info@tellmeyourstory.in
Glad We Met, Sad We Met

About Ketan Saurav

Ketan is an undergraduate management student from GLS University, Ahmedabad. He loves expressing himself through written words. He finds great interest in exploring things and in plotting new adventures. Music, football, travelling and of course writing are the special ingredients of his life.

View All Stories

He was a wanderer. Traversing in yet another city, thousands of miles away from home this time. His eyes were laden with experiences and blooming for opportunities. He had an identity to build, a career to shape and some dreams to pay a visit. Perhaps it was those experiences that eroded his happiness and instilled silence in him. His moments of elation were shrivelled to some scanty occasions only. His preferences shifted to observing rather than obstructing, thinking rather than persisting. Worst of them all was, he being unaware of the transition in him. Nonchalant about his dreams coming true or his performance yielding results, he remained an avid dreamer and performer. Little did he knew that in the scorching summer of youth he was resting under the shade of maturity.

She was a bliss. Though stuffed with mischief and full of ironies, she had innocence embedded in her heart. Kind with gestures, nutty with words and nimble at feet was a glimpse of her spirited soul. She had a way of having people have a way with her. Attractive to charm and repulsive to negativity. Trading smiles and cracking up pals was her hobby, not to mention her melodious chanting. She was like the old town hall library, open for all, tagged to none. Not just letting you read and learn but also borrow a way to live life. Longing for omnipresence perhaps, she always stood moments away from being wooed by and connected to strangers. Cataloguing them as her doctrine of life, she smartly adorned her childish mistakes. Though she craved freedom, she never allowed it to mess with her happiness.

Out of nowhere, he saw her smiling. Holding some better reasons of happiness himself, he stood there gazing at her mesmerizing smile. He had seen people cry out of happiness, but that smile was something entirely different. Before his mind could make a move, his heart already imprinted that smile. The next encounter revealed her eyes. Though those lenses made them look fascinating, coffee brown was still his favorite. Guess she was prepared to exhaust the patience out of him the next time. She came in traditional wear and the young man stumbled.

Their meetings were never a coincidence. It was the poor guy running out of patience. He never expected things would escalate so quickly. Might have been the usual drill for her, but he was greatly contended. Guess that was the difference between an extrovert and introvert. Before they even met, there were tons of conversations. They knew each other too well. Meeting her then became a compulsion for he could not believe who he was talking to. On meeting he figured out that rapports created online contribute closer to none when it comes to practicality. Well it took him a while to establish traction between the rapport offline and online. While they were walking side by side, his mind unknowingly was leaping a bit fast. The wanderer was still traveling soothingly until one fine day he decided to take a piece of advice from someone else. He made a confession for regretting was not really his style.

He never said he loved her, for love was too vague a concept for him. He never saw anyone love anyone. All he could recall was, a mother wiping her life so that her children could see the brightest sunshine, a father dreaming with open eyes so that his family could dream with closed eyes, a child weeping because he could not feel the essence of her mother, a wife staring at the gate waiting for her husband to honk at midnight, a brother fighting someone double his size to protect her sister, two friends having hour long conversations sitting at two corners of the classroom. Maybe its was just the feelings that was common in all and love was just another word framed to conclude the colossal stretch of it.
What he expressed was his addiction for her. Though he had pretty less time, he leaned onto having some memories with her. Although he meant a heart full, he never really pondered on how much. For the span left over, he wanted to turn those occasional meetings into a habit. He wanted to sit and stare her singing and playing that imaginary piano. He wanted to sing along with her, for she illuminated the light in him. He wanted her jokes to be a bit lengthy so that he could see her smiling longer. He wanted those calls to be a bit longer and those texts to come a bit fast. Maybe those imprints weren’t enough and he wanted to have a beautiful scar.

You are not addicted to something unless it’s absence doesn’t bother you. Maybe the fact that a spot realized, with patience and effort, to witness her was pushed away in fraction of seconds to someone else, made him furious. He was mad at her for not visiting that thought. He yammered. Something which he was definitely not supposed to do. But you don’t blame a child for crying while clinging to the window seat, do you? Before there could have been any realization or explanation, she barricaded him.

End of the day he realized that his thoughts should have never perspired before hers. Happiness is never asked for, but shared. Someone’s effort on you is the nourishment of seeds of your memories by them. They don’t water unless you give out fragrance, beauty or shade. You only measure their enthusiasm when you let them go. Few texts of hatred occurred toxic enough to burn those thousand texts of affection.

The very step taken to ensure that there was no regret, ended up into him regretting. He was confused and sorry. Neither he had a chance to explain nor to apologize. Every now and then he tried to console himself that he had split the bowl and that there was no going back. But the blanket of sadness was too heavy for him to wake up and give it a thought. He chose to stay silent and enjoy the only available smile of her for he was too inexperienced to make another move. He was kind of getting used to dragging himself through days until that one day. Recalling her laughing and chasing her friend across the canteen, he realized it was the last day he saw her. His heart sobbed. He walked home through the longest route known in an attempt to walk away from those memories, but all in vein.

He lost a good friend, a beautiful singer, a loving audience, an entertainment package and most importantly a cheerful soul. Well he was also glad that he met her. Glad that he got to know her, that he had a chance to be praised by her, that he was carrying some memories of her, that he learned from her to find happiness in smaller of things. He was glad that even for the last time he saw her, she was smiling.

9 Likes
236 Views

You may also like

Leave A Comment

Please enter your name. Please enter an valid email address. Please enter message.