Following my post of “2a. I Will Soar Again…”, which I had uploaded some time back, a number of my readers wrote some nice emails and were waiting for my next sequel. My sincere apology for writing late, but here it is, and there will be another 3 episodes before I am done with.
This little mundane love affair may have happened perhaps a hundred years ago. I am dredging it up to remind myself that in life duality always co-exists together, where beauty and ugliness, happiness and sadness, togetherness and loneliness, triumph and tribulation can and will exist and happen on the same plane and at the same time continuum too. And in its brevity period of less than a year, she had perhaps transported me on an orgasmic journey to the moon just by whispering sweet nothings in my ears or spinning me down to the darkness of the abyss when she was crossed with me. Such was the power of First Love.
As I recalled, I was stoned in love with her.
There is no fool like a sentimental old fool. I am not sure about what is ‘old’ in age, but I am sure that I am not trying to sentimentalize that part of my life where I had gone through the ordeal of unrequited love. It was a sweet bitter lesson, no doubt, and I write not to reconcile my old feelings or to exorcise the ghost from within. There are none anymore. It is to give thanks to the Divine for the little mercy shown to me that I had subsequently learnt the greatest lesson in Life: The Grace of Forgiveness.
Those were the halcyon days of youthful enthusiasm where every first year University student had starry-eyed notions of a good career ahead upon graduation. This was the honeymoon year, those care-free days when term examination was far away. This was also a time where boy-meet-girl or girl-meet-boy, whichever was the situation did not matter, and a number of them became partners in life.
Only after about 2 months, I espied her, out of the 200 over ladies staying in the same hostel. One evening I was having dinner at the canteen and was chatting with my roommate whom I usually had meals together. I had a strange sensation that someone was staring at me, and lo and behold, when I looked up, this lady who was sitting two benches away was smiling coyly at me. In all my stupidity I looked behind just to make sure that she was smiling at me. I didn’t even know her name and this was the first time I ever noticed her.
I turned back and quickly reciprocated her smile. Our eyes locked. It was one of those cosmic moments where time stopped and when it began again, nothing was ever the same.
The French had a beautiful expression, coup de foudre. I was struck by a thunderbolt of love at first sight.
One month later, we were holding hands, stealing kisses behind some old gnarled trees and exchanging vows of eternal love. We could sit by the campus lake late into the night, her head resting on my shoulder with nothing said, the silence that enveloped us was as intoxicating as we had drunk a whole bottle of wine. And when a zephyr breezed by, we cuddled closer to each other, feeling the warmth and hearing each other’s heart beat.
She was no great beauty nor any fatale femme but to my eyes she was the most beautiful woman God had ever created. Her intellect intrigued me, her charm fascinated me, her whispers excited me, her kisses were warm and inviting, her touch sent tremors to my whole being and when she said nothing, I heard her love songs too. I clung onto her every word and every word she said mesmerized me. If she told me that the moon was made of Blue Cheese, I would believe her and would dream of getting a slice of it.
We went to the movies. And the most memorable movies that she introduced to me was “Summer of ‘42”. It was an unforgettable movies and was a great classic.
Watch the clip at this link is better: Watch
At that time, the song “Miracle’ by The Stylistics came to be one of the top hits in the US and in UK. We memorized the lyrics of the song and we sang together in perfect harmony.
The sun belongs to the sky
The leaf belongs to the tree
The grape belongs to the vine
And you, you belong to me
Isn’t it a miracle, is another miracle
Thank God for the miracle, you belong to me….
Time flew by. Our final exams were over and the long vacation beckoned. She went back to her hometown in upstate. And she demanded that I wrote her a love letter each day and a love poem each week, to be posted to her address.
Oh, at that time I was so inspired that perhaps I may have wrote some great masterpiece.
Next Episode : 2c When My Love Swears That She Is Made of the Truth,…..
Category: 2b. Coup De Foudre!