Slowly, my lips touched her forehead. She looked at me as the leaves face the sunlight, as the moon faces Earth. I could feel her warm breath on my cheeks—her hair brushing against my shoulders, as if trying to weave me into that very moment. The sweet scent of her presence enveloped me like an endless loop. Her smile spoke volumes, leaving me in awe. Time ceased to exist; the entire world paused. Amidst lives filled with sorrows, hardships, desertions, and pain, this elusive moment stood out.
She buried her face in my arms, and in that instant, I felt richer than the wealthiest man alive. The world existed right there, between my two arms. As her lips met mine, an unexpected surge of tears shattered the facade of strength I’d worn. You see, I’ve often thought that as a man, I’m the weakest creature on this planet. Easily swayed, easily impressed, easily fooled.
Reality, though glaringly obvious, remains elusive to us dreamers. Dreams are born only to perish in the next heartbeat. Emotions, like compass needles, point toward improbable directions. And this dream—the one that never reveals her face—will soon evaporate, leaving behind a trace of longing.
Every morning, I wake up to the same moment, replayed over and over—the dream that haunts me. But therein lies the wonder: she doesn’t belong to this tangible world, or perhaps…
Loving your first crush differs vastly from the love you encounter in your twenties. The answer to “Why you love” evolves. Gone are the simple declarations of “I just want you by my side.” Puberty fades those words into mere echoes, used to impress, while the ladies, wise to the deception, nod knowingly.
Back when I was in fifth grade, I struggled with math. Missing even a single class with my math tutor was unthinkable. Each day, the “long” walk from my place became a cherished ritual. Why? Because a girl from eighth grade joined me on that path. I never regretted adding “didi” to her name. Her presence was all I craved.
And now, I wonder—what set her apart? Given the chance, I’d willingly return to those days, forsaking any fleeting pleasures. I’d trade my wallet’s 5 rupees for two chocolates—one for me, one for her. The restaurants, clubs, and hangouts pale in comparison to that road, those evenings. “Khub baro hoye gechi” indeed—I’ve grown up, but some memories remain eternally young.
Intellectuals might dismiss it as infatuation or immaturity. But did I ever consider the consequences when I fell for her? Or did I simply gaze at her face, unburdened by the weight of age?
As I step outside my home each day, I sense the changes that have blanketed this city. Perhaps it’s my newfound “power” of perception. Maybe we—the people—have transformed since my fifth-grade days. A class eight girl today might be worlds apart from the one who once walked beside me. Calculations remain tough; my math skills, still lacking.
Life, my friend, is a beautiful equation—one that defies logic and keeps us guessing.
- by wreetojyoti
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