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CHAPTER 7- A NOTE OF LOVE





Thousand notes of love sitting in the rusted box hidden inside the almirah of old times,
An imprint of rose from our first meet, 
A teardrop when he bid me adieu
By the age of 74, I have seen generations of couples and heard real life love stories. It always gives butterflies in my stomach because love is the horizon where fantasy shaped sky meets the reality shaped sea. I am fortunate enough of having my perfect love story. 
Back in the 1950s, running along the chaotic streets of UP with crackling sounds of laughter and the swaying of hair along with the rhythm of wind, everything seemed so good to be true. My childhood was more absorbed in reel life rather than real life. I used to watch romantic movies where the boy gets the girl in the end and they live happily ever after. One usual day I was going back home with my sister when he crossed my way, laughing around with his friends. Our eyes used to share glares multiple times those days, I guess that’s how we realised that there’s a spark between us. The spark ignited flames of fire when our families approved each other and were ecstatic for marriage. It all seemed so surreal, yet I wasn’t convinced for marriage at such a young age but my family was not ready for having any conversation against the marriage. In a matter of days we got married and my dreams of doing something in life sank deep down the sea. Our journey started on a rough note, I wasn’t able to understand him and didn’t accept his love. It felt like sitting on the opposite sides of bed and inhaling the cold air present between us. We both were not matured enough to understand what we were going through but he never took advantage of being a male and a husband. As time passed by, our roots of understanding and faith started growing deeper and deeper and we started looking upto each other. His job made him stay away from home for months and months at the risk of his life. I always felt proud that my husband is an army man yet always had the fear of losing him one day without even saying goodbye. We used to write letters, from poems to paragraphs of our love for each other. He used to appreciate me in thousand possible ways and always left me in awe. 
We never got a chance of living as a normal couple but we never wasted time in regretting it. Distance brought us closer and made us stronger than ever. 
After his retirement we lived in tremendous peace, flourished with numerous cries and giggles of our grandchildren. Our sweet and mellow journey came to an end when I lost him forever. I was there by his side when he closed his eyes for the final time and that gave us peace. 
I still have his belongings with me, reminding me how pure and loving he was. I have learnt that with a pinch of trust and understanding, love will always find it’s way. 
We just need to hold on for a while.

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