THE STORY TELLER

I think I have fallen in love. No,don't jump to any hasty conclusions. I love telling stories. Well, you may say it is equal to saying that I have confessed to being a liar and that too a liar who likes to lie. But my dear, story telling has been ongoing since time immemorial, and are grand mothers called liars??? Oh come on, I didn't mean that. See you are putting words in my mouth and reading wrong things in my words. All I said was I love telling stories. Now, you would think why is this guy repeating everything. Haven't we read all his stories painstakingly and been thoroughly bored by them. Stories with people with no names, stories of journeys, tales of dreams and tears; you have read them all.

I just would like to tell you that some stories are not lies. Some are fables... hahaha. No, I mean some are experiences, someone has lived through them, felt the emotions written and shed the solitary tear. Today I will tell you the story of someone who wants to stay anonymous. Yes, it is a boy and a girl story. Yes, it is a sad story. Yes, they do not live happily together ever after. Stop thinking that I write the same story all the time. So what. Hear the story first. So here it goes...

Once there was a boy from a small town who went to earn his living to a far away land. He knew nothing about the new place, except that the place was warm and humid, and that the people had a sweet tooth. Everything they ate was sweet. He had heard stories of the land made of chocolates as a young lad, but this was real. He survived on coffee and egg sandwiches. The people were friendly in a way, but it took him some time to understand their language. You may be wondering where is the girl. All I keep talking about is food. Have some patience please. It was not easy for him to make friends. He looked around but most boys of his age were either busy with their girls or wasting their lives in useless pursuits. He had come to work, so work he did. 

Then one day he saw her. She was different from the locals. She was one of them, but not one with them. The way she talked, the way she carried herself was all from another land. And she ignored him. As if he did not exist. All his best efforts failed to elicit a reaction from her. Even when he fought with a local goon to protect her, he received no thanks. And this continued, for four long years. Life goes on, as they say. People come and go, and one day she did too. For him, it had been a day of mourning. Only a few friends close to him knew how he felt, but most laughed at him. Unrequited love is only understood it seems by those who love and fail. He had lost her forever. All that remained were memories of her walking past him, talking to people around him, smiling as she did so... He knew he would always miss that.

Time heals. Not everything. Sometimes a scab just hides a wound till it is scratched open again. Many years later, as he was searching for a jar of orange marmalade in a store, he thought he saw someone familiar. And he was flooded with old memories again. He knew the face, someone who was associated with her, but could not remember the name. So, he just shouted the name that came to his mind across the aisle. The face turned and looked shocked. How could he remember her name, she asked. He told her the truth. It seemed like a lie, but he did not care. All he wanted to know was whether this person knew where the girl he had lost forever was. He had been living in the same city for the past many years, he learnt. Would you like to talk to her, she asked. He did not know what to reply. Here he was, decades older, away from every possible hope of meeting her ever, and there she was on the other end of a phone call. Her voice wafted through the air and he was a boy again, with a racing heart and a stammering tongue, saying yes to everything she asked. She laughed and he realised what he was doing. She asked him if he would like to meet her....

- To be continued only if you are curious enough... so tell me.