That One Moment

By Eswar Tavva

"There are many things in life which are beyond our control. But sometimes, we yearn for those things with great intensity. In such moments, all we can do is offer our wishes and prayers. So, my dear devotees, when you desire something deeply, pray, pray passionately, pray with all your might. Pray until the divine orchestrates the fulfilment of your wish. Let us begin praying immediately, right now, from this very second. Guru Swaroopanand sends his heartfelt wishes for your success." As I watched Guru Swaroopanand's speech on a television channel, I found myself filled with inspiration. His words ignited a flame inside me, pushing me to pursue the fulfilment of my own wish. My wish was to rectify my deepest regret. Yes, you read rightly. Regret! My only regret in my life was my inability to know the reason why my first love left me without giving any explanation at that time when I was loving her sincerely. Yes! I loved her truly. No! No! I am still loving her. Yes! we loved each other but never expressed it. I thought maybe it was not necessary when you can feel. 

Everything was fine until one midnight. That night, she just up and blocked me without any reason. I was completely baffled. And then she blocked me on every single channel of communication. I wondered what could I have done to deserve this. I thought maybe there had been some kind of misunderstanding, so I tried reaching out to her using my friends' phones. But nope, as soon as she heard my voice, she'd block them too. I desperately tried every possible way to get in touch with her, but it was all useless. A couple of times, I mustered up the courage to try meeting her face-to-face, hoping for some closure perhaps, but she always avoided me like the plague. So that's when I decided to move on and forget about her. From then on, I never disturbed her or bothered trying to reach out anymore. I figured that there are countless questions in this world that we'll never find answers to, and this one co uld just join that elusive list. The days began to pass relatively smoothly after that. Everything seemed fine... until right before falling asleep. That's when she would invade my thoughts and trigger all those buried emotions again. It felt like torture for absolutely no reason at all. It was clear that Lahari was the reason for all my troubles since she left me when I was 18. Now, at 24, I was still wondering why she left. After hearing Guru Swaroopanand's words, I felt compelled to turn to God for answers. And so, I began praying. It was as if I was breathing through my prayers, desperate for that one moment where I could reach out to her, pour my heart out, and hope to win her back.

After one week

One day I decided to go back to that restaurant where we last met. As I searched for the table where we sat, my eyes landed on her. And there she was, sitting at the very table I had been seeking. I couldn't believe my luck. With a deep breath, I approached her, but my response to her greeting was delayed.

"Hi!" she said cheerfully, but still, I stood there, numb.

"Hi! Are you okay?" she asked again.

Startled by her presence, I finally managed to speak up. "Hi! What brings you here?" I inquired, trying to hide my surprise.

"I come here regularly," she replied calmly.

It had been years since she left me and since that day, I had never returned to this restaurant. A pang of regret washed over me as I cursed myself for missing out on the memories we could have shared here.

"I see. Well, how have you been?" I cautiously asked.

"I'm good," she responded simply.

A heavy silence hung between us for a moment — an uncomfortable silence borne from our desire to speak but not knowing what to say.

"Lahari, may I ask you something?" I tentatively began.

She nodded, permitting me to continue.

"I heard that you have a boyfriend. Is it true?" My voice trembled slightly as I asked the question that had been nagging at me.

Her expression turned angry as she glared at me. "Some things never change," she remarked sharply. Then, with a softer tone, she continued, "Yes, I have a boyfriend, and we're getting married."

"Oh! Congratulations!" I retorted sarcastically before pressing on, "May I ask another question?"

She silently nodded once more.

"You know that I've always loved you. And I know that you once loved me too. So why did you leave without any explanation?" I poured out my confusion and frustration.

She pondered for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "Did you ever propose to me? Or did I ever propose to you?" she inquired.

"No... but we felt it. We felt love," I replied earnestly.

"Yes, that's true. We both felt it," she acknowledged before adding her suspicions, "But at times, I couldn't help but feel like you were spying on me."

"What! You felt that I was spying on you? But you never conveyed it to me. Furthermore, as far as I know, I never gave you any reason to think that I was spying. I loved you. I loved you madly," I exclaimed.

"Frankly Eswar, you're just too straightforward. It's embarrassing for a girl when she gets questioned about why she was online at 01:00 am," she defended herself.

"So, this is the reason you're giving for leaving me? Okay, fine! I apologize. But it can't be a valid reason for leaving me. It's too silly," I argued.

"I'm sorry. I was angry at that time. I felt like you were doubting me," she admitted hesitantly.

"What! You felt like I was doubting you but you didn't feel like I was loving you?" I retorted in disbelief.

She remained silent, avoiding eye contact.

"You know I tried numerous times to talk to you, to meet you, but you never gave me a chance. Do you have any idea how difficult that was?" I pleaded.

"I know. At that time, I believed I was right," she confessed quietly.

"So, it took six long years for you to realize your mistake?" I asked with frustration evident in my voice.

Again, no response from her side.

"So, you never loved me," I questioned, feeling a pang of hurt deep within me.

"No. That's not true. I loved you. And truth be told, I still love you," she admitted softly.

"Wow! You left me without any reason and now you're saying that you loved me?" my voice filled with confusion and anger.

She remained silent once again, unable to meet my gaze.

"Do you still love me?" I desperately asked, my heart pounding in anticipation of her answer.

She nodded her head, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Okay! Let's forget the past and marry me," I proposed, hoping for a positive response.

"No! I can't," she said with a heavy sigh.

"You can't, but you love me?" I asked, feeling a mixture of disappointment and disbelief.

"Yes. I can't marry you, and I'm sorry. Sorry for everything," she apologized before turning and running away from me.

I sat there in shock, my mind racing to comprehend what had just happened. After a moment of deep contemplation, I stood up and went.

For the 999th time, I found myself imagining those moments. At 70 years old, it seemed as though they were only growing stronger. The incident at the restaurant, the one that had filled me with so much hope, turned out to be nothing but a creation of my imagination. Reluctantly accepting this truth, following that imagined meeting, I went to see my friend Mohan to discuss what I thought had been my conversation with her at the restaurant.

"Mohan! She still loves me," I declared desperately, hoping he would understand. "I believe she is just confused. We have to find a way to convince her to marry me."

"Who, Lahari?" Mohan asked disbelievingly.

"Yes! Lahari! I met her at our favourite restaurant just an hour ago," I insisted.

"You must be out of your mind. She's in America," he exclaimed, trying to bring me back to reality.

"No! You're mistaken. I promise you, I saw her," I argued passionately.

"Eswar, listen to me. I'm sorry for not telling you earlier, but she got married last week and now she's living with her husband in America," Mohan broke the news gently.

"Are you kidding me? Come with me to that restaurant. I'll prove you wrong," I challenged him.

Together, we made our way to the restaurant, determined to settle this once and for all. We requested access to the CCTV footage, hoping it would provide evidence of Lahari's presence. As the footage played before my eyes, shock coursed through my veins. There was no sign of Lahari sitting there - only me, alone at the table. For a whole thirty minutes, I sat there doing nothing but staring into nothingness before suddenly bolting out of the restaurant. It was at that moment that reality crashed down upon me: I had been hallucinating all along.

My obsession with meeting Lahari had taken root in my mind, so deeply that it had manifested into these haunting illusions. I had prayed to God countless times, begging for a chance encounter with her. Little did I know that my desperate longing would only lead to these crippling hallucinations.

I learned something important from that event: living with regret is truly bad. Every time I visit that restaurant, I start seeing things that aren't real. I never went to a doctor because, strangely, I like these visions. They make me feel close to her again. I always believed her reason for leaving me was true. Later I never heard of her. I've kept this secret, my time with Lahari, to myself – not even telling my wife or kids. I'm writing this down because I just feel like it. We all have things in our lives we don't share with anyone. For me, it's the times I spent with Lahari at that restaurant. Even if they're just in my head, they mean a lot to me. They might be just hallucinations to others, but to me, they're a part of who I am.

“That One Moment” by Eswar

"Wow! What a story?" exclaimed Geetha with confidence.

"Do you really believe this?" I asked, taken aback. "My grandfather never mentioned anything about his love story. And we certainly never heard of anyone named Lahari."

"Yes, I do believe," Geetha affirmed matter-of-factly. "There's something else you should know."

"What is it?" I inquired, closing my grandfather’s personal diary.

"The Lahari in your grandfather's story is actually my grandmother," she revealed.

"You must be joking," I said sceptically.

"No joke. It's true," Geetha insisted. "One day, I asked her about her own love story, and that's when she told me about your grandfather. She even gave me the same reason for leaving him."

"What reason?" I pressed.

"The very same reason your grandfather hallucinated about over a thousand times," Geetha stated firmly.

" I can't believe this," I confessed.

"But you have to believe it. My grandmother regretted leaving him just as much as your grandfather did. I think you should tell your grandfather," Geetha suggested.

"He passed away a month ago," I sighed and left the classroom.

When I got home, I looked at his photograph and whispered that Lahari had loved him all along. I also let him know that he was right about why she had left him.

By Eswar Tavva