There was Anish, who never met me outside of college, who was content with gazing into my eyes and scribbling my name on his notebooks, he of the respectable-love that did not breach boundaries, the love that fertilized in place of fucking insanely, the love where a woman was treated (almost) like a sister until the day of her marriage, the love of a shy and uncertain man-boy, with a moustache still growing in patches, with a love that started as a failed mission, a love that moved on.
