Skip to main content

Memory II

Image
By

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.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Utopia in Heaven

By
Fractions of ambivalence intervened with facts confuse me. What sort of memory should I resort to? What sort of woods should I head to? Moreover, what sort of thought I should entertain? serenity compromised with the rage still ravish me, for the flight unto the firmament where the manipulated thoughts have placed both the hell and heaven, though both of them begin with 'H', I see two parallel lines running towards uncertainty. However, somewhere in between I also see a line connecting them! Yeah, both Hell and Heaven are connected- ('H' with a '-'). I dream of a thought where both hell and heaven live in harmony and peace. What a beautiful thing to remember! Both constructive Satan and God share their love, thoughts, and goodwill in peace and co-operation! I think it’s happening right there in my crazy thoughts. off topic - What is love? Love is beyond definition and it transcends all barriers and definition. Once a question was asked to me on l...
2 comments
Read more

Yellow Butterflies

By
She had just celebrated her hundredth birthday. A hundred years. The number fascinated me more than the life it contained. I looked at her and thought, What a blessing. Imagine living for a century. At that age, I still measured life in quantity. I had not yet learned that years accumulate differently from meaning. She rarely spoke. The world had slowly withdrawn from her senses. Food no longer delighted her. Conversations dissolved before reaching her. The pleasures that once animated her existence had become distant rumours from another life. She had possessed almost everything one could desire—a loving husband, a beautiful home, security, comfort, longevity. By every conventional measure, she had won. Yet old age is a peculiar thief. It does not steal all at once. It removes things patiently, one by one, until only a few fragments remain. For Anne, only three things survived the wreckage. Her husband. Her home. And the longing to return. Every day she asked the same questions. ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Ruth: The Epilogue

By
"But..."  I was being dragged by the ebb of time into the abyss. On the shores, beneath the mountains, blue waters lulled my feet. I was looking at the completion of my life as she was calling me to join the tides.  The gravity of the past pulled me into the quantum architecture of multiple dimensions of life. I fell into the realms where I tricked my past to stay engaged. My present is an analogy of my past. The energy I created, then, in the quantum architecture transformed into an autonomous being of intelligence. I was unable to stop it from growing into a being. They said, "Quantum corresponds to each other and can transfer information to each other, no matter of space or time." Her lips quivered, and her feelings clouded her mind as she appeared like a glitch in time. Her words echoed through the ages, " We should remain ignorant of each other like we used to be in the past. I will pretend that I never knew you." P.S: Spenser read from his book, ...
Post a Comment
Read more