The first time I saw her she had her hair undone, or rather done in such a way which showed her long and flowing hair to good effect. And it was love at first sight- I fell in love with her hair. It is no irony of fate that I first saw her hair- her back was turned towards me that lovely afternoon in which I won the 100 metres gold on our Annual Sports Day. I won the race and she turned her face towards the champion, perhaps surprised by the sudden uproar. It was as if I was the knight after the holy grail- the beautiful flowing hair was the prize (a rarity, since according to the school rules you must have your hair bound, but that being a special day, and she being a newcomer, perhaps the rules were relaxed a bit). And when I reached to the prize, I was to be awarded with excess of what I had bargained for. The beautiful mane of hair had attached to it an equally beautiful face, and the sweetest smile that I had ever seen.

This moment was one of great self-discovery. As soon as I was grown old enough to know that boys my age are expected to fall in love with girls, I was on lookout for my opportunity. I looked to my left and found a set of teeth smiling at me- with the added attraction that two little canines were missing. It was as if a grateful dog was looking at me with its very identity gone to the rats. I looked to my right and was obliged to raise my head a good four inches to get a square look at her. I looked to front and found rows and rows of either crew-cut hair or pigtails of differing lengths. And when I looked to my back the teacher made me stand on the bench for an hour. Now everyone else had a good look at me. I remained empty handed. And this search went on for quite a long time. Unfortunately I was one of those few who have their sexual awareness coming to them a little earlier than providence supplies them with provisions of satisfaction which that awareness pesteringly demands. Hopelessly I concluded that either there was some problem with the female population which consistently resists providing me with one beautiful specimen, or there was some inherent problem with myself. Nobody I saw raised any stirrings in any part of my anatomy.

And this day I realized that there was only a limited problem with the female population. And certainly none with me. It was a great relief! And I started dreaming. I dreamt that when I would be wearing the gold medal she would be smiling and cheering for me, and then I would descend the podium to decorate her breast with the precious token of love. And then we would walk hand in hand towards the start line....

What else can a pumped up teenager think? I win a race, I win providence and prospects of winning a girl in a single day, where this same me had been waiting for so long, empty handed. Someone up there must be smiling at me, like this unknown girl. And so I walked towards the podium when the name of the champion was called up. And like a champion I walked, cheered by the crowd from all sides, my eyes fixed on the face of a single creature. I stepped to the highest part and raised my hands. The Chairman came and gave me the medal. Ah! The gold to the champion, and now the champion will win the greater prize. I now looked again at the face- well, it was smiling. I had won.

And when the hurrah had ended I searched for that beautiful face. The long track was now filled with the dispersed crowd, all chattering and laughing at the travails of the day, the purple sun looking down with a satisfied smile, almost about to set. There were girls and girls around, but no sign of the holy grail. Would I give up? Never, I was a champion today and I shall be one once again. And so I kept up my search. I looked to my left. To my right. To the front. And at last at the back, apprehensive that I shall be punished again. There I found the beautiful face, again smiling, but this time it was not smiling at me. It was smiling at another boy who walked with her. And somehow I felt that I recognized the face. Yes, that lad had come second!

Ah! Never mind, I told myself, I have the medal. I was still the champion. And by an instinct I looked at the medal in the light of the setting sun. Somehow I felt, even in that dull glow of the dusk that this was not quite gold. In fact, the aluminum was visible from below the thin layer of ‘gold’ paint. And the champion walked back home with his holy grail. Somehow I took a vow- I shall never look to my back.

[Inspired by an actual event. Story dedicated to Devina Misra, Bhubaneshwar.]