And now for something literally different

Part 2

Some seasons are fuzzy. But this must have been Winter, late February. The train slowly arrived in Sintra to a halt. Ahimsa didn’t really know what to expect… it had been a while since she had first been there. She alighted the train and slowly walked up the platform towards the exit.

At first she noticed the soft grey woolen jumper hanging from the shoulders, the striking blue jeans. She thought she might surprise him from behind, but as soon as she smiled about it, the upper part of his body turned, his designed profile smiled and a glint of light sparkled in his eyes, he had seen her. His smile lingered on until she got close to him and they greeted each other. She began talking about college student trivia: how were the exams coming along, etcetera and the magic was gone. 

It took her many years later to realize it, but he had also felt the magic of that first encounter. There would be others afterwards, but the one that would stick in her memory forever would be that one: the grey woolen jumper, his profile, his smile, his gleaming green eyes.

The outings in Sintra had begun in February as a sporadic event, a break from the humdrum of college life: the same people, in the same cafeteria, day after day. But the first encounter, how they actually met had happened almost a year before, in much less romantic or idyllic circumstances. Again, this Ahimsa remembers clearly, why can’t she recall meeting E.B.? Why has that memory faded into oblivion?

previous   |   still to be continued...

And now for something literally different

Part One

She couldn’t really recall the exact moment, she has, however, this feeling of being early evening. The sun was about to set and there was this orangey light on the street. He was going out and she was coming in, so they politely greeted each other at the gate. He smiled – his whole face smiled beyond politeness, there was a true kindness in that smile. Ahimsa smiled back – they were neighbors after all and they would see each other for the following next nine months or so.

This is, in fact, the first memory Ahimsa has of Georges. Then there are these faded images of talking on the steps of the house and sharing some deep philosophical thoughts. And the story telling at bed time… But I am getting ahead of myself and of Ahimsa’s own ability to recall memories, for more than places, words and images Ahimsa remembers Georges as sweet, as tender, as a great listener. She remembers the warmth of his arms around her, the gentleness of his touch, in spite the chiseled body. And the huge kindness of his smile.

Oddly enough, what had brought them together and brought about their friendship it had been his anger, rather than his sweetness and infinite patience. Of course it was all about a girl, as usual is. She just had the knack to drive him insane, to push him to the limit, to transform him. She was something else.

January and the evenings are bitterly cold, the new year has just arrived with rainy days and cool evenings. There would not be that many passersby at the streets looking at the Christmas’ lights one last time.  The airport was surprisingly warm and crowded. It was Friday, right after supper. Ahimsa’s heart was tingling with happiness and anticipation, it had been eight years since she had last seen him.

[to be continued...]