I have been going to this college for about a year and every day has been an eventful day for me. This part of the library is my favorite place, not because I get books of my choice to read, but because this place is calm and peaceful and I get the chance to think freely about this world and about myself.

Reading is a good habit and writing is an even a better habit. As I sit in this place, I watch the water dripping out of the tap, producing a vivid sound, echoes of something fresh, echoes of something lively. There are millions of drops flowing each day but no drop is absurd, each drop carries a significant meaning for me.

She lives far away from me, overseas, and we have no contact. The day she left this country, we shared a lovely kiss, the first of our lives. It was one of the greatest moments of my life. It’s hard to explain how she doesn’t have contact with me and why she hasn’t spoken to me for ages. But whether she remembers me or not, I love her from the bottom of my heart and I suppose she loves me too.

My college starts at nine and we have a break at one thirty. These days I have left the company of my friends. I am always walking alone, living like an outsider. During my break-time, I sit in this part of the library and think of her, she who has been out of contact for years. I wait for a girl, who has quite a mysterious charm that haunts me, throws a bow at my tender heart and goes without piercing, just disturbing the psychology of the four chambers. She is of medium height, about five foot three, the same height as me. She wears glasses with the brown rings on them. Black pants, canvas shoes, and a yellow t-shirt is her casual wear and she is always with her friends chattering and throwing a bright smile at me, the smile of mystery. Her height, her face, her smile and her gesture is the same as that of my girl. For a moment I become stunned, my heart stops pumping and I feel like saying: ″My dear, where have you been for so long ? Didn’t you even bother to remember me ?″ But I can’t. Well, she belongs to someone else.

So this part of the library is special for me because I can watch her walk to the canteen, have a cup of tea and walk out again the same way, throwing a bright smile at me.

Days pass and I found that she was a grade junior to me; I am a second-year student and she is in the first year. Every day as I walk into my classroom upstairs I find her chattering with her friends with her loud laughter, the laughter that kills me, the laughter I am addicted to. I again find my heart pierced and my friend exclaims,″Look ahead!″

I say nothing. But I know I am in love with her. I ask myself, ″Why?” and “How?”

I know it’s not a crime to be in love with someone. If it’s a crime then I am ready for the punishment. I feel like hugging her and saying, ″Oh girl, you look same as my dear who has been away from me for ages. I don’t know whether I’m in real life or whether I’m dreaming. I love you very much. I want to hold your hands, kiss your lips, make love with you and be with you forever.″

This time I am back at my favorite place, the corner-most part of my library, trying to write something, trying to compose something, a poem for a nationwide competition. But I have failed to do so. I look out of my window and again see her with friends and again throwing a mysterious smile to me. I can’t persist this time, I can’t resist this time. Oh girl, please don’t come into my area of my sight. I have been unknowingly bonded to you, I am in love with you. I want to hold your hands and kiss your cheeks right now. I decided this time I will confess everything to her, I will speak to her.

She was walking towards the horizon and slowly disappearing from my sight. I knew that she would soon disappear. So I wanted to touch her from behind and confess everything. I don’t know what has happened to me. I walked to the window and jumped down to the ground. And I pleaded with myself “Oh dear, please listen to me, please hear me, hear the voice of my soul. Please don’t go aw…ay.”

The next day I was in the hospital with my legs bandaged. And again from the window, I would see a nurse, the same as my dear who is out of contact with me. It might be an illusion yet again and there’s a chance that I would follow the same action as a day ago, but I can’t. A nurse came to me. Oh my God! Her face was also same as that of the girl with whom I fell in love with. This time I was rather frightened, I don’t know why?

She came nearer and nearer. I closed my eyes. There was a gentle touch on my forehead and I heard some familiar voices in my ears saying “This boy is always late. Wake up soon! It’s already nine! Should I pour water on your forehead or you will wake up yourself ?”

And it was my mother.

Civa Bhusal

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Kathmandu Tribune Staff

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