will?"

"Yep. Aren't you the one who said that we won't ever speak of separation? What choice are we left with, if we don't leave?"

He remained silent, a smile he seemed to be unable to control breaking as he looked towards the waves. "This."

"What?"

He shook his head, the smile never wavering. "Nothing."

I waited for more, sipping from my own coconut. I knew he would speak.

"I mean, of course I've never known what love is. And even after I realised that I love you, there were times when I questioned it, because of said inexperience," he suddenly grinned wide. "But . . . this. This oddly cute tendency of yours of making me see everything differently, it just amazes me each time. It is what always reminds me that this . . . this set of things I feel for you . . . I could call it anything, but it wouldn't feel right. It has to be it. What they write books and songs about. It has to be."