love

October 2007;

a lot of essays had been written after this one.

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this is the essay i’d written in my recent English final exam, and to be completely honest, i think it’s one of the best piece of short story which i’d ever written, so here it is, simply for your reading pleasure… enjoy!

- Write an essay ending with ‘…I will never forget that woman in my life.’

*okay, i did some slight editing as i typed this, and its basically inspired by a lot of things- my belief that unrequited love is probably the most beautiful kind, a German-translated book i read once (by chance), the drama Sekai no Chuusin, Ai wo Sakebu and yes, love in its many entities.

SEVENTEEN

When i was 17, my life changed dramatically. It was often said that first love is forever and nothing is more beautiful than unrequited love; I must say that I believe both these statements are true, because until now, my love for her stays unchanged, beautiful in ways only the unrequited kind is, even when 20 long years have passed… I was young, and she was that beautiful, after all.

It was a sunny morning, that day in August, as I walked pass houses after houses in the developing area, post World-War II. I was just a young lad of 17, making my way to school as usual. Today though, it was a different situation, and my heart felt it too. I walked for another two miles, juggling an apple in my hand when I caught my first glimpse of her. She was older, perhaps about twenty, and was not exactly the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. However, there was a sadness in her eyes which I caught, that flicker of a memory long buried for all its pain. I must confess- I was intrigued, more than ever.

That was how it all started; I would walk that next two miles and anxiously await to see her standing in front of her house, looking ahead with a book in her hand, though never opened. For days, weeks, months- I would pass by her without exchanging a single word or even a smile. Finally though, after almost half a year, I collected all the courage a 17 year-old boy would have upon meeting his first love and greeted her: Hi. I stood directly in front of her, awaiting her reply. She looked back at me and a soft smile spread across her face, and that was how I knew, right then and there, that I had been hit by Cupid’s arrow.

We became friends, of sorts. I was in love with her, I realized that, but I was also in love with the beautiful things she would say as she told me stories from books she had read and tales she had come to know about. However, there was that glint of sadness in her eyes- though we never talked about the past, only delightful things. In a country still misshapen from war, the past was not always a beautiful thing- I knew that. I lost two of my siblings due to a disease, and coming home was a torment because of the way my parents still grieved. With her, I was happy just to feel happy, and sometimes i think she enjoyed my company too.

We became closer then, sometimes she would invite me in for a warm cup of tea and a delicious apple pie, and through our conversations of deeper things, I learned to grow emotionally and mentally. For all those months we were friends, I had never expressed my true feelings for her- too afraid of losing her. One day though, I went to see her as usual, but she was not at home. I had a strange feeling within me, because for all these times, she would always have been around. I knocked on the door- there was no answer. I came back in the evening, but she was still away.

Three weeks passed, and it did not seem like she was coming back. I was heartbroken and felt betrayed; why had she left without leaving a word, only an unsettled silence? I was more mature by then and learned to hide my disheveled feelings well; I concentrated on my studies, a means of escape from this village which reminded me too much of her.

Upon graduating from high school, I left good old Kelkenny behind and studied abroad in the city. Four years of university life, and I was then a graduate in the field of Language & Literature. She taught me the beauty of it all, and I had not forgotten. For the next few years, I ended up teaching an advanced English Literature class in a nearby college, there in the city. I harboured no more hope of seeing her, resigning myself of never meeting her anymore. Strangely, Fate had something different planned for me…

The summer I turned thirty, she turned up in my class. Out of the blue, yet again. I was dumfounded; shocked. She smiled that soft smile again, as if the years apart never happened, and I was blindly smitten yet again. This time, we became lovers and everyday of my life was a pleasure when with her. Finally, I asked her to marry me. She was speechless, then turned me down. I was hurt, all over again. She left the next day, and I never saw her anymore.

When I put it into perspective, I realized the reasons I tell myself for loving her seemed insignificant, almost as if I was holding onto the feelings of a 17 year-old-in-love for far too long. Years and years without her has made me think of her more and more. I remember those conversations we had back in Kelkenny, the things she had taught me through words spoken and written in books. For me, I believe the directions I took in my life after meeting her was mostly influenced by her. When I think about the old times, I realized that until today, I never did find out the reason behind the sadness in her eyes which I saw that first time we met, or the reason she had staged the great escape. Perhaps, I will never ever find the answer to all these, and maybe that did not matter at all. They were, after all, two great mysteries out of so other many mysteries of her.

I am now 47, unmarried and single. Nevertheless, I am neither unhappy nor reeling over a love lost. I held onto that feeling of being happy in just feeling happy and learned to live my life the best way I know how. Sometimes I feel, the difference between myself and her is how we chose to deal with our respective past. I believed she lost something or someone very dear in her life at a young age and was never able to look past that. I, however, chose to remember the past as one with wonders, but a part of who I am today.

I admit, I wonder where she is now, constantly, and if she thinks of me often too. I wonder if she feels immense regret for having walked out on me, or if she never did care at all. Despite our bittersweet memories and every single thing left unspoken, my memory of her remains. In my mind and deep within the recesses of my heart, she was still that girl of twenty, standing in front of her house, looking ahead with a book in hand. Maybe these memories will one day fade, but I know that no matter what, one thing is certain: I will never forget that woman in my life.