I was young. May be 14 when I met her.
I don't know if she had the "flawless" face. But I was fascinated with it, because from it fell the most mystifying, gorgeous smile and and shy laughter and precious thoughts I had ever heard. Nor do I know if she had the "perfectly crafted" body, but she was rupturing with elegance as she softly stepped towards me, with complete honesty, care, and affection. At that moment, all that I had thought I had known for certain about myself and the world was doubtful, because I had never witnessed this, as much as it had been around me. We became friends.
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I was not just another crazy teenager.
Though I was a self acclaimed procrastinator but still I was a know-it-all, certain that I had most of the answers I needed. Who doesn't, at that age? But I knew something the others didn't--I was right about everything. At least, I convinced myself of that so well, so deeply, that I could make myself believe anything. I was very carefree but still deep inside I knew my responsibilities.
I had to; I was the eldest son, the first child my mother had pinned all her efforts, hopes, and dreams on. I had a plan to become exceptional and famous. My mother was a house wife and my dad a business man. I had a brother and my loving grandparents. We were a happy family. Everyone used to love me.
My job was to excel in school, get into college, and become someone. And so I built castles in the sand, gleaming, towering edifices, hoping they'd be made real before everything started to fall apart.
And fall apart they did. My mother was suffering from brain tumor and she was irresistibly sick.
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She was a life saver.
She was kind and strong and bold and beautiful. She was a rock of stability, who had all the answers I lacked. At least, I convinced myself of that. Her parents still loved each other. She was close to her elder sister and her mother.
She knew how to listen, and how to soothe. I was a big confusion, a maniac spinning ball of hormones and rage and violent passion, always on the edge of propelling myself apart or collapsing inwards and disappearing entirely before I became a star, and yet in her orbit, things seemed calm. Things worked. I liked being with her.
But all the fury that would have exploded outwards turned inwards, instead. Compressing pressures would build up, precipitating vortex of self-hate that would burn for days. Every time, she'd bring me back from the verge of going nova, entangling our orbits further around a common center of mass, both of us realizing something was deeply wrong, but neither of us knowing how to escape.
This went on for two years when my mother was terribly sick and only she was to my rescue. When everyone left, only she was there with me holding my hands. I learned smiling because of her. Yes my mother lost the battle with life but even then she never left me. She cooked for me, took intense care. She knew how broken I was. She gave me my life back and made me love people around.
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I didn't see before how her lips quivered when they were nervous. I didn't see before how her eyes fled constantly between immoral sorrow and complete love, in mere moments. I didn't see how she ran away from vanishing worldly kingdoms into ruins of heaven, her soul now embedded in every hallway of my thoughts. And I couldn't have ever known how trusting and nurturing and kind her hugs were. She was so truthful from heart and her concern and care for me was so pure. I learned from her how to take care of someone and be by side always.
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Circumstances and destiny were not in our favour.
When she ended it, finally, setting herself free from the co-dependency we'd found ourselves in, I first went into a tailspin. I didn't know who I was; I'd always defined myself in relation to her. I'd never looked too deeply into the corners of my psyche, convinced that I'd never need to, that they could be safely sealed away because the plan was to marry her, get a good job that would pay lots of money and then have 2 children, and raise them happily everafter. I wanted to travel the whole world with her. I didn't have to know myself, not really, because I already knew.
But that plan went away; those new castles in the sand were swept away by the tide, and I had no life saver this time. I had to learn how to swim. It took a while, and it wasn't graceful at all, and I'm still not that good at it, but now? Now I know.
I learned the right lessons, and the wrong lessons. I learned never to throw everything away just to try to fit into someone else's life. I learned that a relationship should be about building new and building up, not trying to keep things as they are. I learned to always leave first.
Though the love was immature, it was pure.
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“Something about first love defies duplication. Before it, your heart is blank. Unwritten. After, the walls are left inscribed and graffiti ed. When it ends, no amount of scrubbing will purge the scrawled oaths and sketched images, but sooner or later, you find that there’s space for someone else, between the words and in the margins.”
- Tammara Webber
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I was young. May be 14 when I met her.
I was too much busy with playing games and games and games, never good at making friends, hardly used to talk to girls and now that everything was changing, I found it even harder. She changed my perspective of life. Taught me real friendship and gave answers to my question which no one could.
I found myself thrown into a strange new world, filled with her confusion and terror in my mind and her imagination and thoughts in my heart. Nothing made any sense anymore.
Never knew when I started liking her.
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I was not just another crazy teenager.
I was an idiot who believed he's smart. A drop in an ocean but an ocean if compared to a drop. A guy whose brain was lost in transit, but dreamed to change the world one day. I used to sleep a lot. I was a silent observer, over thinker and was eternally lost in the labyrinth called life. I was very much concerned about my mother's illness and I used to cry in bathroom while taking shower.
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She was a life saver.
This isn't to say that she knew what she was doing, either. Everything I was going through, she was too; I remember her relationship with her mom getting strained at times, as most do, between daughters and mothers. She had to suffer every time because of mistakes of her elder sister. But still she loved them no matter what.
But it was nice to be with her listening to her problems too. It was nice to have a dance partner; someone with whom we could learn the steps. It was even better to have them be a friend, one that could be trusted, one that could be relied upon, to have faith in. We found a safe place to cocoon ourselves, to protect each other and to grow. Together, away from everyone else, we saw the evening sunset in the crisp spring at Belleview, felt the breeze of mighty Brahmaputra in summer, walked hand in hand in Digha beach, and the morning sunrise from her favorite kamakhya top. It was powerful to be there to support, and be supported.
Without her, I'd've never read Evermore, or Ruthless or The Forbidden Rose. Without her, I'd've never learned how to sing as if no one is around. Without her, I'd've never known just how much I could give freely, happily, for no reason other than love.
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Circumstances and destiny were not in our favour.
By the time it ended, it was clear we can never forget each other. Though she loved me more than anything but her parents always come first. Circumstances betrayed both of us. I still curse her elder sister for this but could not say her anything.
Ultimately we had to separate; while we'd cherished our time together, while we'd romanticized the stories of high school sweethearts against the world until the very end, we both wanted very different yet the same things.
Sometimes we can't hold onto things even if we want to, if you love her, let her go.I learned that love meant that there is no jealousy when they find what they're looking for, just happiness, whether it involves you or not. I learned that every golden age has to come to an end, but that it's not necessarily a tragedy or a failing. I learned that all of us eventually have to put things in the past fully behind us.
Some of those lessons came later.
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I remember her, I miss her because of the good. She had left a imprint on my life. I remember being able to see myself through her eyes as someone with value, even if those flashes of truth were often lost at the time. I remember the late night conversations, the discussions, and sometimes disagreements, all of which forced me to learn more, to read more, to become a better person. I remember her because she taught me that love--true, honest-to-god love--is both stunningly easy, and impossibly hard. I cannot share what I feel for her with anyone. People may not like it. So this is my only way of escaping the thoughts.
