Walking down the long meandering road of life many a time you arrive at such junctures when you feel that this is where you belong and this is what you want the rest of your life to be. Needless to say such momentary thoughts which sometimes are quite strong often turn out to be driven more by sudden emotional surges rather than substance. Nevertheless since every single part of the journey that’s called life is special such moments are to be cherished and thus without being an exception to the rule I shall narrate excerpts from my own journey.
The first instance was very early in life when I fell in love for the first time. I was very young and there was a girl in my class who I thought was the most beautiful thing that God almighty could have created. As I sat in the class my whole energy would go in trying to look at her as long as possible without being detected by friends, the teacher and especially other girls. Though each factor mentioned above could create huge problems the last factor that is the ‘other girls’ had absolutely catastrophic capabilities as far as my germinating love story was concerned.
And many had learnt it the hard way. S my friend who was also my brother- in-arms in the matter of having lost his heart had been targeted with surgical strikes of loud comments and unending teasing sessions aimed with clinical precision so much so that the girl in question had done the ultimate unthinkable. She had bought a dreaded piece of a small thread like weapon which also went by the name of ‘Rakhi’ in our circles in the middle of September and in full view of the whole class tied it to the wrist of S thus marking indelibly the end of any possibility of a relationship.
I still remember the horror in the eyes of S as he stood before the whole class ready to be slaughtered, and the pain with which he maintained a smile in his face. That evening I had promised myself that death would be better than such dishonour. I also remember the pleasure in the eyes of that amoebic formation called the ‘other girls’ as they devoured the moment in suppressed giggles and audible remarks. Its another story that exactly a couple of months later the torturous ritual repeated itself and this time it was I who stood there like a frog trapped in a glass bottle. But the good thing is that somehow dishonour got the better of death and I survived.
Nevertheless to get back to the actual point those days I just hoped that somehow the flow of time should stop so that I could keep looking at her on and on and on. Sitting at the last but one bench and comfortably covered by N who was much taller than me I felt immensely fortunate that God gave me the opportunity to look at her as much as I wanted even though all I could manage most of the times was her hair and her starched white shirt. Somehow that was the most pleasurable thing in the world for me at that time...the incurable romantic that I was. Every morning I waited with bated breath for the time when she would get down from the bus and walk to the class touching the flowers by the gate. I made it a point to touch those very flowers just after that. I felt my life was complete and I could live on and on like that. I t was another matter that in a couple of months my blissful world would be shattered and I would be martyred in full view.
(To be continued...)
{ Imported from my blog 'The last leaf on the autumn tree' which I cannot operate anymore as I have comfortably digested the login id and password without a trace :( }
The first instance was very early in life when I fell in love for the first time. I was very young and there was a girl in my class who I thought was the most beautiful thing that God almighty could have created. As I sat in the class my whole energy would go in trying to look at her as long as possible without being detected by friends, the teacher and especially other girls. Though each factor mentioned above could create huge problems the last factor that is the ‘other girls’ had absolutely catastrophic capabilities as far as my germinating love story was concerned.
And many had learnt it the hard way. S my friend who was also my brother- in-arms in the matter of having lost his heart had been targeted with surgical strikes of loud comments and unending teasing sessions aimed with clinical precision so much so that the girl in question had done the ultimate unthinkable. She had bought a dreaded piece of a small thread like weapon which also went by the name of ‘Rakhi’ in our circles in the middle of September and in full view of the whole class tied it to the wrist of S thus marking indelibly the end of any possibility of a relationship.
I still remember the horror in the eyes of S as he stood before the whole class ready to be slaughtered, and the pain with which he maintained a smile in his face. That evening I had promised myself that death would be better than such dishonour. I also remember the pleasure in the eyes of that amoebic formation called the ‘other girls’ as they devoured the moment in suppressed giggles and audible remarks. Its another story that exactly a couple of months later the torturous ritual repeated itself and this time it was I who stood there like a frog trapped in a glass bottle. But the good thing is that somehow dishonour got the better of death and I survived.
Nevertheless to get back to the actual point those days I just hoped that somehow the flow of time should stop so that I could keep looking at her on and on and on. Sitting at the last but one bench and comfortably covered by N who was much taller than me I felt immensely fortunate that God gave me the opportunity to look at her as much as I wanted even though all I could manage most of the times was her hair and her starched white shirt. Somehow that was the most pleasurable thing in the world for me at that time...the incurable romantic that I was. Every morning I waited with bated breath for the time when she would get down from the bus and walk to the class touching the flowers by the gate. I made it a point to touch those very flowers just after that. I felt my life was complete and I could live on and on like that. I t was another matter that in a couple of months my blissful world would be shattered and I would be martyred in full view.
(To be continued...)
{ Imported from my blog 'The last leaf on the autumn tree' which I cannot operate anymore as I have comfortably digested the login id and password without a trace :( }
1 comment:
..waitn 4 its sequel..n if u hv some prequel to it..post it 2..
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