My love stories: Part Five: Naheed

Naheed came like a breath of fresh air into my life. She was short. Just about four feet ten inches. What struck me about her was her demeanour. She had a cheerful, smiling face.

For a dour, gloomy guy like me she was like an answer to my prayers.

She was one year junior to me in college. I came to know her during a college trip to Nainital. I went for long walks with her there. And as I began to know her better, I liked her even more. She did not have that 'calculating' nature most Bombay girls have. She was frank, intelligent and warm-hearted.

She did not to appeal to me physically much. Well endowed hips and breasts but they largely left me uninterested. Not because I am frigid or anything but because I had begun to love her warm nature more.

The friendship deepened after we returned to Bombay. We began writing letters to each other. ( There was not Internet or the mobile phone then). Not love letters, but about what we were doing and what we thought of the world around us.

She loved my writing style. She told me that. I then started getting intimate in my letters after that.

One day she fell ill. I learnt that she was down with flu. I sent her flowers. After a few days she invited me to her house. I bought a book by Somerset Maugham (typical of a pessimistic guy like me), gift wrapped it and reached her house.

She kissed me on the lips. It felt nice. Her saliva was warm and slightly salty. She then asked me to make love to her. I tried but could not. I loved her too much to get so close so soon. I wanted a commitment from her which she refused to give.

I later understood why she refused. I was just a college student then. She wanted to see how I did career-wise before committing to anything.

Naheed after all was not so innocent as I made her out to be. I did not blame her. I do not blame her even today. I was asking for love. Something I had always thirsted for since childhood.

Naheed was willing to give that only after I settled into a career. Any sensible girl would do that. But that would hardly count as pure love.

I stopped talking to her after that. I went to my hostel room that day and cried a lot alone. My heart was broken. I lost a lot of my innocence that day. I stopped yearning for love after that. I understood I was never going to get it.

Five years later I came to know that Naheed went to Paris for higher studies and married a Frenchmen.