Repentant

Note: This post is very personal and one close to my heart, so if you aren’t interested in reading anything emotional, please skip this post.

This tag reminded me of my first kiss, but more importantly, of a time when I was happy. Truly happy. I’ve never regained that happiness since I lost her. It all happened so quickly that it almost seems unreal now. Yet, every second, every moment we spent together is etched in my memory like an engraving. The first time I saw her was on the streets of my campus. The moment I saw her calm, serene face, poised on an exquisitely slender body, I fell in love. I was so enchanted by her beauty that it was a while before I noticed she was actually sticking close to another man. With burning jealousy I looked to see who the lucky man was. I was heartbroken to see it was a friend I knew very well. He was much elder to me. She, on the other hand, looked younger to me. So he appeared old enough to be her father and I thought it a strange relationship. I knew he had a mature head, and I greatly respected him for that. I knew his love for her would be true, so I cursed my luck that the one time I truly fell in love, things had to turn out this way. I decided to be mature about it and took reign of my jealousy. I’d see her often after that, whenever I met my friend. I thought that strange because when I asked him about her, he said they had been together for a while now. Why was she suddenly showing up whenever I met him? Did it mean she was interested in me too? I stopped myself from continuing that train of thought. I knew that the most painful love is the unreciprocated kind, so I convinced myself that she had merely started spending more time with him, which increased the likelihood of my seeing her. I tried to grow detached, and every time I’d see her come with him, I would give her a pleasant smile, and then start conversation with him as if she wasn’t there, or she really didn’t matter. She seemed to be just fine with that, and she’d stick close to him, but stare at me incessantly during the conversation, and it would have my heart thumping, in spite of my efforts. It was frustrating, this strange behaviour of hers. It also affected the flow of conversation with my friend, so I decided I’d avoid meeting him for a bit, which meant I’d avoid her too. I hoped that would help me forget her, and these feelings for her. After all, it isn’t like she’s the only one of her kind out there I said to myself. I knew many who were more beautiful. Some of them were so beautiful, with their skin so soft, you’d think they’d melt if you touched them. At first, I simply tried to think of them, and distract myself. But her image kept coming back. Then I started spending more time with them, in the hope that at least when I’m physically with them, my mind wouldn’t get carried away. Somehow, that calm and composed face of hers kept nagging me, and it only estranged my relationship with the others. So I became very reclusive and kept to myself mostly. Nothing helped, and I knew I was incurably in love, but I used the pain as a drug, and when I wasn’t doing research, I’d spend the time thinking about her, and the lovely time we’d have together if she were mine.

Then, one fine morning, as I walked into my lab, I found her there. All alone. I was speechless. From her look I could tell it meant only one thing. I lost all restraint at that moment, ran upto her and smothered her with kisses. She didn’t reciprocate, but she didn’t refuse, and that’s all I cared for the moment, because I knew her reserved ways. That night, she came home with me, and it is the most unforgettable night of my life. From that day on, she became mine, and life was heaven. Every morning, I’d wake up with her head resting affectionately on my heart. We’d spend all day together, and her presence, rather than being a distraction, only helped me in my work. I managed to write-up a pending project report, that would otherwise have taken me two weeks, in just two days. Such were the miracles she brought into my life. I was overjoyed and I worked long hours in her comforting presence. Every now and then, I’d be reminded of my friend and I’d wonder what she told him, if she told him anything at all. A pang of guilt would flit through me, and then I’d be happy again.

I was having a perfect life, and I should’ve known that it cannot last. She began to lose weight. At first slowly. But when she started staying up with me when I worked long hours it became more severe. I was stupidly oblivious to all this in my state of bliss. Until, one day, suddenly, she choked, and fell terribly ill. One look at her emaciated body and I knew what was wrong. But I was afraid to tell her. That evening I went to the store and bought the medication that was needed to rejuvenate her. She took the medication and looked cheerful again. I knew, however, that her illness was terminal, and I shed a silent tear. I guess Mother Nature envied this girl’s sublime perfection. I was prepared to live with this. I felt it was all worth it, and to see her innocently rejuvenated by the medication every time she fell ill, brought a sad smile to my face. I didn’t want things to change. But, perhaps, I shouldn’t have wished that, knowing what luck I have when I wish for things.

It was a Saturday morning. The weather was just the way I like it, with the sun hidden behind the clouds, the diffused light giving a pleasant brightness to everything, and a gentle breeze blowing. I wished to take her out and so we set off on my bike. At the first traffic junction, as I made a turn, a hasty car took a sharp swerving left turn. I tried to dodge him and in the process lost balance. We both crashed on to the road. I had my helmet on so I recovered quickly. She had only her pretty cap. I’d told myself several times that I should buy her a helmet, but I didn’t, partly intentionally. She looked beautiful as she was. But in that cap, she looked like an angel. It was almost as if the cap completed her, and it gave me a strange thrill to see her with the cap on. I can’t forgive myself ever for this folly. She was a little hurt, and still lying on the road. Before I could turn around and help her, a bus sped past, and ran over her, mutilating her body. The cap was still on her head. I turn around in agony, and cried. I cried like there would be no tomorrow. I wished that bus had run over me instead, and I sobbed and sobbed relentlessly. The people around thought I must've gone mad. But I didn’t care. I cried till my eyes hurt.

Its two years since that day, and I still haven’t forgotten her, or forgiven myself.

After all, I can always find another one like her, but nothing can give the happiness of having stolen your best friend’s Mont Blanc

P.S: Now please re-read the article with a pen in mind :D