Saturday, June 9, 2012


I still remember you being the first one I noticed when we moved to Kathmandu. You and me were just child then. We didn't have to go to school and with our parents away the whole afternoon we had enough time together. With the city bustling, all colorful, full of neon lights all you said beautiful were mere sounds that the wind bell hung on your ceiling would produce. Unlike, me you never were fond of watching TV. That made me like you simply because you were different from me and most of my friends. When my dad would scold me for watching more of TV, and shut down my desktop when I reached last level of a video game, I would consol myself for being close to you. I liked being like you even if it was forced upon me.
Time passed soon. Now we had to go to a school. I would pray to God so that we were admitted in the same school. Well you brought different uniform days before school started, and I knew God shattered my dream that day. You know I seldom cry in public, I didn't do it then too. But I cried in my bed. Luckily, I managed my mom not to know of it. I didn't want her to feel sad for my misery. Still, I woke up the next morning, with a frown in my face. Unusual twitches in my face immediately brought attention out of my grey haired Grandma. She would, as usual, ask me why? I could not help answering. I said I wanted to go to the same school as you did. And, my Grandma said the school of yours was for special ones. I need not go there because I was already special from the very beginning. Well, I wanted to be just like you, not special than you. I said the same to my Grandma, but she said life would be pathetic being like you. That might have made me grow to hate you, but instead I grew loving you more.

I was always a curious fellow; right from the beginning. So, I would rush everyday to you to look at what you studied that day. Your books were ridiculous. They didn't have the colorful pictures that ours had. I wanted you to see my books, but you would not dare to. I felt how could you be like that. Well, I didn't think much of it then. Then, I would say you were the most beautiful girl I ever saw. You would ask me to describe how you looked. I used to say, you had beautifully curled up thick-black hair, big forehead, beautiful brown eyes, and your lips were more than pretty when you smiled. You would blush and your face would turn red and I would often, to redden you further, ask you to do the same about me. You used to say, I smelt good, my skin felt soft, my hair though thorny were good enough to rub the cheek with, and particularly you were fond of my voice. At that moment, I would feel ashamed that I couldn't define you the way you did me.

Slowly, we promoted our respective classes just like how we lifted ourselves in the steps close to Pashupati. I always cherish those moments, where I would hold your hand and took you to those green benches facing the temple, in the evening. I came there because I like seeing the temple ablaze in evening light produced by dying sun coupled with blazing yellow electric bulbs. You said you loved to listen to the evening prayers and the birds chirp faintly. Among these days, there would come February 14. I always waited for that day, to let you know that I loved you no matter what. I still remember the first time I felt like celebrating that day with you, I brought you a bouquet of red roses out of my winter's saving. When you inhaled the smell of it; my breathing halted and my heart pounded. Then you said, to bring Jasmines the next time since you could hold it easily without minding the thorns. Moreover, I know your love for that flower and still feel enthralled remembering those days when you used to tell me I smelt like Jasmine. And the next year, when I brought jasmines to you, I never saw you that happy before. You thanked me for remembering your choices. Well, you must have known by then that it was the only thing I cared of. We were in each other’s arm that day. We felt like being at top of the world. That heavenly moment was perfect to bring us more closer. I drew your chin towards me while you closed your eye lids. I gradually came towards you, and just the moment I saw your lips part to make path for mine's our noses collided. We smiled at our inexperience, and you looked down shying. Well, we corrected ourselves just few seconds after and shared our first kiss. So pleasant, soothing was the feeling that I can still remember every fragment of it. It made me think what would have happened if I have never met you.

When I graduated from college, the first thing I thought of was marrying you. I knew you were the one I wanted to be with all my life. I said it to my parents. They would deny. And why that? I would lay disappointed for few more days. Seeing me agitate, my mom proposed me to marry your sister. She said you and your sister looked alike. I could marry her and be as happy. Such ridiculous argument made me boil from inside. I asked for the last time ,"Why?". My mom replied, "Because she is blind".

She replied as if I didn't know the fact. I knew it a decade and a half ago. I loved you before I knew it and still more after I knew that you could see more than what our human eyes could. Your senses would travel faster than light, so you are no less special than us. With all these thought crashing in my mind  I replied to my mom, " Yeah she is blind, but my love to her is not blind. It seeks her and cares for her all the while. I cannot live without her."

I am waiting for her answer right now. I hope the answer would be positive.


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. I am glad knowing your inside story if it is not friction, if it is friction then more beautiful....., I like your writing style and presentation..., but one suggestion do not blame to mom, it is our tradition.... everybody has to follow...

    make continue your writings, wish you best of luck...

    Sirjana, Riyadh

  3. Thanks! It is not my personal experience! Just a story! Moreover, i feel we must improve in our traditions!

  4. i knew the girl was blind at the brginning of the story as u said she didnt watch tv!!so no suspense 4 me!!but i appreciate ur talent!!nd ofcourse having written this u must hav realized that writing a love story is not that easy!all d best 4 ur writting carrier!!

    1. well almost all seem to know it beforehand! as far as writing love stories it is easy if we work out the emotions and we need no rigid plot!

  5. after reading this post i was like "where was this blog hiding from me"

    thank God you commented me and found urs.....

    i would say i would visit time and again here...

    very matured blog....

    1. Your words are really encouraging! I hope my future posts will live up to your expectations. Thank You!