[Love Short Story – Sex, Love and Celibacy]
Love Short Story – Sex, Love and Celibacy
Ok, if you are insisting so much, I shall tell you my love story though you may not find it different than any teenager’s. What do you say to that… uh… “Physical Attraction” was beginning of my love story. It’s all started when I was barely adult. O man, those were the days… Same old jeans and same old seven horsepower my favourite Bullet motorcycle but new T-Shirts and new girlfriends every now and then. It was full of fun, romance, and… and sex.
Then Ganga entered in our class, one day, to drown me in her heart, in her love. Life started changing for me. I was apparently same but feelings were now different. Bunking college continued, but intention changed. I was never interested in boring digital communication classes but bunked them to lag behind so that I can go to her… to read from her beautiful eyes… to see her rosy lips talking just to me, only for me… to feel her breaths while watching her raising and falling breasts… to touch her gently… no matter even her fingers while exchanging books and notes… And then one day, after fulfilling my wish, she left.
Love meant lust – it was nothing but flow of testosterone that caused attractions towards curvaceous and voluptuous body of woman, it was all about sex. I was a well known philanderer among my friends; but for girls I was Casanova of the college. It was just matter of a week for me to lay any girl. Simple tips that always worked for me with little variation here and there – surprise intro with a small wave of shock, turn conversation to praise her beauty, meet again “coincidently”, go for coffee, then again meet coincidently with my bullet, go for a long drive followed by dinner, few Goodbye kisses that would end up in a day or two on bed to sleep with her. I won uncountable bets from my friends because of this skill. But when it came to Ganga, I lost everything after winning the bet. I did have sex with her but it was not lust. It seeded love deep in me. First time I saw a woman differently.
I was in final year of electrical engineering – a motherless, affluent, stubborn, directionless young guy. I hated my father for no reason, don’t know since when. Definition of life was very simple, “Life is acronym for Live in Full Enjoyment. It’s all about me – nothing else”. I had many vices and was always supported by my numerous and ubiquitous friends of good time. There was none who ever told me that I was wrong – never ever. But she did and to my surprise without any resistance, unlike typical of what I used to be, I simply followed her sincerely. I quit smoking, no more beer party, marijuana started stinking, no bunking of classes… a serious, studious lover of his digital communication teacher. Our relation became subject of many whispers and gossips in the campus but she never bothered and kept protecting me by powerful shield of her love.
I was limiting myself now to her or books. She became reason for my existence. Love does not see any parity between lovers. You need not to be ideally fit for each other as Ganga and I were. She was five years elder to me – a girl from very ordinary family from a small village near Varanasi. There were many who started blaming Ganga to trap a young rich boy. Such talks used to boil my blood and once I even broke nasal bone of librarian who passed filthy comment when we both were going to her flat late in evening. I was expelled from the college and hostel for fifteen days. But this punishment was a boon for me – I was virtually out of the campus but actually staying with her in same campus, in her quarter. These fifteen days were so beautiful, so remarkable, so satisfying that I can sacrifice even my fifteen lives for them. In those days I realized why Ganga is considered so great in our country, why Ganga is pious, and how evil can be transformed into righteous by sheer holiness of her grace. She was my lover, my mother, my sister, my friend, my father, my teacher… everything what a man can ever need.
The lesson of love she taught was so powerful that it even washed away my unknown enmities with my father. One day I wrote a letter to him, telling him everything about my transformation and the inspiration for the same. After twenty days I received letter from my father. I felt my mother in wordings of it. First time in my knowledge I cried like a kid keeping my head in Ganga’s lap. Her hands were gently caressing my hairs soothing me with extraordinary confluence of many kinds of love.
The day came when my examination got over and I had to go to my father. I was back “home”. First time I saw my childhood at age of twenty two. I was the happiest soul on the earth. But the same time it was very painful not to see her around. Those days I always waited in my father’s office for 1 PM to make call to staff room and to listen her to feel her nearness with me. I was too selfish in calling her to realize her being only woman talking to her student lover in front of many intruding and doubtful eyes of her male colleagues. One month was coming to an end and so was my “Live in Full Enjoyment” Life. Every minute of that one month was like a day. Although my father took me to nearby hill station but panoramic view of the hill could not distract me even for a second from my meditated thought of nearness with her. It was difficult to get phone line clear from remote hill station. I was desperately waiting for my “father’s vacation” to get over.
Finally we reached home and next day I reached to my father’s office after painfully breathing for more than six hundred twenty five thousand nine hundred sixty four times. I dialled number of staff room exactly at 12:59 PM but no avail. A staff replied, “No, she is not in room… who is calli..” Thud. I could not bear load of the phone receiver. I tried to hear her voice daily for next five days. The staff who was attending my phone had already understood who was I and why was I asking for Professor Ganga Chaturvedi. That day he picked the phone in first ring itself and replied, “Ganga madam stopped coming to college. In new batch it seems more number of younger guys. She must be busy teaching them at her home …” I slammed the phone on floor, picked my father’s car key from his drawer in a jiffy, and left the office without bothering surprised and worried face of my father.
It was 4 AM when I reached the campus next day early in the morning after driving for more than fifteen hours. I almost ran to her third floor quarter to find nothing but lock on her door…
“…In new batch it seems more number of younger guys…” I banged her door loudly and ran to first year hostel. My mind stopped working. I forgot that I had car parked that could take me to hostel within no time. Fresher students were sleeping in their room after facing ragging from their second year seniors. I started banging door one by one and after a while lost my consciousness…
After eighteen months in asylum, I got back my consciousness but still there was no Ganga. I had already forgotten everything including my original name except Ganga. Few had started calling me “Majnu”. I had only one question, “Where is Ganga?”
Finally I could manage her address. A lady staff was kind enough to search in dust eating files to find her personnel records. I do not remember how I reached to her house. Did I walk? Did I travel in train? Did I simply follow Ganga? Nothing… nothing I remember. What I remember is an old priest at bank of Ganga river who told me that my Ganga, his daughter, was no more in this mortal world. He showed me at some distance the place where my Ganga was cremated and her ashes were poured in the holy reservoir.
She left the college to stop talking to me… for me… for a better life for me… when she came to know that she had leukemia…
[This is story of Majnu Baba who has been travelling along Ganga for last twenty years. Sometime he starts speaking in English teaching digital communication to uneducated villagers residing beside the river.]
__END__
