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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Love stories / Romance
- Subject: Other / Not Listed
- Published: 04/13/2014
Love Letter
Born 1993, M, from Jharkhand, IndiaI don’t know what I am doing. I don’t even exactly know why I am doing this. I just wanted to tell this to you before the other boy, Jaggu, who calls himself my friend, tells u. I don’t think he even knows what a ‘friend’ means to me. Mummy told me that it’s someone you feel comfortable with. Mummy never lies to me but there’s a small problem. I don’t understand what ‘comfortable’ means. Is that reason enough, Dr. Aisha?? Today is my last day here. Today I will leave and you will have only the jaundice-uncle and the funny-face-man to say ‘good morning’ to. You will not remember me. You don’t even recognize me. You like to spend more time with the jaundice-uncle than with me. You keep talking to him in hushed voices, but me, you just ask me if there’s any change in my condition, to which I always reply that I am better. And then you leave, with a smile.
I once thought that to get more time with you, I should say that I am not good. Maybe then you will talk to me more, the way you did during the first two days of my stay. Jaggu told me yesterday that I will be free to go today. And then I realized, maybe this is the last chance I have, the only chance to prove you wrong. It took us eleven years to meet again and you didn’t even recognize me. Who knows if we ever meet again! I want to, but I don’t like coming here. This time while I was here, it hurt me hard (I guess this is what ‘hurt’ means). I do want to come here again to see you smile, but I don’t want to get hurt again in an accident.
Since you do not even remember my face anymore, I don’t think you will remember anything that happened that day, 17th of January, 2003. But I can’t ever forget that day, the last day of school. I was seventeen and you were sixteen back then. The entire school made fun of my condition. It has a medical term, but I could never bring myself to memorize it. Some thought I was different, Samar used to call me a ‘freak’. I checked the dictionary for its meaning and it said “abnormal; something or someone unusual.” I never asked him why he found me abnormal even though he was the evil guy of the class, but I could guess it. And since Samar was a very good friend of yours, I assumed you too found me a freak. Mummy told me that anyone who calls me a freak is a bad person, but somehow, I just couldn’t put you in that category, I don’t know why.
I doubt you still realize who I am so I will tell you the story I told no one ever, not even Mummy. In our school days, you do know that no one ever wanted to talk to me. Sunny did try once but that group you stayed with, made so much fun of him that he too stayed away from me just to avoid your group. I never felt anything bad, ‘coz I don’t even know what ‘feeling’ is like. Whatever it is, it must be a bad thing as I have seen people cry and share their sadness more often than sharing their happiness. Also, just before Papa died, his last words to me were, “Son, not-feeling is a gift you have, and gifts are good. You should use it for your best.” I wish I could understand what he meant by that.
Yes, I tend to categorize everything to ‘good’ and ‘bad’. That’s how I judge everything. To tell you the truth, I never told mummy about you because I feared that she would ask me to put you too in the ‘bad’ list, but that was something I just wouldn’t do.
You had done many things to be in my ‘bad’ list but there was something about you that kept you out of it. I had been taught that anything that is ‘good’ is to be replied with a ‘smile’. Seeing mummy happy was a ‘good’ thing so I always remembered to smile when I saw her smile. But you…you were the only other person whose smiling face made me smile, although it was a bit different. When I saw you smile, I smiled, but I didn’t need to “remember” it with you.
I waited for my birthday every year, as that one day meant ‘good’ gifts for me. But what I really waited for was the time in school, when I would distribute toffee among my class-mates, including you. Everyone shook my hands and smiled at me when I placed two toffees into their hands. I couldn’t understand why I was giving them toffees when, at home, my relatives sent me chocolates on my birthday. Once, in class 8th, Samar tried to tease me by saying something but before I could comprehend what he meant by it, you came by and shouted at him, something. I don’t remember what magic you used but whatever it was, it was good enough to make him retreat, and ever since, birthdays became the only days of the year when Sunny didn’t dare speak a word against me.
Even better was the time when I used to give you those toffees. As soon as your hands touched mine, something in my chest started drumming hard. It happened every year and I couldn’t understand the science behind it. My biology books told me that the only things that are there inside are the heart and lungs but not even the big ones in the library could explain what your touch had to do with their working.
I never thought I would remember you after so many years but even the credit for this goes to you. During our farewell party in school, we were all playing a game. Some of us were being called on stage randomly and asked to do the task, written on the piece of paper that we drew from a big-funny-black bag. Every time a child was called up, there were shouts of laughter and comments from the audience. I was sitting in a corner and seeing everyone happy. It was a good thing when everyone could laugh in synchrony. I almost tried laughing too but then, I was never taught how to do that. And the sound I made just made everyone stop laughing and I didn’t want that. I thought that when my name would be called, everyone would laugh at that too and I would be a ‘good’ person. I was waiting.
Finally, when they did call my name, I rose and started walking but there was a small problem. My ears jammed coz I could hear nothing. Maybe it’s what mummy told me as nervousness so I dismissed the thought. The funny-bag came and I picked up the first piece of paper that touched my fingers. I remember the exact words written there - “Call a girl of your choice and propose to her.”
The mike was in my hand and I spoke, “What does propose mean?” It was then that I understood what nervousness is. Maybe coz I hadn’t spoken anything for so long, so my ears got jammed. But as soon as I spoke those words, my ears could pick up the sounds of laughter again. The kid next to me, too, was laughing. He whispered to me, “Call a girl of your choice on the stage and I will tell you what it means.” To which I suddenly replied, “Can I call Aisha?”
Something happened, I don’t know what. My senses were going awry. I heard a sound so hard that I dropped the mike. A guy somewhere fell off his chair, laughing, and he was helped back by someone. On the other side, you stood up, pale faced. This time, I knew why you looked so pale. You too were going nervous, right? You too had stopped listening to whatever was happening around, probably for the first time. Looking straight at you from the stage, I smiled.
While you were coming up, the kid behind me whispered again, “When she comes, you ask her ‘will you be my girlfriend?’” I didn’t know the meaning of that too but I refrained from asking. You were already in front of me, still nervous. I repeated the words without any delay. More laughter surrounded us, and then you replied, “Who will ever want to be your girl-friend?” and you too started laughing.
I knew you were out of the nervous phase and hearing the laughter again. I smiled at that but before I could reply, you turned and started walking away. I realized it was the first time we were ever talking and it was good. I couldn’t help myself from speaking out, “But why can’t you be my girl-friend?”
You stopped suddenly, waited for a second and then turned. “Do you even know what a girl-friend means?”
Yes, Aisha. I remember the exact words u said, so do I remember the words I replied you with, though I do confess I got nervous again while saying this out, “Friend is someone who makes you smile. You make me smile and you are a girl. That is why you can be my girlfriend.”
You faltered for a while. Maybe you didn’t think I would say this. In fact, I myself didn’t know what I had just said. But then, you didn’t take time to regain yourself and you said, “Huh. You can’t even write me a love letter” and walked away. I wish u had said something different. I didn’t know what to reply, nor did the whisper-kid help me. He took away the mike and I left the stage, behind you, saying, “Someday, I will. I promise.” I don’t know if u heard it or not and if you did, whether you remember it or not, but I meant every word of it.
That day, I felt a strange pain somewhere in my chest. I didn’t know what it meant; never did I describe it to anyone. I used to think that maybe I should have told Mummy about it but then the pain never returned, until last week. The accident I witnessed was a bad experience. My legs hurt a lot when I was brought here but that was nothing to the pain I felt as soon as you came to my view. I recognized you in an instant but I couldn’t say a word coz of the pain. You started looking at my legs, while I strained to tell you that it wasn’t the leg pain that was worrying me. The pain was there in my chest, the same one, 11 years later.
I will have gone by the time you find this letter, either on my bed, or maybe a nurse would have given it to you. I am specifically writing your name on the top of it for two reasons. One, since it’s your identity and I don’t want anyone else to read it but you and only you, and two, because if ever you do want to find me after this, then it will be this name itself that will guide you to me as now, it has become a part of my identity as well (will leave you to decipher the meaning of this, all by yourself).
So this is how ends the love-letter by me to you. I guess this should fulfill the promise I made to you that day.
P.S. - Jaundice-uncle says your smile every morning makes me smile and I told him that no one but you has ever made me smile. You must be really good for me. Beware the funny-faced-man. He doesn’t really like you.
P.P.S. - I just realized something. Aren’t love-letters supposed to be a little shorter?
Love Letter(Serene Enigma)
I don’t know what I am doing. I don’t even exactly know why I am doing this. I just wanted to tell this to you before the other boy, Jaggu, who calls himself my friend, tells u. I don’t think he even knows what a ‘friend’ means to me. Mummy told me that it’s someone you feel comfortable with. Mummy never lies to me but there’s a small problem. I don’t understand what ‘comfortable’ means. Is that reason enough, Dr. Aisha?? Today is my last day here. Today I will leave and you will have only the jaundice-uncle and the funny-face-man to say ‘good morning’ to. You will not remember me. You don’t even recognize me. You like to spend more time with the jaundice-uncle than with me. You keep talking to him in hushed voices, but me, you just ask me if there’s any change in my condition, to which I always reply that I am better. And then you leave, with a smile.
I once thought that to get more time with you, I should say that I am not good. Maybe then you will talk to me more, the way you did during the first two days of my stay. Jaggu told me yesterday that I will be free to go today. And then I realized, maybe this is the last chance I have, the only chance to prove you wrong. It took us eleven years to meet again and you didn’t even recognize me. Who knows if we ever meet again! I want to, but I don’t like coming here. This time while I was here, it hurt me hard (I guess this is what ‘hurt’ means). I do want to come here again to see you smile, but I don’t want to get hurt again in an accident.
Since you do not even remember my face anymore, I don’t think you will remember anything that happened that day, 17th of January, 2003. But I can’t ever forget that day, the last day of school. I was seventeen and you were sixteen back then. The entire school made fun of my condition. It has a medical term, but I could never bring myself to memorize it. Some thought I was different, Samar used to call me a ‘freak’. I checked the dictionary for its meaning and it said “abnormal; something or someone unusual.” I never asked him why he found me abnormal even though he was the evil guy of the class, but I could guess it. And since Samar was a very good friend of yours, I assumed you too found me a freak. Mummy told me that anyone who calls me a freak is a bad person, but somehow, I just couldn’t put you in that category, I don’t know why.
I doubt you still realize who I am so I will tell you the story I told no one ever, not even Mummy. In our school days, you do know that no one ever wanted to talk to me. Sunny did try once but that group you stayed with, made so much fun of him that he too stayed away from me just to avoid your group. I never felt anything bad, ‘coz I don’t even know what ‘feeling’ is like. Whatever it is, it must be a bad thing as I have seen people cry and share their sadness more often than sharing their happiness. Also, just before Papa died, his last words to me were, “Son, not-feeling is a gift you have, and gifts are good. You should use it for your best.” I wish I could understand what he meant by that.
Yes, I tend to categorize everything to ‘good’ and ‘bad’. That’s how I judge everything. To tell you the truth, I never told mummy about you because I feared that she would ask me to put you too in the ‘bad’ list, but that was something I just wouldn’t do.
You had done many things to be in my ‘bad’ list but there was something about you that kept you out of it. I had been taught that anything that is ‘good’ is to be replied with a ‘smile’. Seeing mummy happy was a ‘good’ thing so I always remembered to smile when I saw her smile. But you…you were the only other person whose smiling face made me smile, although it was a bit different. When I saw you smile, I smiled, but I didn’t need to “remember” it with you.
I waited for my birthday every year, as that one day meant ‘good’ gifts for me. But what I really waited for was the time in school, when I would distribute toffee among my class-mates, including you. Everyone shook my hands and smiled at me when I placed two toffees into their hands. I couldn’t understand why I was giving them toffees when, at home, my relatives sent me chocolates on my birthday. Once, in class 8th, Samar tried to tease me by saying something but before I could comprehend what he meant by it, you came by and shouted at him, something. I don’t remember what magic you used but whatever it was, it was good enough to make him retreat, and ever since, birthdays became the only days of the year when Sunny didn’t dare speak a word against me.
Even better was the time when I used to give you those toffees. As soon as your hands touched mine, something in my chest started drumming hard. It happened every year and I couldn’t understand the science behind it. My biology books told me that the only things that are there inside are the heart and lungs but not even the big ones in the library could explain what your touch had to do with their working.
I never thought I would remember you after so many years but even the credit for this goes to you. During our farewell party in school, we were all playing a game. Some of us were being called on stage randomly and asked to do the task, written on the piece of paper that we drew from a big-funny-black bag. Every time a child was called up, there were shouts of laughter and comments from the audience. I was sitting in a corner and seeing everyone happy. It was a good thing when everyone could laugh in synchrony. I almost tried laughing too but then, I was never taught how to do that. And the sound I made just made everyone stop laughing and I didn’t want that. I thought that when my name would be called, everyone would laugh at that too and I would be a ‘good’ person. I was waiting.
Finally, when they did call my name, I rose and started walking but there was a small problem. My ears jammed coz I could hear nothing. Maybe it’s what mummy told me as nervousness so I dismissed the thought. The funny-bag came and I picked up the first piece of paper that touched my fingers. I remember the exact words written there - “Call a girl of your choice and propose to her.”
The mike was in my hand and I spoke, “What does propose mean?” It was then that I understood what nervousness is. Maybe coz I hadn’t spoken anything for so long, so my ears got jammed. But as soon as I spoke those words, my ears could pick up the sounds of laughter again. The kid next to me, too, was laughing. He whispered to me, “Call a girl of your choice on the stage and I will tell you what it means.” To which I suddenly replied, “Can I call Aisha?”
Something happened, I don’t know what. My senses were going awry. I heard a sound so hard that I dropped the mike. A guy somewhere fell off his chair, laughing, and he was helped back by someone. On the other side, you stood up, pale faced. This time, I knew why you looked so pale. You too were going nervous, right? You too had stopped listening to whatever was happening around, probably for the first time. Looking straight at you from the stage, I smiled.
While you were coming up, the kid behind me whispered again, “When she comes, you ask her ‘will you be my girlfriend?’” I didn’t know the meaning of that too but I refrained from asking. You were already in front of me, still nervous. I repeated the words without any delay. More laughter surrounded us, and then you replied, “Who will ever want to be your girl-friend?” and you too started laughing.
I knew you were out of the nervous phase and hearing the laughter again. I smiled at that but before I could reply, you turned and started walking away. I realized it was the first time we were ever talking and it was good. I couldn’t help myself from speaking out, “But why can’t you be my girl-friend?”
You stopped suddenly, waited for a second and then turned. “Do you even know what a girl-friend means?”
Yes, Aisha. I remember the exact words u said, so do I remember the words I replied you with, though I do confess I got nervous again while saying this out, “Friend is someone who makes you smile. You make me smile and you are a girl. That is why you can be my girlfriend.”
You faltered for a while. Maybe you didn’t think I would say this. In fact, I myself didn’t know what I had just said. But then, you didn’t take time to regain yourself and you said, “Huh. You can’t even write me a love letter” and walked away. I wish u had said something different. I didn’t know what to reply, nor did the whisper-kid help me. He took away the mike and I left the stage, behind you, saying, “Someday, I will. I promise.” I don’t know if u heard it or not and if you did, whether you remember it or not, but I meant every word of it.
That day, I felt a strange pain somewhere in my chest. I didn’t know what it meant; never did I describe it to anyone. I used to think that maybe I should have told Mummy about it but then the pain never returned, until last week. The accident I witnessed was a bad experience. My legs hurt a lot when I was brought here but that was nothing to the pain I felt as soon as you came to my view. I recognized you in an instant but I couldn’t say a word coz of the pain. You started looking at my legs, while I strained to tell you that it wasn’t the leg pain that was worrying me. The pain was there in my chest, the same one, 11 years later.
I will have gone by the time you find this letter, either on my bed, or maybe a nurse would have given it to you. I am specifically writing your name on the top of it for two reasons. One, since it’s your identity and I don’t want anyone else to read it but you and only you, and two, because if ever you do want to find me after this, then it will be this name itself that will guide you to me as now, it has become a part of my identity as well (will leave you to decipher the meaning of this, all by yourself).
So this is how ends the love-letter by me to you. I guess this should fulfill the promise I made to you that day.
P.S. - Jaundice-uncle says your smile every morning makes me smile and I told him that no one but you has ever made me smile. You must be really good for me. Beware the funny-faced-man. He doesn’t really like you.
P.P.S. - I just realized something. Aren’t love-letters supposed to be a little shorter?
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