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Out Of Love

Hello. I'm Not A Writer. I'm Doing This Out Of My Love for someone. Someone who? You will know..once you start reading the book. Thank you Yang Studio for helping me with this. --------------- When did it all begin? Long before I could even know the difference between certain pleasantness of life. Long before I learnt to spell my name. Long before I could know anything. It was our kindergarten. We were those free birds, caring about nothing, worrying about nothing. An age where nothing matters, other than our toys and candy bars. But I still remember her toddle. Her cheekiness. I remember how beautiful a kiddo girl she was even back then.

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When Did It All Begin?

When did it all begin?

Long before I could even know the difference between certain pleasantness of life.

Long before I learnt to spell my name.

Long before I could know anything.

I don't remember anything from that age.

It was our kindergarten. We were those free birds, caring about nothing, worrying about nothing. An age where nothing matters, other than your toys and candy bars. But I still remember her toddle. Her cheekiness.

I remember how beautiful a kiddo girl she was even back then.

'ANAISHA MANGALA' could be read from her badge pinned to her shirt along with a kerchief. Her name was all that I could remember, for they always used to ring, as she sat beside me for her lunch.

Her mom used to croon her name, while she came back with a warble reply of her own, refusing to take in another bite.

My mom and her mum were good friends, something that I couldn't complain, but just cherish it. Cause every day the only thing that pleases me in that horrid place known as school, was to sit in line right next to her as our mums tried to stuff in as much food possible in that short span of time allotted by the ridiculous so called school authority. Our mums always wanted and wished to finish the feeding ASAP so that they can makeover us again only for us to get nasty within ten minutes of makeover.

Of all things that I learnt from my kindergarten, the ABC's, the 123's, I also learnt to give up for a girl right at that age, while many were still struggling to speak sentences.

For every time her mom pointed to me quoting "Dear, look at Erick. Looks like he is going to finish before you do" Yes that was me, Erick Lawrence. I used to refuse to take in the next bite. Leaving my mom to whine. I even used to take some beating. I don't regret that.

Anshu, Anaisha's nickname, though, would eventually finish the race, winning it along the way. She would go on to throw her hands up in domineering joy of victory as if she won the 100 meters dash and going on to quote, "Look mom I'm only first, he is still eating".

She was sitting right behind me at class as well. Right next to my bestie, Zara. Zara Hussein. The other girl in my life, my bestest of bestie. But you don't really need your bestie to carry your mails at kindergarten.

Giving up an extra crayon for her sake, letting her take my magic pencil (the one that has a fancy doll on top of a pencil), letting go of my regular break time snack, offering an extra bite with my bar of chocolate seemed just enough to draw her attention and win her friendship.

I even once asked a teacher not to scold her because she is so innocent, only to get a beating of my own for saying so. Things really seem amusing to think of now, leaving me with nothing but a semi arced curve on my face.

Did I ever know that she could possibly be the one? No. Not even in my wildest of dreams. But I firmly believe that that's where everything started. Right in my kindergarten. When folks were busy learning ABC's, I was busy doing things for her. And She Became everything for me.

Years rolled by.