Disclaimer: well it can be called an introduction to the story as well...this story i write has a sole purpose-- to make readers think...it began forming in my mind long time ago...and its easy to write about rejection....and the best part of being an author is every time a girl hurts you...you just get something to write about....having said this i will say that this story is not based on my life or on anyone's life for that matter....but it has been loosely inspired from a friend's life...here i ask for forgiveness if i have not been successful to write down your thoughts....and yes once you read the story you will realize that the girl unknowingly became part of this story...originally i wanted to write Anahita's feelings as well but soon I realized that i was too naive to understand a girl and too intelligent to try and understand a girl....with that i commence the story...
“What is love?
Is it just a perception that we are conditioned to believe since childhood or is there really something that we can call love.”
These articles in newspapers drive you insane. Sometimes they pull out memories from your past that lay dormant in some corner of your head. So the article does the trick and I find myself face to face with the person who I was years ago. Today I will narrate to you a part of my life...a hidden part...that sometimes I ignore...this goes back when 16..a mediocre guy with mediocre life .
Hi! I am Praveen.
Yeah! I have a mediocre life. Unlike others who say that they don’t know how they grew up,I remember everything. I don’t know whether I liked the innocence of childhood that never came without unawareness of the world or the cynicism of adulthood which comes when one become aware of the harsh reality called life.
Like a lot others I have a facade. I use it to dodge the unimportant—people who will never understand me and vice versa. Once it was just an external cloak, but as the years rolled past it merged with my personality. It became so deeply rooted in my character that now sometimes I forget who I am in reality. Don’t get me wrong people like me despite the mask in fact the mask is like coloured petals of flowers whose primary function is is to protect the more vital parts inside but which unintentionally attract the insects. So people get attracted to me or is it really me? See I told you I confuse a lot.
What is reality? Something that has evaded me for long, maybe because I don’t want to understand it. Is this facade my reality or is it just an external prop to mask a pathetic looser that I am. See I am shameful enough to confess it as well. But it was always not so. I too had a spark, I too wanted to excel but that spark could not withstand the corruption of time. It was snuffed of by vicissitudes of fate and all I did was stare helplessly at the mutilated face of reality.
Now having given you a glimpse of my dark side, I will now proceed to add insult to injury. No I am yet to smoke marijuana; but I love a girl and that is more or less like smoking. You know that smoke and unfulfilled love both burn your insides but you can’t give up on either. Truly speaking I don’t know what love is; I just use it because it is easier to type on my keyboard and it makes me sound sober (Huh! I will never get past of my pretentions). You can call it lust, infatuation or any freaking word that comes to your mind, I don’t really care (that is the only lesson that I have learnt in my not so well lived life.)
I lose my focus again. I just strayed away from the description of girl who I love. Her name is Anahita. The first time I heard the name was in seventh grade when my parasitic, nourishment sucking friends wanted notes for English lectures. I ignored the name; thought she was another brick in the wall called life. I never saw her after that, not until 11th grade. Now let me be very clear in her description. She is an average looking girl considering pimples on my face and some extra kilos around my waist; you didn’t expect her to be a cheerleader. Did you? Now a warning don’t just go by her looks. She has an excellent way of cerebration. From what I have gathered from the time I have spent with her, she loves analysing her thoughts. When I compare and do a list of rights and wrongs I think she has more wrongs than rights. But I guess it’s best to leave rights and wrongs to one’s perspective. See I digress again. Ok now let me tell you how I first realized that it was love. She always had an affinity for disobedience that acts as a precursor for the wrongs that one commits. So in the middle of our English lecture she was listening to her iPod when the teacher found out and confiscated it. After the class she was sitting alone in a dark corner sobbing silently. I just passed by her mentally simpering at the girl who was bearing consequences of her disobedience; but as soon as I stepped in light my heart skipped a beat. It felt as if someone had just sucked the air out my lungs. That transformation from darkness to light in the physical world could also be predicted as the herald of new dawn of my life. A new awareness that I cared for someone (and I was unaware of it). That the only lesson that I learnt from my not so well lived life did not apply for one person.
I have a short lived memory. The events that occur dissipate soon into the unknown and unsearched depths of my mind. But memories of Anahita are exceptions. Somehow I remember every incident related to her. The straw like memories seem to be bundled together by fibre of love into something that is difficult to forget or ignore. I clearly remember the first time we talked was on science project. I remember the cheerful voice and the empty eyes that betrayed the happy face. Perhaps the reason I bonded with her so well was that both of us needed a friend who could accept us with our insanities. I said that I bonded with her but I still don’t make a claim that I knew her completely. Till now some of her thoughts remain inexplicable for me. The above chain of thoughts links invariably to the memories of our first walk.
Those were the first few mornings of monsoon. Anahita and I were taking a walk alongside the railway tracks. The sun was yet to rise and the moon was fading; silently abdicating its power to sun. One could still see a few stars into the sky but they were no longer twinkling; the only celestial witness to this transfer of responsibility. In nearby fields a silent breeze was trying to gain voice by rustling the paddy. Anahita was walking few steps ahead when in a bid to start conversation I asked, “What do you think of life?”
The earthworms were digging the moist soil near the tracks.
“I don’t know.” She said.
“There must be something that you want to say about life.” I prodded.
The earthworms had started digging deeper in the fresh soil.
“In life people will always remain who they are. They will never be who you want them to be.”
It was then that I realized that this was the best way to understand people’s gratuitous actions. In the lonely corner of the sky the first rays of troglodyte sun had appeared bringing light into my life along with the realization that I was in love. I loved her because she made me a better man. You can skip “better” as without her I was hardly a man acceptable by social standards.
There is an innate craziness in love. Love sometimes defines the shift of perceptions and sometimes it makes us do things that otherwise would have been shunned by us. One such incident comes to my mind when I try to judge the cogency of the above claim in my life.
It was a few minutes into the last lecture of the day when I heard Anahita ask for notes of the last lecture for she had not attended it. None of her friends (including me) had it. We had physics quiz the next day and she had no hope of getting the notes. It was raining outside (winter rains in Dun are mundane).
On 25th December a guy who thought himself to be too selfish to help anyone walked to one of his friend’s house, collected the notes, posted them in Anahita’s mailbox and then texted her,” Merry Christmas! Check your mailbox.”
When she texted back, “Thanks but you are madJ” , he got his Christmas present.
The worst nightmare of a person in love is hearing that the person you love is in love with someone else. It feels like your insides have crumpled and someone has knocked the air out of your lungs. The world suddenly loses meaning. Your inside melts and the vacuum it creates tries to swallow your core.
Yeh! You guessed it right. It happened with me. I remember the evening when she called me up. She wanted to take an evening walk with me; by now our evening walks had become a regular fashion.
The evening was quite unlike other times, when one could see people jogging around or practicing fancy laughter sessions or occasional couple making out. Crimson sunrays vivisected the sky giving it appearance of Hindu mythological gods. A group of parakeets was returning to its nests and a hoard of dogs was out on an evening stroll.
Anahita met me outside the park. An exchange of pleasantries; and she started talking. Today there was something unusual about her; she was extra chirpy. I don’t know if it’s unusual but every time she smiles and a small dimple appear on her cheeks I seem to fall in love with her. It’s impossible to describe what I feel, however I will try to bring you closest to the feelings. For me the world looses existence, the only thing that exists is her. The eyes entrance and the touch does wonders. It feels like of all things you want or ever wanted in your life, you want her the most. The air becomes less important for she becomes your breath—the only singularity that your soul is prepared to accept for survival.
Still I feel this description is not close to what I feel but I tried doing justice to it. So I was lost in her smiles when she asked,
“Are you even listening to what I say?”
“Err what? Oh yes of course I am”
“Ok.” She became quite.
“Hey! Sorry I was preoccupied with some thoughts, really sorry. Now c’mon forgive me.”
“Ok” and she started talking again.
I didn’t know that sometimes the evening could be so loaded with emotions that the entire happiness of your life finds it difficult to stand in face of those emotions. I was about to experience all this. Yes I remember the moment, her eyes that for once betrayed her loneliness; she was happy. And then as if in a slow motion she said that she was in love and of course it was not me; the fate doesn’t hold me this dear. There were tears but quickly wiped away—I couldn’t confess that I loved her and moreover she was happier. It seemed like someone had slapped to wake me up to harsh reality of life. That day I promised myself that I would never tell her about my love and I never did.
It’s been 45years since that incident. Anahita got married to the guy she loved.
What about me? Even I dated a few girls (my ego was hurt). I got married twice and divorced as well. Men like me; I guess are better off without marriage. But frankly speaking the divorce were my fault, I kept searching in them a part of Anahita that I could never find it. Two divorces and many dates later I realize I should have accepted them as they are or I should never have gotten closer to them. But I guess when you are 68 you have had enough time to bury the guilt. Today as I sit in the balcony sipping coffee, this 45 years old memory finds its way from the layers of dirt covered sub consciousness to the forefront of my mind. After such a long time one doesn’t expect(I didn’t say wish) the girl you once loved to be by your side but I find solace in the fact that in some place far away from here, untouched by despair that one faces due to unfulfilled love, she must be happy.
