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Offline Vikram_Rana

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  • Dreams are Good, But Realities are batter.
A Love Story...
« on: April 14, 2008, 06:20:24 AM »
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  • This story is really a very long one, but, please read it!!!
    It really touches some reality in this material world!!!
    If while reading it, some of your precious tears
    come out, this mean, u too, u are a true lover!
                                                     

    A very Sad Love Story


     
    It had been raining for more than a week, so much rain it made everyday seemed so restless
    and gloomy. She called and said she was coming up. It was the third time she came up to
    see me that week. I carried her excuse of why she came all the way here and went to meet
    her at the nearby seven-eleven. She was standing there alone, carrying her red umbrella.
    Her friend had dropped her off. It was raining and she was shivering. She looked weak
    and fragile in the harsh rain, wearing not enough to keep her warm.
    I walked up to her and said, "You shouldn't come to see me anymore," and stuff like how we shouldn't be together.
    She said, "I miss you."
    I told her coldly, "Lets go, I'll take you home."
    She did not open up her umbrella, I knew she wanted to share mine.
    I said, "Open up your umbrella, let's go."
    Unwillingly, She opened up her umbrella and walked with me to the car. She said she hadn't eat lunch or dinner and asked if we could stop at some place to eat.
    Right away I answered with a stoned heart, "No!"
    Disappointed, she asked me to take her to the train station, she said she would take the train back home.
    Maybe it was the rain, all the trains were full of people with umbrellas and suit cases who were eager to get home, not caring about who just passed by. We waited and waited, she looked at me innocently. Being together for so long, of course I knew what she meant. I understand how she must feel when she came all this way here in this kind of weather and I treat her like this. With her soft eyes staring at me, I felt guilt and wanted to let her stay for the night.
    But reality struck again, I said to her coldly, "Let's go try the other train station."
    We were living in the same apartment building, on the same floor. Back then there were four of us, and we got along well. We would always eat dinner together, watch movies, and sometimes go camping. We were more like a family, but I didn't know I would end up falling in love with the only girl of the four. Maybe it was during the last year of college, having living together for two years, we developed deep feelings for each other. After she graduated she went back home, and I stayed for one more year to finish school. During that year I was only able to take the train down to see her on holidays, but never for long. That was how we kept the treasured relationship.
    We were walking along the side of the road. She was in front of me and I was right behind her. Her umbrella had a broken spoke. She looked liked a wounded soldier, carrying her rusted rifle walking weakly. Many times, she was too into thinking or whatever she was doing, drifting off the road, she almost got hit by the cars passing by. I wanted to just take her in my arms, but with the love I had for her and the constant pain in my stomach, I did nothing. On the way, we passed by the park where we use to always go.
    She begged and said, "Lets go in the park just for a little while please, I promise I'll go home right after this."
    With her begging, my cold heart softened, but I still put up an annoyed face and walked in the park. I was just sitting on the benches looking like I wanted to leave. She went to the big oak tree and she was looking for something. I knew she was looking for what we wrote on that tree with a silver ink pen half a year ago. If I remember it right, it said, "Chris and Susan was here, Chris had tea and Susan was drinking hot chocolate. Hope Chris and Susan would always remember this day, always loving each other, forever." She was looking around for quite a while, then she came back slowly with tears on her face.
    She said, "Chris, I can't find it, it's not there anymore."
    I felt so sour inside, there was a stream of pain, flowing into my heart, the kind of pain I've never felt before. But all I could do was pretend I didn't care, and said, "Can we go now?"
    I opened up my big black umbrella, she was just standing there, didn't want to leave yet, hoping there was still a chance. She said, "You made up the story of you and that other girl didn't you? I know I frustrate you sometimes, but I'll change, can't we start over?"
    I didn't say a word, just looked down and shook my head. After that we just kept on walking towards the train station, didn't say a word to each other.
    Four years ago, the doctor said I had cancer, but it was found early, so it was still curable. Thinking that it was okay, I started living my normal life again, and even forgot about the cancer. I didn't think about the cancer again and did not go back to the doctor. Until a month ago, my stomach was hurting for two weeks straight, and the nightmare awakened me again. First I thought the pain wouldl go away, but it grew stronger until to the point that I couldn't take it anymore. I went back to the doctor and took an X-ray. The picture came out and there was a big black spot, which proved the truth that I did not want to believe. I was at the most glittering part of my life, but it was coming to an end. I wanted myself and the people around me to go through the least pain possible, so I decided to commit suicide. But I couldn't let people find out about my intentions, especially Susan, the person I love the most in this whole world, who still doesn't know about the truth. Susan was still young, she shouldn't have to go through this. So I made up some stories and lied to her. It was a cruel thing to do, and it broke her heart, but it was the fastest way to wipe out three years's feelings. I didn't have much time, because I would soon start to loose hair and she would find out eventually. But now I'm close to succeeding, this drama would soon be over. Thirty minutes more this would all come to an end, that was what I had in mind.
    The train had stopped running so I called a taxi for her. We were just standing there, waiting, loosing our last moments in silence.
    I saw the taxi from far away, I held my tears and said to her, "Take care of yourself, take good care of yourself."
    She didn't talk, just nodded lightly, and then opened up her misshaped umbrella and stepped out on the street. Out in the rain, we became two single life forms, one red, one black, so far away from each other. I opened the door for her and she got in, then I close the gate that would separate me from her forever. I stood by the car, staring in the dark window, at the first love in my life, also the last one, walking out of my life. The car started, driving into the street. Finally I couldn't hold my sorrow and the twist in my heart any longer, waving my arms rapidly chasing after the taxi, because I knew, this would be the last time I see her. I wanted to tell her I still love her, I wanted to tell her to stay, I wanted to tell her so much, but the taxi had already turned in the corner. Warm tears kept falling down my face, blended with the cold rain drops. I was cold, not because of the rain. I was cold inside.


    She left, and I didn't get anymore of her phone calls even until today. I know she didn't see my tears, because they were washed away by the rain. I left without regrets. But I'm not Chris, I'm that girl Susan, using my memory, and his diary I found after one year since he left, writing down these last words.


    OOOOH SAIBABA....God.....Please fulfill all Dwarkamai Lovers Wish......

    SAIRAM SAIRAM SAIRAM SAIRAM SAIRAM SAIRAM SAIRAM SAIRAM SAIRAM

    Offline Vikram_Rana

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    Re: A Love Story...
    « Reply #1 on: May 23, 2008, 03:57:37 PM »
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  • The Rose

    John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind. In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II. During the next year and one month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked like. When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting - 7:00 PM at the Grand Central Station in New York. "You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel." So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen. I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened:

    A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. "Going my way, sailor?" she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own. And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful. I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment. "I'm Lieutenant
    John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?" The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is about, son," she answered, "but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!" It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom. The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive.


    Offline Vikram_Rana

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    • Dreams are Good, But Realities are batter.
    Re: A Love Story...
    « Reply #2 on: August 18, 2008, 10:12:53 AM »
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  • Lord Krishna was once on the bed with acute pain in His head. Sage Narada asked Shri Krishna that he was much surprise by what has happened and the remedy for the same.

    Shri Krishna replied that the remedy was simple and the headache would immediately abate if someone who loved him would give him water to drink, the water must have washed the lover's feet.

    Sage went to Shri Krishna's wife Rukmani with the remedy. Rukmani denied giving the water that has washed her feet, for drinking purpose to Lord Krishna. The reason it would be a great sin giving water that has washed her feet, for drinking purpose to her husband and the Lord 'Shri Krishna'.

    Narada then went with the same plea to Shri Krishna's sweet heart Shri Radha. Radha immediately washed her feet and gave the water to Narada. She said that she was aware ot the consequences of the same. She will have to go and suffer in the hell for this action, but she would not mind it. She was happy to suffer if that brought relief to her beloved 'Shri Krishna'.


     


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