Finally it happened…

… I got reminded of him… LL. The person I wished I could let go and forget… well may be just forget. *sigh*

It was a harsh blow when it happened, I took it well though, but it just made me think of what I was doing. I was acting as if I did not even remember his existence in my life, cause somehow it always made me feel that it had been my unadulterated idiocy to let it all go. And all this years that has past since he’s gone, I believe I had let my character be exploited for his good. But then again, I can’t condemn him absolutely, as it was my verdict primarily. I knew he would not be mine, he wouldn’t be domesticated, yet I went on, may be too asinine to realize I was falling for him cause I wanted to prove me audacious. Or may be I was too frail to let go of the only opportunity of my puppy love getting contented.

Yes, we were 17. He was the very first guy I had a crush on. He was elegant and susceptible, well… He isn’t deceased yet, so yeah, He IS elegant and susceptible. I loved him for that. But I still feel frivolous about the whole thing; I fucking knew he would not be tied down. He was to have but not to hold. And still, I was adamant on letting it go further. I knew him, more than he knew himself. I knew his dreams, I knew his aspirations. I was his best pal after all, the only one with whom he has shared those longings, sitting over at the uppermost terrace of his residence while we watched dazzling sunrises after a long night of nattering. I knew I was not the end of the road; I was the hand to draw him on his course, and then let him leave to hunt his own destiny. And of course I did that. I treasured him, I cared for him, I cherished him, and I helped him along his potential path. All for what, to let him hit the road one day. Oh yeah, all the theory of uncontaminated love had gotten to my cranium; I was making an epic sacrifice. May be I was being the grown-up one… Or may be I was the most absurd of all.

Can’t say he didn’t adore me. He did. He respected me nonetheless, always, as the best friend. But at the very start I thought, I could transform him with my love in those years that I had prior to his departure. He did change. I did help him evolve, till the point where one more stride, and he could have mine. I could have egoistically had him for life. But I didn’t do it; I had determined to let him go. I had effectively managed to keep him one step too far from me. Yet, he wasn’t the one to hold responsible here as well. He constantly accepted things the way I wanted him to accept. If I would settle on staying away, he would accept it. I recall the time we spent together, and I believe, inspite of all he loved me. The latent transparency in his emotions that I brought out was one of the most attractive things about him. He looked so innocent when he told me of his ambitions with haze of passion in his eyes. He looked so angelic, when I used to hold him close on those painful nights, and I would feel his tears of misery on my fingertips. He looked so pure, when out of the blue; he would look at me, and say, I love you, for teaching me to be me.

In those last days together, sitting in the balcony in sheer darkness, covered in chilly embrace of the night, was the only blissful solitude I had. He would be in same house, but he wouldn’t dare come there, he was scared of the very darkness I was so fond of. Yes, he was scared of it. I had even noticed that in childhood, he used to outsmart us in the game of Hide n Seek, always finding a way out not to get his eyes under the blindfold. I had observed, and then he had admitted it to me later on.

The D-day arrived; my role in this play was about to end. And I had gladly decided I was going to suffer for the rest of my life, for letting go of my first love. It was early evening, when I was sitting outside in the balcony again, my knees pulled up, with my arms around my knees, holding my self uptight, ready to accept the reality. He had the evening flight, and then onwards we were never going to see each other, or hear from each other. That was the thing I decided. May be it was for good. May be it was for best.

He figured I would be there, as I saw him walk to me and sit before, with his tearful eyes. I couldn’t see him in pain; I was to be the strong one. I had to wind it up soon, no long stretched goodbyes. I directly told him; I wouldn’t go with him to see him off at airport, no melodramas. This would be the last time we see each other, and he was not to contact me first for the rest of our lives. I would be the one initiating it, if I wanted. He protested for a moment, but I stopped him midway, I told him it was for the sack of my dignity. He nodded, accepting as he always did. He managed to not break down, and I managed to smile. He didn’t say a word more, but hold my hand and passed me a piece of scribbled paper. He kept looking at my eyes, as I opened the paper and read it. It was a poem. A rhyming one. He worked hard to make it rhyme. His effort brought me a smile, and he felt good being the one to bring me that smile.

After a long silence, I pulled out the scarf around my neck, and asked him for a last favor. He nodded again, and I continued, “Shall we have a last play of our favorite game, Hide and seek?” He was puzzled for a moment, but then he understood. I looked at him, the wind from sideways ran through his silky locks of hairs, ruffling them over his big dreamy eyes. I wished I could just stop the time, and have this moment frozen for the rest of my life, of him sitting and looking at me like that. He took the scarf from my fingers and slid closer to me for the quick hug, neither of us wanted it to be so close that it breaks the control over the tears. Next he stood up and wrapped the scarf around my head, covering my eyes. Even though it was early evening, I was in the darkness again, the darkness that was there to hold me whenever I felt alone, the darkness that was there to keep me sane. Everything was still, I could hear nothing, but I could still smell his scent linger about me. It stayed there for long time, so did I. Hours passed like that, and I remained there, plunged into darkness of my own, never wishing to leave its peaceful embrace, with the torn paper in my clenched fist, holding onto the last memoirs of my bravery. His scent fade, so did the evening light.

I took off the scarf from my eyes, knowing it was dark again. Knowing I would never try to find him. Knowing I wouldn’t cry.

I did neither, cry or search to get him back. I knew I wasn’t the one for him. Then why wasting it. Why causing my self more harm than what has already been done, But I’ve still saved that paper, that piece scribbled poetry… my prize of defeat…so much for my honor! So less for my crave!

May be i would share that with you someday, just may be…

but till then…. i would be listening to this…

” …. What if i had never let you go?
would you be the man i used to know?
if i stayed … if you tried…
if we could only turn the time..
but i guess..
we’ll never know….”