He Sold Love for Rs. 500 - Part 1

My sister and I used to visit this library: Awon Library around Kupondole when we were in middle school.

I’m sure most of you would remember the library.

However, I gave up my membership when I went to grade 9 for obvious reasons (SLC reasons). And eventually the library moved (my bad luck). The library happened to move to the Thapathali Rotary grounds.

Recently, my curiosity got the best of me and I decided to pay a visit to the place where I spent a large amount of time during my pre-teen years.

As I was making my way around the books, looking at what was available: I found a small, slim book tucked neatly between two large ones. It reminded me of Nepal between India and China.

I smirked as I pulled out the book.

It was not a book at all. It was a diary; the owner unknown.

Now, I’m not someone who’d like to pry into someone else’s privacy but this was a forgotten diary in an old library.

Could you blame me?

I’d think not.

The reason I’m posting this here is: I happened to come across an interesting story which I thought would be mighty unfair to keep to just myself.

I’m not posting the whole diary of course, just a few snippets and entries here and there: turns out the owner is quite a story teller.

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“Hey! Look at that!” my friend Gina pointed out to me as we were giggling our way along the street we were so used to, to get home.

“What?” my eyes traced to where she was pointing.

“That poster” she pointed out again. “What a funny ad!”

I could now see what she meant:

“Hopelessly in love with someone who just does not have a care about you?

Change the things work around here.

A few drops of the love potion and they are all yours.

Only for Rs. 500.

Call 9841*-*****”

“Who would even think of this?” Gina was now howling with laughter.

I laughed with her.

“Wait, are you taking a picture?” I stopped short.

“I have to!” She was barely able to hold herself together. “This is ridiculous!”

I stifled a smile. I looked at the number again. It was easy to remember.

“Wait,” she scrunched her eyes at me. “Don’t tell me you’re actually thinking of trying that number?”

“Of course not” I lied. 

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No, I was not thinking of trying the love potion on the first go; even I thought it was a crazy idea. But turns out the heart is even crazier, tempting me, urging me. It whispers to me in the darkest of nights: perhaps, this is the way. Perhaps this is the way I could make him mine.

Him.

Explaining why I love him was like explaining the taste of water.

He had a hold on my heart, that I could not even come close to breaking even if I wanted to and believe me, I have tried. I have been trying for 2 years.

We are colleagues; been working together for nearly 3 years now.

For 3 years, I have only loved him from afar.

It is not that we don’t talk; no. We do talk. We talk about work, we discuss potential business plans, and we get together at office outings.

And that’s it. It never went further than that. He only saw me as a colleague. I could never get beyond.

It’s not that I haven’t tried. I’ve given him, no; I’ve literally spoon-fed him with hints, bombed him even, with them.

But of course, the story only remains one – sided because he barely acknowledges my feelings.

I was the only one living my fantasy; my one sided love story.

And there was nothing else I could do.

Until now, that is.

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I remembered the number in a heartbeat, it was easy; calling was the hard part.

I shakily dialed it in and waited.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

“Hello?” a voice as grainy as sandpaper answered.

“Huh- hi th-there,” I stammered.

“When do you want it?”

“What?”

“You want the potion. When?”

“So this isn’t a scam, right?” I had to know.

“Do you want it or not?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Meet me in Baneshwor in half an hour.”

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With that grainy of a voice, I expected an old man: I don’t know somewhere in his fifties, maybe?

So you can imagine my surprise when I saw a quite young man looking at me.

A man, perhaps in his mid-thirties, dressed in smart casual, approached me.

I don’t want to be judgmental, but he did not seem the type who would be believe in love, let alone be involved in something such as a love potion.

“You got the money?” And that grainy voice nowhere near matched his appearance.

I nodded and took a look around. I did not want this to look like a damn drug deal. People were oblivious to our little encounter.

He took out a little pouch.

“Are you sure this will work?”

“You tell me”. He gave me a half smile.

That did not work well with already skeptical me.

“It comes with instructions” there goes that grainy voice again.

“Where?” I was about to open the pouch.

“Number 1” he ignored me. “A few drops will do good. Perhaps in his drink. And it has to be you who has to hand it over. And say your name as you hand it.”

“Okkaayyy” I said slowly. I let it in

“Number 2: you have my number if anything goes wrong”

“What do you mean if anything goes wrong? Something could wrong?”

“You’ll know” he smiled again. Was he doing that on purpose?

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” He repeated. 

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The pouch lay in my nightstand drawer for a week before I thought of actually using it.

What drove me over the edge was when I saw the new intern in our office flirting with him; playing with her hair, lightly touching his arm.

It disgusted me.

What if he fell for her?

I could not allow that.

I dropped the potion into my bag the day after as I left for work.

I caught him alone in midafternoon. This was my chance.

I prayed under my breath that this would work as I silently made my way to the coffee machine and made two cups of coffee.

Black, half a tea spoon of sugar. Just the way he liked it.

I darted my eyes around the floor: no one was looking. Quickly I loosened the lid of the little bottle and put in three drops of the potion.

I trudged my way over to his desk.

“Tough call, huh?” I smiled

He looked up. “Hey” he smiled. “Yeah.”

I felt weak to the knees suddenly. I put the coffee on the table before my legs gave away. Funny how his smile gave me the feelings of a teenage girl every single time.

“Thought so.” I pushed the cup under his nose “So I brought a cup over.”

“That is so nice of you!”

He extended his hand. I mumbled my name.

He took a sip.