Date: Wed, 5 May 2010 02:40:21 +0530 (IST)
From: F Chin <contenentboy@yahoo.co.in>
Subject: Unfulfilled Love

`only unfulfilled love can be romantic'

I still remember the first day I saw him. It was at school, outside the
principal's office. He was there with two of his friends. A transfer
student from another school, waiting to fill in the paperwork needed to
begin studying at ours.

I'd just walked out of the building and found him a few yards in front of
me, sitting under an ancient banyan tree, forms in hand, engrossed in
conversation with his buddies. I'd heard of the term `love at first sight,'
many times before, and found it to be extremely amusing, until the
experience came crashing down on my head like a meteor sent from the
heavens for the sole purpose of changing my life forever. His face was
angelic; there was a glow about it that I cannot explain. Our eyes met only
for the shortest moment but I knew that I was in love. I couldn't give away
any of my feelings however and couldn't get caught gawking at a boy in
school. It was just wrong, people would not approve and call me names, so I
hurried away, acting unfazed, cool as a cucumber, trying to look popular.
What I hadn't imagined however was that he'd thought the same way about me
at that time.

When school began, I saw him there. I'd join in as the guys would ask him
questions about his old school and all the other obvious stuff teenagers
talk about when they're in the 11th grade. He was tall, had flawless skin
and a face that would make me cry at night for not being able to kiss and
hold it in my hands. He'd stare at me, clearly mesmerized as well. I knew
he liked me, yes in that way!! But I didn't have the slightest clue as to
what to do about it. What if people found out, what if he was just being
friendly? We started chatting online, and he asked me why I was always so
quiet. I acted cool and popular and said some crap in return.

 I'd scan the crowds in school to be able to see his sun kissed blondish
hair, desperately seeking out his face in a crowd of irrelevant people. He
was the boy of my dreams and I was the boy of his. The problem was, none of
us had the guts to do anything about it. My affair with him was limited
only to my imagination and the rare staring competitions we'd have when no
one was looking. The whole ordeal became painful. He'd sit by me and I'd
feel his leg touching mine; there was a satisfaction in the touch that made
me ecstatic. I think I was too good an actor, maybe I just didn't give away
too much of how I felt for him. In fact the irony of it all is that I
usually shunned him away. He'd once put his arm around my shoulders as we
walked to our cars after school, with our friends around us. There was
nothing unusual about it, but I shrugged his arm off, scared that I'd be so
lost in the sheer pleasure of the moment that I might alert someone about
my secret savoring of an act as insignificant as that. I fucked it all
up. Me and my prudish ways! My desire for him was boundless and I'd listen
to corny music and dedicate songs to our love. It was a very profound time
in my life and there are times when I wonder whether I have not wholly
fallen out of love with him even today.

I remember the moments that keep his memory alive in my mind. The time when
he rested his head on my shoulder in a movie theatre for the briefest
instance, his eyes staring into mine for what seemed like eons. A connect
between us we both felt, but couldn't prove to each other or confront
ourselves with, lest it turn out to be a figment of our imaginations. It
was the happiest state of being and the saddest at the same time.

A year went by and we learnt how to not acknowledge the connect. I still
had the same feelings but I'd just become better at hiding them. I don't
know whether he felt the same then though. It was not detectable. No more
staring marathons, no more chatting online. We became distant and weary of
the tension between us, at least I did. To hide my love for him
subliminally, I'd sometimes say something stupid about him to a friend and
as though the god's were against our pairing from the beginning, he'd more
often than not find out about it. It was ditto for me, I'd stumble upon
some piece of gossip that he'd said about me and start fuming. The fact
that we were both extremely intelligent and egoistic people also made
things difficult. If I could go away and live on a disserted island with
him tomorrow, I would. But I fought with him relentlessly and connived and
manipulated myself into his bad books. At the end of school, we officially
hated one another, I also still loved him a bit. Try to wrap your head
around that fucked up fact. I once sat down with him and apologized about
all the things I'd done and said that we should just forget it all. He in
turn quizzed me about the trivial matter and I began to believe that he was
not still in love with me and it was the deceit and enmity that had held on
to him. There was no point in trying to bring things back to normal. They
were far too fucked up.

A few years ago he married a beautiful girl. I didn't attend his wedding. I
was out of the country. The two made a pretty couple, him with his
perfectly Aryan looks and she with her demure yet elegant ways. I hated her
secretly, but would think of her to be the luckiest human being on the
planet. They looked so in love, but I knew his secret. It wasn't for
nothing that the man by her side had stared in my eyes and made me weak at
the knees. It wasn't for nothing that we texted each other ten years after
we left school on our birthdays. The love was still somehow, in some shape
alive.