A Love Story

About Bishakha Moitra

An amateur artist, I am a fulltime mother of a six year old. I also have 10 years of sales and marketing experience. Painting and writing are my passion. Writing to me is expressing my emotions, thoughts, opinions and views and presenting it in a way that others can feel the connect. My preferred language for writing is hindi and english. I use “a gypsy soul” as pen name for writing as I believe it describes what I truly am.

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I used to see him everyday from the window of my home. He would come and sit in the same corner seat of the restaurant on the same chair everyday. He would order a coffee and then take out his pen, paper and start writing. I couldn’t make out exactly what he used to write, may be some notes as he seemed young enough to be a college student. Or may be a story or a poem.

He could be a writer too, like me, weaving stories and baring his soul. I also would notice a girl, sitting on the opposite corner, talking, laughing, giggling with her friend, the owner of the restaurant. She used to keep observing and looking at the guy with the corner of her eyes, always with a smile on her lips and glitter in her eyes. She used to come everyday before the boy and leave only after he had left. Like a freshly brewed coffee, I could smell a love story brewing.

I would wish that someday the boy would notice the girl or the girl would muster courage and go and talk to the boy. This continued for few days. Suddenly one day the boy didn’t come.

The girl sat on her usual place but she wasn’t her usual self. She was restless and seemed lost. This continued for next two days. The girl used to come and wait, her eyes now stuck on the corner seat opposite to her but her smile gone.

The third day, finally, the boy comes back and the usual routine starts. The smile is back.

Suddenly it starts raining and the breeze blows away the papers from the boy’s table. The girl opens her umbrella and starts gathering the paper, worried as if she has lost something precious. She gathers few and goes to the boy who was busy collecting rest of the papers and hands those over to him. The girl then offers her umbrella to the boy who is getting wet in the rain. They both start walking on the road together under the umbrella, smiling and talking, as if they have always been together.

I was watching this as usual from the window. It was as if, I was watching the mirror image of my past. There was a love story then, there is a love story now. Some memories can never be forgotten.


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6 Response Comments

  • Aparna Mondal11/02/2019 at 10:10 AM

    Lovely story Bishakha !! A story of innocent teenage love !! . I is a story to which every loving mind who passed that age can relate to , you have expressed it so beautifully !

    • Bishakha Moitra12/02/2019 at 8:44 AM

      Thank u so much. Glad u liked it.

  • Rakesh11/02/2019 at 12:11 PM

    The thing I love about this story is it’s minimalistic approach. A trick which I always wanted to learn but failed miserably. The story sketches out a scenario, hints towards a story and then leaves us to wonder if there was a love story or wasn’t.

    Not unlike those oriental haiku, which point a finger towards the moon and leave it at that. Now, if one focuses on the finger, one loses the sight of the heavenly glory, and if one ignores the finger and looks at the moon, one is gratified by the beauty of lifetime!

    Keep it up Bishakha!

    • Bishakha Moitra12/02/2019 at 8:45 AM

      Thank you Rakesh for your kind words of appreciation.

  • Mohd Shariq26/02/2019 at 11:18 PM

    Hi Bishakha, love stories are beautiful and you have awesomely captured it in true spirit. The Narrative was excellent the discription was good and most important there was feel of love in the air. Some more para on this story would definitely be fun.
    Excellent effort again
    Keep it up
    Waiting for your next.

    • Bishakham04/03/2019 at 6:04 PM

      Thank you so much.

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