CIN

I was 9 then. I did not know what love was. I still don’t, but it does not matter. I knew I was happy and I was. She was beautiful, still is. Her smile used to give me cold shivers. I used to throw furtive glances at her, trying to observe her every move, trying not to miss a single word she said, a single breath she took, a single smile on her face. Her every move used to delight me beyond belief and expression. It was heaven and better. The movement of her hands as she spoke, the fluttering of her eyelashes, the varied looks on her face all beautiful, the way she leaned on one of her legs, the sway of her hips as she moved, the way her eyes shone sometimes, everything about her was perfection. Was it love? I don’t know and I don’t care. I was happy. I remember the play. She was playing Cinderella. I wanted to be the prince, her prince. I wanted to dance with her, I wanted to put the magical shoe on her feet, I wanted to steal her from her evil stepmother and evil stepsisters, and I wanted to steal her from the entire world. I wanted to dance with her and look into her eyes as we danced. Her eyes, deeper than the abysmal depths of deepest ocean, I wanted to loose myself in her eyes and stay like that for ever and a day. But someone else got the part. Hate, consuming and spreading like wild fire, hate with all the vengeance of the world, filled me. It was just a play. But I was 9 and not so dispassionate. But whenever she came into the room, I melted as snow in day, as wax at night. I forgot all about the prince, the prince in the play. I did not care; I was her prince, her prince in real life. I remember the rehearsals. She danced without a care, she danced well. I kept looking at her. I forgot my lines, I forgot my moves. But I did not care. I knew I was happy. I was standing behind the curtain. I was waiting to come onto the stage. Through the curtain, I saw her walking up the stage. She was wearing a white dress with a matching white barbie hat. She looked fabulous.

I stopped breathing for a moment, for a moment everything around me stopped, the world stopped spinning, the moon stopped shining, even time stood still. And I promised myself, a fantastic promise as only a 9 year old boy can do, that I will marry her and will her make my Cinderella for ever. I will fight the entire world, I will fight every prince in every kingdom, I will fight every living man and even the spirits, but I will make her mine. As we danced that night, she with the abominable prince and me with some girl, I looked at her. She looked like a fairy, a fairy from Neverland, a fairy who has come down to earth for me, to love me, to hold me. I was in a trance that night, as I saw heaven, as I saw Neverland. I walked with her through Neverland, we danced, we plucked flowers, we laughed and I was happy, as happy as I had ever been as happy as I will ever be. That night before falling asleep, I cried. I had tears in my eyes, tears of happiness, and tears of bliss. I prayed to god, I asked him to make her mine. I promised that I will do anything he wanted me to do. I promised that I will be a good boy all my life, that I will love my family for every, that I will finish my vegetables at dinner, that I will study hard, that I will not be friends with bad people, that I will pray to him everyday. I promised him everything and more. I was desperate. I was mad and I prayed as if there was no tomorrow. We grew up. We went our separate ways. Life passed by swiftly. I still saw her sometimes. I still longed for her but I was stupid and reasonable. I never said a thing, I did not know what to say, didn’t even know if I had to say anything. I felt that the intensity and the power of my feelings will carry my words to her and that she will know without me telling her a thing. We became good friends. We came close. We spent hours talking, talking of life, of love and everything else. I was 16 now.

I remember the times I spent in her room. I don’t remember what we talked about, but I remember how she looked. She was still beautiful, as beautiful as the rising sun. Her voice had the freshness of the morning dew. Her hand was soft like velvet. Her smile was soothing like the full moon. Her legs were white like milk. Her smell, faint yet intoxicating had the scent of the rarest perfumes. Her body, as she moved left me breathless. I remember the orgasmic pleasure I felt every time I was with her and the agonizing pain I felt as I left her. I remember the dark nights when she used to come downstairs to see me off, as we should close in the dark alley, I used to breath in all her smells to keep me going for the time I was away. I wanted to kiss her and tell her how much I loved her. But I was stupid and reasonable. Maybe I should have prayed to god to give me the strength but I was old now and I did not believe in god. I felt my heart skip a beat. I was drenched in rain but my throat my dry. I was shivering but a fire, a passion was burning inside me. I saw her. She was wearing a deep purple dress and she was wet. Drops of water were hanging from her hair. Her face wet, looked as pure as a child’s. A strand of hair was falling on her face. I remember it as if it was yesterday. Her body drenched in rain still inflames dormant passions in my soul. I should have told her then that I love her, that I have been loving her from the time I did not know that love exists, from a time long gone by and that I will love her till I exist, love her till love loses its meaning, love her till I forget who I am, and love her forever. But it doesn’t matter. I knew I was happy then, as happy as I had ever been, as ever as I will ever be. Years rolled by. I was caught up in the unforgiving tide of my life and I became even more reasonable. I learned to be stoic, to hide my feelings, to ignore them to the point of forgetting them. I became cold, cold to human touch, cold to human affection.

I was trying to forget her, I was trying hard. I suppressed all my feelings, all my weaknesses. I wanted to be strong; I did not want anyone to know that I was once in love. But the dam broke. The flood of my emotions broke through like the mad rush of an overflowing river. I cried tears of pain, and tears of anguish. I called her and told her I loved her. I listened to her silence and to her silence. I wanted to catch a hint of love in her voice. As I was growing more desperate, I suddenly realised, to my astounding surprise, that I was happy. I felt as if a load as heavy as the loftiest mountains has been lifted from my chest. I felt relieved. I was calm. And as I was talking to her that night, I suddenly realised that love is painful, it is harsh. It breaks our heart and leaves us bleeding on the floor.But it gives us a few incredible memories, memories that we cherish for the rest of our lives, memories that make us laugh every time and every day, memories that make us happy whenever we remember the time gone by, memories of magical moments we shared with our loved ones, memories of a play, a room, a moonlight night and a girl drenched in rain, memories of small and ordinary events that shaped our lives, memories that live with us forever. I know that there will be girls in my life. But I will always remember with a smile on my face, as the girl who taught me what love is, as my first love, as my Cinderella, as my Cin.