A couple of my friends are in the middle of (messy) break-ups. Seeing their condition I feel glad that I am not in any of that kind of relationship. I wonder, how can a person be in love and don't know the simple basic (and irritating) stuff about the other guy. Makes me think what they seem to claim love is indeed love.
I read this short story somewhere and it was not credited. Have told it to many friends and most of them have loved it. Increase in the frequency of broken-hearts around me has reminded me of the story and would like to share here. As, I don't have the original story, which I read, I am putting my own imagination to the basic narration that I remember.
There was this guy from a village. His parents had died when he was unable to understand what death was. His grandmother raised him. He turned out to be good at studies. He completed his school and went to a city for attending college. As it often happens, he fell in love with one of his class-mates. And again, as it mostly happens, the girl rejected him. The guy was broken hearted. He did not speak with anyone. He even stopped going to college. He felt dejected. His friends were worried about him. They tried to cheer him up. Taking him to movies, introducing to other girls. But he remained sad. Smile seemed to have ceased to exist for him. His friends thought that perhaps if he moves away from college for a while, it may help. So they pursue him to go to his village and stay with his grand mother for a while.
Well in the village his grand-mother was happy to see him, but started to worry about him seeing him so sad. She asked him many times what was wrong, but he said nothing. Time passed, and one day, suddenly the guy asks his grandmother, 'nani, how much time does it take to forget about the First love', and the grandmother replies, 'beta, how would I know, I am just 70'.
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