My name is Steven. Without further ado, I would like to narrate a story that changed my life once and forever. They say a burnt child dreads fire. And a broken heart dreads love.

I was very skeptical about falling in love again more particularly after my recent heart break from which I was still recuperating. To keep myself at bay from that haunting sentience, I started to write. Though I wasn’t that great at writing, it really helped me in lessening the burden off my heart.

I was opening myself to the inanimate paper which was sometimes blotted with the transparent tears and sometimes with the black ink. And on the suggestion of a friend, I started to blog, though I kept the rationale behind these posts at anonymity.

Quite a good number of people liked my stories. Of which Sruti was one. Many of my readers always asked me if my stories were real which I obviously dismissed. Life isn’t an open book for everyone else to peep into.

***

My name is Sruti. I hail from a traditional family. I was almost single throughout my life. Though many guys approached me, I never saw the same love in their eyes which they said it by word. Probably their intentions varied from flirting to laying me down. Ofcourse I had great friends too. But never had this feeling called Love with them either.

Until I read Steven’s posts.

I saw an underlying meaning hidden in his posts. They spoke of his heart. He wanted to convey something. How badly she hurt him. How much he wanted her. How much he hated love…

I had a bleeding-heart for his feelings for I could vividly feel his sufferance. I always had this dream about him. A green field with a huge tree underneath which a child sat with his head buried in his knees bent up and his folded hands. I would reach for him when he would hold onto me pouring out his heart. And I could feel his heart getting lighter and lighter… And that’s when I realized that I loved him!!!

I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to meet him. And I repeatedly sent him requests for his number and a date. He did give me his personal number on which I reached him.


With more and more stories, Sruti mailed me more. I do sometimes reply my readers but to Sruti, I always replied. There was a kinda discovering more of myself whenever I spoke to her. I saw a world beyond dreams in her words. She made me forget myself. I was lost. Lost in her world. Lost in my own world too. Can she be the next girl in my life? The word called ‘love’ was out of my life’s lexicon. Am I flirting with her?

And that, I dint know. Perhaps I saw a great friend in her. Or perhaps ... Or perhaps I loved her.


He has a great mesmerizing voice. I was almost falling for him before I realized my limitations. What started as admiration ended up in something else! A great poet noted that sympathy is the commencing point of love.

I had the faintest idea as to what was brewing inside me. Infallibly, I knew its love. Or perhaps something else. And one day I will propose him. I knew that he’s hurt. I knew that it would be difficult for him to make a choice again. But I promise that I will heal him just like I did to the child in my dreams.

All I wanted was him to be happy, and I thought I was capable of blossoming ‘It’ again in his heart. Though I had this feeling for him from day one, I never disclosed my heart to him.


Why am I having a hunch that Sruti’s gonna to propose me? What shall I do, if she says an ‘I love you’.

Please Sruti, don’t do it. I am not ready to love someone again. Perhaps it might turn out to be rebound relationship.

Even if its love from my side, I want to nip it down in the bud stage. She and I were from different religion. What if our parents don’t accept? She has a younger sister who still unmarried. What if the society doesn’t accept our kids, in case we get married? I don’t want them to be ostracized because of my mistake.

I know that love is unconditional. And it happens for true. I really wished she were there in my life before her. I could have swum against life’s torrential currents just for her. And now I can’t. First thing, my heart isn’t healed and second thing, I am tired. Tired of giving her a bunch of roses, tired of accompanying her to places, tired of saying an ‘I love you’ when I dint see the future and finally, I am tired of myself.

You are really great Sruti. Perhaps you can be a perfect wife. The kind I always wanted. Just that I am not the right guy for you.

Only if I could ever explain my heart to Sruti.


A few years later…

I walked into the café where Steven and his wife were waiting for us. My husband Abhinav was more than pleased to meet Steven. Abhinav would have heard so many stories about Steven from me. Abhinav perhaps loved me more than everyone. The way I’d liked Steven to love me. But I respected Steven’s stand. I am happy now, though happiness would have had a different meaning if Steven agreed.

Steven received us well and so did his wife Cathy. I liked the beautiful yet innocuous smile across her face.

It’s been almost five years since I spoke to Steven. I sent him my marriage invite but he never turned up. I heard from a common friend that he married this beautiful woman called Cathy.

I was happy for him. They indeed looked a great pair.

I looked at Steven’s eyes. There was happiness in them seeing me and Abhinav together. Who can understand him better than me?


Cathy and I’ve been married for four years. A responsible and loving wife, she is, I’ve no regrets for I married a wonderful woman. But always I thought about Sruti. How she was, where she was and how her husband is… Until this day when I received a call from her. We are going to meet at a local café.

For the first time in my life, my worries seemed to have evaporated. My heart felt lighter. I could tell from the appearance itself that Abhinav is a great guy for Sruti. The way he cared for her, the way he gestured his love, convinced me that I indeed made the correct choice.

Deep within my heart I folded my hands and thanked God for this wonderful moment.


A few years earlier…

“Sruti,” he spoke running his palm down my cheek bones, “Please try to understand me. This can never happen. I don’t know if I really love you or not. The tears are curtaining my sight from seeing the true love…” and he went on.

I held his palm, clenched it firmly and held it close to my face. I kissed it and looked away from him trying to hide my grief.

You cared for every one else. You cared for your parents, my parents and our future kids, if any. But you never cared for my heart. I wanted to cry.

I held his collar and “Please don’t do this to me Steven,” I cried as I gasped for breath.


Love is a sweet pain. Love is making the other heart feel love for you. Love is hurting your own self for others who love you. Love is about sacrificing anything for the heart that loves you, be it Love itself. She taught me what love is. I felt that she truly loved me. I saw the pain in her heart when I took my stand, the same pain which I had when I broke her.

She can always get someone better. I will pray for her. I know she’s hurt for the moment. But she will be healed soon. Though I can’t prevent her from loving me, I can prevent a bad future from befalling onto her.

“Please don’t do this to me Steven,” Sruti cried. I nodded and pulled my hand down her face when it lost contact after pinching her slightly on the cheeks and wiping the tears that cascaded down. And I started to walk away.

My love was selfless. My love was divine. My love was sweet…

There are no claps without two hands. There is no proper vision without two eyes. And there is no love without two hearts.

And my heart loved the girl who proved that I had a loving heart….


…. And my heart loved the man who proved that I had a loving heart….