A love, forgotten

“Away on the horizon, Corsica buried itself in the darkness, disappearing slowly in the sea, from which it had risen as if itself to tell the story of the two humble lovers whom its shores had sheltered”
− Guy de Maupassant.


“My first love”, my friend said staring at us with a pinch of sorrow at his eyes, after we pointed to the photograph at his wallet.

It was a clumsy rainy dusk of late July. Monsoon had broken up with a flood of emerald green. Nature was converting to green, everywhere. We three friends were walking on the road, and large drops of water fell from the sky. In the haziness of flourishing water, three friends were on the road, destination less, nostalgic, feeling the touch of a familiar by those drops…. we were wet, but it felt good. The onset of the Monsoon brought back the memories of the happy past as if with a magical wand in a while.

“She was my first love.” He continued.

Branches of the trees beside the road bent themselves in the randomness of rain, in the weight of raindrops; but it seemed as if an old, forgotten though much remembered love has attracted all heavenly powers to itself. The wild bushes showed their colours, with new unknown named flowers and blossoms. And the steep road winded itself to the horizon as a never ending cord, cord of human binding.

“We both were in eighth standard in the same school. Though our minds were immature, we felt affectionate to each other. Often our eyes met, and I would see her smiling with her small, shy lips. Seldom we talked, because when we faced each other, we were so excited, that shyness covered us, and we could hardly speak a word. We would smile often trying to talk with each other…. Some things are there in our lives which bring back our happy past within a while, after years too.”

“Months later, I along with my family while travelling for Ghatsila by train, discovered her family just opposite to our coupe. And that journey to Ghatsila, I will never forget in my life – small stupid things I did, her gentle smile at my joking behavior. I was overwhelming in excitation for being with her. The bond of two hearts was getting stronger… I was discovering love – the only treasure which lasts for our lifetime. ”

“We were eighteen, and were admitted to the same high school. Days when our parents would not come to take us, we returned home together, holding hands. Days when it rained, we continued to walk alone in the street. We became wet, we shivered, but it was the warmth of our relation which gave us comfort. Our minds were opening up to each other. Flowers, songs, colours, seasons, happy surroundings – love was everywhere in the world to my eyes.”

“Days were passing, and my happy memories were becoming more and more. Different were those days, little things we do at some times in our childhood, and we cannot forget them throughout our lives. It reminds me of one day when walking on the road together, I jumped and crossed a pool of mud, and she couldn’t, I helped her holding her shoulder to cross it. Our fingers touched, eyes downed, witness was the sky, the heaven, and us…”


He looked up the sky now, taking some relief from the story. The water drops continued to reflect from his face. A cart passed us with its own rhythmic sound. As it passed us and went on, its sound kept hovering in the air. Darkness had already covered us, and as we eyed the sky, the downpour had started seizing slowly. Earth was already wet, at least our minds were. Our friend had not yet finished the story; still, we knew that they were parted. Maybe any family problem, or anything personal, I thought in my mind. No one spoke a word for a long time. The lone long neem and eucalyptuses beside the road stood still, freshened by the heavenly cascade. The distinct smell of the trees kept the weather fresh, nourished.

“Then how did you part from each other?” My companion asked now.

Silence. Leaves fell from the trees beside the road with their distinct sounds. In the half light of the dusk, sounds kept coming of insects from the bushes. And then from a deep zone of his voice, he uttered those three words: “Time parted us.”


What can I say now, it had something in his voice, or something in his tone, or something in the feeling which were reflected in those three words, which shoved and shivered us for a while. Years have passed, life has moved on, but still, in the darkness of a night now, in the loneliness of dejection, in the silence of a graveyard, I still hear those words, and feel how deep was the impression of the rain on his mind to utter those words.

In the darkness of evening, we became hazy, walking together, silent, thinking about the fate of love.
And that very moment, some words started moulding in my heart…

Away on the horizon, raindrops hid themselves in the sky, disappearing slowly in the evening July clouds, from which they had risen, as if thmselves to tell the story of the two humble lovers, whom once their shadows had sheltered.

-Written in April '08