THE MAN WITH THE HEART SHAPED GUITAR....

His entry in her life wasn't at all dramatic

It was the July after she'd gone back to Calcutta

And Amar had remained in London..

She'd first seen him strumming a guitar in 'Peter Cat'

(Where she'd gone with her three girlfriends on a Saturday evening)

In a pinstriped shirt, shoulder length hair and loafers

At first glance, he had looked fleetingly like Maqbool

In fact, if not for the diffused lights and the margaritas on her pulse,

Winnie would be certain

For now, she looks on

Those night music eyes; that close in that familiar way when he smiles

That familiar raspy, droning, tragic, broken, early morning voice

That make you want to cuddle him like a child

The same way his hair ripples on his forehead

And the way he subtly, occasionally, tosses his head to the right,

To move the long black hair out of his deep brown eyes

His fingers too busy, too important, to move from the heart shaped guitar

He's maybe a shade darker than Max; definitely slimmer

But then she gets this strange feeling

Like whatever that's happening

Isn't really happening

But is only, symbolic

And that Max isn't really Max

But is a metaphor for something else

As though he has jumped out of the pages of his own book

She's scared that

Even now

She can see him

Standing like a man, in flesh and blood, in a pinstriped shirt,

But any moment now,

Dressed as he is, as one of the twenty first century new romantics,

He will jump up and introduce himself to her,

“Hi, my name is Maqbool's pain;

Love me,

Eat me out

Hide me now

In the lump in your throat

Beneath your glimmering sunglasses

Despite the twitch in your voice

Sometimes during his embrace

On the traces on your pillow

By writing about old times

With a little help from your friends

Under your bed

Around your dreams

Where no one else can reach

Because I'm yours

And you love me”

Moments after capping off 'I want you (She's so heavy)' with that rousing guitar solo,

And segueing comfortably into the strains of 'Lake of Fire'

For the first time, in just over seven minutes

He looks at her

There can be no mistaking him now