A broken heart and an eternal instagram summer

Sometimes on days when I truly question myself, I go back to my Instagram photos way back from 2018 and 2019 to see if that one person who said 'I think I’m falling in love with you' the first time we ever kissed, has taken his little like back from my pictures.

It’s a few photos of nothingness. A selfie about being excited to go to work, another of the Madurai sky with a song lyric. I then wonder what I did wrong. What led to its demise? All heart symbols on Instagram that he had very generously given, all disappeared. Clear chat.

This man had once regaled me with stories about travelling the country, writing with intent, meeting wild women, and having sex in a waterfall. This was all documented on his instagram too.

He had worked and worked and worked for himself, wanting to be taken seriously by the world. Pictures from his timeline show mountains, plains and oceans that I don't think I'd ever find myself seeing.

In private messages, he had stated many times that he’d like for the person he’s seeing to have exceptional wit and striking beauty. A summer in August. For her to shake him at his core.

So when he asked me to come and stay with him in his big North Indian city, I thought I did it. The shaking and the summering.

Besides the times when he kissed me uncomfortably with an 'O' mouth, educated me about life and put on the most disinterested sex face, I should have known that the ghosting was coming.

But I stuck on.

If I could not be the shake and the summer, who else would I be?

So on my birthday many years ago, I wrote a long, stupid email professing my love for this man, hoping to receive an Instagram heart in return. I got a thumbs up instead, wishing me lots of luck for the future.

When the likes stopped, I knew that my summer was over. I was headed for the fall. When the texting stopped, the supply of cartoon hearts ended and I plunged into a long wintery-depression when the Madurai sun peaked in March.

I tried keeping some parts of myself in pockets and gave my shine to some others who came quickly and went. They only received pink, purple and green hearts. My red one was broken.

Three years later, when I repaired this heart, I saw him again. He said, "Hi Sanjana, eppdi irukenga?".

I then thought of the once "Ippove va, unna pakanum ❤️❤️” messages and laughed. “Nalla iruken. Neenga?”

My summer was shining again, wasn’t it?