Flirting: A Personal Reflection on Meaningful Connections

Yes, I am a flirt! And I don’t hesitate in admitting that. Or should I? I am quite comfortable with this word and do not intend to draw you into a cleverly knit web of logic, in order to convince you how my being a flirt is justified or why you should not interpret this particular behaviour of mine in a certain way. Oh no! Not at all. Being an author, I am obligated to keep on sharing with my readers, share something that not only amuses and interests them but also adds value. The relationship between an author and his readers is just like any other love-hate relationship. You need to rekindle the romance every once in a while and reaffirm the commitments to keep it going. So, I have decided to share this playful perspective of myself with you. I have decided to share a beautiful, random rendezvous from my past life. Believe me, this is one of the several real-life, truthful anecdotes of my encounters with the opposite gender that not only filled my life with romance but also groomed me as a gentleman. I won’t hesitate in labelling them as “flirtations”. They actually were. I must say that my lady luck is quite radiant when it actually comes to dealing with the ladies. And I love being in the company of ladies more than the lads. There’s a reason, a selfish one. Only a lady can unveil the gentleman concealed inside a laddie. And I am always looking forward to a little grooming.

Some of these trysts were no more than casual daily chatters. Some developed into long-lasting friendships. Some others grew into deep and profound relationships. But there was always one thing in common. All of them were playful and romantic yet sincere and honest. Each one of these has loaded my personality positively, has left an everlasting imprint in my memory and, I hope, in the memory of those with whom I flirted whether being in a casual or long-lasting relationship.

First things first. They say that flirtations are always casual and not meant to end in committed relationships. I disagree. Flirtations don’t start or end a relationship. They are more like appurtenances of a relationship, designed to brighten and intensify its beauty. The length and commitment of a relationship does not depend on them, the quality does. You don’t always flirt to start a relationship with the opposite gender. Flirtation is not philandering where the goal, more or less, is to seduce. Flirting is more bent towards romance and excitement, mystique ad exoticism. Flirtation, for me, is a type of sweet and sour, naughty and spicy, sincere and honest yet respectfully playful relationship that you enter into with the opposite sex. Yes, for me, it’s always the opposite sex. Age, religion, race, colour, height, weight and anything else does not matter. The only important factor is that there should be compatibility for mutual attraction. Flirts cannot succeed single-handedly.

Flirting is what Shri Krishna used to practice with Radha and Gopis. Oh no, I am not bringing spiritual enlightenment in between, again! I just want to emphasize the joyous, naughty and respectful part. Flirting is and should always be naughty but respectful. Otherwise, instead of giving joy it will become a source of teasing and annoyance. The person you are flirting with must be left loaded with beautiful memories, memories that bring a smile on the face whenever he or she is alone. These memories must raise the goosebumps out of excitement, not out of fear or disgust. Unlike the common perception, flirting is quite decent, playful and full of love and laughter. If it is not, it isn’t flirting at all. My flirtations have always bestowed me with goodness. Sometimes it’s just a good memory, the other a long-lasting friendship. Flirting does sometimes convert casual relationships into committed ones. One such eternal relationship is with my wife. We still keep on flirting. A flirtation that ends after you enter into a committed relationship does not qualify as a flirting in the first instance.

Unusual, it is, but in order to set the mood for this piece of writing, I dimmed the lights, turned on some soft romantic instrumental music, tugged myself snuggly in my bed and took a few long breaths to draw away any residual thoughts from the present day. I then closed my eyes and slipped through the rabbit hole, down the memory lanes that I had not visited in a while now. I walked leisurely in those lanes, enjoying my surroundings that were lit up just enough under the cool white light of the shining moon of youth that once shimmered like the sun. I peeked occasionally into the dimly lit majestic spaces, the long-forgotten memory houses still standing and waiting on either side of this lane. Their old classic casement windows were shut long ago as I moved on in my life. It is really hard to wipe the dust of time off these colourful panes and have a better view of what has remained locked inside. Yes, there’s an entire settlement of love and life buried deep inside me, probably a countryside hamlet that was once alive and bustling with joy, playfulness and cheers of this young boy running up and down its lanes in the company of other equally enthusiastic and effervescent lads and lasses. And yes, those were the times when I discovered that I could flirt. Boy oh boy, I have never looked back since then, never! Being a flirt is my basic nature. I didn’t learn it. It came naturally though I discovered it only in my early youth. And that’s no big deal at all. That is the proper time, the initial tender years of adolescence when new emotions and feelings naturally occur within you as your body begins to adjust to its new, hitherto unexplored dimensions.

The first encounter was just after the high school was over and I was in the first year of my college. There was this young lady of equal age in my class. We were taking English tuition together. It was a small group of 5 or 6 students. She was one of only two girls in our group. Two girls that never ever shared a glance with the young men forget about having a chit-chat. This particular girl had a tough reputation contrary to her pretty looks. Every single one of the boys was afraid to talk to her. It was rumoured that she had an elder brother who was notorious for kicking the hell out of the boys if they dared to advance towards her. But I cannot confirm. One thing that I can tell you with authenticity is that she was lovely and brimming with cuteness. The most prominent feature of her personality was her mesmerizing smile. I could never resist that bewitching beam. I had spent the last ten years of my formal school education in a co-ed but had never ever seen such a divine smile even though there were prettier faces. The only other feature that I noted in her besides her smile was the plumulaceous locks of hair dandling on her broad forehead. My gaze was always glued to her smile. Whenever she smiled, I could not help my poetic self from slipping out of my control. I used to write under a different pen name in my early days, ‘Sagar’, the Hindi word for ocean. Believe me, I wrote one poem specially dedicated to her divine smile. It was really a beautiful poem, indeed. I would have loved to share it with you. But unfortunately, I have lost it.

And now the flirting part. The poem was on her smile. It was meant for her. It ought to be in her hands. But how? Contrary to what you are expecting, I did not have to plan a rendezvous. I could not. Remember, the rumours about the big brother! But I didn’t know that I had a hidden talent; the ability to flirt and flirt with sheer confidence. This is how I got enlightened about this latent power.

I used to reach my tuition class a bit early, to be able to prepare a few questions in advance for our teacher. I had a deep liking for the classical romantic literature and since none of my friends showed any interest in John Keats or William Wordsworth, I ensured that I discussed any queries with the teacher in private. The other reason that I always arrived early was public transport. You miss a particular bus and you are way off the schedule. One summer evening, as I waited for the teacher alone, I saw her enter the class with her friend, a bit earlier than usual. We had eye contact. We have had many in the past but they were usually ignored in the presence of other classmates. Somehow, she did not ignore this solitary moment and smiled at me. I reciprocated. She took her usual seat in front of me. It was not a regular classroom. It was home tuition. We used to sit in a semicircle in front of the teacher who usually sat on a raised seat. She used to sit right across me. That’s how I could always have an unobscured view of that angelic smile.

The teacher was taking unusually long to come on that day. She was chatting with her friend, smiling in between. I was making full use of this opportunity to bask in the shine of her smile. Suddenly, she turned her head towards me as if she knew that I was watching her. We again shared our glances. Unexpectedly, she smiled at me again. That was the moment of enlightenment. Somehow, instead of simply smiling back, I made my move.

I tore the page, on which I had written the poem, out of my notebook and extended it towards her. Those were the days when the only medium to express your feelings was either the word of mouth through a common friend or a handwritten piece of paper. The latter being considered more aggressive. The digital era had yet to dawn upon us. Her friend would have expected a tight slap on my face. To her utter surprise, this damsel extended her hand and surprisingly accepted my little token of appreciation, folded it and slipped it into her bag. I could see her cheeks go red while her friend poked her with the elbow.

The next day was going to be the day of judgement. Remember the tough big brother! She came early with her friend. I was alone when she entered the class. She looked at me; the casual eye contact and she sat at her usual place. She looked at me again. And, yes! She smiled. The smile was cheerful and brighter than the previous day.

And the chatter continued on that day and every other day thereafter. Sometimes, the smiles would burst into joyful laughter. She was always generous with her smile as if she knew that all I wanted from her was one bright smile, the innocent youthful smile that stretched from her heart to mine. The tuitions were over in a few months. We had to part and we parted with a smile. No goodbyes, no thank-you(s). A simple beautiful smile. It has been almost 25 years now. I don’t know where she is. I never tried to find out. But, I haven’t seen that smile or a smile like that in these 25 years. I yearn to see it once again. I may not recognize her from her face but I will surely recognize her smile. I simply hope and pray that she is spreading love, joy and happiness wherever she is now.

Just to put the record straight. That was not my first crush. That was not a crush at all. We never proposed each other, never advanced towards each other. I didn’t have the intentions. Neither did she. We didn’t even meet once outside the tuition class. I don’t know where she lived or to which family she belonged to. I loved her smile and she probably enjoyed my company. A simple, blissful, non-demanding relationship that was. I would drop a few words of appreciation and she would smile to acknowledge. She knew that both of us were flirting with each other. That girl was my first flirt. She left this everlasting beautiful memory of her smile with me. And I just hope, I did leave her with some good memories of that short-lived rendezvous.