That First Love...

Have you ever had a first love? That first instance of a feeling towards a person of affection or passion so great, that it makes you just paralyzed: unable to control your senses for they are totally occupied with the pleasant picture of such lover. Well, I had one.

People believe that the first love is the most sincere, yet the most reckless, especially when you encounter it at such a young age, like a child in a primary school. It is the kind of love that might not be defined as love, seen from the eyes of a youngster, but it just remains deep inside as long as one lives!

That girl from the other class, it is difficult to recognize why, or how, I still remember her. Why am I even having these thoughts now?! I hope there is some good reason behind this! I still remember the way I kept looking at her, totally love-struck, totally infatuated, like someone who drank an excessive dose of a love potion to the extent that he got totally captivated to the enchanting impact of her enjoyable presence. I still remember her innocent face, her neat long hair and elegant way of dress, and, most importantly, her performance as a student. It is so strange that the first thing that made me so attracted to her was her cleverness: so hard to imagine that a child could think like this! She was the top of her class (3/A) and I was the top of mine (3/B). She was not the most beautiful girl at my year, yet tell that to little cupid! 

I still remember those very few times when I collected my whole grains of courage to go and talk to her, yet that could not prevent myself to stumble even at the minutest rock and to fumble even at the smallest talk. And when she sees that she just gives me that tender smile that makes me just fly above the ground, feeling the strength of the mighty Hercules or receiving the enthusiasm and energy of a hundred boys of my age. And that was enough for me.
Such 'Platonic love story' continued till the end of the primary stage, when we had to take different roads and go to different schools for the preparatory stage. It is funny that like 10 or 15 years later, I came across her by chance. The odd thing is that I directly realized her; she did not change much, but just became taller and veiled, a grown-up. However, the bizarre thing is that at this time my feeling was not love; it was like a shock, a fear from a ghost withdrawn a long time ago, an incarnation of some kind of memory kept deep inside that came back to the surface out of the blue. And like the old days, I stood watching her from a distance, but this time mainly surprise-struck. And like the old days, I just went away without saying a single word, for such memory belongs to the deeps and got no place on the surface. People are true to say that first love is like an ever-green tree with its deep roots planted inside us, but it just stays inside .. where it belongs ...

Black and White

Imagine yourself living back at those days of the black and white ..... 

When the people had manners and respected each other, old or young ... When they had this peace of mind, when they honestly smiled (a rare occasion these current days!) ... When everything and everyone got taste: The taste of the fresh food that is not contaminated by some greed or indifference and dishonesty, the taste of the new clothes well woven and sincerely made, the taste of the long-living appliances and devices staying from generation to generation as hard as a rock (not as fragile as a china plate like nowadays'!), the taste of the refreshing clean air and the beautiful view of those distinguished buildings and neat streets and green everywhere, and most importantly the taste of the people, doing everything in their life with taste ... No wonder that the people at those days used to live longer and enjoy superior health and better living no matter how simple or even primitive it was (although they did not witness such advances in technology or medicine which are supposed to have been produced to ensure a safer and longer and more enjoyable life, ironically enough, or maybe sorrowfully enough!).
When the country was a real country, its people feeling the pride of being related to it and the enthusiasm to defend it against any harm and to make it a leading place .. When the corruption was there, but not that evident, not that dominant .. When religion was a true faithful message for the good of humanity, not a means for some personal interest or some cheap trade .. When a man was a real man and a woman was a real woman, every one has a particular role, accepting their differences and even encouraging each other to build a sound society, not exchanging roles and fighting and harassing each other .. When love was grace and not some kind of lust, when emotions were idealistic and  not materialistic .. When schools and universities were real minarets of science and education and illumination, real teachers and real students .. When everything was either black or white, unlike today's multicolor living, with the colors so multiple that we are losing perception!
As life goes on, it is supposed to get better (like the progress from black and white to technicolor). But it seems that, as life goes on, same as humans, the world suffers from aging, experiencing the common symptoms of senility: a tasteless, meaningless, disrupted, weak, and dying life!

If Only...

Sitting inside her balcony, with her short white red-dyed hair ... Ignoring all the noises of the street ..

The thunderous horns of the cars, the resonant shouts of the sellers, the monotonic humming of people talking, the loud cries of that newborn lying in his mother's lap, the goofy laughs of some young men, the common chaos of the modern hasty way of living ...

Detaching herself from everyone and everything that could blur the clarity of this memory's dreamy image ... Thinking back at the days of her youth, the days of her strength and beauty .. The moments of her glory, the middle pages of her story ... That look on her face, and those teary eyes ... Fairness was one day the source of her pride and pleasure, and now fairness still remains, yet with a very different meaning .. A very 'just' meaning .. The mirror was once her all-day resort, but now it is a forbidden place .. Life was never that ruthless ... Feeling totally deserted, totally forgotten, totally nonexistent!

Totally occupied with only one thought: "The world was mine someday. I had it all in the grips of my hands. But like the granules of soft sand, all sneaked down the palms of my hands and I ended up catching emptiness! If only I can live a little while back then ... If only I can have my shiny black hair and my soft light skin .. If only I can see those looks of admiration from all the beholders .. If only my eyes don't keep on failing me .. If only my bones aren't so fragile .. If only those wrinkles aren't that obvious ... If only aging and loneliness and regret are not eating me alive .. If only I made the right choices when I had the chance ... If only......" 

Old Days

Looking back at those old days, when the night was not that peaceful, although it had the same dead calmness, freezing cold, and shivering breaths .. When the only concern was how to make one's heart never stop pumping, whether that meant blood or even hope .. When memories were the most precious thing one can possess .. "Some day you'll look back at these days and just smile!" he said .. A smile of accomplishment, or maybe deliverance!