Memory II
“I
loved Tania when I was ten years of old. I was a shy boy and I think still I am
shy, maybe I like it or it loves me. If I ask me again whether I am shy or not, I might say I am not because
I am not always shy, but I am sometimes. And that makes me what I am. I had any
idea about Tania, but she was beautiful, ‘crazy’ and she was everything what I
wasn’t. I was, actually, an invisible and non- existing creature for Tania
because she hadn’t ever seen me or met me. I was always behind her and
infatuating her beauty and craziness on the way back to home from the school.
It was, perfectly, my first love or romance or crush or infatuation. She lived
lively in my memories only for some few years. She is the pastness of my past.”
Recollecting the buried memories
from the tombs of thoughts, one often falls in the same tombs of thoughts and
struggle to escape from the dungeon of the buried. A love for a girl for the
first time in a boy’s life must have been exciting and wonderful because he
starts to dream and love everything around him. “But I never dreamed Tania”, he
never dreamed Tania ever in his dreams! It’s quite strange for a boy to be a
non-existing creature for the sake of his maiden love, she never knew it and
will never.
“I loved Tinu when I was thirteen years of
old. The first real love of mine, which I love even today because she knew who me
was and the interesting thing of this love story was that once she uttered my
n-a-m-e! The feeling I had was quite divine and undefinable. Actually, Tinu was my first lover (she doesn’t know it
even today!) who uttered my n-a-m-e! She was bossy and intelligent and she is a
doctor now, I like that because I keep a class for my love! She was active in
my memories for three years.”
N-a-m-e, what does it carry? He is
right because there is great feeling when our name is uttered by someone who is
dear to our heart. And I have any idea about it because my name has ever been
uttered by anyone whom I love or dream. I want to dream her but I don’t! So I
stopped thinking of her, but even after I don’t dream her. I envy Job, for he
makes a story and I don’t know whether I have some or not.
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