Twelve Weeks of You

Week Five

Week Five

If only they could be pigeons, Rumi wouldn't have to worry about Rooman.

She wouldn't have to obsess over his every action, or even go through the pain he caused her. If they had been pigeons, he wouldn't be replying to other girls' message at 2 am in the night or smiling his stupid but charming twisted smile at one of his fans. Instead, he would be cooing like any good male pigeon at her only so that they could mate for life.

But no, he wouldn't even let her read a damn book peacefully.

The basketball court wasn't exactly a pleasant place to read about Indira Gandhi's emergency but it was a habit that had fallen into Rumi. She would sit outside the court, reading her book and stealing glances at Rooman. It was a part of her routine now, in fact the players complained when they didn't see her there. She wasn't exactly a cheerleader but this was her form of cheerleading.

Mr. Mehtal, the Librarian, was going to banish her from ever touching a book again, her fingers clawing the page so hard that it succumbed to her rage, tearing up. But Rumi could care less about the book on her lap or if she ever read another one again.

Her eyes were fixed to her male pigeon surrounded by his flock of stupid birds.

Rooman thought she was blind like she wouldn't be able to see that he was reciting new poetry for another girl and she was liking it. The way his lips curled, she could tell when he was doing it on purpose. Feeding the girls what they wanted, Rumi had learned a long time ago that there was no sense in blaming the girls, they couldn't get his attention unless it was already there.

The girl was grinning like he was reciting her poetry he wrote for her and Rooman was running his hands through his hair that fell over his eyes too often. And he wondered why Rumi never tolerated his poems, she knew he recited them for anyone who had a vagina.

She stood up, her feet felt wobbly due to rage. But she was more angry at herself, more than she was at him. She had watched her entire life how pigeons mated. Her grandfather had a pigeon nursery and he used to take her there every day and narrate their love story till it became the only fairytale she ever read.

How the male pigeons fall in love at first sight and he coos to try and attract the female pigeon. How he waited till the female pigeon agreed and then they built a nest together to start a family. How the pigeons mated for life.

Rumi might not believe in poetry but she believed in how nature worked. The pigeons couldn't have been lying. And when she met Rooman all those years ago and how he followed her every day, always showing her how he was right for her, she became friendly. And that began the dance. Of mating. And hurting. And mating. Then hurting.

They built their nest and then they destroyed it. All the time, over and over again.

Now, she wanted to kill all the pigeons' insight. Including Rooman.

She let her eyes rest on him one last time and then their eyes met. He looked up, his eyes losing the smile he had before they flicked back. He was cooing but not for her. She sighed and turned to leave.

Rooman looked up again but this time Rumi was not staring back at them. She was already fifty steps away, the wind playing with her hair when it should- it could have been him doing that instead. His lips lost track of the poet he was with, and he looked down at the girl who only moments ago had captivated all his interest now suddenly looked like the next day's leftover on the kitchen stove; unappealing.

Maybe he could go after her, whisper something other than poetry in Rumi's ears. She would understand, but his body refused to move. He couldn't be the one running after her. Not now, not when she was being the moody one here. He wouldn't fall on his knees and make the same mistake as his father, who killed himself in the name of love. He wouldn't.

And right now Aarav needed him more.

He looked at him, watching him step into his hell again. "So what happens after?" A voice distracts his line of vision as he looks at the girl he completely forgot about. Rooman twisted his lips into a smile, his body already moving away from her. "How about I complete the poem tonight at the party?"He asks her, and she nodded in return. Rooman made it a point to remember the poem he was reciting before walking off.

Rooman was a poetry line too late and someone else reached Aarav before he could be the one pulling him out of his daze. The ball landed on his stomach with a loud thud, and it rattled his entire skin.

"Your eyes are not wanted here," Naman spoke, his face full of glee. Rooman gently tapped Aarav's shoulder, telling him to let it go. "Don't" He whispered, finding himself wishing for Karna again. He would have handled Aarav better than if he had been here. Aarav took a step again and by the way his fingers tightened on the ball, Rooman knew there was no pulling him back.

"If only I had said this, again and again, we wouldn't be here. "He replied, walking ahead till he came close to the man who made his blood feel like acid in his veins. Naman's smirk faltered before staying.

"You cannot get suspended again."Rooman came in front of Aarav, his hands pressing on his chest. "Fucker can't keep it in his pants and then he blames others," Naman spoke out loud and Rooman's face hardened. He looked in Aarav's eyes, feeling his anger transport inside him."But I can."He muttered before turning and punching Naman in the face.

The court hushed a little and only the birds chirped. Blood dripped from Naman's nose. He leaned in and punched Rooman back, but the pain made him laugh out loud. Before the fight could escalate, the couch whistled its end.

But the fight was too old to end with a mere whistle sound now.

—

Rumi: You got suspended?

Roooom: Why did you leave?

Rumi: How many Aarav's battles will you fight? This is your fourth fucking suspension!

Roooom: Why did you leave me Rumi?

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