Through The Pensieve

‘Always.’ It has probably become the new definition of ‘love, no matter what’ and certainly, of the unrequited love. It has been the most romantic word ever since the ‘Prince’s Tale’ was seen in the pensieve. Yes, the story was soul stirring. But she believes that the word has been exploited. Unlike the ones smitten with it, she wonders about the question it answered. How touching can an ‘Always’ be, if there is no one to ask, ‘After all this time?’

She has a tendency to recall everything that upsets her the moment she is upset about something. She has a curiosity to know if people remember her the way she remembers them. She has a hard time moving on; not from the people but the moments she spent with them, the things they did for her. One night she can wake up missing her parents, another might thinking of a stranger who caught her attention. In between these extremes of nights, she would often recall the ones she knows but not enough.

And on those nights, she likes to tell stories. Stories about the real incidents as they are stored in her mind, as the way she perceives them. Last night was one of her story telling nights.

She had called for him every time she was in pain. She had called for him every time she couldn’t trust the ones around her. She had called for him in her agony. She had called for him in her joys. But he did not show up once he left. She had hoped he would. People around her thought she was being unreasonable. Some of them assured that a message has been sent. She knew they were lying. She knew they did not see the point in trying to find him. She knew they thought they could handle her. She knew. They tried.

He was the only one who was able to handle her. He was the only person she listened to. She says that her first impression of him was quite bad. She couldn’t believe what kind of a doctor would stop a patient in pain going for sonography to check her heartbeat. The answer is, every. But she insisted that she did not know him. She was in pain. He did not even introduce himself till the next day. When he did, she started believing that first impression need not be the last one.

He spoke the language that she was fluent in. Quite surprisingly, in a land of alien tongue, the familiar words melted her heart. The stubborn kid, for once, tried to listen what the doctor wanted to say. He pulled her braids from both the sides, she would often mention with her face breaking into laughter. He had sat down with her the evening before her operation. She was alone. He had asked about her life. In the twenty days of her admission, nobody had bothered to ask about how she feels being away from her home, her friends, her family. He did. That changed everything. Being her doctor along with the few others, she knew she had already put him on a pedestal.

He: You are adamant on doing what you are asked not to. You won’t eat on normal days, but now that your diet is restricted all you want is to eat.

She: but another doctor said that I could.

He: Is he your doctor or I? You are my patient and you will do as I say.

Every time she explains this incident, she adds that it was probably the one time she had let anyone speak of their authority on her. But how can one argue with a teenager who had already idolized someone.

Every now and then she ran into people who spoke of him. Some made it a point to let her know about his current whereabouts knowing how important he was to the teenage soul. On her last day in the hospital, she was informed that it was his last day too. Knowing that he was in the same place, she hoped to bump into him someday. But then, on their last day she needed to meet him. Somehow she had managed to get his personal number and called him up for a meet. He had agreed. She waited the whole day, the evening. People said he must be busy. It was his last day too. But she believed he would show up.

They had agreed to meet one last time. He arrived at the hospital cabin she was in. He arrived only after she was discharged. But what was supposed to be a face to face meeting ended up in a phone conversation with a mutual understanding of, someday, maybe they will meet again.

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It has been a little more than ten years since then. She remembers every detail about him. Sometimes she would wake me up at night and crawl into my arms. She would say, “I don’t think there will come a day when I am not sick.” Then she would tell me the complete story of how it all began. I had heard the story more than once. But last night she had added that he had once said, “how can someone forget a spoilt brat like you?” She then looked up to me and asked, “Does he remember? After all this time?”

It might not be a love story that leaves a mark. But it is the story of a teenager idolizing someone for the first time in her life. It is the story of a girl who cannot help but wonder about it even in her mid twenties. It is the story where I am just a listener. It is the story that I had believed to have ended. It is the story that I now realize has loose ends. It is the story where no matter how much I love, how much I care or assure, it won’t make a difference. It is the story where I hope has an 'Always' in the end, if it ends.