Young Love

What does it take to love? A look? A smile? A touch, the bat of an eyelid, the careless flick of hair? The fabric of her cloth which flutters in the wind? The way her lips curl when she smiles? That one tooth of hers which is crooked and stands out when she laughs, throwing her head back, sending my heart tripping? Her ringing laughter? The curves? The softness, as you touch her hands? What?

Is it, maybe, just a rush of hormones, raging, as they do, in youth? Just some dopamine, and noradrenaline? They do not let one rest…they make the impossible, possible. The heady mix of those hormones tumbling in your brain, bathing the sinews, the grey cells, rendering the mind incapable of coherent thought, making it possible to dream with eyes open. Dream about days which don’t end, evenings which last forever, and nights spent tumbling around in the bed, crumpling the sheets, smelling her fragrance, the fall of her hair on my face, the touch of her skin, warm, soft, alive, vibrant; it tingles on touch!

What does it take to love, I thought? 

She smiled, and a million stars exploded. A trillion butterflies just fluttered their wings and flew into my stomach. Birds chirped, and cuckoos sang. My heart trotted like a horse, and a longing, deep, primal, strong, uncurled somewhere inside my heart. At that point of time I knew, I could have done anything, achieved anything, for her, and then given it up at the flick of a coin. I longed for her, to touch her, hold her, caress her hair, her lips. 

And she leans forward, sending my heart pumping. Her hair cascade down her face, falling in waves, waves of perfume. From behind the veil of her light brown hair, her eyes twinkle as she giggles. She reaches out…touches my hand….an explosion of energy inside my brain…and then thoughtlessness, as my brain short-circuits, dreams entwine in each other. I am faraway, transported by her touch, thinking of an evening on a beach where waves crash, and we walk drenched by the surf, her hand clenching mine. Her body warm, as she snuggles close to me. 

All this and more, I dream, with open eyes. I have said before, have asked her, is this love? She smiles, torments me. She will not reply, but she continues to lean forward into me, I am now bathing in her perfume, as she stands close to me, tantalizingly close. I shiver, as her body touches mine, soft, it promises me what she doesn’t. She bites her lips, still laughing at my helplessness. Something stirs inside me; I have made up my mind. It is her or no one else.

Am I in love? Is this what being in love is? This helplessness? This happy longing? This crazy dependence, this daydreaming? This shivering inside, this tremor of my soul? She still doesn’t say, only laughs……

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#Daffodils – A Bouquet of Short Stories

By Divya Narain

Additional Professor in Plastic Surgery, doting father, loving husband, newbie author. Love travel and literature. Love reading religion, politics and history!

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