The Oculesics- Ek Kahaani Junoon Ki

27.

Dhanay's POV

Today is the most dreaded day of my life—the day I lost you forever. But trust me, Noor, you’re still here. In my heart. In my mind. In my memories. And I swear, I’m never going to bury you.

Every day—every fucking day—I remember the first time I saw you, the first time we spoke, the first time we kissed, the first time we said I love you.

I was in my second year of college when you entered my world like a gust of fresh wind. You smelled of expensive perfume, confidence, and luxury. The moment I saw you step out of that swanky car with your designer bag and flawless outfit, I knew—you were out of my league.

You were stunning, Noor. And me? I was just an average-looking, middle-class guy with borrowed dreams. Sure, I had a crush on you. Who wouldn’t? But I never dared to think I could ever be with you. I didn’t even approach you.

I used to see you with that flashy crowd—always surrounded by rich kids, switching boyfriends like flipping pages in a magazine. Honestly, it made me jealous. But I knew there was no point. So instead, that admiration turned into distaste.

I hated the way you floated through life like it was a runway. I hated how easily you moved on from one person to another. I hated that I couldn’t stop noticing you.

And then one day, I saw you and your boyfriend join the college music club. My music club. I was the head there. And every time you walked in late or walked out early—with your boyfriend in tow—my blood boiled.

Not because of jealousy. No. But because of your disrespect toward something sacred to me.
Music wasn’t just a hobby to me. It was devotion. Discipline. A kind of worship.

Watching you treat it like a joke, lounging around, doing nothing, making out in the practice room—it made my blood seethe.

And then one day, I snapped. I remember exactly what I said:

"Agar tumhe music club mein routinely nahi aana to chhod do, kisi dusre dedicated student ka seat mat khao. Tumhe bohot paison ki garmi hai, aur hona bhi jaayez hai, itna paisa jo hai tumhare paas, lekin yeh paison ki garmi kahi aur dikhana. Yaha theek se practice karna hai to aao, warna bhaad mein jao. Tum jaise students ke paas itna paisa hota hai, na tumhe kisi cheez ki kadar hoti hai aur na kisi cheez ki respect."
["If you can't attend the music club regularly, then just leave—don't waste the seat of a dedicated student. You have this arrogance of wealth, and rightly so—you’ve got so much money. But show that arrogance somewhere else. If you're serious about practice, come properly, or else go to hell. People like you, with all that money, neither value anything nor respect anything."]

The room went silent. Like dead silent.

And you? You stood there with fire in your eyes and showed me your middle finger.

"Haan hai paise, aapko kya? Aur paison se yahan nahi aayi hoon, audition deke aayi hoon! I don't know what problem you guys have with rich people. Why do you think just because we’re rich, we’re like this? And if you really think I’m undeserving,  I’ll see you in the inter-college competition. Agar first prize se neeche koi prize mila na, toh apne gale mein placard laga ke ghoomungi ki Mr. Dhanay Verma ne jo bola mere baare mein woh bilkul sach hai!"
["Yes, I have money. So what? I didn’t come here because of money—I earned my place through audition! I don’t know what problem you people have with the rich. Why do you think being rich automatically means we’re shallow? And if you really believe I don’t deserve to be here, then I’ll see you at the inter-college competition. If I win anything less than the first prize, I’ll wear a placard around my neck saying Mr. Dhanay Verma was absolutely right about me!"]