ABOUT THE POEM: "Fifty Mississippis: The Morning Hug" is a pivotal entry in the ongoing Ronie Dinosaur serial poetry project, an anonymous online chronicle (roniedinosaur.com, active since mid-2010s, exceeding 90 chapters by 2026) that fuses confessional memoir with philosophical verse. The "Ronie Dinosaur" persona—a resilient, prehistoric force symbolizing unyielding character amid alienation—recurs as a mythic self-portrait of the author navigating loneliness, rejection, and ethical restraint through raw, lived experiences. This chapter captures a prolonged college hug timed in "Mississippis" (seconds), building from surprise embrace to complete surrender, interrupted by approaching friends. It contrasts the speaker's popularity ("most popular guy that college ever had," with visitors from Delhi University) against private vulnerability and batch separation (detained, repeating semester). The narrative explores mutual yet unspoken closeness: her initiative in hugging, his gentle response and later realization of her obedience in dark, hidden college spots (basement, roof). Rejection follows when he proposes—she cites prior proposals, says "no"—yet he frames it as principled (seeking permission, non-lustful closeness) rather than pity. Thematically, it ties to series motifs: restraint as gentleness (echoing "The Birthday Cake"'s uneaten sweetness), dignity in unclaimed intimacy, and "never to return" as proud exit. The Mississippi device innovates timing for suspense, mirroring internal countdown from curiosity to surrender. Philosophically, it probes consent (her grip, his permission-seeking), power dynamics (her obedience, his popularity), and ethical silence (not naming desire to avoid collapse). In 2026's digital confessional landscape, it resonates with "male loneliness" narratives and quiet romance tales, blending tenderness with stoic withdrawal. Unique in its timed structure and prehistoric persona, it stands apart from typical campus poetry, offering mythic depth to everyday heartbreak.Title – Fifty Mississippis, The Morning Hug
I came and saw you in the morning,
and without a word, I was in your arms-
without me knowing or asking, “How are you?”
Your arms were around me.
I thought maybe it was just a gesture,
nothing more, nothing less.
After five Mississippis, I began to think-why?
Maybe she will tell me soon.
After ten, she was really getting emotional;
maybe someone had said something,
something had happened.
After fifteen, this was something serious.
After twenty, I surrendered
and put my palm-still in actuality in the air-
between her long hair and her back,
and rested my chin on her right shoulder.
She grabbed me even tighter by now.
That was when I surrendered completely
and told myself: she needs it,
so let it be.
I stood there for her, surrendered.
Past forty-five Mississippis,
we heard footsteps.
We were standing like this in the college corridor-
four lecture rooms around us at 9:30 a.m.,
before lectures were to begin-
and we heard familiar voices of friends coming up
from downstairs.
When you said, “They are coming,” still in the same pose,
I lifted my chin and saw, through the glass at the back of the stairs,
they would step up the landing
and eventually come here.
Yes, they were coming.
Only then did you loosen the grip and let me go.
I didn’t lift my eyes to see you,
and you didn’t keep standing there either.
We moved separate ways-
you to your classroom,
and I went outside.
I was detained; I couldn’t join your classroom in the third semester.
Old friends were seniors now,
and I was repeating the first semester.
I was still Ronie of the college-
the most popular guy that college ever had.
The third most prestigious engineering college of the country.
People came from Delhi University to see this person
and bragged that girls there didn’t even spare them.
If you were there, they couldn’t even guess
what sort of treatment I could have had.
But the reality was,
I was not in her batch anymore.
Think of it whatever you might want to think.
The whole college bowed its head in front of me,
and I didn’t let her down-for me, in front of me,
and for her own self.
She will never remember me,
because she denied being my girlfriend
a few weeks later when I asked.
I was the only one still asking for her permission to touch her-
or, in reality, doing the same thing she was doing while hugging:
never letting me go.
By asking if she would be my girlfriend,
I wanted to be always close to her.
It was not a physical requirement
that would remove its veil and show up as lust.
But that same heart couldn’t just stand there,
asking for pity,
and I left-never to return.
You were the same girl
who would sit in the dark with her friend on one desk,
and when I would say stand up, you would stand,
and when asked to sit, sit even then,
without ever asking a single why.
Then we went to the basement to check up on friends in the college-
as they might be playing pool or table tennis.
We sat there; I suggested it was suffocating here,
let’s go upstairs again to our place in the dark,
where nobody sees us,
only we make fun of the crowd.
We sat again in the same place.
When I saw on your face and in your eyes
a small curve of a smile from south to north,
and the sparkle in your eyes-
that you had all that you wanted,
nothing more, nothing less.
I told you again to stand up.
No, I was not doing it on purpose,
but that day I actually realized
you did whatever I was saying to you.
And we went to the roof for open air.
This was you and me in between those days,
before I asked you the question
to be my girlfriend.
Your words were: three of your friends
had already proposed to you.
I insisted-no, give me a simple yes or no.
And you said no.
