The Mildpowered Virgins of Novylion High
I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you. The day you walked into our classroom was the best day of my life. And every day I get to be near you is even better.
When you play volleyball and your long black ponytail shines in the morning sun, I feel like I’m the luckiest person in the world. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Your eyes are oases for my parched soul and your lips are the moonlight dancing upon my fragile heart.
I thank God every day for giving me a guṇa that allowed me to get close to you. I’m sorry that I haven’t told you what it is. I don’t want to keep any secrets from you but I’m afraid you’ll leave me if I ever let this one slip. When the one I love asks me a question, I can know the answer she wants to hear. And I have to respect her feelings. I have to tell her what she wants to hear.
That first time I talked to you, every single reply to every dagger-like question you asked me was against my instinct. The Rushil you know is not the real Rushil. The real me is petty. The real me is a vermin. The real me is not worthy of your grace.
I write this letter because I know it will never be blessed by your gaze. In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never felt the slightest attraction towards me from you. But I did not care as long as no one else had such heavenly fortune either. If you couldn’t be mine, I was glad that at least you were no one else’s.
In my naivete, I thought this would last forever. That I’d always get to be by your side, admiring every single moment of your being and presence. Alas, it didn’t last.
A tsunami named Puna Maiwal crashed into my life. And I never anticipated it. On Thursday, 23rd April, he simply came up to you and asked you, ‘Can I sit next to you today, Pushpako?’
I thought you would refuse him outright. Instead, you said, ‘Only if Rushil doesn’t mind. Rushil, is it alright if Puna sits with me, just for today?’
My heart jumped. And then it sank. You wanted me to say ‘Yes’. You wanted him to sit next to you. You, Pushpako, who would never let a man get near you. I thought I was the only one who had the privilege. I could have chosen not to use my guṇa in that moment. I could have just said ‘No’. But then I wouldn’t have known what you wanted. Curiosity got the better of me that day. I wish it hadn’t. I wish I still lived in my fantasy where no man was good enough for you.
I said, ‘Yes.’ And I got up and went away, trying to hold back my tears. I thought I was a champion of conversation. But Puna Maiwal defeated me with one simple question.
But I will never stop admiring you. I hope one day that I can say these words to you. That you’ll want to hear them. I hope I won’t have to write my feelings down on pieces of paper and burn them. I cannot bear to hold them. I detest them.