What’s in a Name?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." This article is a prelude to “Scars and Shatters: the ruins of my past”, for after that article I was showered with questions like; what was her name? How did you meet her? Where did you meet her?

These questions took my memory to a jogger to 2010, when I had joined a swimming pool and I really wanted to learn swimming. It was the hot month of April when I had enrolled for the swimming coaching, dipping into the cool water used to be a sigh of relief from the temperature. One fine day while learning freestyle I tilted up my head to have a look at the clock, but accidently I looked at her, I was awestruck, she looked quite simple, her gaze was sharp, as if lined with shards of glass around the edges, had a charm on her face and unknown desire of knowing about her imbibed in me.

Now a small background of me and my small amount of interaction with women: I had always been in a boys school, women were alien to us and my family not being that social I hardly had much of an opportunity to do so, neither was I much inclined to do so, it improved a bit later when in my school we used to have socials (ball dance with the girl counterpart of my college).

Each time I saw her in the pool, I thought of approaching her but nervousness over flooded me before I could do so, I decided I should at least know her name, for this purpose my investigative and notorious mind took over my body. I tried tricks of all trade but most of them went in vain. In the end I came up with a modus operandi that would work for sure. Everyday our coach used to make us sign in our membership cards and keep them back in the closet after doing so, each card had a photo attached to it. One fine day i grabbed the opportunity and flipped through all the cards, finding her photo with a shy, cute smile that sent chills down my spine, for the first time I could not keep my eyes off a photo, but then I realised I don’t really want to get caught and labelled as pervert.

Hardly a week later while I was resting during laps of my swimming she touched me with her tender hands and asked, “Hey! You’ve learnt the stroke?” I was shocked that she came to me herself and was hard to digest the same, to which I replied “What?”, my heart pumping to its highest pace. She said “I am asking, did you learn the stroke?” I replied confidently, “Oh! Yes, of course I am a fast learner” with all the courage I had in my heart I finally asked “what’s your name?” She said “My Name is *********”

Me acting as if I don’t know her name “Oh! That’s a unique name! I am Havi, well mine’s a unique name too!” My happiness at that time was inexplicable and knew no bounds.

We both chuckled and this marked the beginning of a new story in my life.

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