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 I
brought it upon myself. I've been meaning to write this
article for a really long time. I finally sent it in
to my editor this morning. A few hours later, I got
a call from a friend telling me that Milind Soman got
married a few days ago in Goa. I've had to rework this
article with teary eyes. It was just bad timing…
I have been madly in love with Milind Soman for a painfully,
heart-breakingly long time. I first saw Him when I was
12, staring down at me from a large hoarding at Chowpatty.
He was beautiful and naked (that's how I remember it)
- and I had my first love-at-first-sight moment. That
was 11 years ago. I'm 23 now. And I'm still in love.
Now, any other, less madly-in-love, less obsessive,
less committed woman would have just given up. She would
have said, 'Forget it; get on with your life'. Can you
imagine being steadfastly in love with a man who doesn't
even know you exist for 11 years? Well, I am, and it's
painful!
The thing is, the man is gorgeous. His long, lean and
absolutely beautiful expanse is covered with silky olive
skin. His physique is just right - not gym pumped but
swimmer natural. His black eyes crumple perfectly into
his clean-cut face; his wavy locks snake seductively
over his forehead. Ohhh… I could write a Mills
and Boons novella with him as the archetypal male hero!
In other words, Milind looks like a God. [Oh, we're
on first-name-basis, you see - in my brain, as inventive
as Thomas Edison's, we've shared many-a tender moment,
not to mention some not-quite-so-tender!] I pray to
Him and I pray for Him. I'm agnostic when it comes to
a God in heaven: when it comes to my God here on earth
- well, I'm the most fanatical devotee there is. Oh,
these crazy south Indian movie fans, with their temples
to their movie-Gods: I completely empathize! I remember
pretending to agree with a bunch of my friends who found
this devotion bizarre. Tara-the-intelligent even genuinely
agreed with them. However, Tara-the-crazed-fan (who
takes over during conversations even remotely pertaining
to Milind) completely understood the fellow-crazed fans'
point of view.
Considering the fact that I live in India and have made
it my second job to hunt and have Milind, I have never
ever seen, let alone met him! Some God in heaven has
decided I shouldn't have this one thing that matters
so much - any wonder I'm agnostic? Lesser fans - even
those who aren't fans at all - have seen/met/touched/hugged
him. Why? Is that fair? I've had so many near misses.
So, so many: Jaya, my friend in college, came to class
one morning, and, looking me straight in the eye, said,
'Oh, I saw Milind Soman at the American Diner yesterday.'
Did she know how much she was hurting me? Such incidents
happen all the time…
This has to be one of the most painful ones. I went
to a party in Delhi with my then-boyfriend. It was his
friend's party, and Neha and I had more interesting
things lined up. Soon, we peeled off and went to a pub
nearby for a rock show. The sound check was endless,
and the music, when it finally happened, wasn't worth
the wait. My phone rang. It was Shiv. 'Serves you b*****s
right,' he said laughing, 'Milind Soman just came and
left'. I hung up stunned, ready to kill Neha for having
dragged me to this terrible show. She reasoned with
me, 'Oh, he's probably just pulling your leg. Call up
Shibani and find out.' I called up Shibani. 'Oh, oh,
don't talk to me', she screeched breathlessly, her ecstasy
jamming the phone-line, 'I just saw Milind Soman walk
around bare-foot in the garden!'
Then, there was the time, a few years ago. I was in
London with my parents. My aunt Beena was driving us
to Eton. Staring out of the window at the stream running
along the road, I caught a glimpse of a movie set and
of… Him. Yes, Milind, breath-taking in a white
shirt, was singing to some chick on the banks of that
stream! What? 'Stop! Stop!' I yelled. But it was too
late; there was too much traffic behind us. I spent
the day sullen, happy only in my day-dream, where the
car stopped and I ran into his arms. Somehow - and I'm
not quite sure how - He ended up singing to me, with
the bimbette floating downstream with her arms flailing
wildly.
When I was based in Chennai, I was asleep one afternoon
when my phone rang. I looked at it groggily. It was
a friend who worked for Mani Ratnam. I rejected his
call. Again. And again. What was wrong with him? I called
him back that evening. 'Oh sorry', he said, 'I just
thought you might have enjoyed dropping by the office
today. Milind Soman spent the afternoon with Mani Sir.'
Damn, damn!
This same friend decided not to give up on this little
match-making exercise and, on my birthday, informed
me that his present to me would be a dinner with the
man himself. I told absolutely everyone I knew. But
there was a catch, you see. I would have to pose as
a screenwriter and pitch a fictitious movie plot to
my heart-throb. My first meeting with Milind riddled
with deceit? Had I really sunk that low? Hell yes! For
him, I'd be the Queen of Sheeba herself! However, fate
had its own cruel plans and Milind, it turns out, was
out of town and asked for the synopsis to be mailed
to him. I had a lot of egg to wipe off my face the next
day, that's for sure.
Now the thing is, I've had his e-mail id but I considered
it beneath me to send him an e-mail. After all, I needed
to play hard-to-get. I am a lady. I decided I could
not go around making first moves on random men. Discretion,
I thought, was the key. I couldn't just tell him. So
now, for that folly, I'm destined to sit in the shadows,
my heart broken, Milind on my bedroom wall, Milind in
my pocket (Yes, I carry photu of Him, phull philmy ishtyle.)
Sigh!
Well, it was bound to happen, sooner or later. I was
having a long shower one morning, blissfully unaware
that my life was going to change. My phone rang, and
I extended a soapy hand to answer it. 'Supplement, page
one', said my friend talking in terse code language,
befitting the disaster that was lurking in the newspaper.
There, there she was, a pretty French actress, proclaiming
her love and commitment to Milind, and telling the world
how happy she's going to keep him. MY Milind. And now
he's married! He didn't wait for me!
Well, to be fair, Tara-the-intelligent has always had
a feeling. It was an uncomfortable realization that
I chose not to acknowledge. Man-of-my-Dreams-Milind,
well, I never really thought we'd get along. My collection
of articles on and interviews of the man all told me
one painful thing. We really wouldn't get along. He's
a morning person, I'm a night person - we'd live in
different time zones and would barely meet each other.
He's a hill person, I'm a sea person - the hills make
me queasy and depressed. He wants to settle in an apple
orchard away from people, I want to settle in a busy
city - I'd die without people. But when it comes to
matters of the heart and hormones, the sane voice is
often not the loudest. Sob!
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