The Final Vow

 

(Fiction)

Babloo came to see me today after a long time. Without any greeting, he declared:

"I swear—I’ll never fall in love again!"

"What happened now? Why are you swearing again? Haven’t you done this before, too? Which vow is this, anyway?"
At my barrage of questions, Babloo squirmed like a fish out of water.

"Yaar, love is not meant for me," he said, frustrated.
"After a couple of days, it’s always the same—separation, betrayal. I’m done."

"So what about all those other vows you took before—what happened to them?" I asked.

Babloo avoided my eyes and, scratching the ground with his toe, replied,
"This is my seventh and final vow. I’ve given up on love."

Wait—perhaps I should introduce Babloo first.
Babloo is my childhood friend and a former classmate. Cheerful by nature, but sadly, not blessed in the looks department: short height, thick lips, eyes like a mole, massive hands, and feet so large it’s a miracle if he ever finds shoes his size.

Back in school and college, he used to make me write love letters for him—dozens of them! Sometimes I had to pen replies too, as if I were the girl on the other end.

If I ever refused, he’d glare at me like he might chew me alive.
To be honest, those endless letters—both masculine and feminine—turned me into quite a decent writer.

I only got relief when the internet arrived.
Babloo created profiles on every possible social networking site and befriended countless girls—some real, most fake. All his display pictures? Bollywood heroes.

Whenever something unusual happens in his life, he turns up uninvited—just like today.

So, back to his newest declaration: he’s sworn off love again.
When I asked how many times he had done this, he recounted everything like a ledger:

"The first and second vows came when Sana and Khurshid turned out to be men.
The third was after Saba drained my phone balance with repeated easy loads.
The fourth—after a failed romance with a girl from the neighboring country.
The fifth and sixth were when some girls’ fake profiles were deleted.
But this time... this is it. This is my final vow."

"But what happened now? What made you so serious this time?"

Babloo looked away, hurt.
"Yaar, I’m just a simple guy. People always misinterpret my simplicity and deceive me."
He paused, then continued:

"Three months ago, I started talking to a girl. I fell for her at first sight. She wanted to meet in person, but I hesitated. I warned her that if we met, she might never want to talk to me again. I never even showed her my real picture. But in the end, I gave in and agreed to meet. We met for just five minutes. Then she suddenly remembered something urgent and left. And now… she’s blocked me."

Babloo finished his story in a choked voice.

I listened silently.
I had no words—no comfort, no wisdom—for his shattered heart.

Sensing my silence, Babloo said,
"Love is for the beautiful. A good heart or noble character means nothing anymore."
His eyes welled up.

"Yaar, everyone’s heart breaks," I said gently.
"There’s not a soul on earth who hasn’t felt that pain."

Babloo was quiet for a while. Then suddenly, he stood up and exclaimed,
"From now on, no more love—only flings!
If there's no real love, there’s no heartbreak, no grief!"

Without saying goodbye, Babloo stormed out of the room.

And I sat there… watching him disappear into the distance.

 

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