A tale through years

Amol-Aalia
…A story that never was

“Chalte, chalte, mere yeh geet yaad rakhna
Kabhi alvida na kehna”

As the radio gently blew out the melody into the sleepy, dark room, the clutter in Amol’s mind was swept away by a pristine image- a beautiful girl in a serene, delicate white sari, wisps of her loose hair playing about her face, glowing against a dark background. It was Aalia as she had looked when she sang this song in the Farewell.

Aalia...that was the name he remembered the most from his college.

The old memories started playing out in his mind. Aalia’s first day in college. She had joined two weeks late. Amol still remembered the yellow suit she had been wearing that day. He couldn’t think why, but a thought had crossed his mind then- “Maybe I’ll remember this day someday.” Then, during a free lecture, Malati, who was also Aalia’s roommate, had introduced her to him and other friends. That day, Aalia stepped into their group, and his life.

Everyday, his eyes would search for her the moment he entered the class. Even today, he could visualize the different dresses that she wore. His face became radiant whenever she talked with him, his heart longing to treasure every word she said. The twinkle of her eyes as she spoke would sparkle his days. Her laughter was heavenly bliss for him. Thinking about those seemingly surreal, magical moments he had once lived, a smile unconsciously alighted on Amol’s face.

But it had not been so easy then!

Four years! For four years, he had suffered in silence. For four years, he had suffered his silence. He would demur at the slightest thought of telling his feelings to her. Such an idea would instantly conjure up images of her saying “No” and turning her back on him forever...it seemed too big a risk to take.

And so, the time flew by- talking with Aalia, laughing with Aalia, thinking about Aalia but not once letting her know his little secret.

Today, lying down in his dark room, Amol was remembering Aalia. Again. It’s not that he doesn’t love his wife. He dotes on her, but he loves Aalia too. Still. At times like today, a question often haunts him…

“What if I had told her?”

*

“You know Mama, a new boy joined our class today, and he’s already become my best friend.” Six-year-old Ahaan crackled excitedly, as soon as he saw his mother.

“That’s very nice sweetie. What’s your friend’s name?” Aalia asked her son, taking him in her embrace.

“Amol.”

Aalia was stunned. She had heard the name after years. The name of the boy she had loved in college.



Afterword: I wrote the above story in the second year of college. It was my first love-story. I felt self-conscious to submit it for Quiet, our college magazine. A few of my friends teased me about it too. "It's not autobiographical," I bashfully tried to clarify. I always showed all the Magboard magazines to my parents as soon as they came out. But while showing this edition of Quiet, I felt a little apprehensive. Will my parents too think that it was autobiographical? They read it. Papa said it was a good story and that was that.
At the time, I had considered this to be my finest story. I re-read it in August this year. The story written four-and-a-half years ago now seemed naive. I made changes. Then, I juxtaposed its older and newer version and realized that the changes that I made were autobiographical. The earlier story was written according to my then beliefs, and the newer according to the belief now. Here is the changed story:



A story that never was

“Chalte, chalte, mere yeh geet yaad rakhna
Kabhi alvida na kehna”

As the radio gently blew out the melody into the sleepy, dark room, an image tiptoed into Amol’s drowsy mind- a beautiful girl in a serene , delicate white sari, wisps of her loose hair playing about her face, glowing against a dark background. That was how Aalia had looked when she sang this song in the Farewell.

Aalia Gujral...the name he had thought he would never forget.

His eyes still closed, he pushed away sleep and tried to remember. A few scenes came back, random, hazy, vague. That surprised him. Time had obfuscated the memories he had thought were unforgettable and he had not even come to know! He tried to put those scenes in order.

Aalia’s first day in college. She had joined (two weeks?) late. She was wearing a yellow suit that day. He had not known why, but a thought had crossed his mind then- “Maybe I’ll remember this day someday.” Then, Maalti, who was also Aalia’s roommate, had introduced her to all of them. Aalia had stepped into their group, and his life.

Amol-of-today smiled as he saw in his mind that young, lovesick Amol, whose eyes searched for Aalia the moment he entered the class, whose face became radiant whenever she talked with him, whose heart yearned to treasure each word she said. The twinkle of her eyes sparkled his days. Her laughter made him euphoric . Those days that he had once lived seemed so surreal and fairy-tale-like now! How simple, how innocent he had been!

For four years, that callow lovesick Amol suffered in silence. For four years, he suffered his silence. He cringed at the slightest thought of telling his feelings to her. Such an idea instantly conjured up images of her saying “No” and turning her back on him forever. It seemed too big a risk to take to that novice in love.

And so, time flew by- talking with Aalia, laughing with Aalia, thinking about Aalia but not once letting her know his little secret.

College ended. Their paths bifurcated . They hadn’t thought it was possible but they lost touch. He hadn't thought it was possible but he fell in love once more, married, had kids. The name he had thought he would never forget dimmed and dimmed and dimmed. Till a random radio song today brought it back in light.

Steeped in those tender memories of his first love, his heart became wet, soft. He mentally smiled at and blessed Aalia- dear Aalia- and the dear naïve boy he once was. Then, he remembered the long-forgotten question which, once upon a time, had afflicted him terribly:

“What if I had told her?”

*

“You know Mama, a new boy joined our class today, and he’s already become my best friend.” Six-year-old Aahaan crackled excitedly, as soon as he saw his mother.

“That’s very nice sweetie. What’s your friend’s name?” Aalia asked her son, taking him in her embrace.

“Amol.”

Aalia nodded but said nothing. She had heard the name after years. The name of the boy she had loved in college.