Engulfing the serene village surrounding me, I stared at the bright blue ether with soft cotton like cirrus clouds floating by, thinking what I should do early in the morning. It was nearly 9 o’clock and going by the village ways, we had our breakfast by 8 in the morning, which otherwise we would have around 9:30 am. It being a day in the hot summer month of May, I was perspiring even though the ceiling fan did its job with utmost responsibility. I was sitting on the long, rectangular balcony in front of the village house. In the distance, I could see the pond that marked the end of the village. It was beckoning me to just dive into it.

Suddenly, I heard the chattering of two girls, who were coming into the house from one side of the balcony. One of them was my sister; the other, much elder and darker, was about my age. I had never seen the other girl, but the moment, my eyes settled on her I couldn’t look away. She was busy talking and showing her glass bangles to my sister and didn’t notice me. I stared at her, now engulfing with my eyes her beauty, her small, beautiful face with unkempt hair, her innocence just like the nature; her beauty indescribable, her smile that could melt my heart, her old and dirty dress, her gait, everything made my heart skip a beat. As she passed by and entered the house, my eyes followed her motion. Then suddenly the calling of a cuckoo broke my trance; there was no one in the veranda and I was all alone. It was as if a dream. I checked if she had really come to our home and found it to be true. On interrogating my sister later, I found that she was our neighbour and she used to play with my sister. Her name was Riya …

Yes, I did talk to her and sometimes played with her along with my cousins and sister. She was lithe and lovely like a fawn but was a real Amazon. Every time I touched her hand while playing games like kabaddi, I felt as if I was in heaven. But true it was that sometimes I even lost the game while cherishing that touch. On the other hand, my parents would never allow such kind of interaction with a village girl due to some gossip that might arise in the village. I was a city boy, she was a village girl. The thought pained me. I could never confess my feelings for her. How would she react when she would know about it? How would I communicate with her? We met only twice a year when I used to go to the village and there were no other means to talk to her. Electricity had just arrived in the last decade and the villagers were really poor. What would my feelings mean to her? Would it mean direct marriage? After all, in the backward villages of India, girls are married off by the time they are 18 years old and we were almost 16 years. My affection for her was more than just affection. But there was no way to divulge them. I didn’t have any option. I just let time ebb away slowly … 

3 YEARS LATER

I stood at the brightly decorated gateway where it was written “Riya Weds Mohan”, with hands in my pockets. The Wedding ceremony had ended. The bride was leaving, now going to her in-laws’ house. After taking the blessings of all the elders, she was passing by me towards the bridegroom’s car, when suddenly she turned around and looked up into my eyes; her eyes full of tears, her face as beautiful as ever and her neck glistening with a beautiful golden necklace. For a moment, she stared at me but that stare spoke 3 words I had been longing to tell her the last 3 years, but never could. A drop of tear fell on her cheek; she looked away and went on her way, her path in life. I stared away towards the bright moon hiding itself in between the bamboo trees. A drop of tear made its way down my cheek …