It had been love at first sight for me. He looked like a Greek God, danced, sang, fought a hundred able-bodied men single handedly and even reincarnated to save his dying mother. I was toast. My feeble teenage heart never recovered from the onslaught of the images that the three-hour movie threw on me. He became my Hero, the ultimate one.

Years passed, my infatuation only saw a growing trend, as did his career graph. Wherever he went, my Hero managed to elicit screaming hysterics from his female fans.

Then came that day, when a blogging contest was announced as part of the promo of his new movie. I, who had never written a story in my life, wrote a 3000 word story that eulogized my devotion, my craze, towards my Hero. The result was announced after many delays, by then I had finished biting off even my toenails, and I was the winner. I screamed and jumped around in my office like a banshee who had found her prey. I announced to my colleagues at the end of my performance that I had won a candle light dinner date with my Hero.  All of them immediately became my enemies. Jealousy is a green-eyed monster you see…

“Your Hero will run for cover when he sees you,” bit off Miss Pig Snout while I passed her desk on my way to the washroom. I glared at her wishing her to oblivion but the washroom room mirror echoed the dialogues of Miss Pig Snout.

When my date looked like a chandelier, bright and shining in the palace of a French king, would he even look at a fused bulb like me?

I grabbed my blackberry, searched for makeover experts, and found one at a nearby beauty salon. After office, I headed there to hire their services. The eyes of their stylist popped open wide and I understood that she was busy planning her next dream- exotic-vacation that I would be funding. She lectured me about my hair that resembled discarded coir, my bushy eyebrows and my pathetic dressing style.  She helped me pick the best possible dinner outfit for the occasion by shedding a few thousand bucks from my credit card at her trendy boutique next door.

I sweated like a pig in the gym to perfect my curves and followed a prescribed diet regimen during the entire week to keep glowing. If I had known this before, I would have ended up as Miss India. Better now, than never!

On the day of the date, the experts at the salon worked on me like there is no tomorrow and I realized my purse was going to be much much lighter. But when they finished, I stared at the diva looking back at me from the mirror and smirked. 

 Miss Pig Snout…wait till you see me!!

At the five-star hotel where the dinner was to be held, I awaited the arrival of my hero fully aware of the threatening emails my brain was sending to my heart asking to quit acting like mush. The event organizers gave me company and treated me to drinks while we waited for our Hero patiently. Minutes turned to hours and then he arrived two hours late owing to a delayed flight.

Man, he looked divine, delicious and outright sexy. No wonder he was called the Greek God of Indian Cinema. I found myself super cool. I suspect that I owed it to the drinks I had been pouring down my throat.

“I am sorry I kept you waiting,” said the Greek God, shaking my hands and I tingled right from my head to toes as though I was being electrocuted. I looked into the mirror on the wall stealthily to check whether my carefully styled hair had become dreadlocks owing to the shock. Nothing, everything was perfect. As perfect as perfect can get.

“Oh, don’t be. I rather like waiting,” I said sweetly, regaining my composure.

“You should be an actress, you look lovely,” he said and I beamed.

“I am, I mean in real life. I do act as if I am Miss cool while giving a presentation, even if I am shivering inside like a mouse trapped in front of ten cats. I also manage to smile at my boss while secretly contemplating to strangle him," I said, slightly wondering at my loose tongue.

His booming laughter filled the room. I patted myself on my back mentally. Jeez, You made him laugh !!!

I gazed at him and his grey-green eyes reminded me of the ocean. I was slowly drifting off into a daydream when the starters arrived. The waiters served fresh seasonal fruits and fried items. Though the fries were tempting, I picked a piece of white fruit ignoring all the colourful variety. I realized my mistake the moment I chewed. Sugar cane! How will I spit out the fibrous part? Gross... I wished I could murder the chef.

I chewed slowly and answered the questions put by my hero when an idea struck. I asked him to excuse me, pulled out a tissue, faked a rather impressive sneeze, spat out the fibrous part of the disgusted fruit onto the tissue, and discarded it elegantly.

Minutes later I watched my Hero do the same...minus the sneeze!!

The rest of the dinner passed peacefully and I spent an hour with my Hero. When it was time to say goodbye, I gifted him his portrait on which I had worked hours together. I had never agonized over the result of any portrait I had created as I had done over this one. Every stroke that went wrong might endanger my chances of getting into his good books. He took one look at the portrait, came near me and kissed my cheeks. As though that was not enough, he pulled me into a hug. I felt his warmth, breathed in his cologne and did what I had never done in my entire adult life. I FAINTED! I fainted right there in his arms.

When I opened my eyes later in response to a rather harsh sprinkle of water, my Hero was long gone and I was lying on a couch, inside a room that I presumed to be the manager’s office. The event organizers sighed in relief when at last I climbed into the Taxi they had arranged for me. They had given me an envelope, which they said had an autographed photo of my Hero. I didn’t even open it, I was heartbroken. I had lost the only chance to impress my Hero.

I let myself into my apartment and then slumped onto the living room sofa. Tears began flowing like the Niagara Falls and I bawled like a baby. As though irritated by the ruckus I was creating, my mobile began to ring. I ignored it as it was from an unknown number.

I stood in front of my dressing room mirror and chastised myself for acting like a drama queen. I had acted exactly like any other ordinary fan of his. How dare I waste the one chance God had given me?

After an hour of reprimanding myself, I returned to find my mobile blinking continuously with notifications. Twitter notifications, Facebook notifications, missed calls and private messages. I didn’t have the courage to check any of them. Someone must have posted my fainting stunt on twitter or Facebook. How could I face Miss Pig Snout now? My mobile vibrated with a call from the same unknown number and I let it die a silent death.

After agonizing whether to open it or not for minutes, I opened the envelope given by the organizer. It was a close up photo of my hero. I forgot everything, the moment my eyes fell on it. I caressed it as though it was a real person. Then I remembered how I had made a fool of myself and my self–hatred returned in full force. He had autographed it in his initials. I found a message scribbled on the back.

“Thank you for being the most amazing dinner date ever.” That was the message and goose bumps started appearing randomly. He had written down his number below the message. With a goofy smile, I entered the number on my phone and saved it as ‘My Hero.’

Then I scrolled my call list to find who all had tried calling me. People from my office were the callers. Even Miss Pig Snout had called. To my surprise, among the list was his name.

Trembling, I checked the notifications on twitter. My hero had posted a photo of us together before the dinner with a caption ‘With my amazing dinner date,’ mentioning my twitter id.  A thousand had retweeted it, but his female fans had started sending me hate tweets. Every feature of my face was being analyzed and compared to various vegetables and bugs. Instead of being worried, I was delighted.

I had become an internet celebrity overnight. Moreover, my hero had tried calling me twice. What else did I need?

My phone began to sing again and the screen said ‘My Hero’ calling.

Wishing all my haters, good-bye and God bless, I clicked on the answer button on my phone. All was well after all.