Unsaid...her story...

We were friends from as long as I can remember. He sat next to me for years and we shared everything from new stationery to lunches. Every morning he would come to me with a new story about his brothers or his parents, he always made me laugh. I never tell my girlfriends but he had always been my best friend. We shared so much and were always happy around each other.

But that slowly changed. When I got my glasses in class 5, he started teasing me and calling me “Chashmish”. When I cried, he told me it was out of love, don’t mind. And I never did. All others also began calling me “Chashmish” but I didn’t mind. It was out of love after all. Things still were the same, we chatted the same way, just sometimes he teased me, so I was never angry at him for it. I slowly began to like being called “Chashmish” by him. He often told the other boys not to call me that, it was only his right. He had his right to give me a name; he had a right on me. For me he had all rights on me, after all I was his best friend and he was mine.

As we grew up, the teachers started separating boys from girls. It began with the girls who matured earlier, I was a late bloomer and I was glad of it. But eventually that day came and we were separated. And my life changed from then on.

Now he didn’t come rushing to me each morning to tell me what happened the night before. He spent all his time with the boys, doing boy things. We hardly ever spoke. Even though we were often paired together, thanks us being the tallest in class, but it was never the same. I was losing my best friend, and eventually I made peace with the thought. I was no longer his best friend; I was told teenage girls can’t be friends with boys, bad things happen. I couldn’t bring myself to believe it, but I had to follow. Being separated from him was the worst thing, what else could happen. I was told this isn’t the time to focus on friends but on studies, so I studied hard. Put all my focus in my books, but I could never bring myself to stop missing him.

And then that day on the way to the assembly, he bumped into me and broke my glasses. I screamed at him but he didn’t even bother to apologies or even say anything. He just stared at me like a fool. I was so angry at him, those were new glasses; I had saved up to buy that expensive pair. I wanted to cry but his blank face just made me angry. I got in so much trouble at home because of him and he couldn’t even say a word.

I sat with him that day, he was to help me with the class notes and he was quiet. Even if I asked him for something, he didn’t say a word. Just stared at me blankly and gave me what I wanted. My heart broke that day, I cried myself to sleep that night. And swore I will not waste any more energy on him, I will bury all my feelings; he doesn’t deserve it.

The rest of the year was weird, I found him just staring at me stupidly every time I looked in his direction. In the assembly line he stands awkwardly close, sometimes I feel him sniffing my hair. I can often feel his breath at the back of my neck, but when I turn around all I get is a blank stare. My friends say that he’s crazy about me, but I can’t see that. He doesn’t even say “hi” anymore. No one calls me “Chashmish” anymore; one of my friends told me that he had asked everyone not to, I can’t understand why.

The other day, his best friend told me that he is in love with me. When I asked him how he knows, he just said he thinks so. If it’s true why doesn’t he say anything? His silence is driving me crazy. Everyone tells me I should go talk to him and tell him how I feel. But why should I? Girls don’t make the first move, or do they? And what if he said he doesn’t feel the same. No I can’t do that.

It’s our School Farewell today, and I’m heartbroken. This is probably the last time I’ll see him, I’ve heard he’s going to another city for his college. If he doesn’t say anything even today I will bury all my feelings, this will be the last day of me feeling this way.

They said that song was for me, his expression of love. They said I should talk to him and tell him I feel the same way. But how can I he didn’t even look at me all evening. The night is ending; my heart is fluttering, hoping he would at least come say goodbye in person. But he didn’t, just smiled at me as I walked out.

I guess not every love has a story.

Unsaid

It was just like another school day, we were all gathered on the last bench sharing jokes and making fun of each other. The girls of the class were gathered on the other side, giggling. The assembly bell rang and we all started to rush towards the door, trying to get out before it was late and we got punished. In the rush I bumped into her, and she fell on the floor. Everyone started laughing and I bent down to help her stand up. She looked up at me with anger and tears in her eyes. Her eyes, so dark, so big and so beautiful; it was the first time I had seen her eyes. Her glasses fell on the floor when we crashed, and I had stepped on them.

She was now screaming something at me, her eyes wide and so beautiful. A few other girls joined in as well, but I don’t think I remember. I was under a spell; everything and everyone around just didn’t exist.

I was jolted back to reality by our class teacher, who got me by the ear and scolded me for my misbehavior. I was punished that day. Since I broke her glasses and she couldn’t see clearly, I was to sit next to her in the front bench and help her with what’s being taught.

When I took the seat next to her, I could see how awkward she felt and how rest of the class giggled. For the last couple of years, girls and boys never sat together in class. I took my place next to her, extremely aware of her presence; I could smell her and feel her warmth. My heart was thudding in my chest.

The class started and she drew closer to me to see my notes. I swear my heart stopped each time she came close. I didn’t dare to look at her all day; I knew I’d be in trouble if I looked at her face. I wasn’t sure what I felt and why, all I knew was that I didn’t want the day to end, ever. But it did.

On the way home, my friends made fun of me for being stuck with “Chashmish”.  I had given her that name when she first wore glasses in class 3 or 4. We’ve been in the same class since our primary years. Till today she was always this lanky, bespectacled, nerdy girl in my class. She always had her hair in a long oiled braid and her skinny body in an awkward looking uniform. She was taller than most boys in class, which added to her awkwardness. We all made fun of her, especially me. I used to share a bench with her till a few years back because our last names were the same. I think we were friends till puberty struck and the teachers made all the girls sit on one side and the boys on another. I don’t think I looked at her in all these years, not the way I did today. For the first time I looked at her face and her eyes.

Had she changed, or was it me? Now I didn’t want to call her “Chashmish” and I didn’t want my friends to tease her. But I couldn’t say that to them. I told myself that I’ll be fine later, and what I felt was nothing. I went about my day as usual, tuition classes, homework, chores, fighting with siblings, arguing with mom, typical day.

The next morning, while entering school I was looking around for her. My heart was fluttering and my eyes searching for her face. Finally I spotted her; back to her “Chashmish” self. She smiled at me as we crossed each other and my heart skipped a beat again and my life changed forever.

The rest of the year was spent staring at her from my bench, hoping to she would look back and smile. She did a few times and those times marked as the most beautiful moments of my school life. I was in love; “Chashmish” was my first love.

It was common to have a girlfriend, most of my friends did. But I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her how I felt. We were often paired for group activities or games owing to our last name and similarity in height. In all these times I just couldn’t say a word. All I could do was stare at her face and those eyes behind the dorky glasses.

And then came the final day of our school year, our School Farewell. She looked stunning, in her simple sari, her long hair dancing on her waist and no glasses.  I sang for her that night (my last performance at school), the only time I put my feelings to words, but no one knew it was for her. I knew this was my last chance but I couldn’t. I hoped the words of my song reached her.

“Humain tumse mohabbat hai…jatana bhi nahi aata…” (I’m in love with you and I don’t even know how to express it)

It was the last time I ever saw her. Most of us exchanged contact and college details, exchanged promises of always staying friends and always staying in touch. We just exchanged a smile before she left. That image has been etched in my heart forever.

Even after all these years, I sometimes write her name on my palm, just to remember the feeling of my first love.

“Hatheli par tumhara naam…likhte hain mita te hain…”