Mango Hair Between Molars

You could be talking, you could be reading, you could be writing, travelling, walking or sitting on the couch doing nothing. You could be cooking, listening to music, lying down. You could be concentrating on work on a busy day. You could be doing anything, but all throughout, a part of you remains riveted to that impertinent intruder that came at an inopportune moment without invitation and now refuses to leave. And before you know, beyond your control, your tongue is caressing and stroking him without a moment’s interlude.

That is, if you have a mango hair stuck between your molars.

Your tongue simply does not rest. It attends to that annoying thing between your teeth. It stops tired and begins anew after a while. It pretends to give up but it does not.

You don’t know how and when it got there.

You knew there was a chance of this happening and you still let it happen.

You know you can simply ignore it. It will be gone soon and yet you continue stroking it, caressing it.

You know you can force it out with the stroke of a brush; but you won’t do it.

The mango hair between molars. The lover who does not requite your love but tantalizes.

The fruit that gave you fulfillment glided down your throat – like the lover who reciprocated. The one that got caught between your molars was unrequited love, neither gliding down nor dislodging himself to be spat out. But there to simply enjoy the caresses.
Its not his fault. The connection was surely there. But the context was a cruel act of destiny.

The mango hair between molars. You don’t know how and when it got there.
A wretched moment. Only for a fraction of a second, your eyes met. Not more. But that was all it needed.
How long does it take to die? A moment.
And how long does it take to fall in love? A moment.
How long did it take the mango hair? A moment.

Your life became anchored to him since that moment. As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, a feeble, imperceptible, small love turned into a banyan tree with many deep roots.
You think ‘if only that one wretched moment hadn’t happened…you would be saved’, But then you know, a connection as strong and as fundamental as the umbilical cord would have asserted itself sooner or later. For the connection was surely there. Divine. Only the context was a cruel act of destiny.

The mango hair between molars. You knew there was a chance of this happening and you still let it happen.
You were careless.
When the first time your heart missed a beat, you knew you were standing on the edge of a precipice.
You could have turned around and run to safety. And yet, you jumped.
You could have resolved not to look in his direction again. But you allowed yourself to be carried away. You let your eyes search for him. You let your eyes find him in a crowd.
You let your eyes meet his. You told a tale. In just a moment. He understood. His glance told the same tale. And you understood. The clandestine conversation had begun.
When you take sweet poison, sweetness spreads first. You enjoy it and let it spread further.
Poison comes afterward.

When months later, you did resolve not to look at him, it was too late. All self control was mere ostentatious display; the internal suffering did not stop.

The mango hair between molars. You know you can simply ignore it. It will be gone soon and yet you continue stroking it, caressing it.
You remember what happened last time. You thought you would die. But you didn’t. Life moved on.
It is just a matter of time. Because nothing lasts forever.
And yet, you cannot ignore it. Because this moment is the one that has to be lived now. Relief may come later. But until then, this excruciating pain has to be borne. This love has to be lived.
He is your first waking thought. In fact, he is simply your waking thought. Every minute you are awake he is there in the background of all your thoughts. And as if that’s not enough you see him in your dreams too.

The mango hair between molars. You resolve to give up but you don’t.
You try to get close to him. You burn your fingers. Your ego is hurt. You hate him. You resolve never to try again. And after sometime, after your burns have healed, you are looking in his direction again.

The mango hair between molars. You know you can force it out with the stroke of a brush; but you won’t do it.
For all your determination and power of will, you can remove his thought from your mind like you would a weed. Jolt yourself out of this impossible fantasy. Uproot the banyan tree. But you won’t; because though love is its own punishment, love is also its own reward. You savour it even as it kills you. It is sweetness though it is of poison.

The only consolation is knowing that nothing is forever.
Each time, the relief came unexpectedly. When you had given up or gotten used to the pain of the intruder, he dislodged himself from between your molars, sometimes suddenly, sometimes quietly, and it was over.