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I was asked to write a short story. The theme
was to be of love. How is one expected to write of love when there is none
in this fast mechanical world of today? No matter where I look to seek love,
I fail to spot it. Then, how am I to put it in words? Good memories are the
only element that could be put in words by me.
Since I was home alone and had absolutely
nothing to do, I replied �I don�t like guessing games and I really have no
idea who you are.�
Ahsan. The name lingered in my brain for a few
minutes. I was trying to remember Ahsan. Could it really be him after so
long? Numerous thoughts went gushing through my memory lane as though it
were flooding my mind. When we were introduced, Ahsan looked directly into my eyes. The others did too but there was something about his eyes I couldn�t resist, I couldn�t look away. Generally I look at the movement of the lips when talking to a person. But in his case, it was as though he had gripped my vision with his. It was as though I was falling off a cliff and he was retrieving me, the connection between us being merely the grip of his hand on to mine. Yet I was very comfortable. He stared into my eyes and introduced himself. He said to me �My name is Ahsan and I am majoring in Computer Science with a minor in math. I work part time as a programmer.� Those words felt as though there was a deeper hidden meaning. He meant something else. He wanted me to know more than just his name, major and occupation. He wanted me to know him. He wanted to know me. His hand was wrapped firmly around mine and surprisingly I enjoyed it. There was warmth in his hand. A kind of warmth I had never felt before in any hand shake. �Ki bepar, kotha bolcho na keno? Mone porche na ki? Are ami Armin er bondhu. Ei baar mone porbe to?� (�Whats the matter, what are you not replying? You can�t remember is it? I am Armin�s friend. Does that ring a bell? Now, do you remember me?�) �Oh yes Ahsan, I remember you. I remember you well. How are you? It has been a while since I spoke to you. Kemon acho?� (�How are you?�)
All of us had ordered a drink. I ordered
coffee and so did Ahsan. He bought my coffee and took the spot next to me. I
wanted him to and I was glad he did. He read my mind I thought. It felt good
to think so. We spoke about his life, my life, and our lives. He admitted he
liked me the first time he saw me and he wanted to see more of me. He said
he had heard of me from my cousin but didn�t think he would be this
impressed when he met me in person. Apparently, my cousin never mentioned
him. During the course of the day, we spoke over the phone. When my dad, uncle and aunts left the clinic and I was about to retire for the night, I called Ahsan to wish him a good night. He said �Sam come outside the clinic. I am waiting for you with dinner.� I couldn't believe what he said. Rushing outside the cabin and the double doors in my pajamas, I saw him with dinner set on a broken plastic table, barely stood right, that he borrowed from the vendor nearby. He also arranged a street side vendor to be our waiter. I stood at the entrance of the clinic staring at this crazy guy. Various thoughts were engrossing my mind about the two of us. I totally forgot about my ill grandmother. It was selfish but the feeling of guilt failed to appear. He stared back at me and smiled. He waited for me to have dinner with him. I slowly approached him, still in awe, he hugged me. He said, �Let's have dinner Jaan. I am hungry.� I had no words in my mouth. �Jaan' rang in my ears. No one called be �Jaan' before Ahsan. I was flabbergasted. I think silence was the best language then. We had Chinese food. After dinner, we had to return the table. We sat at the stairs nearby. He sat in front of me and once again stared at me. It was dark around us. There was a little trace of neon light from the corner vendors. It was almost quiet. Ahsan�s eyes were lit up. I could see his eyes twinkling. He was very happy. I was very happy. He held my hands and kept on staring. I was falling down some alley of happiness and I wasn�t scared. I knew there was someone there to hold me. He slowly approached me and gently kissed me on my lips. He was an awful kisser. He said �You are my first kiss, Sam� and that was very obvious, I thought. He left. I retired for the night, but sleep took off from me long ago. A day or two later, we met again. He took me out for coffee. This time I dressed up like a true Bengali girl. I could tell he was surprised that I could clean up so well. We started getting far more than closer to each other. He became a very good friend. We shared everything. We never kissed again however. He asked me a few times to stay back in Bangladesh. He said he would take me somewhere far away from the city hustle bustle. He said he would make me very happy. He confessed he was falling in love with me. Terrified when he indirectly proposed to me, I didn�t answer. I just blankly started at him and wondered. Did he mean all of this? Was he really falling in love with me? No matter the truth or not, at the time I wanted to believe it and I did. I felt so special. We went to parks, shopping malls and rode on rickshaws on rainy days. When he hugged me, I felt as though I was lost amidst his broad chest. I felt a strange sense of comfort and security. That was very unusual of me. I am and was an independent girl. I was strong and could fight anything but Ahsan. As days went by, I drew closer to him. Finally, it was time for me to leave. The night before my flight, we spent all night on the phone. He was so sad that I had to leave. He said fate should not have let us meet like this for two weeks. We should have either met to be together forever or should not have met at all. He also said he had a wonderful time with me and that I have a special place in his heart. I believed everything this man said to me. I was happy I met a man that felt this way about me. It renewed all the trust I had lost towards men.
I snapped out of my thoughts and asked him how
he was doing and what had he been doing. I tried to make up for the lost
time. He said he was well. He was involved in a relationship for a while but
was very unhappy. He confessed he looked for a Sam in the girl he dated or
every girl he meets. He thought he would get over me but in vain. He asked
me how I was doing and if I was married yet. I answered his questions and
told him I wasn�t going to visit Bangladesh any time soon. He said he ached
for me from time to time. He wanted to call me and speak with me.
Ahsan shot out all these questions at me. I
could only imagine his despair voice. I could feel his pain. I hated myself
for what I did. But I knew if I kept touch with him, he would expect love in
return. I was not ready for a relationship with him. I never wanted one. How
could I start something that I couldn�t maintain? I never once promised him
my life. He failed to realize that. I had no answers to his questions. I
thought I had done us both a favor. I believed it would be easy to let go of
someone he just met and disappeared. It was mere infatuation. People get
over infatuations. I tried to make it as though I never existed in his life
and vice versa. Now, I realized I did it all for myself. I ran away from
Ahsan for myself. I wanted to get away from him to make life easier for me.
I took what I wanted and disappeared.
I closed the window and signed out of
messenger. Realizing I never felt the way Ahsan felt when he was with me, I
sighed. I wanted to cry out loud but in vain. He was never a part of my
life. He was like a memorable spring, or fall that was pleasant and went by
through my life, never to come back. Or so I thought.
New Jersey
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