Silent Tears

We were strangers when we first saw each other. We became bench mates when we first sat together and friends when we first talked to each other. We liked each other when we first got to know one another and loved when we first understood each other.

You remember your school life with pleasure, perhaps, and feel regret at its passing. You might feel a sense of nostalgia as you reminisce about those carefree days, thinking of those years as your golden ones. For me, those years carry memories of sorrow and suffering, dark days in which the first seed of sorrow was sown in my heart.

Every boy has his muse, his own Amina—a girl who, for him alone, represents beauty. My Amina was the girl with whom I discovered love. She was the one who awakened my spirit, and introduced me to the poetry of real life and love.

We were from the same school. Childhood friends, you could say. We used to sit on the same bench and were always together. As the days passed, my love for her only grew, and yet she remained ignorant of it. Everyone, except for my best friend, took us for a couple. Only Pema knew us well enough to know what was really going on between us.

On a fine Friday night, Pema and I were talking. We were on the roof of his house. The warm glow of the December moon took the edge off the cold air and caused Pema’s tear-filled eyes to sparkle. Though it was dark, I could see the pain on his face.

“Perhaps, he’s worried about his future like everyone else in the country,” I said to myself. Talking about the future was tough for me, also. I let him be for a few moments, but interrupted his quiet thoughts soon enough.

 “Pema, what’s wrong?” I asked him.

“My father’s been imprisoned”, he replied, tears streaming from his eyes.

I felt numb; his answer had really shocked me. I had gone to his house to tell him of my feelings for Amina, but his words proved more powerful than mine. I couldn’t say anything.

He explained that his father had been caught smuggling nine kilograms of gold from Tatopani. He’d been arrested at the Dhulikhel check-post.

“Why would he do such a foolish thing?” I asked, curiously.

“It was forced upon him,” he replied. “My father is a truck driver and his owner forced him to carry his gold. He would have been fired otherwise.”

Everything is about money. Human beings made money first. Now, money seems to make human beings. How can a family be complete without a father? While I felt deep compassion for my friend and his family, I also felt helpless. I could not control the silent tears flowing from my friend’s innocent eyes. Indeed, what could I do other than offer my sympathy and wipe his tear-stained face?

We talked for an hour more under the bright moon and then went downstairs to sleep. I knew that Pema’s thoughts would keep him awake. And as Pema longed for his father, my thoughts turned to Amina. Though sleepy, I wanted to remain awake and think about the beautiful moment she and I had shared in class. I was eagerly waiting for the next day. “If she doesn’t accept, I’ll isolate myself and forget everything,” I said to myself.

A green sweater over a white blouse and green tie paired with a gray, knee-length skirt really matched her personality, I think. She came toward me, smiling her beautiful smile. She looked radiantly happy. I fretted for a moment over my appearance as my heart beat faster. I had forgotten myself ocmpletely by the time she approached me and said “Hi,” as usual, extending her hand to me.

“I have something to tell you,” I stammered.

“So do I!” she said.

“Ladies first,” I insisted.

I could not have anticipated what she would say next in my wildest dreams. “Pema proposed, and I accepted,” she told me. Since he is your best friend, I knew that hurting him would hurt you as well.” My eyes swelled with tears upon hearing those words. She then asked me what I had wanted to say. “Actually, I was about to propose to you on Pema’s behalf; though it’s better that he expressed his desire himself,” I lied, holding back the tears.

She left my side, and my love remained unexpressed. Her words had stunned me. I couldn’t dare voice my desire to be with her now. While I felt glad for the comfort she would provide to Pema, I wondered how I would find happiness again. Doubts plagued me. How could she have been so foolish about me?

We’d been together for so long, why didn’t she understand my feelings for her?

The following day I waited for her at our usual meeting place. I listened to the shuffling of feet as students passed by. I smelled their many fragrances. Yet her footsteps and fragrance were absent. Still, I waited. I waited like a child who is expecting her mother to return. Except, she never came. My eyes grew moist, and the tears streamed from my eyes, down my cheeks and chin first, and then to the cruel surface where tears have no worth at all.

Ideas are poisonous in relationships, I had heard.  I’d given birth to the idea of proposing to her. She had not hurt me. Indeed, I had hurt myself. My smile had fallen from my face just as an autumn leaf falls with the approach of winter. She didn’t know how much I loved her. She was innocent. She loved me only as a best friend, not as a lover. Forgetting her proved impossible. From dawn until dusk, I was drunk on her memory. Just as a blind person sees only darkness, in my mind, I could only see her.

Time passed. I never changed for her although I myself tried to escape her presence.  She could come sit by me when I tried to avoid her and ask me what was wrong. I would lie. I’d tell her I was unwell, and all the while, a volcano of sorrow would be waiting to erupt inside me. I cried like a child without fully understanding the reason for my tears.

She killed my inclination for games and amusement. She removed the wings of youth from my shoulders.

I can no longer soar across the sky with life and hope. I lost my first love before even having the chance to love her fully.

Now, each time I close my eyes, I see those beautiful days flashing before me. The memories remain vividly clear and the silent tears still cloud my eyes.

By: Pema Tshering Lama